WHAT BLUSTER AND GUFF was I parping on about yesterday? Did I actually say that I thought my family were somehow pretending to be worried I was going to drop dead from a heroin overdose? How patently ridiculous can you get?
I think what I would actually have meant was they were using the saying "you might kill yourself!" more as a turn of phrase than a literal truth.
But even that is ridiculously self-absorbed and narcissistic. In the phrase of my old psychodynamic counsellor I would be "denying their reality". Of course they were worried about me. Worried sick. Just when they should have been coasting comfortably towards retirement I brought a dark shadow into their lives. For all they knew, whenever I failed to call for a couple of weeks or more I could have been lying dead on a pile of rotting mattresses, cockroaches scuttling in and out of my open mouth, in a rat-infested, rain-drenched squat somewhere. I can't believe I could be so self-centred ever to imply I didn't think they weren't worried to death about me. [That was never what I thought. Sometimes I genuinely don't know what I believe. I mean, I know I think a lot of things, but I don't know what to believe... I HAVE KNOWN ~ for a long time ~ that I was never going to die of an accidental drug overdose. Not ever. But who else can "know" that too... you know?...?
I had a lovely blip of Elevated Mood yesterday. All evening. All night. By 1am the Polish techno pop videos were blasting out whilst I "cleaned the house" (ie danced around with hi-tech ultra-trendy blue rubber broom in hand). Some fantastic traxx came on the channel (which is known as "Polo TV" and freely available via the Hotbird satellite at 13°E). I've noticed in the international scheme of things that Russian and Polish pop stars seem quite old, whereas South Korean boybands look living manga cartoon characters. Barely 14 years old and prettier than most girls. I have a Favourites List named "Hotbird Collection" comprising nearly 150 channels from everywhere where I do, or would like to speak the language. Or find the country interesting. In other words gerzillions of countries. Somaliland state television (the midnight folk songs are particularly entrancing.) Ethiopian and Eritrean TV with funky runic writing (they do believe the Amharic script is descended from ancient Yemeni runes). Afghanistan state TV. The American State Department International Satellite Feeds (about 40 of them, though I only saved 1). Three channels in Thai, including a gameshows/soap opera channel and a round-the-clock Buddhist chanting station in heavily accented Pali. Press TV ~ Iranian station in English which is probably what President George Bush feared Al Jezeerah would be like ~ antiestablishment, antimonarchist... etc. Hispan TV (Iranian movies and telenovellas dubbed into Spanish.) Italian QVC. Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.
I just bumped into the NA guy who thought I was high on crack a couple of years back when I was having my funky psychotic manic episode. We exchanged numbers and he promised to ring me in order to meet up for Monday Night at the church where Greg Arious and his GF go. (I'm avoiding Greg because he went into rehab where he kicked methadone, heroin, crack, and alcohol. But guess what..? No drugs left (according to his girlfriend). But STILL DRINKING. If things were the reverse, I wouldn't mind so much ~~~~~ but heavy drinking in the manner of Greg Arious ~ and his drinking really is completely out of control... that I cannot handle. Constant constant textmessaging basically trying to bully me into bringing gynormous bottles of ultra-strength white cyder. Three litres gone in not much more than an hour, then he's begging for more and trying to guilt trip me for having taken sensible precautions like having left a half packet of 10 ciggies at home. Making out I'm stingy because I smoke 30 ciggies a day derived from 10 long ones ("Superkings") rolled into 30... oh you know what people are like. Well NA Guy says I'm welcome to come and he doesn't waste his time or energy on no-hoping timewasters. ~~ Unlike me. ~~~ Which I take as a real compliment. It means he's looked into my eyes and seen Light.
I hope he doesn't think I'm "high" today because this is my second day HEROIN-CLEAN. I took 1.5x my script. Tomorrow I'm gonna try to live on my scripted methadone dose alone so wish me luck with that~!!
I know I probably do seem a bit high to the outside world but really I'm fine... I was up most of last night but really was too hyperactive to sleep. Eventually, just by staying still, I did manage to chill enough to slip into unconsciousness but it took hours and hours and hours to really feel like I'd achieved "proper" sleep and even then I was waking up at least twice an hour. So I slept from maybe 6am to approx 1 or 2pm. Which sounds good ~~ 8 hours. But it must certainly wasn't eight hours solid. It's only because I know enough about "insomnia" to recognize that time spent lying down relaxed with your eyes closed when time passes easily probably are periods of sleep. Just not amazingly good sleep... That I accept I got very much sleep at all... So I wasn't in a particularly good mood this afternoon and didn't want to go out. But Binky, very kindly, bought me a brand new pair of trainers (those are sneakers to you Americans) and she wanted to ceremonially give them to me. My mentalization group was cancelled anyhow (teacher sick) so after collecting my 30mg of highly addictive gloop I tubed it down to Bink's. Spent ages hovering on the doorstep only to be reprimanded by an African nurse who didn't even open the door. And yet she was insisting that Binky had just departed the premises.
Eventually Binky heard my desperate doorstep wailings. Blew her top and severely reprehended the dredlocked Ghanaian nurse. Because she's got Borderline Personality Disorder it took Binks a good half hour to calm herself down from all the Reprehending. I, on the other hand, was trying not to cackle too much! Then she ceremonially presented me with the Trainers. Dark Grey. Brand New. "Boxfresh" (as the kids say nowadays). Luuurverlyjubbelly! Binky commanded me to wear my brand new boots in temparate and cold weathers and the trainers in hot and I ceremonially agreed.
I was going to write something about how I felt. Why is that..? O yeah because of my "mood diary". Hypomanic blips all over the place. I'm really hoping for a good spell of Elevated Mood as that could hopefully mean that I manage to kick that nasty Killer Drug Heroin FOR GOOD ~~ how brilliant would that be??~?~!~?~~~
Well that's about all for today. Public toilets. Lavatories> pillories and stocks
Above: a neat and tidy pillory. This is NOT the stocks. A person sentenced to the stocks had the luxury of sitting down and his or her hands were ordinarily free, allowing some measure of self-defence; a pilloried person, on the other hand was forced to stand like this, head and hands locked into a wooden fram, a picture of helplessness. The pillory was for far more serious crimes (eg fraud, perjury, sedition, homosexuality) than the stocks (petty theft, drunkenness, etc). Baying crowds turned out in vast numbers to torment the unfortunate criminals sentenced to this form of torture. People sentenced to stand one hour in the pillory were frequently maimed or even killed.
Housebreakers, muggers, child-abusers and retailers of low-quality or adulterated heroin should be pilloried and pelted with horse-shit like this ...
PS can I point out that I heavily disapprove of pillories and torture...
But sometimes I do think that for the abovementioned crimes ~ especially housebreaking and child abuse, maybe the pillory should be brought back. The only style of unBritish justice I could possibly approve of would be Singapore-style caning on the bare backside (how demeaning for a grown man to be beaten on the bum like that ~ and it's supposed to be agony). Only if they did bring it to Britain it must be for BOTH sexes... and the stocks and the pillory. Otherwise I'm totally anti-torture. I'm pro-death penalty, however. I believe that for many human beings in many cases the death sentence would be kinder than life imprisonment...
Yes I KNOW how funny my writings on such matters must probably sound. I can frequently reduce entire room fulls of people in group therapy sessions to gurgling, side-splitting roaring cackles of laughter and that's by telling the TRUTH of what I really think!