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Of Chemists good and bad

I returned from twelve days in the Philippines yesterday morning. My plane landed at 4:12am, I was through customs at 4:45am, dropping off dad at 5:15, back at Highgate Hill and used gear by 6:05am.

I had a $75 shot to get started than a $45 an hour later. I was very trashed, so trashed I did not want to take my full methadone dose at my chemist (I had managed, during the previous twelve days of non use, to get my metro use down to just 10 or 15mg a day, and since I had used a lot of gear I did not want to top that off with my usual 17.5mg of metro).

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Manila Slice

So here I am, technically in Asia, but feeling like I am in downtown Chicago. Or suburbann Chicago, that would be a better description.

My sister lives in a former US Air Force Base, converted to residential housing decades ago. The residents are mostly European, many of them bankers like my sister, the image of an octopus head in Manila with tentacles reaching around to Vietnam, out across the South Pacific, and caressing China with a 'come hither' look from above the beaked mouth,well that's an image I am trying to smother.

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Illogical Behaviour

It's strange but true, that sometimes I am so broke that I cannot afford dinner, and my response is to somehow talk a dealer into giving me $100 credit, so I won't notice I haven't eaten. Self-deluding behaviour I am sure, but it's often easier to get a century credit that the dealer knows will be paid back before you score again, than it is to borrow $15 for a meal that may be harder to collect. Micro-scale economics in action.

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Flopsy, Mopsy and Biopsy

Saturday morning. And the doc is making two holes in my right leg just below the knee, with a device that takes a straw sized core of flesh about a centimetre long. I could watch one be schlopped out, but not both.

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Scoring Misadventures #1

I have a personal line-in-the-sand - well, that's not a good descriptor, as I often cross it, perhaps it should be called a warning sign, or an alarm bell. Whatever you call it, I know to take stock when I find myself scoring at lunch time.
And last week, during the hell of Christmas, I found myself doing this not once, but twice in a row. I should point out that I only have a thirty minute lunch hour, and I usually score...around Greenslopes, which is a twenty minute drive from work. So just committing to score is committing to getting back late from lunch.

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Methadone on the rise

As from yesterday morning, I am now paying $38.50 per week for my methadone (brand:Biodone) dose. In one day it went from $28.50 per week to $38.50. We used to receive a discount for paying on a weekly basis, this has been deleted also. The explanation given was that the people receiving tablets (presumably bupe) could not receive the same discount, so it was not fair to them.
If there are any bupe users out there, perhaps they can explain this thinking?

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Thank you gear, thank you metro, thank you valium

Just a quick note of thanks to these three true Santa's little helpers. Gear covered me on the morning shift, from the 7am shot that got me through breakfast with a predictably red-eyed and morose father, his first Christmas in near half a century without his wife.
Then metro did the lions share, as it oft does, from 11am to evening, visiting partners' family, long drives and small talk. Valium popped in to stretch that shift into morphia- the sleep, not the drug.

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Mr Burroughs I presume

Well this wouldn't be a very good junkie site if I did not at least post a link to Burroughs' lovely Christmas piece, A Junkie's Christmas.... http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv...

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Brisvegas Christmas

So, how does a junkie (of the smack flavour) approach Christmas? Well, I'm not a Christmas denier, I know it exists and cannot be avoided whilst family still lives. So I do as I always do - prepare the chemical defences. More than any other time of the year, I ensure supply lines are clear, misinformation and balderdash is removed form the equation.

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Using in your forties

These last few weeks I seem to have been flooded with grisly reminders that it gets harder and harder to use as you get older.

I have always wondered at the lack of junkies in their fifties or sixties - when you've been waiting an hour or two for a dealer on a street, you often get to see the other users who are getting stuffed around in the same area. They are often not hard to spot, furtive looks, twitches and sidelong glances fill the air.

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