Tuesday, February 27, 2007

piss piss moan moan bitch bitch

A 40 oz to freedom is the only chance I have to feel good even though I feel bad
[[sublime-40 ounces to freedom]]

Life sure is a sonofabitch. Day 6 of detox and I'm still a sick kitty. I wish I could eat... I haven't eaten in days... literally since I got here, except for a couple pieces of candy and 2 or 3 bites of rice. No wonder I have no energy. I'm so excited to leave tommorrow I could shit my pants. Oh god it was so embarrassing- I shat myself the other day, for real. I was humiliated, even through no one knew about it except for the nurses. I haven't shat myself since I was a little kid- they say it's the detox but it was pretty humbling.

Piss piss moan moan bitch bitch... like anyone wants to hear about that. I usually have such a positive attitude and now I'm sick and so grumpy and hurty and bitchy.

News from Dixie- Shane is in jail for grand larceny and I think Kim is too but I'm not sure because I don't know her last name so I can't look her up. I'll try "Kimberly" plus her last initial (I at least know that much) see if she's on the outs or not. I miss Dixie Highway. I miss Lake Worth. I miss GREG!!!! I never thought I would really "get with" a guy for more than a trick or a one-night stand after Micheal but Greg has been the best guy for me. It's right what I need- a guy who doesn't get high. But he does have a stash for me to bang when I get out tommorrow. Just thinking about it makes me want to hurl. I miss my god damn heroin and my god damn needles. Piss piss moan moan bitch bitch...

I've come to my senses that I've become senseless
I could give you lessons on how to ruin your friendships
Every last conviction, I smoked them all away
I drank my frustrations down the drain, out of the way
So I sit and wait and wonder- does anyone else feel like me?
I'm so tired of the same routines and disappearing self-esteem
I could write the best book on co-dependency
I'm the prime example of underage tragedy
I been spending my time at the local liquor store
And I been sleeping nightly on my best friend's kitchen floor
So I sit and wait and wonder- does anyone else feel like me?
I'm so overdosed on apathy and burnt out on sympathy
I'll sing along with every emergency
Just sing along, I'm the king of catastrophe
I'm so far gone, that deep down inside I think it's right by me
I'm my own worst enemy

[[less than jake-the science of selling yourself short]]

Monday, February 26, 2007

the most miserable person on earth

The person with this laptop is leaving today so... this is the last post until I leave detox. I finally figured something out. I could be in the finest resort, in Hawaii (or south beach?), drinking fancy drinks, relaxing, getting massages, eating steak and crab legs and candy all day, and if I wasn't shooting dope I would be the most miserable person on earth. Isn't that the craziest shit? That is the only thing that makes me happy. Well, perhaps not the ONLY thing. But nothing else can make me happy unless it is preceded by a fat shot. How pathetic does that make me?

Pretty fucking pathetic, if you ask me...

Well I just got my meds twice in like... an hour. I guess they're slipping. But no matter what they give me, it won't stop- the ache, the shakes, the jones, the dopesick/dopeseeking, the itch, the monkey on my back, whatever you want to call it. I need heroin. And a needle. For those of you who didn't hear correctly-

I need heroin!!!

But I can't get any until stupid Wednesday. Greg has my 2 bags waiting for me, but only if I finish my week here!!! My tracks are going away, it's awesome, and my veins are coming back, I'm all excited about it. But all my mind is saying is


I wish they detoxed with methadone here. I'm halfway crawled out of my skin, my cellphone is finally charged, add another random thought and it would be a Neil Diamond song.

GUN CLUB-TYPE COUNTDOWN: 2 more days (because after all it's after 3 so today doesn't count)

Sunday, February 25, 2007

reverse porcupine

I'm finally in detox in Miami!

It's about fuckin' time, Michelle, dontcha think?

Well, yeah. My arms were starting to look like swiss cheese. Infected swiss cheese. Reverse porcupine. If I had as many needles sticking out of me as I stuck in me, I would look like pinhead from Hellraiser. Space-baser. Needle freak. Fu-ckin jun-kee. Mosquitos would bite me and drop dead on the floor.

Lots of hell. Lots of pain. Lots of fucking hellish painful agony. Haven't been able to eat a bite in days. Scream in my sleep. Would literally KILL for one bag.

The sad part is- I don't plan on staying clean! I can't wait to get high again. Someone special has a stash for me. Woohoo! But ONLY if I stay my full 7 days. It's worth it! Working right now- I'd rather stay clean for... well, a couple more days. But if he switches out, I'm Fuuuuucked with a capital FUCK.

Other than that... I'm doing good... HAH!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Dixie Highway Daily CrackHead News

Yes! I'm back!

Let me explain... I haven't been able to log into here for god damned ever. Lake Worth and Lantana library 'puters seem to have something against Blogger because it would take me to the login screen then when I typed in my password and whatnot, left it "loading" for the entire hour allotted to me. Fuck all that noise. I logged into my GMAIL first, then when I put in my url it automatically took me to the dashboard and I was all like hell yes. I like this better than JunkyLife cause it's more... what's the word... normal. JL is kewl, I gotta admit that, but sometimes it's better not to be set apart just cause of my habit. My entire life revolves around heroin- why do I have to blog on JL also? It's just another reminder. Hell, what am I talking about, I love blogging on JL. But this is my real home. And no, no one is paying me for my testimony. Ha ha.

So... I overdosed on heroin. That was fun. As I was waiting for my cousin to come pick me up and take me to Orlando, my girl came over with some heroin:


"Michelle, I just copped this stuff off [[you wouldn't know him anyway]], it is ridiculous, you gotta try it."

How can I say no to that face? Set me up, my quip is in the drawer.

"How much do you want? It's super strong, I did a pinky-nail-full and I'm balls to the mo-fuckin' wall. I wouldn't do a lot if I were you."

Gimme a break, Tara. I got way more of a tolerance than you. I do more dope than a rock star- I can handle it.

"It's my dope, and unless you feel like flipping me some cash I'm giving you how much I want to give you!"

Christ, have twenty. Set me up a big one.

"Kay, but don't say I didn't warn you!"


So I stuck myself and registered r-e-a-l quickly. "Awesome, I'm in on the first try!" I said to no one in particular, and that's the last thing I remember. Next thing I knew, it was 2 days later and I was in JFK hospital. Words started running through my head at random-



...Baker Act...

...gotta get out of here...

For those of you not from Florida, the Baker Act is a little something unique to the Sunshine State. It states that if you are (or someone believes you to be!) a danger to yourself or someone else, you are sent to the nearest locked mental health ward for up to 72 hours for a psychiatric evaluation. I've been BA'ed so many times they should call that shit the Michelle Act. I was NOT going back to South County Mental Health Center! Fuck that! So I left the hospital. Plus I was dopesick as I'd ever been and needed someone to give me a play.

The weekend got better after that. I pretty much continued getting high because "I won't make that mistake again!" or whatever. So the next week was just a crazed sequence of events that I'll just write down in no specific order. Mikey (crackhead Angela's man) got out of jail. Shane and Kim and I finally had a 3-way. [[some other dealer]] got chased by cops who knew he was coming and thought Shane set him up with the police so it made the headline of the Dixie Highway Daily CrackHead News (we wrote a letter to the editor, and they printed a retraction cause Shane hates cops more than I do). My stalker tried to break my door down. I fucked up my hand. I hung out with Chuck and his roomate shooting coke all night. I almost had to move AGAIN. Greg got fired and I tried to make him feel better with a meatball sub. [[another dealer]] is a total bitch and I don't understand why. Micheal hates the fuck out of me and still hasn't called. My cousin is super pissed at me for ditching her, even though I over dosed. I tried K for the first time and hated it. I have yellow shit leaking out of my arm. I think I have Herpes (in my mouth, nowhere else!!). I told Greg I loved him. My neighbor got arrested for selling crack. I met a new junkie and we want to be best friends but she shoots up in her neck-ew. I made a solemn promise never to shoot up in my neck.

Can you tell I'm high (hallucinogens? special K?) while I'm writing this?

[[...i feel ready to die but it's takin' so long; the world's so wicked, the world's so wrong; i keep holdin' on, keep tryin' to stay strong; the world's so wicked, the world's so wrong...]]

Sunday, February 11, 2007

...oh, and take Lipozene

My stupid friends aren't going to Orlando. "Never trust a girl who is smoking her fifth joint of the evening when she tells you she made hotel reservations," that's what I always say. My cousin and I are still going which is awesome, it just pisses me off that my hoes are such stoner bastards. I'm in Miami right now, at my aunts' crib for my cousin Lorry's 25th birthday. Fun fun. Lorry and I are looking for a hotel to stay at in Orlando, or we can stay in the same rooms that Diamond was supposed to get for us. Only difference is that this time we'll actually, ya know, make reservations instead of just smoking pot and thinking about how nice it would be to have a hotel room.

I never know what to write here anymore, and normally I just end up babbling endlessly about nothing in particular. So I been writing my "findings" down in a teeny little memo pad to post later on. It's nothing but total randomness, but here goes...

1. "Mulch" is a funny word. It's almost like "munch," but no one in their right mind would munch on mulch.

2. Where do all those tiny little bags that dope is sold in come from? I know they don't get recycled, because every junkie I know (myself included) rips them in half, scrapes them, and then either throws them out or flushes them down the toilet. I've never seen bags that small for sale in any store, not even head shops, yet dealers seem to have a never-ending supply of the little motherfuckers. How the hell does that work?

3. Drug dealers change their names more than anybody in the world. If I was a drug dealer, I'd want to switch names a lot but wouldn't be able to because my real name is in huge black letters in the middle of my back. I guess I was never meant to sell dope.

4. Hotels vs motels- what is the difference? Technically, a hotel has room access through a lobby and a motel has room access directly from the parking lot. That's the literal definition. But in real life, hotels are where rich people stay when they travel and motels are where poor people live or druggies party on weekends. I think the names should be reversed. A shitty motel should be called a HOtel because of all the hoes that live and work there, and a high-end hotel should be called a MOtel because of how much money the rooms cost per night.

5. Why would anyone in their right mind smoke light cigarettes? They aren't any better for you than regular ones. Also, why would anyone smoke king-sized cigarettes when 100s cost the same and are bigger? That's just getting more for your money. Me, I smoke Newport 100s.

6. "I could care less." "I couldn't care less." Which one means that I don't care at all?

7. What's up with that TV commercial for Lipozene, the "miracle weight-loss pill"? The lady on the ad says, "Are you 20 or more pounds overweight, and every diet has failed? It's not your fault!" How is it not someone's fault that they are fat (with the possible exception of an honest-to-God glandular disorder, and in that case Lipozene isn't the answer)? Whose fault is it, if not your own? It's not like a fat guy sneezes on you and you catch his fat. No one can stick you with a dirty needle and give you 80 pounds. Here's what the commercial should say: "Are you 20 or more pounds overweight, and every diet has failed? Well, it's no one's fault but your own! Look at you, sitting there watching TV. Put down the Doritos and go for a jog or something, you fat son of a bitch... oh, and take Lipozene."

8. Hi-ho, high hoe, it's off to work I go.

9. I fiend for cigarettes because of the nicotine. I guess that makes me a nicofiend.

10. To my mother: Yes, I realize that you, your 2 sisters, and my cousin all drive red cars. Yes, it is cute at family get-togethers how all the red cars are all lined up. But do you have to point it out to me every single time we go to their house in Miami? That shit stopped being funny years ago.

There's no story that ain't been told
There's no gimmick that ain't been sold
There's no ocean that's never been swam
There's no saga that never began
There's no wheel that ain't been around
There's no treasure that ain't been found
There's no mind that's never been bored
There's no mother that ain't been ignored
There's nothing started that won't get stopped
There's no bomb that won't get dropped
There's no lie that's never been told
There's no beauty that won't get old
There's no opinion that can't be swerved
There's no beating that ain't been deserved
There's no road that's never been traveled
There's no doctor that ain't been baffled
There's no leader that ain't been led
There's no blood that ain't been shed
There's no garden the sun ain't beamed on
There's no shoulder that ain't been leaned on
There's no color that ain't been seen
Purple, red, yellow, blue, forest green
There's no drug that's never been dealt
There's no punch that ain't been felt
There's no prayer that ain't been prayed
There's no beast that ain't been afraid
There's no mountain that ain't been climbed
There's no lyrics that ain't been rhymed
There's no desert that ain't seen rain
And nobody here that ain't felt pain
Everything left has been done before
There's nothing new, nowhere to explore
So on the day when the wagons come
I just pray that they let me on

Monday, February 5, 2007

"House and Motel Room Searching 101"

I'm almost out of time on the library computer, so this will be short sweet and to the point. In fact, I'll number the events:

1) I started shooting up again. Still on the methadone, back on the heroin, still smoking weed and I threw a little IV cocaine in there too for good luck. Oh, and the booze. I wish I could stop, my life is a disaster, but I fucking can't. I'm the little engine that couldn't care less.

2) The Lake Worth cops searched/kicked me out of ANOTHER motel room. They are terrible room-searchers, 20 minutes with flashlights (and all the room lights on, go figure) and they came up with nothing, with all the shit I had [not]hidden in the room. You'd think that'd be part of Basic Training- "House and Motel Room Searching 101".

3) I had to move to Lantana, and already I miss L-Dub... even though I still hang there every day all day.

4) I am dopesick and broke right now... so I must move on to the next blast.

5) I hate methadone.

Why can't we not be sober?
Just want to start this over
Why can't we drink forever?
Just want to start this over

Why can't we just be sober?
Just want to start this over
Why can't we sleep forever?
Just want to start this over now...


Friday, February 2, 2007

sashimi specials

"Winter is finally upon us!"

…or so we thought. It must have been about 4 days ago when I crawled out of bed, stepped outside, and couldn’t believe what I was feeling. The temperature had dropped below 70 degrees!!! And in January!!! It was about 64 outside, and all of us semi-native Floridians began searching for blankets and hot cocoa and snow pants. But yesterday was the last day of winter- it’s 87 degrees right now. I guess all those heavy down jackets are going back into storage where they belong. Oh well, it was nice not having to run my air conditioner for a couple days there.

Been on the methadone for 2 1/2 weeks now and I still hate it just as much as ever. I hate dragging my sleepy ass to Lake Clarke Shores every gosh-darn morning (at least I can't say I'm dragging my ass there in the cold, right?) and waiting in that line to get my daily fix so I can stop hating my life for another few hours. Also I had to move out of my nice lil apartment because the chink bastard cop that hates me (let's call him CBC) told my landlords that if they didn't get me out of there, they would be in trouble. What a whore. He wants me off "his block." Personally, if I were a cop and there was someone on my "beat" and I didn't want to see their nasty face, I would make god damn sure they had a place to stay. Because once they become homeless, I have to see that ugly mug 10 times as often. Stupid CBC. Bitch bitch bitch complain complain complain. Don't I ever have anything positive to say?

Saito-Bangkok!!! That's positive. It's this Japanese/Thai restaurant right there in downtown Lake Worth and it has sashimi specials for lunch and for dinner. I am totally fucking hooked on the sashimi- for those of you who don't know, sashimi is sushi without the rice (basically just slabs of raw fish, which is tastier than it sounds hah). It's worse than the dope. I eat there every day, sometimes twice a day, and still haven't gotten sick of the taste. My stomach is growling right now just thinking about Saito-Bangkok, and it's only 1 street over from the library! I'm going there the second I get done with this blog. I already updated my other one.

I can't stop smoking weed now! I now smoke about an equal number of joints and cigarettes- but I smoke 2 packs a day. It's starting to get ridiculous- but it sure is fun. And no needles or dealing with black people or paraphernalia (besides the rolling papers themselves). It's not a very good heroin substitute, but it'll do. Plus it makes my new SpongeBob SquarePants video game about 10 times funnier than it really is. And makes my Girl Scout Cookies taste better. What? Girl Scout Cookies? Where? Ah, I left 'em at home...

Riding around town, noddin out on the brown
Slingin the white, cause we know how to get down
Cause they're smokin' it up, and they're shootin' it up,
And they're livin' it up, straight up not givin' a fuck
They walk around town with a permanent frown
Cause they can taste the smoke but they can't hear the sound
They're all 'bout 30 pounds down, basehead fuckin' clowns
And they're in every city, and they're in every town
They could be young, old, Mexican, white, or black
But we can't cut these motherfuckers no slack
I'd rather be a junkie with an arm full of tracks
Cause once you're stuck smokin' crack there ain't no goin' back

[[i'm off to eat at Saito's...]]