What is it about my mind that causes me to watch a film like Trainspotting whilst fighting the urge to score? A deep perversity? Or just a practical admission of defeat, openly saying that this fight i fight is just a sham, the end result has and always will be determinant. I will use, regardless of will, thought or desire. So I watch Scottish junkies cooking up, shooting up, nodding off, for an hour and a half. Maybe it's just a desire to speed up the process of fighting? I mean, if I am really going to use, then watching people shoot up in Trainspotting is going to tell me, so get it over and done with?

Like flipping a coin to make a decision, but really just seeing if you are happy with the decision it randomly hands out, thus knowing how your heart truly lies.

Maybe. Or maybe I just want to live junk vicariously. Who knows.

Doc yesterday was a bit of help. I arc'ed up a little, asking if this metro thing was ever going to 'do the job'. And what other solutions did she have?

"Well, I really have always thought you don't really want to stop using." she replied.

Aye. Well. Not much to say to that one is there. Just a "oh well, intellectually I do I guess, but my actions sort of put the lie to my intellectuality, aye?" I stammer.

Anyways, enjoyed Trainspotting. And watched Public Enemies, once by myself, once with the tart. Long, and a bad audio track. But to be fair, comments had noted that the audio was shite, but I'd been trying to download it for months, so grabbed this first non-cam opportunity. Sony's copyright rent boys must have been working overtime on this one, usually a copy is out before the film hits the cinemas.

Wrote this the other day, tried to get it in order, but life for self too messy to concentrate.


Sometimes I see society as just another smack dealer trying to move crap gear.

Now, i know that's not a statement I can just post and expect everyone reading to understand. So a bit of help, a glossary so to speak.

Dealers are driven by an external mechanism. Usually a clock. Gabo has an 8 hour half-life, so when you are heavily addicted, as often a smack dealer is, your life turns into a super tuned sales pitch. Say you take $1000 of gear a day. Not a big habit, but enough to make the thought of withdrawal, shall we say, unappealing?

Okay, so you're buying in bulk. Say an ounce at a time. about $6000 last time I looked (which probably dates me pretty well). This brings the price down to about $40 for a quarterweight you can sell for $100. For the sake of maths, let's say it costs $50 for something you can sell for $100. 100% profit.

So if you want to take $1000 worth of gear a day (note that this is only street price, so the cost 2 u is $500, but you could sell it for $1000 - the opportunity cost as we used 2 say in Economix!)
So if u wanna take $500 worth of your own shit, and you are making 100% profit, you must sell what costs you $500 - 10 quarter weights, 2.5 grams. You will get $1000 cash for what cost you $500 that morning. The other $500 you use to 'buy' $500 cost-price ($1000 street) gear from yourself.

Of course you don't buy gear from yourself. Causes too many GST issues (accountant joke).
But the concept is sound.

Funny how many dealers I know who have no maths at all but can juggle the sales, the credit, the scams and shortfalls, and still manage to bundle together $6000 every day for their dealer (yes, every dealer has a dealer, all the way up to the CIA/government/add-your-own conspiracy theory). And from all the sales they have to subtract the whopping habit that they and often their partners have...

Anyway, my original point was that dealers have this driving force that makes them hustle their hustle. They risk arrest every day not usually to get rich, but to stop being sick.

Funny how often a simple biological event is our motivator, rather than some complex modern desire.

So society also has a biological motive. Sustaining itself. It pushes marriage and a healthy sex life as what's needed to be normal. But like the gabo dealer trying for $1000 in sales, society has its motive, popping out another generation of breeders.

And apologies to all those with kids out there. I don't mean to put down your actions in any way. Just drawing comparisons. And trying to analyse how I feel about the weight society places on one to copulate. And why I feel the need to feel like a loser for not getting laid...

I have spent so much time n thought on the sex topic. Even more than most males I reckon. That old truism that the less you're getting the more you think about it I guess. And sure, I am wired to think I would love to be getting it regular-like. But I know intellectually it is not the answer to my problems that I have convinced myself it is. I am overweight, perhaps clinically depressed, and in a behavioural pattern I cannot and do not want to break out of, financially damaged as a result of said behavioural patterns.

So I try to tell myself it's not being bonked for 8-9 years that's the cause. But even bonking I was trafficking, smuggling, breaking laws, being dodgy in all ways. If a decade ago it did not remove all my problems, how would it be different now?

Well, I like to think that it would be bonking without a mega haze of opiates, and that's true, I never really 'did it' without at least a grands worth of gear in me it's true, but I needed that to stultify the emotions inside that bonking stirred up.

So it would be interesting to experience emotions as a semi-adult and see how I react to them, knowing that reaching for a sharp is what I am programmed to do.

Listened to a talk on brain plasticity, and it discussed the need to develop new behaviours constantly. It pointed out the brain's desire to follow the easy path, hence habits. So breaking habits and finding new ways to do things is an important exercise for the brain, if you want to avoid degeneration.

Okay, a little analysis on an emotional issue. I hope it helps.


Listening to:

Sigur Ros' Agaetis Byrjun.


Never picked up the iTouch. A lesson to myself? Never to hock? Who knows. Too keen to score. No assets, a sister with $30,000 in an account she forgot about, St George wanting to send it to Unclaimed Monies. A World Of Difference 'tween me and her. I guess it comes down to getting out at the right time, like many things. She saw the writing and scarpered. I stayed and stultified.


Public Enemies. Trainspotting. Star Gate Universe. Too much crap sci-fi


Master of Time and Space. .


Still quiet. Looking for cash as we have been for over a year. Banks squeeze our windpipe for another week.


More of same, pearl barley risottos and green asparagus spag. Mebbe a pizza?.


Wasted payday cash on Richie Fri night, did shite then spent another two hours chasing down other dealers for a top-up