enough valiums last night to make me awake thinking i was back in the house of my childhood. dreams merged into waking and somehow my cramped flat bedroom had morphed into a larger version from the 70s.
the eternal question - why don't i sell all i have (flat, car) and move to Thailand, up north, where the wild things grow, marry a local girl who we'll have kids with, get a farang job that'll pay the rates and food, and the rest goes on dope?
if you are living in perpetual poverty and misery under the thumb of a conservative government in Australia, why not do the move to where you won't be persecuted for your beliefs (funny how 300 years ago that was a statement for the fleeing Mayflowerians, now it's a catchcry for paedophiles).
but seriously, a good friend who has been using as long as i, fifteen years for me this month, he sent me an sms recently:
"Move 2 Asia or get a brain transplant. B nice not 2 have 2 deal with tossers tho."
We've been driven a little mad lately by the general ultra-low quality if dealers around Brisbane. Ego-maniacs wanting an id-manicure before any deals happen, delay merchants keeping you waiting on the street corner for 3 hours until they rouse from their delicious slumber enough to come out and hand over the packet, the usual bunch of suspects.
"But if you use that's what you are letting yourself in for" I hear the answer....Why (as the child says, again and again). Why? Is not working 24/7 for years and handing every cent over to the dealers so when you eat you eat the oldest vegetables, the stalest bread, the cheapest drinks, isn't that enough punishment? And is it not obvious that punishment does not deter usage? Bali 9 and van Nguyen are only the tip of the iceberg. Every day in Australia thousands of people live subsistence lives, worse than those in the third world, scraping and eking a living out to buy enough dope to stave off sickness for a few more hours.
That's right, after a few years of use, when you're truly addicted, you aren't using for pleasure. These last 10 years most scoring has been done to keep sickness at bay so I could go to work to earn enough to stave off sickness a bit longer. In Excel, these are called circular references, in wider society, Catch 22, but it makes no difference, it's what the human body does.
hours pass. 437pm now. drove down to Robina and back. to live there would be some kind of hell for me. but maybe that's a function of my current depression. Day 3 on the 27.5 to 25 reduction, plus last week i hit smack harder than i have in a while, thrice in 5 days i think, which triggers all sorts of bad thought patterns. drove the 100ks back balancing immolation vs quick death by road accident. but there's no guarantees, either could lead to a worse form of existence, dependence upon others, which i guess would be my most hated outcome, a personal hell within life. s' fashion display went well, not into finals but twas her first go and she's a first year. courier mail saw worthiness of the outfits and photographed them for the paper tomorrow. the phone rings at home and each trill kicks me. i know i have no reserves of emotion to talk on the fone and fool the listener, specially if it is S, but non-answering will just cause problems down the track.
at this stage i just wish to be left alone, preferably for ever. pathetic i know but it's my true feeling. flattening of affect is here and now.