Monthly Archives: February 2011

Don’t need Sunglasses to Dull the Sheen

So, I suppose, as a self-proclaimed ‘drug blog’, the folks at 23rd Street should chime in about Charlie Sheen.

Nope.

I don’t know. I don’t fuckin’ know. I watched 2 seconds (well, more) of some interview out there on these here interwebs. In these sorts of instances, I don’t really care to judge or have an opinion. I have more of an opinion about the whole CBS/Chuck Lorre effect. This because, I work in entertainment (not Charlie Sheen-entertainment, mind you, ha!).

But however he is; whatever is happening… to him; to CBS; to whatever… he does bring up the most prevalent & seemingly important (at this point in my drug life) question… or concern… or just, what the fuck?! Why is it only AA or NA or something A?

Honestly… I am kind of ready. Yes, I am definitely ready to not be dependent on anything outside of myself… I am an island and always have been. Never dependent. Except for pills and drugs. People?! Fuck you!. But, now, even drugs (maybe with the exception of a time-released version of prescription speed). …I’m just being honest.

So, lets do this thing!

But I don’t have an option… I have 2 apparently: NA or drugs.

One way to get out.

One way to stay in.

Why?

Interviewer: you say you cured yourself of addiction.

CS: yes

I: How have you done that?

CS: I closed my eyes and made it so… with the power of my mind. And unloaded 22 years of fiction and just decided that I don’t believe that anymore and know my own truth and thats what I stand on right now.

I: What kind of fiction?

CS: The fiction of AA. It’s a silly book written by a broken-down fool. …who is a plagiarist. They think that it’s a one-size-fits-all, but it didn’t fit me and I got tired of subscribing to something with a 5% success rate.”

Not saying anything about anyone or anything about anything in this instance… in a vacuum (which I understand this particular person is not in… nor is anyone), but, in a fuckin’ theoretical vacuum… this guy has done the AA program. He’s been there. He’s done it.

and for: 22 years!

That’s well over half of my entire existence on this planet. Thus, he fuckin’ stuck it out.

So, what am I supposed to think?

Again, not going to judge… but though he says that he has found an alternative… “…the power of my mind” is vague as hell. We can re-create cells in a lab… manipulate DNA… and I’m not saying that this is as definitive as just science… but behaviour modification, as well, in itself never lasts… and the pseudo-science of psychology…

…there has to be some combination. Or something.

I don’t have figures; I don’t know what I’m talking about… but why, in this day and age… when more people than a census can count are either addicted or dependent (WTF is the difference?) on a substance and furthermore, die because of these prescribed “dependences” and their blind third eye + their ignorance of swallowing a pill…

I mean, fuck you. Yes, ‘fuck you’ is unoriginal… but exclusively angry here.

I’m just saying, one would think that there would be more than one option to treat than some antiquated betty ford bullshit that was created decades before the drug abuse statistic started to rise exponentially with each passing year.

And, I’m just realizing… it’s probably this way for a reason.

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Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

nooooooooo!!!!!

change is… what I’m doing for a second.

It’s okay. The page looks a little bit different.

Nothing is permanent; nor is it irreversible.

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The 6th Time’s the Charm!

I can’t sleep.

needlemania!

I don’t judge…. I’ve gone far past 6. Double-digits, even. But was always excited for a new rig.

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Uncontrolled Substances

Uncontrolled Substances (huffingtonpost.com)

Keith Richards.

One already has an opinion… one already thinks something.

Thats how it is. Whatever. Prior rock-star life-style, current unintelligible Brit, physically as dried up as a retired Arizonian in the sun sitting on a lawn-chair with that reflector.

That’s the image. If one is a public figure, one cannot complain about public image.

And I can’t lie… I’m not a public figure to be scrutinized… I’m not a Rolling Stone as I do gather some moss (plus, I’m not a million years old) and awesome… well, as Keith Richards is…. but I am guilty. Based on nothing except hearsay… I feel that we are brethren. This is as bad, if not worse, than someone, based on nothing except hearsay, dismissing KR in the name of jesus or whatever god.

I’m always grabbing at psychological straws, however. And, I’m always, at this point, trying to figure out how “to do it”.

…sort of.

Apparently, there is this book… this memoir… this account of things that may have really; actually have happened.

Life. It’s called.

I haven’t read it in the same way I will not read Anthony Bourdain‘s ‘Kitchen Confidential‘. Because really?!, do I need to think about being on drugs (the latter, in Manhattan restaurants) more than I already do?

Maybe I do… but, currently, probably not.

Because I have read neither, I don’t know what I’m fuckin’ talking about at all. Anthony Bourdain is cool as hell.

But when Keith Richards comes out with a book… current/ex/whatever junkie… or, at the very least, I, have to take notice.

Actually, not have to… I take notice.

This was just supposed to be a meta-post thing to read this review of this memoir.

…but really is the extremist route really the way to treat an extremist? I wouldn’t ask this question if I, didn’t, myself degree-down on my own.

degrees:

1. a young and adorable-as-hell artistic needle-wielding cocaine user (2 years; daily)

2. a bit older… still very young; questionably artistic meth (and I mean, meth so clean and so clear that I’ve never come across this quality to this day)… (2 years… daily… EV-ERY-DAY… frank (the best business person I have ever known)… needles

3. a move to LA.. and a relative sabbatical of sorts; filled by a daily diet of diet snapple iced tea and sleep … yeah, eating disorders come into play (or the DSM guide or… wait, not a public figure… running under the radar… doing what I want… or just doing what I do)… it doesn’t matter

4. the restaurant on melrose. not looking for anything (my denial works for and against me)… gio.. it’s been a while… meaning both of us have worked in the same, rote capacity for a while. Somehow, this = trust. Trust-esque established and felt, into it, just talking. Casual. He is delivery and it is slow.

I didn’t bring it up. I was, by then, on my own, apple/water/crack-style jamba juice/nothing/2 oranges….  I was doing my thing. And it was strong.

But there was that one day. It was slow. Gio was behind the bar…. chillin’. We started to talk… about drugs… I was and did the whole, “I used to do a, b, c all the time… but that was a long time ago”; then it was:

“I can get anything for you.” Still casual.

But, all of the sudden, it was… meth meth he can get me meth maybe… my brain lighting up… my heart pounding with the mere possibility. A raging and even sexual arousal that I have not felt in my entire time in Los Angeles.

As he went on his deliveries and I worked.

My heart beating at 200 bpm… okay… maybe less. My head as light and disconnected as that flu balloon commerial from the 90’s.

The lack of food and metabolism and drugs rendering me glazed… reflexes slow… all of the sudden, with the possibility of meth on my mind… I was 200 bpm and anxious and paranoid but in the best possible way. this was the longest shift in history.

I didn’t specifically want or need it… but I had to ask.

I did ask.

And thus started my 2nd or so daily meth-thing. Needles for a second… then I realized,  unlike NY, meth was ubiqutious here and therefore, one could get it easily… but the quality… well, you  know

So, I have tapered down considerably… and even more now… now the speed is pills and then there is this whole benzo thing, but whatever

Why is 12-step the only thing? I’ve worked and succeded at turning it down from 11. I’m not speaking heroin, I’m not speaking needles… which carry their own weight. And I may be 7 (if you like numbers) but I’m absolutely not abstinent.

Why isn’t there another option?

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The Invidious Nature of the Pill aka not your mother’s medicine cabinet

Pills are no longer for pill-poppers anymore.

It has finally come to that point. That point that we’ve posited what seems like a million years ago.

This posit. This point.

Perry Moore Found Dead: ‘Narnia’ Producer Dies At 39 (huffingtonpost.com)

Yes, you can pop your old school scripts for Valium and such, but really OxyContin is not for the privelaged pill-popper. You don’t know what you are doing… you are bringing bad press to pills that I’d rather not have banned… and you will do it, become physically addicted to it and eventually die from it as a heroin addict would.

Stick to what you know. Everything will be okay. Pills are no longer what you know.

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Happy?

Why are we happy? (Ted.com)

in so saying, are you happy?

and if not, why?

why do you think that you are not happy?

and, in the end, what is ‘happiness’? Is it a balance that humans must constantly weigh?

I mean, if you give me the correct pill/drug… I am happy. But that doesn’t mean that I am happy. atleast forever… or until tomorrow.

I’m high… high=happy. synthetic or not. but it rarely lasts forever.

What the fuck is happy?

and why would we even want to be “happy”?

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“how much do I owe you?”

“don’t worry about it… just pay me in drugs“.

I would love to regale you with the following little story.

Just around the time this little blog was born, one could describe me as grey… exceedingly grey. The meth was gone, my head a cloud of dead synapses… um… just grey.

But because I am a jack of many trades within my given realm of interest, along-side my job-job… I decided to edit demo reels… for actors. A demo reel or show reel, for those of you who do not know, is basically a visual video resume. It may seem like a no-brainer or an unartistic venture, but the assembling of said reels takes a bit of skill and talent. Because I was drowning in the sea of name-dropping and kissing ass that is Hollywood, I thought why not inject myself with a bit of creativity? (pun intended) I thought ‘who knows actors better than an actor‘. No, you haven’t heard of me. ‘Who knows how to edit better than someone that understands narrative and flow? Someone that has made films’. …still haven’t heard of me. ‘Who would be able to showcase talent in  a visual manner better than a talent manager-ish’.

And so, even in my exceeding haze, I was able to, compile great reels in a casual manner.

What does any of this have to do with dysfunction and/or drugs? So, I’m working very closely with Actor A in order to compile a demo reel. It was alot of work… but I didn’t mind it. It is always, for me atleast, more interesting to have so many great scenes to work with and have to do more work consequently than to try to create something out of nothing (ie, actors with no material that want a reel). I’ll do either, I’m just saying.

Then, Actor A’s reel: done! My first, I would have to say, quality/professional job. It was great shit. And we both new it. And so, we come full circle:

“how much do I owe you?”

At the time, I didn’t even know. Again, grey/barely able to focus on one thing/this whole art and commerce dissident I’ve had forever. And so, “whatever” is what came out of my mouth.

“Whatever” is not what comes out of my mouth now, however.

Now, I, in fact was actually able to focus on more than one thing. Editing and during editing sessions, sort of softly directing conversation… ever so softly.

You see, Actor A and your author, here, have in common certain past experiences, allegedly. My job was to make Mr or Ms A aware of a general vibe of the aforementioned certain past experiences in your author’s experience. Now, “A” is a client, not only of mine now, but of the company for which I work, and though our policy on certain things are much more lax than anywhere that functions at this level… I still had to be careful.

It didn’t start out this way, but the idea slowly began snowballing a bit inside my head. What idea? Um… “…the just pay me in drugs”-idea. What I did have going for me was that “A”, at the time, did sell pot to one of my bosses regularly. This was no secret. Atleast among my boss and I and “A”.

Anyway, done! We were done. Ahhhh!!! Okay, I just had to do it. I had brought it to a nice awareness point… and in a joking manner, I say something to the effect of, “if you can get me some meth, it’s totally free…. ha ha ha ha…” sigh… Then, it was more like, “no, really.”

You must understand that I didn’t quit using meth the second time strictly because I was ‘over-it’…. though I must say that I was…. but because, for one reason or another, I no longer had a dealer. If I hadn’t been ‘over-it’, I would have gone and gotten one. Like I did the time before and the time before that. I believe that I must have had 5 or so different meth dealers in CA in two years. NY was only one, baby!… he still brings a smile to my face. Baby digressions aside, there is a strange sort of mini-high that comes along deciding that you are over meth and just won’t do it really. This strange sort of very very very mini-high lasts all of a few days, at the most. Now, you have to understand that this was just short of a year after “I’m over it”.

grey as hell and no end in sight. A bag of meth would have been nice.

And it was.

to be continued.

I must say that I might be impressed. This post is a throw-back to the beginning… you know, proper posts, when I wrote stories (semi-autobiographical, at that)… rather than stumbling around on the interwebs and re-posting interesting drug links. yeaaaaaayyyyahhhhh!!!

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Get High Now

Theta Wave Synchronization (Get High Now)

So, whatever. Drugs are still the preferred way of ‘getting high’, if you will. That’s not what this is about. As someone that is a primarily non-drug-using drug addict, there’s this whole sleep thing that sometimes doesn’t happen.

In that capacity, this is kind of cool. Try it.

 

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joke of the week

…brought to you bi-yearly (at the very most); bi-centenially is probably more accurate…

“I’m too old for mushrooms. When I was 17, my mushroom epiphany would be, “Oh my God… I’m just a microcosm of an entire universe.” But as an adult, my epiphany would be, “Oh my God… I don’t have health care.”

-Dan St Germain (Two Fun Men: Two Men Having Fun + They Hated Each Other)

Thank you, drive thru.

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