Saturday, February 26, 2011

Rude Awakenings and The Salton Sea (dying to know how I worked that in there huh?)

My friend Andrea tells me I need to update my playlist, we had a talk about it. She spent quite awhile pointing out how much good "new" music has come out recently and that my playlist was too retro-fied.
What can I say to that? Most of my favorite music was born long before I was so of course my choices are gonna seem outdated. What am I to do, litter my selections with Taylor Momsen and Justin Bieber? All I can think of is how badly I wanna knock her down, snatching out her weave in the process and how my fingers itch to shave off his ridiculous hair! I am however amused (more than I should be), that as puberty rears it's ugly head, the Biebs *gag* is looking more and more like Hilary Swank in Boys Don't Cry. So, so, SO amused, haha.
I'm not totally unaware of the influx of new music but can I help it if the majority of it makes my skin crawl? I won't tell you what I thought the first time I heard Vampire Weekend, it isn't fit for polite company.
Yes I like Jay-Z and Weezy and even Kanye, though he's a humongous douche nozzle. Seriously, has there ever been a bigger contradiction? When that fool raps he's brilliant but when he opens his mouth any other time it's like he's a high functioning retard. He also sounds like he has marbles in his mouth, which is kind of annoying but mostly funny.
So I danced to Lady Gaga and Ke$ha at a gay disco in Albuquerque, my reputation is shattered! I was coked beyond all comprehension when this happened, as is only right and proper for a trip to a gay disco but yes, I danced. And I was awesome! Haha, as any coked up bitch is bound to be (or thinks she is *wink*)
The issue is that though much of that shit can be tolerated under certain chemical conditions, I will not be adding 3OH!3 to my music player. Sheeeeit! Do enough drugs and anything will sound good! One summer I did so much speed that it made me think I liked the Afghan Whigs. What a rude awakening that was!
So though I will be adding things to my playlist, don't expect any miracles, it will most likely be more of what's already there. Sorry.
In other big news I made an undercover trip to Cali. 10 blissful days in a town where the smog can actually block out the sun and the Dope is primo supremo. As soon as we cleared Tehachapi I could feel the smog headache kick in and I knew that I was finally back in Kern County.
You may be asking why I was so hush hush about the whole thing and the main reason is that I still have several open warrants in Kern County and I just didn't feel like doing 6 months + at the lovely Lerdo Detention Facility. There are a few select assclowns who would love nothing more than to see me languishing in the hoosegow and since they read this see how it could've turned out for your lovely, Heroine.
We went for my Grandmother’s 80th Birthday and it was really nice. They had it in this historic old building downtown that used to be a mortuary like 50 years ago but has been refurbished into a kind of event hall. I thought it was in poor taste to have an 80th B-day in an ex mortuary, refurbished or not but no one else seemed to make the connection.
Ironically enough, from age 14 on, we all used to break into that building to get fucked up and sleep if necessary. That motherfucker was creepy and haunted as shit, no lie. At that time it still had the old embalming tables and all kinds of weird crap in it and because there was a caretaker living on the property, you could turn on the power. I lost my drawers more than once on those embalming tables (I am beyond classy, haha) but after some of us got stuck in the old elevator and terrorized, I kept my visits few and far between. I would crash in the amphitheater at the park before sleeping in that joint again. I saw some freaky shit and no I was not on LSD or any other hallucinogenic substances. I was pretty damn close to sober and what I saw would make those lames from Ghost Adventures piss their panties. I will leave it at that.
So after being the dutiful Daughter/Granddaughter I got to see Drew which was pretty kickass and I was super relieved that he hadn't joined the list of fallen comrades. He looked really good actually and is doing quite well. I also saw some others who shall remain nameless as they don't want it noised about that they are still using. They have donned the mask of sobriety and who am I to tear it off?
I also got the story behind Ashley's last days from one who was there and I'll just leave well enough alone. Let them believe what they want, she's gone and we can't get her back...that's the fucked up part, not how we lost her, just that we did. Kisses Ash, miss you girl.
Every mothefucker there is on Methadone, which makes me feel sorry for when they go many of them will at one time or another. M-done is a bitch but I can't judge any damn one because I've done it too. Taken that shit already knowing what it will put me through just because I was too much of a pussy to tolerate a 2 week kick. Try 2 months or more for the 'done kick and that will put shit into perspective. The problem is that unless you've been there, unable to eat, sleep or even function for more than 60 days, well it's hard to imagine, much less guard against.
So hey guess what? I got to do some really really good Mex brown powder while I was there. You know, the kind that looks like powder til you touch it or breath on it, then it turns into tar. Oh my God it was sooooooo good! I don’t know how much we spent but it was a fair amount of cash and the bags were F-A-T FAT! Fuck it was good to be home, I only wish it had lasted longer, as in permanently. But nooooooo, Casey would have none of it, we were coming back to horrid New Mexico and that was that, so here I am. Missing Drew and everybody else like crazy and wishing I was still there.
When we got home our landlord had spazzed out because we didn’t tell him we were going and he thought we had abandoned the house...with all our shit still in it. I’m talking like 3 bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, bathroom and garage (with a truck in it) full of really nice shit and he thought we left it all behind. Hellooooo?
He also called animal control on Fat Mike and we had to go bail him out of kitty jail. $75 fucking dollars to pick up a cat that never shoulda been there in the first place. When we got him home he looked so chill, like he never doubted for a second that we would be there to get him out. He immediately resumed his routine of covering everything in cat hair and meowing loudly for no apparent reason. Yet we love him still, well I do, Casey had a moment of regret (after a long meowing session), thinking kitty may have been better off at the shelter but I gave him the evil eye and he hasn’t mentioned it since.
By the way, if you ever want to see what misery made flesh looks like (no, not me silly!) take a visit to Needles, California. I thought nothing could top Rexland Acres, CA but I was oh so wrong! Needles is as godforsaken as the Salton Sea, (the Val Kilmer movie kicks ass btw, watch it here) just without the gross water and dead fish. So when I start to dwell on how much I hate where I am, I will revisit in my mind, the place they call Needles and feel much better. Such a shame to waste that name on that place, it has such potential.
XoXo Melody Lee

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Satire is Tragedy Plus Time.

Thank You Regi for the adorable tampon case that doubles as a rig cozy. No doubt the endorsement deals for Vitamin Water will start pouring in at any moment.
That amazing if incomplete quote by Lenny Bruce is a more appropriate title than anything I could have come up with. I just got home (after a lovely evening that I will tell you about later) and found a ridiculously high handed e-mail waiting for me, criticizing my outlook on of all things, my own life. I had such a good night that rather than go off on a full fledged rant, I thought I'd give you this instead. Have at it.
Right, so I get alot of shit for not being "serious" enough about addiction, for taking what might ultimately be a disaster and turning into something you can laugh at. I have plenty to say on the matter because, really it's all in the way you look at it. Sure I have my moments of despair, just like any other person, junky or not but why the fuck should I wallow in it? To satisfy someone else's sensibilities? Uh-uh, not happening.
I'm not ignorant, I know that destruction and casualties go with the territory and I've accepted that but I've also learned that shit is what you make of it and I can spin shit into cotton candy any day of the week. I could lay around lamenting my predicament, being deep and insightful but what a load of crap it would be. Why be deep when shallow is so much more rewarding? Being weepy and despondent won't fix a damn thing.
I prefer to roll with the punches and when they result in the usual busted lip, I smile at the absurdity of it all, get my ass up off the floor and move on. I don't know if it comes across here but I am a naturally pessimistic person in almost all aspects of life. That is what fuels the snide sarcasm that flows from me like water. It doesn't mean I can't have fun, it means that while I'm having it, the voices in my head are counting down all the things that can go retarded. I've learned to counter it with a pithy comment or three and the result is what you have before you. It comes through unharnessed every once in a while but for the most part, I've bound and gagged it because it's a downer and not the kind I'm interested in.
If you're bent on reading about someone who lives in regret, you've come to the wrong fucking place. That's not me at all and you won't be getting any of that "I've been through hell and come out the other side a better person" garbage from this bitch. I'm not a better person. You wanna know what makes me a better person? Being higher than shit.
When I'm loaded I'm the second fucking coming. I'll feed the hungry and heal the sick with one flick of my track-marked hand and though I may be nodded out by the time they turn to praise me, praise me they will. Yeah, blasphemy is only one of my unique talents, sermonize about that you sanctimonious jerk off!
I know how bad it gets and I'd be a liar if I didn't say I a part of me revels in it. For every time I've been sick and miserable, walking the floors in some shit hole motel there is a time that the same motel turned into a dilapidated playground, adventure around every mildewed corner.
Shooting up on fire escapes and floating back down to the alley below, stepping over some passed out drunk and turning the corner onto the street. The pulsing neon and the filth and the cars cruising by. All night churches trying to save my tar blackened soul and knowing every face that crosses my path. This is...was my wonderland, it's not stylized or enhanced by indulgent stories of remorse, it is what it is-no more, no less and that's what makes it beautiful.
M. L.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

The Perils of (Semi) Clean Living.

I've been spending an ungodly amount of time at home. Floored by of all things, a hideous runny nose and sneezing. This has to be one of the things I dislike most about being mostly free of Opiates, the seasonal illnesses that come with it. I may be wrong but I'll be damned if I can remember so much as a single sneeze (that wasn't the result of dope sickness) for the duration of any given H run. Hell, mosquitoes wouldn't even bite me.
If I was sick, I was likely too loaded to notice and that's how it should be, not this unrelenting cycle of snot and achoos! Sneezing, while mildly annoying, is tolerable when there is an end in sight i.e. dope on the horizon, but this? I've said enough on the matter but you never know, it might resurface later on in the post.
If that isn't reason to be in a foul mood, I'm also tired because Anna and K1tten keep me up all damn night. Forcing me (obviously!) to respond to their asinine comments on Facebook with my own equally moronic replies. Who am I?, really? More proof that I have been stuck at home too long. I've spent more time on that site in the last week than I have in the whole time I've had a profile.
The only upside to staying in is I've gotten to spend some time doing the cam thing with Richie (hence the screenshot^^) and no it's not what you think but you probably don't believe me. He's tried but I just tell him that it might prove awkward if and when Casey walks in. I may be an amazing bullshitter but even I couldn't talk my way out of that one. He can just get some in-person ass in Colorado, adorable fucker that he is.
I'm no good with boredom, I mean I can come here and write 3000 words about absolutely nothing but then I'm just passing it on to you. 5 minutes of your life you can never get back, like now for instance. You could've smoked a cigarette, made a Hot Pocket or taken a moderately satisfying dump but no, you wasted it on shit of another kind. I'd apologize but eh, why bother?
I took way too much Lyrica and watched Suck the other night on Netflix. I spent the first 15 minutes alternately wheezing and snorting due to the fact that the vampire in it looks utterly ridiculous (see photo below). It's supposed to be funny but I don't know if they meant to go quite that far with it. He looks like what might've happen if Marc Bolan had fucked Barnabas Collins and begat an undead tranny wearing too much pancake.
I would like to officially thank Regina for bringing this movie to my attention, I laughed so hard I was crying and then passed the info on to Anna so she could do the same. The photo doesn't really do it justice, you need to see him in action to truly appreciate it.
The movie also has Iggy Pop, Henry Rollins, Malcolm McDowell, Moby (YES, Moby) and Alice Cooper in it although aside from a few Stooges songs, the music is basically crap. If nothing else watch it for the first 15 minutes.
xo ~M. Lee

Saturday, February 5, 2011


I went to Walmart the other day in a shredded Black Flag shirt, jeans and 4 in platform flip flops with little skulls n crossbones on them. Not unusual in and of itself but I think the three quarter length fur coat over the top of the whole mess is what really made it stand out.
I sent out a few select pics because the gaggle of disbelieving bitches I call friends needed proof that had indeed done such a thing. I even now look forward to getting my own section on the People of Walmart blog. Where the fuck else am I gonna wear that dog of a coat?
It's nice, not tatty at all but kinda looks like I skinned a bear and threw it on my back. I suppose it can go in the closet next to that floor dragging leather one that looks like Matrix gone retarded. The problem is that the longer I look at it, the more I like it. I am currently 1/4 in love with it, by this time tomorrow, who knows? I could be fully committed. Plus it's cold and that motherfucker is warm.
Moving on, I recently saw Frances, fresh from jail. He, fat Cyndi and Julio all got arrested though only Frances and F.C. got pinched at the same time. It's all so ridiculous that I feel a headache coming on just thinking about it right now, so I'll save that gem for another time.
Anyway, Frances was all smiles as he tried to talk me into going in with him on some black. I declined because anytime someone around here is selling H it's a joke. I will not pay $50 for a quarter G but if I send F in, he will pay it and then act all hurt, like HE thought I would just want us to have something rather than nothing at all. I may be a fiend but I'm not an idiot.
In this case the idiot was my dear, darling boyfriend. He made the decision to go ahead with it and then, of all the stupid things...he let Frances leave with the money. Now don't get the wrong idea, F will come back but what he has when he gets here is another thing entirely.
At this point in my life, I've heard all the excuses, first and second hand. There is NOTHING that is gonna convince me that "Small? I couldn't get into it if I wanted to, see it's in a balloon" or "The plastic was torn when he gave it to me" and my personal fav "I got pulled over and had to swallow it". I know several people (I may or may not have been one of them), that used to carry balloons just for that purpose. And if you're gonna pinch my bag, at least have the decency to melt the plastic shut again. *sigh* So now you see what I was dealing with.
Frances is amazing when he's flush and less than such when he's not. Pretty much like any other junky, except for his willingness to share when he's in the dope. Regardless, it was not a good idea to let him scuttle off, cash in hand. I gave Casey one of my "are you fucking stupid" looks and proceeded to the living room. At least there I could watch things unfold in comfort.
An hour later Casey went to hunt him down and found him on his way back, clutching an obscenely small "gram" of tar. Since we paid for half, C just broke it in two, told Fran to kick rocks and brought it back to me.
When I saw it I had to mentally restrain myself from saying anything, I just took it and fixed it up. A so called 1/2 gram gone in 2 shots, nothing weird about that, right? Well factor in that neither of us have a habit right now. A half shoulda kept us loaded all night and produced more than a couple of mildly pleasant issues. Never again Frances, not if I hafta drive all 6 hours to and from Espanola myself. Fuck it, the first 3 are the hard part, I'm high as shit on the way back, piece of cake.
I really, really don't like this place. Even if I lived in 'Spania, I would still hate it. It's so dry and gross here, it's like living in a dehydrator, even when there's snow on the ground. I'm constantly having to baste myself with disgustingly thick lotions just too keep from withering up. It's uncomfortable, I hate the feeling of being greasy, like when you bend your arm and your skin sticks to itself...blegh! The alternative is worse and as much as I love Iggy Pop, I do NOT want to end up looking like beef jerky in leather pants. Or fur coat as the case may be.