HEROIN IS A DRUG TO MAKE THE WORLD GO AWAY

THIS IS A BLOG ABOUT A LIFE WITHOUT HEROIN



Showing posts with label clubbing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clubbing. Show all posts

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Binky Telling Me I'm a Cuckoo Clock ~ Plus: "A Bitch Called Sandy"...

BINKY keeps telling me I'm "really mad" and I keep telling her I'm not. I mean, I'm not paranoid, not depressed, not anxious even and so what if I feel high nearly all the time? I'd taken heroin in the night and hadn't slept so when I went round Binky's at 7:45 this morning, I was a bit hyper. I was trying to think up names for my fabulous clubnight and she kept getting offended by my wonderful ideas like "Slut Vagina". [I would never give my club such a vulgar name; it just seemed like a good idea at the time...] And when I took to recording random snatches of conversation. So for a while I was thinking of naming my star-spangled party "Are you on that toilet for long? Because I really need to go." ~~ I think that would be a brilliant name! The other top two favourites were "Gnome Brigade", "Dillory Pillory" and "Itchy Swines".

So what does Binky mean when she says I'm mad? She seems to think I ought to know, but I don't. Everyone in her house is insane anyhow, because it's a psychiatric half-way house. And yet when I loudly said I'd been hearing voices in the night again ~~ and I mean all of two voices saying no more than two words each ~ nobody was willing to take on board the fact that yes, I might hear the odd voice now and then ~ but no, I most certainly am not clinically crazy. Especially compared to the rest of the nutters I know.

Grizzeller, the one guy in Binky's house full of nutty girls is in such consistently slow motion that if, for example, you wanted to visit the house at 9am and knew he'd be the only one in, you'd have to phone in advance at eight to give him enough time to shamble along the hallway and get the front door open. Now that is bonkers. I am not!

When I was talking to my very young and beautiful GP, Dr Lovelace about the inconveniences of psychotic breaks and happened to opine that "hearing voices is supposed to be a sign of madness," she quite inaccurately corrected me saying, "well, hearing voices is a sign of schizophrenia". Well yes, of course it can be that, but it can also be a sign of bipolarity, a sign of psychism (clairaudience) and a sign of nothing at all! I'm really surprised Dr Lovelace doesn't realize that 15% of bipolar 1 patients hallucinate. Hallucinations are not, per se, signs of schizophrenia. In this country we have a national Hearing Voices Network brimful with people experiencing daily extra-sensory perceptions and the majority of them claim not to be mad, and do not experience the symptoms of psychosis (paranoia, incoherent thought, great difficulty engaging with life).

The British Mental Health Foundation obviously know their stuff. Binky insists all her voices are absolutely accoustically real. Well many of mine aren't. When I really was mad they did sound exactly like invisible people speaking next to me, but nowadays they're more like random words precipitating from an idea-saturated atmosphere into my consciousness:

It is also common for people to hear voices as if they are thoughts entering their mind from somewhere outside themselves. This is not the same as a suddenly inspired idea, which people usually recognise as coming from themselves. These thoughts are not their own and would seem to come from outside their own consciousness, like telepathy.

This isn't precisely my experience, but it's similar.

When I tell Binky I may be "just a bit hypomanic" she says, "you've been hypomanic for two weeks now". And when I point out that hypomania is just very mild mania, she says, "then hypomania is mild madness". You see?! Every move I make I'm already snookered. That girl has been in the mental health system for far too long and she knows too much.

Then she takes issue with me for wondering aloud what is wrong with other nutters and why they act the way they do. Well that's just me being me, I'm afraid ~ always fascinated by what makes others tick...


Hey! I'm not doing Christmas alone with an Iceland sweet chili chicken pizza this year because I've been invited to Binky's for Xmas Lunch with all her cuckoo-clock friends. How brilliant is that?! We're even allowed vodka, which has been banned for the rest of the year after Binky got me to buy two half bottles, drank the lot and then ended up lying in bed throwing a near-delirious pity-party of weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. It was really not pretty.

Speaking of alcohol, I idiotically went and wasted 95p on a can last night which I mixed with my Polish fruits of the forest drink. I had one single sip and now it's sitting in a giant mug untouched and untouchable and I don't know what to do with it now. I'm very much into the waste not, want not philosophy and cannot in all good conscience pour it down the drain. Like I've said many times ~ although yes, I did used to drink enough alcohol not to be consuming any nonalcoholic drink at all and to be getting daily blackouts. But on the other hand I never had that "once I start drinking I won't stop until I'm passed out cold" thang going on, like most alkies seemingly do. I was your archetypal "top-up drinker" ~ drinking to keep a moderate level of intoxication going through every waking hour. Not to plunge myself into oblivion. Even with the drugs, most of the time, I wasn't using gear in pursuit of unconsciousness, but as an escape from pain. Now that I'm no longer in constant psychological pain I feel far less need of the gear. See it's all deep, psychological and mysterious.

At yesterday's anti-drugs group we had a cheeky chappie with what are nowadays termed "mental health" troubles but what always used to be called "emotional problems" ~ from what he said, his primary problems appeared to be anxiety and depression. This might very well be the "vanilla" version of mental illness, but let me tell you, anxiety/depression is just about the most unpleasant psychiatric affliction going. It's much more unpleasant than manic-depressive psychosis and of course the doctors take anxiety far less seriously than psychotic illness, which makes no sense, as severe anxiety is far and away more intolerable than any psychosis I've ever experienced. The doctors never, ever take it seriously, and they will not prescribe anything for it, except drugs along the lines of Prozac ~ which always made me many times more agitated than I'd been before. Anxiety doesn't generally agitate me. When it was severe, I was frozen in terror. As the psychologists say, it's "fight, flight or play dead" ~ which is very true as I always played dead. Though I've never seen a person with an anxiety disorder fighting. If anxiety really did make you fight, the mental hospitals would be full of people with panic disorders under Section for fighting instead of "flighting", or playing dead like me!

Anyway this guy with the terrible affliction happened to mention to me something about confronting the issues that have caused or fuelled my past depressions. What issues is he talking about? Do I even have any? Binky says yes I do; I said, "do you mean my massively unstable self-esteem?" and she said yes. But post-psychotic trauma aside, I'm not sure I have the type of issues that a skilfull counsellor could tease out of me so that in the future I'm going to magically not be depressed. I'm not sure my depression is like that. If it were mostly issue-based then how come the first sign, and usually the most prominent symptom is massively increased time spent asleep? Can a thorny tangle of emotional hang-ups really make you sleep more? And how come half the time I actually feel better than usual? So my mood is now elevated ~ and what has become of my issues now? Are they actually making me feel happy? Or is another set of personal hang-ups doing that? Or is it just that when I'm on the hypomanic side simply more in touch with my own fabulosity and that's what makes me feel fabulous all the time? Because that's what I think is going on...

Righty-ho it's ten past six and I have to go to Iceland to get a sweet chili chicken pizza. Writing about it has made me wanna munch it! With cheese-flavour coleslaw as a side-order. I luuuurve cheese coleslaw! I barely slept last night and must catch up before I fall asleep at the screen...


What's happening with Sandy, this humungous great tropical storm they said might flood or flatten New York? Is it really that bad? And why, if it only made landfall around midnight London time. With the time difference currently a mere four hours, that means New York was OK until eight at night their time, so why close down the subway and the stock exchange all day yesterday? Also, with New York being so low-lying, I don't understand why they hadn't long ago built seal-up-able subway and road tunnels to prevent any storm-surge getting into them... I woke up yesterday morning feeling so incredibly repentant for having been too excited about the idea of a giant hurricane hitting a major metropolis and not having my thoughts with the householders and the businesses who will suffer because of it. I can sometimes be incredibly shallow and I really felt guilty for having not taken Hurricane Sandy seriously. Also I wrote a comment to my fellow-blogger, Syd saying "so you live in South Carolina? Isn't that the land of hurricanes?" ~ no sooner had I said that than that Sandy appeared and I was terrified that Syd would get blown away because of what I'd said.

So all isn't right in the world. I keep thinking of all those people in New York, New Jersey and so on who will be dealing with massive flooding and power cuts. I mean, it's disconcerting enough when the power goes down for just a couple of hours and it's candles time and no television but what happens when a whole metropolis goes down for days at a time?

I used to be in touch with a recovering addict named B Melons Lemonade, who was right in New Orleans and actively addicted to heroin when Hurricane Katrina hit, destroying not just the infrastructure of the city we all think about, but its drug supply network. B Melons was so traumatized by events that she went down with a pretty nasty case of PTSD which is by all accounts one of the nastiest mental illnesses going...

I pray that New York and everywhere else in the path of this so-called "Frankenstorm" will be OK... 

Night-night everyone, wherever you are ~ and BE SAFE!...


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Monday, 29 October 2012

Monte Carlo Cool


I HAVE JUST ENDURED yet another session of crapping on about drugs in a group. It's so exhausting having to be respectful of other people's sobriety when really all I wanted to say and ~ ha! ~ I did say it was ~ WHAT'S SO WRONG WITH TAKING HEROIN ANYWAY? The only thing wrong with it, as far as I can see is that it's too expensive and illegal.

So when I was put the inevitable question: So why do you want to stop? And do you actually want to stop? I said Well I wanna stop because I'm so BORED of being a junkie and besides it's socially unacceptable and now I'm old I wanna be respectable and not just a great inflated raving hypocrite who still uses on the sly (like Valerie, Australia and the world's Greatest Housewife Heroin Dealer).

Also I intend to become the Andy Warhol of my generation (and I'm not put off by being "old": old, after all, is the new young). I wanna do something new with my life and I don't want to do it on drugs. By Andy Warhol,
I mean the Andy Warhol of children's books. Something like that. Also I want to become a great painter because new canvasses can go for millions these days. Also I plan on becoming a shameless social climber. Well I want to meet interesting people: great artists, fashion designers, photographers, writers, polar explorers and the like. I'd like to meet a real live titled aristocrat ~ just for the novelty value. I've never knowingly met a true upper class person in all my entire life. The crème de la crème of international society shall flock to my fabulous club nights. They will be like a more glamorous Monte Carlo version of Studio 54 (I won't live in London when I'm rich ~ the taxes are too high). I'm also planning to go into business setting things up and finding things for people with too much money and not enough time. Example: if Elizabeth Taylor were alive and wanted to dispose of her Bulgari emeralds on the quiet, I'd broker the deal for her. (Why do you think I want to mix with the rich and the fabulous? To make money off them, of course!) I'd specialize in houses, yachts, planes, art and jewellery. All the stuff I really love! I might also set up an introduction agency for billionaires who want to find heiresses who aren't gold diggers. That would be a good one. I'd make my introduction fee a cool quarter million euros ($322,450.28)... Would that be too much? Or not enough? I don't want to sell myself short...


Anyway back to the drugs. Boring, huh. No more drugs for me. I haven't used for two whole days! Or three actually... maybe... whatever... I can't remember.

There's not much else to post except my elevated mood is falling! How terrible is that. I hate feeling human and fallible and normal. I actually deigned to pick up my writing last night and the last page I wrote was amazing. I wrote it when I thought I was in a hurry or couldn't concentrate and it just goes to show that genuis is unreliable. Because usually when I write something I think is marvellous it turns out to be crap!

Here's some hardcore trance music. Do you know I've just found out the music I really like is called "hard trance" ~ how pathetic is that? To love something dearly your whole life through (from 1998 onwards) and not even know the name of it? As per usual the first track is crap but about 4 mins in it starts getting good (that's the "Dreams" track I posted up before). And I really like the one after it that sounds like aliens in the forest sawing away at a Giant Redwood-sized magic mushroom....



Illustrated: Monte Carlo; Andy Warhol; Elizabeth Taylor's Bulgari emeralds that I want to sell...
BTW: the whole lot went for $24,799,000 (£15,871,360/€19,095,230) ~ which I suppose is a reasonable price but I'm sure I could have got more... but hey if I took just a 5% cut of that, I'd have $1,239,950 (£793,568/€954,761.50) ~ not bad for a day's work...

                                   

Saturday, 27 October 2012

Marvellous Ecstasy Reminiscence... What a Wonderful Time We Had...

SUNNY SIDE UP is the club I used to go to on Sunday afternoons at the SW1 Club or the Chunnel Club. It tied with Trade club and Frantic as the most hardcore dance club in London, with most space cadets attending because they'd been on the go all weekend and couldn't come down. So when you got in at 2 or 3pm the crowd were stuck to the ceiling! Other, more sensible people, like me, used to prefer clubbing on Sundays because you could have a great time without losing sleep. Highly convenient.

The inconvenient thing about Trade was that it was a "gay club" (albeit with a very mixed/straight crowd ~ you certainly didn't have to be gay to go there) but I could never find anyone to go with, so I never went. Sunnyside Up was straight. To be honest there's nothing really sexual about any club except a full-on sex club. Or the terrible beer-monster meat-market nightclubs that I'd never bother with anyhow...

The clubs I went to were far more drugsual than sexual, though a nightclub was far more than a venue to get off your tits on Ecstasy. The biggest factors in a Great Night were who was DJing and who was there. The vast majority of the time I used to turn up to clubs on my own (as many, many others did) because when I went to a party the same faces were always there time after time and meeting up first at pubs where nobody really wanted to drink alcohol anyway (drink and E don't really mix) was just a big waste of time. I made so many friends clubbing that I was totally friended out. A person can only have about four or five best friends but I was totally deluged by Fabulous People.

The one single drug that I cannot sincerely say was rubbish, not worth it, a big waste of time etc was Ecstasy, because E was so special. The first time I took remember feeling a great expanding glitter-ball of energy explode from the middle of the dance floor and thinking "this music is so 3D" and that was my first rush. And then I broke out in the most incredible euphoria I'd ever experienced ~ far, far higher and more transcendent than anything you'd ever feel off drink or pot. Ecstasy is the nearest thing to chemical love I have ever experienced. An incredibly deep and intense feeling of empathy and connectedness to all people. Dancing on ecstasy was the first time I ever danced without even knowing it. The whole experience was just like an extended happy dream, but the amazing thing was that you shared this dream with all your friends and all other Chemical Dreamers in the room.

If I ever took E again, I think I'd want to take it with my Mum. (If I asked her, I think there's a chance she'd say yes.) Maybe we could break down years of estrangement and pain with the one drug I've ever found that reliably breaks down inhibitions and barriers and "opens the heart"... We aren't physically estranged. But there's emotional estrangement and I've tried and tried to break through it, writing letters etc., but nothing so far has worked...

But as for drugs, I don't need them any more. All week I've felt good, the same kind of good people snort coke to feel but without the irritability, the jitters, or the cost. Example: the other night I was just lolling around the lounge, as you do, when I felt this incredible rush of star-spangled excitement building up and breaking out and flowing around my heart in rainbows of loveliness. And this was on NO DRUGS AT ALL!! How fantastic is that?

FRANTIC HARDHOUSE ACADEMY 2004
Way after my time but VG nonetheless...



SUNNYSIDE UP: TONY DE VIT/MC K



HARD TRANCE 1998
this is a hell of a lot better than the Tony de Vit mix above...
the best tune is the one coming in around 8 mins 50
yeah!



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Tuesday, 31 July 2012

Manic in the Night

I STARTED CYCLING in an antidrug meeting yesterday. In case that brings to mind imagery of me circling the group on a bike, that's not what I mean. I got the expression from Anna Grace,
who's also bipolar. I mean my mood became exuberant and hyper and I became very talkative and went shopping for DVDs. That's how I ended up with five Orbital albums for the bargain price of £16. I didn't really think I was anything more than very slightly hypomanic.

Night fell, however, and my mood went shooting up. I found myself doodling sentences in Japanese till past four a.m. At one point I got very jittery and anxious, so I went down the shop for a cyder. Glugging it back I managed to relax, which is just as well, because I continued going up higher and higher. By five a.m. I felt exactly as if I'd just got home from a night clubbing on Es and whizz and that the drugs were still going full-on.

Of course I had no luck sleeping. Lying in bed helped me relax, but sleep was nowhere on the horizon. Eventually I did end up conking out intermittently. I had to get up at eleven to pay my friend Pinky £40 she needed back today. My mood has gone down a bit, but it hasn't switched poles. I was very jittery earlier, but now I just feel weird. It's five to three and fatigue has caught up with me. It's too early to sleep and too late to do much with the day.

Has everyone been watching the Olympics? I should be very excited about them, being as they're going on in this fine metropolis. I heard they had twenty-four Mary Poppins aerialists at the opening ceremony. Was it any good? Did we put China's Spectacular to shame? I've yet to connect the satellite dish to my television. It seems a cable TV installer cut the wires, so I need to reconnect them. The hole in the wall through which they trail is big enough for a baby mouse to set up home.

I don't know whether I need to see a doctor: I felt really ill this afternoon. Physically done in.

I know I was manic last night because when I walked to the shop I felt like someone ws pushing me all the way there, like when you have a strong wind backing you up from behind...

Well I'd better go; I'm really tired now.

Take care Everyone...


Illustrated: Olympic cycling; Olympic Mary Poppinses; "Rapid Cycling and Mixed States as 'Waves'"

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MUSICAL BREAK

CANCER RESEARCH FEATURING EVA CASSIDY: FIELDS OF GOLD
This is the only TV advert that's ever made me cry...




EVA CASSIDY: FIELDS OF GOLD




Diagnostic & Statistical Manual: Psychiatry’s Deadliest Scam
I found out about this from Madinsanecrazy's blog. But she didn't post the video up, saying it wouldn't fit for some reason. Maybe it's something to do with Wordpress..?

 
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