protect and serve my ass

Went to my mom's church today for a change. Just got back, now I'm at her house and getting ready to have lunch.

I'm gonna quit doing h if it's the last fucking thing I do, which it just might be. Whatever. What doesn't kill me can still maim me and break my spirit, right?

I had to move into a new apartment. I'm in a giant pissing match with the cops. Protect and serve my ass, who are they protecting by kicking me out of every place I've ever lived? Stupid pieces of shit. I'm keeping it on the DL where I'm staying now, but (haha) it's still in L-Dub. Fucking Lake Worthless Police. It's a 1br and the bed is very uncomfortable, so I sleep on the couch so I can watch TV. Kitty claimed the room, and has turned pretty antisocial ever since. She scratched the shit outta me, that bitch. She deserved a smack on the head but instead I just gave her lunch a couple hours late. Ha ha! I can't hurt Cat, I love her too damn much. Also the fridge in there didn't work, and all my fucking food went bad. Good thing my folks brought over a mini-fridge and are taking me shopping for milk, eggs, cheese, etc. All the shit I lost. Hooray for my folks!

No more heroin. For god's fucking sake, no more heroin.

then you decide

Dem updates be gettin' shorter 'n' shorter, no?

God, I wrote some funny fucking shit last night! I was bombed on delicious heroin and Valium and far far far too much mj and I was watching Me, Myself, and Irene when I decided to start writing. Was gonna type it up and post it when I got to the library but forgot the notebook. Whatever, it doesn't make any fucking sense anyway, although it is pretty fucking funny. Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaah lordy I guess I'm still fucked up. It's fucking Greg's fucking fault! (note to self: too many effwords) He keeps bringing over weed and pressuring me to find people to buy some from. So I been smoking his guy's weed (oh yeah- and paying for it even though he gets to keep the bag and leaves me jack shit) which is decent, but then I found a dude who sold me a quarter for a dub (from Greg's dude we pay $30) and it was FIRE so I give Greg a little tiny bit since that's what he always does to me and he got all pissy. "Shelley, come on, what the hell is that? That's not even half a joint!" Not that we really smoke joints anymore, but it was still funny as hell. He has a little metal weedpipe that he's fallen in love with and my friend gave me a bong which is cool. Cigars, those I like. Mostly when I smoke weed it's in cigars. Hell, I've been doing more weed than heroin at this point. Sucks to be back on the shit, but whatever. I'm not doing lots (except last night, but what can I say) mostly just tiptoeing through $50 worth a day and not always finishing it that day either. I figure there is a middle ground between shooting 2 or 3 Benjamins in my arm every day and being sick and writhing in the bed, there must be, cause I'm doing it! At least for now... "but it gets worse. It always gets worse, addiction is a progressive disease.. That's right, the DISEASE of ADDICTION."

I realized I've never on here shared my views on "the DISEASE of ADDICTION and the Holiest of Holies, THE TWELVE STEPS." My views are that calling addiction is a disease is the biggest load of crap ever except for the twelve steps. So they've proven a genetic link- whoohoo. Everything that defines us is genetic- like how fat parents tend to have fat kids and red-headed parents tend to have red-headed kids. If you're fat and want to be skinny, it's not a genetic disease. If you're a junkie, and you don't want to be a junky anymore, it's not a disease. I read that one book that Oprah said she liked then later she said it was a lie, and fuck what Oprah says I liked it! Addiction isn't a disease. aids is a disease!!! If you have aids, you can't just walk into a smoky rented rooms with a bunch of charged-up folks and talk about having aids and expect it to get better. You can't choose to quit having aids, or go to a special aids center for 28 days where you talk about it and write about it and at the end of the month you're testing negative, or slow down your aids, or decide when you can't handle having aids anymore and you have to stop! Jesus! Addiction isn't a f***ing disease, addiction is a choice. Every time you pick up the needle or the beer or the prescription bottle or the rockpipe or the deck of cards or whatever the fuck it is, you make a choice. Am I gonna put this shit down and do something with my life? Or am I going to continue to live like a fucking pathetic loser? Then you decide. Addiction is nothing but a whole crapload of bad decisions all in a row.

I'll go into the Twelve Steps later. I hate them too.

a little break from the needle and the chase

Ran out of methadone.

Back on heroin- yeah, yeah, I know...

Me and Greg have been fighting for weeks. Over MONEY. I was sick as a fucking dog having run out of methadone day before yesterday and he knows I need a minimum amount to cop from my dude and I was going over to the d-boy's house and Greg took all my money that fucker! Well he did leave me twenty bucks but the minimum is more than that so I had to hit the block when I could barely fucking stand up! Jesus!!!!!

It was nice to have a little break from the needle and the chase. Whatever. It's kinda nice to be back. I got some dope today that rocked my fucking world. It burned the shit out of my arm from my hand to my elbow, but what the hell. I didn't feel it after a couple seconds, so...

Business is booming. Since I wasn't using heroin for a straight week, I went SHOPPING and lordy was it fun. Smoked a little crack but what the hell, not more than a 40-piece. That's not bad... is it? NO!

Ummmm.... yeah

four days

Four days no heroin.

Somebody kill me please...

get out there and make some fuckin' money

I haven't done any heroin for 50 hours.

But I have done.. let's see now... 210mg of methadone since day before yesterday at 230pm. Is that too much? I was terrified of getting sick. There's only 3/4 of a wafer left (30mg) which means I'm gonna have to make a buy tonight even if I don't touch it until tommorrow. I can't start out the day with nothing, I just fucking can't, and I know I'm gonna take the rest of that 'done before I go to sleep. That's just my junkyness in action.

I stepped on Kitty today. Not on purpose but I still got pissed at myself.

Greg is a dickwad. I don't owe him shit and he needs to stop. Bursting into my house, telling me what to do with MY shit, yelling at me, laying on my spot on the bed, annoying the hell out of both me and Cat, hiding my drugs, telling me to "get out there and make some fuckin' money bitch" when it's 90 degrees outside, storming out (I guess to prove a point?) and coming back in 2 minutes later, not sharing the weed that I bought him which he smokes out of the bowl that I bought him, demanding money!!! Bitch I suck dick for my money! He needs a job or a life or something to do because I'm sick of listening to him.

I'd do anything for a shot right now. I probably wouldn't feel it, but I miss "the old familiar sting".

free plug

Fred Marsh, a close family friend, died earlier this week. His funeral is this weekend and my parents and brother are going, but I can't afford to go. I don't have enough money, I don't have enough days paid in rent, I don't have enough dope to get me through the weekend. And what about Cat? I guess Greg could come feed Kitty but still, I can't go out of town longer than overnight. Whatever.

I have terrible staph infections on both my feet and can't wear shoes at all, not even fuzzy slippers. Goddamn they hurt. I remember once when I had staph I got an IV port for antibiotics and i didn't have to stick myself at all for a week. Having a direct line was awesome. I hope I get another one, my veins are sons of bitches. But shit, my feeties hurt.

Kitty keeps tearing up toilet paper rolls. What, am I not feeding her enough?

I've been drinking nightly with the other people in my building. One thing I've noticed- there's a couple advantages to living in the poorhouse. When you live in a suburban house, you have the same neighbors for years and you get sick of looking at their faces. The poorhouse (motels, weeklies, crack-huts, etc) have a wonderfully transient population. People stay from 3 days to 6 months before moving, so you're bound to find at least one cool person among them. And if someone moves in that you simply can't stand, you know they'll be gone soon enough and if they aren't, it's not too much trouble for you to move. I've lived in at least 50 different poorhouses just in the city of Lake Worth, and that's not counting all the places in West Palm, Boynton, Greenacres, Royal Palm, Palm Springs, Riviera, Lake Park, North Palm, Wellington, etc.

The movie '1408' kicks fucking ASS!!!!! <--- free plug