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I am beyond freezing right now. These new generic subutex are C-R-A-P! That's right, crap. For the first day they send me into an almost paralyzing state of anxiety, followed by NO sleep and now I'm as cold and clammy as a damp corpse. I've taken way more than was ever necessary before and still feel less than satisfactory. But oh they do one thing correctly and that's BLOCK HEROIN. Bullshit. Take so much as 2mg of these fuckers and you won't be getting high for at least 36 hrs. Sigh, I never had this problem with the old orange hexagons...
For anyone not keeping up with my FB (you people are unbelievable!), I had a seriously stupid incident involving some klonopin. And possibly some ketamine. DXM? Sure, why not. Also an ATM card that was technically not mine and certain withdrawal of funds that I immediately LOST somewhere between the store and my house; approximately 2/3 of a block away. Yeahhhh. Over-doing the benzos = not cute. I'm sure all that other misc stuff didn't help either but I'm gonna blame the klonopin for this one.
I don't have to much to say, plenty to share but no real motivation to type it all out. Maybe I should get drunk? You know Truman Capote told Dick Cavett that it was impossible to write under the influence of alcohol or pretty much any drug. That perhaps before or after one might get some viable work done but never during. I feel that I must strongly disagree as some of my best, most coherent tirades have been crafted while I was high on something. To each her own, Truman; to each her own.
I found out that someone I was said to have been having an 'affair' with in NM, wore a wire and got 3 different people hemmed up for trafficking before he split town and disappeared. Sooo, in place of a real update, I will finish this up with a open letter to Ty, who I just heard from. Sketchy, stupid Ty:
(This is basically a transcript of our phone call)
*Goodbye Ty (blegh, that rhymes most abominably!), I always knew there was something a bit off about you, from the first moment you walked through my door. You looked...like a narc and an asshole and I told Cesar and Tony that you made my internal radar go all kinds of crazy. I would eventually warm up to having you around but there was still something that made me believe fucking you would lead to more trouble than your blond/blue all-American "corn-fed white boy" charms were worth.
I was oh so correct and beyond happy that I got the hell outta town before you threw me to the wolves along with everyone else. I'm not stupid enough to think that you actually held any real regard for me, just like I held none whatsoever for you. I never told you I was leaving, you had to hear it from Des after looking for me for days. And in retrospect, I do declare that I regret not fucking Dylan more than I EVER enjoyed well...you know.
Dylan is not a pussy. Dylan goes to jail and does his time like a man, he doesn't call his cop daddy to wipe his ass and clean up his mess. Dylan may have some anger issues BUT he also looks like a young, blonde Jason Statham. Do I need to say any more? Oh okay, if you insist!
I would even consider going back to NM just to hit that, like I shoulda when I had the chance. But noooooo, I had to "think about it" while I was wasting time with YOU. And then it was too late and he'd got himself arrested for beating his father into a lump of dung. So thanks ever so fucking much for that. I guess in a way you've gotten me back for dipping out on you, even if you didn't know you were. But when you read this (and you will read this, of that there is no doubt), I hope it stings just a little to know that when we were "us" I was daydreaming about him. (D.Y.L.A.N.) Have fun with that, you snitch bitch, cop-spawned piece of rat shit.
Fin.
