Tag Archives: Substance abuse

the truth in the lie

“There comes a time when every kid peeks behind the curtain and sees she’s not the only one putting on a show. Fathers, mothers, cops and robbers… every member of the PTA, all playing dress-up… all in their masks: The constant Halloween. That first peek behind the curtain… the lifting of the mask, it’s a disorienting moment. The solid ground beneath you slips away to quicksand. Along with all you thought you knew. But you realize, as days and nights go by, that there’s a kind of truth in the lie… that the mask is often more revealing than the face that lies beneath… that because the person that you pretended to be (the mother, the father, the sister, the cop) became, somehow, the person that you are.” -In Plain Sight

It’s not that straight-forward… it’s not as discontinuous as a mask can provide. But it applies. I remember being obsessed with the notion that no one could ever really know any one else. …that no one could ever see all sides of another person and that the lens used to view would always have a neutral density subjective filter placed upon it. In fact, I wrote my first screenplay based on moments witnessed… pieces of the puzzle of who a person may or may not be. Put it together… figure it out. Or not.

I’m sure this isn’t a unique experience by any means, but at that time (and for years following), I felt the invincibility of my person. But more importantly, no obligation to “be something”. It is personal freedom to the highest caliber. Left with no burden to even exist at all. I can’t be sure why I felt so safe sticking needles with stimulants in my veins. But that’s not true, either. I guess that I believed nothing certain about myself except for my invincibility. My ability to, for lack of a better term, stand outside of all experience and observe. Rendering all of my actions, merely actions. Needles and coke and meth and ecstacy and dilaudid… anything, by this definition became things that couldn’t touch me because it was impossible.

And somehow, everyone else was so subjective that everything that they did affected them. They were fully-formed human beings with very strong views on character and people. …fully-formed human beings, unchangeable but affect-able.

And in this manner, as well, I was not a drug addict. I was a person that performed an action. Buying and doing drugs is the same as going to Rite Aid for eyeliner and walking across 23rd Street to work. Even, level… the same.

This is why I hold this time in such high regard. I created a way in which I could do anything. And I did. The error in this manner of thinking is that one is not invincible. And though it makes it completely possible to do everything and chalk it up to an “action”; though there may be no burden to exist or be something, every action will and does affect the person that you are. As under-developed it is or as much as one has created a mechanism wherein they can deny the existence of it at all. Everything affects one… you… something, because, like the rest of the human race, you are a person.

I didn’t think of myself a drug addict for a very long time. And then, I secretly (or not) reveled in the idea that I might be one. And then, I held onto the definition for dear life as one of the most important components of who I, as a person, am. Basically, I accepted a certain version of day-to-day reality. Age, evolution and the fact that to “be something” is now an obligation. And though it took that “decade under the influence” and longer, even… it feels more like a swift, half pirouette. Where my head has snapped, more quickly than the eye could detect, to a position exactly opposite of where it was half a second ago.

And though I’ve always been able to hide it well… I felt that I was internally, somehow (and inconsistent with everything I’ve said here) inherently, a drug user. Furthermore, I was a person… subject to all the personal consequences of action and experience.

And there you go.

Now what?

This is the grey zone. Because I was always a functional this or that and because I didn’t technically make a statement to the effect of “I’m not doing drugs anymore”… because I’m not in recovery… because I still drink; I felt things hadn’t changed enough. Fuck, who even knew that I was a heavy drug user to begin with to know that I stopped using drugs at all?

Furthermore, I didn’t make this decision.

In a way, you could say that my actions made the decision and I carried-out my actions. But, it’s not that simple. Even a month or so prior to this time, if my dealer had up-and-disappeared (as was the case), I would have gone scouring Los Angeles for meth. And I would have found some. I had, I believe 5 separate meth dealers as detailed in The Bus Ramblings… in Los Angeles in roughly 2 years. Only Frank in NY (and he wasn’t just meth… and that spanned atleast double the aforementioned time). But this time, in LA, I was just over it, somehow. But also, I can probably also attribute maybe 75% of the “just over it” to the quality of crap-ass meth that I was getting.

None of this matters, of course. And though I finally felt a pathetic-ness of being a drug addict, there was a HUGE-ass part of me that reveled in drug culture, drug experience, drug everything. I was just now aware of just how much I couldn’t talk about it. And without the drugs to make me forget about this whole thing, felt exceedingly stifled. And not only this… but because I had krazy-glued this notion of myself as a drug person into my fiber… I felt like a fraud; a liar. …and a bit digressively, empty.*

*to be addressed in a future post.

But this is where the quote comes in, one might see themselves as a definitive thing and thereby fraudulent by acting in seemingly unnatural ways… I suppose this would be the mask they speak of, but:

“…you realize, as days and nights go by, that there’s a kind of truth in the lie… that the mask is often more revealing than the face that lies beneath… that because the person that you pretended to be… became, somehow, the person that you are.”

It feels unbelievable… incorrect, even. But time… small increments of moments and then; the whole thing… I mean, if you stick around long enough… it sounds retarded, I know, but it starts to feel possible. …And sometimes, when one takes stock… if one’s privy to that sort of thing, one realizes that, in one’s own continuous manner, it’s been happening the whole time, maybe? Slowly; molasses-ass slowly, but happening none-the-less. I don’t fuckin’ know. I just know that I’m different now than when I started this whole thing (when I thought that I’d never really be able to do the adult thing; do the responsible-thing… I’m a great actor. I could pretend tremedously, but would also only ever be excited by what I really am: a drug addict)… I just know that it is possible to change while still remaining the same… if that makes any sense to anyone. And I do believe all of this rests on time… the passage of time.

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Opana (aka pill poppers turning over in their graves)

it's official

Long Island is ghey… Newsday is an antiquated newpaper for the kindergarten set. But Opana is fantastic!

Mangano Warns of New Drug Threat: Opana (newsday.com)

“this is a very serious gateway to drug abuse.” -a retard (or reTard)

Really?! Does anyone in a position of power know anything about anything? Or, maybe… does anyone on Long Island know definitions of things? For example “gateway”.

This is so fuckin’ beyond gateway that it’s retarded.

When are people going to understand that just because it’s a pill doesn’t mean it’s not heroin?

Never.

And today’s teen drop like flies.

The pill-popper of yester-year has officially turned over in their grave. …they’d died long ago. As evidenced in the following:

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American Idiot, Universal & the Big Leap

Contrary to appearance, this is not a Green Day and/or American Idiot blog, by any means. The folks at 23rd street merely happen to become a bit specifically obsessive at times. Though, it must be stated that this… blog (in it’s earliest incarnation) did start out as an experiment by a would-be/was writer trying out this blog game after one last hurrah in meth-wine-country. At this time, it was an unfocused voyage into the land that would meet at the intersection of drugs + various art/psychology/culture/hollywood/new york/whatever-avenue and all.

Currently, the folks at 23rd Street have decided to focus with the dexedrine and make this primarily a drug abuse-ish blog. However, aforementioned folks would be remiss if they didn’t mention, again; American Idiot.

I work in ‘the industry’… as cheese-tastic and sell-out-ish as that makes me. So, I know that Universal is in negotiations with Playtone and Michael Mayer is to direct with Dustin Lance Black writing. This can go many different ways. But I am hopeful rather than frightened. And don’t worry, I’m currently on my knees on the floor, picking up all the names that I’ve just dropped.

Billie fuckin’ Joe as St Jimmy kicks ass. As for other casting news, I got nothing. Original cast would be nice… the best choice. I make an exception for Lou Pucci. I love… though, I have reason to believe he cannot sing… either that or he cannot do an Irish brogue. But I digress. Or Ezra Miller. NY talent, bitches!

This has quickly become about nothing that has to do with drugs.

Thank you, drive thru.

Related Articles

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AA the only way?

Referring to basically all of my posts as of late. You know, ‘why is AA the only thing?’ blahblahblah…

An Alternate Road to Recovery

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Tragic Flaws, Change & Drugs

In reference to In Other Denial for Convenience’s Sake News… (also in combination with it)… I have a stupid sound bite from a ghey show that I used to watch in Chelsea on my 13 in TV that I somehow suspended from the “ceiling” aka the bottom of the loft bed that I lived beneath. Sundays, my only day off, hungover… no meth, just conscious enough to cock my head up toward the suspended box that, if I recall correctly, only really had like 4 stations because it was working off of an antenna …waiting for frank…. passing the blurry time before I could call him. (the dealer).

Disregarding the “you’re not a drug addict” part…

many drug addicts (I believe) rely on the fact that they are sooooo “out of the box”. interesting. artistic.

Bullshit.

I guess, because the way I look at things are exponentially changing these days.

Whatever.

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Hollywood Shadows (The New Yorker)

Yes, this is primarily a drug blog. 23rd Street doesn’t really have to do with Hollywood beyond the fact that 1/3 of my drug experiences have taken place there. So, we will find ourselves there once and a while. But there is an interconnection between drug abuse/use/addiction and therapy and the all elusive ‘writer’ that this author may or may not be.

That being said:

Hollywood Shadows (The New Yorker)

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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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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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…recently semi-buzzed…

…I’d like to give the preverbial shout out to:

My Addiction

It claims to be an “online addiction and recovery resource”. My attention span has very recently (like, in the last hour) decreased exponentially… so, I only register the “online addiction” part. So, that fits. Somewhere in the metaphorical back of the neural processes, I register the “recovery” bit… and it’s okay. Because I’m chill and relatively ‘feelin’ gooooood’.

Because, in truth, I’m not cool… because it’s not so cool. And I think about “recovery”.

The definition of “recovery” however, I think about much more. And can only ever come back with, “why do I only have one option”? Maybe I’m mislead or ill-informed…. but that’s what comes back.

Anyway, these guys seem okay, in my book… I guess.

Furthermore, I guess this is a double-post, as it were…

Wait, no… go here:

Bath Salt, bitches!

…as anything-meth-esque deserves it’s own post on 23rd street.

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Treating Agony With Ecstasy

99 tablets of Ecstasy on the Wall

yummy

I must say, I do this alot these days…

…if by “alot” one means “almost exclusively”.

And by “this”, one means “linking to other articles” without actually instilling any of my own insight and/or opinion thus rendering 23rd street a sort of torrentz of drug blogs (i.e. a meta-search for recreational/illicit/psychological drug-stuff).

It is what it is.

Treating Agony With Ecstasy (discovermagazine.com)

I suppose, with a bunch of physical/vestibular upheaveal, I am having trouble distinguishing what I might feel/think about anything. Though, I can tell you that I feel strongly that “Ecstasy” should be spelled “Ecstacy”.

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