January 2010

Well another day down I have felt really good the last couple of days.  Why?  No idea.  I have consciously been trying to change my attitude as I really dont have it that bad at all, its all in your head.  Last night in a meeting I was listening to this older guy who was fighting back tears just go off the hook.  He was fed up with his life, his wife left him 30 days ago, his house was on the market to sell, he lost his job, and was living back with his senior citizen parents.  It was his 7th week in treatment, I assume he still had insurance as I dont know how else he would have been able to afford it.  He kept on talking about sitting alone in a bedroom with a bottle of gin.

You can almost feel the emotion in the room when something like that is going on, a bit like a static charge.  Hopefully he expelled it by dumping all his thoughts out on us.  He continually stressed the point that he was successful in his business life and he said everything just started to seem like it was a fruitless effort.  He said he just stopped caring about life and set out to drink himself to death.  I was sitting right next to him thinking about what kind of new shoes I want.  Maybe I do that so I dont get caught up in his emotions or maybe I have heard hundreds of these ‘guys’, ‘girls’, ‘kids’ express the same thing.  Destruction of the self.   A continual grasp for money, all while letting his family fall apart.  I couldn’t help but imagine scenes from the movie, Leaving Las Vegas.  He was an alcoholic but the other week he did mention that it was cocaine that was the real nail in the coffin.

I dont know why I still go to meeting perhaps to remind myself that things are not that bad for me at all and they could always get ALOT worse quick.  I have to find some more positive events to take up my well being, like a girlfriend.  Part of my brain is telling me that all the suggestive negative behavior and emotions I hear at meetings do have some influence on my own psychological well being.  Even a 10th grader knows your environment is a major factor in your health.  The power of suggestion even cloaked suggestion eventually starts to effect ones own self.  So yeah its possible that AA/NA meetings have had a negative repercussion on my over all health lately.  Do the negatives outweigh the positives though?

It could be the weather that is adding to my depressive state, although I hate to even label it as depressive as I am just plain lazy and not getting out enough or doing enough positive exercise to elevate my mental health.  Plus I am pretty sure the majority of all this ‘blah-ness’ is just long-term PAWS [post acute withdrawal symptoms].  My last psychiatrist was not kidding when he said it might take 1-2 years for my body to rebound fully from the long term  benzo therapy I was on.  He was hesitant to even but a time frame on it as he said it would be ‘suggestive’ and I completely agree.  Oh well, I have to start somewhere.  First school, than a girlfriend, than a job, than back to the real world.  Just my luck when I finally get my shit together watch, the world will start to really get hit with its destructive forces and society as I know it will cease to be.  Or rather I should say society/reality as I view it as my reality is a little bit different than most.

I wish it was warmer so I could go on a nice bike ride as I definitely miss that.  I have been telling myself that I need to start lifting weights.  Mainly to get those chemical reactions to start to occur more readily in my brain besides it couldnt hurt to get a little more physically fit.  Schools going well but I am lacking discipline lately for just sitting down and doing basic studying, [staying on top of my readings, outlining and writing down notes outside of class] as I find when I do that outside of classroom notes/lectures the information tends to stick a little easier.  My classes are populated with young girls, too young.  I have one during my M/W/F classes that is in the same first two classes as me and sits right next to me.  She has kinda been hitting on me or at least being very friendly but I dont know I am just rambling on the computer instead of homework.

I bought a new book today, ‘An Exorcist Tells His Story’ by Gabriele Amorth.  Father Gabriele is the renowned chief exorcist of Rome.  The book is very intriguing and its one of those hard to put down books.  I havent been reading to much for my own personal pleasure as of late and I still have a stack of unread brand new books that I havent even cracked the covers of.  Plus a couple left over Borders gift cards left.

I have been having good dreams the last couple nights.  Usually after I lay down and say prayers I can get in a meditative state where if I focus on just a single image from my dreams I can most of the time get a pretty vivid recall of a big chunk of dreams.  I have always been able to do that but with repeated practice it comes easier.  Last night I woke up exactly at 5:03 am and was pulled out of a dream where I was inspecting loose cut unmounted diamonds.  Some were a pale yellow color and most were clear.  My head was jumbled with the different grading terms upon waking, VVS1, VVS2, VS2, SI1, etc.  I also had the feeling of some kind of ghosts or spirits were around me, I say ghosts because they gave off a negative feeling.  Not scared but a slight uneasy feeling.  I took a mental note to remember and I still have a vivid recall there but it was just a brief memory.

The night before I was in some sort of an airport lounge waiting for a plane but it wasnt normal.  It seemed as if the airline did not have a definite ownership, kinda like ‘rouge air’.  The world outside didnt look or seem like there was destruction about but I got the sense that there was some sort of turmoil.  It seemed lawless as if there was nobody in control.  I could see water and it was calm and a tranquil teal color.  The person on duty taking tickets was standing behind a window that had bars on it.  Me and a friend who’s face and personality are a blur to me were just hanging out in the lounge, kicking our feet up on chairs.  There was a group of 4-5 girls that were being aggressive in a sexual manner, nothing happened though that I recall.  We finally boarded the flight and next thing you know I recall being in a neighborhood that I have been to many times but only in my dreams.  There were big rolling green hills.  Thats all that is popping into my head at the moment.



It was a slow day today.  Went to my normal NA meeting tonight, the streets were covered in a layer of smokey fog.  I love when its foggy.  I dont really have to much to say.  I included a link to a entertaining story I would have just posted it directly in here but its way to long and it gets a little obnoxious to read in this ‘blog’ format.  I do have it posted over at bluelight.ru [best of bluelight] but I posted that copy up years ago and the web site removed all the formatting so it is even harder on the eyes.  Its a bit long [26?] pages so print it out and enjoy.  If you like drug type stories I will guarantee you will like it.

I need to find a girlfriend, I always say that, than when a opportunity presents itself I get sketchy and find a reason why I should not be interested.  I have done that a couple times lately and yet I sit alone.  Its so hard for me to just be content with my life, I always seem to be looking for something [one?] else.  I should be reading some chapters for school but instead I am fucking around on the internet and I am now starting to develop a headache.  I watched the movie, ‘New York, I Love You’ earlier today [you can watch it for free at filmhill.com] it was ok.  Its been hard lately dealing with the slowed down pace of my life [read: no social life] but I have no one to blame but myself for that as I have isolated myself from most of my friendships.  New friends are hard to find.  Well friends that I actually want to know better are hard to find.  I was going to go have a couple drinks at the bar tonight but I ate a swiss cheese sandwich and watched television instead.  hrmmph.

Well anyways here is the link to Me & My Monkey.  Say a prayer for me if you pray or send some positive energy my way.  I am on the outskirts of Chicago [suburbs] so you can picture that area in your head.  While picturing my location just slowly start to chant, ‘Seedless is a great person and deserves to be happy.  Let him achieve all his hearts desires. Ommm, Ommm, Ommm’.  Ha, you never know the power of suggestion/prayer is a powerful tool.  As for negative thoughts towards me dont bother as I am protected from negativity by my crystal force-field  : ).  While your at it say some prayers for those poor people in Haiti and for the world in general as we need all the love we can get.  Ommm Ommm Ommm.  Oh yeah I put a new link elevenevele, start reading at the beginning its a good story concerning a girls addiction to heroin in Chicago.  So now if you are bored you have a couple new things to read!

link: Me & My Monkey



I sometimes miss those days where my life was spent in a opiated haze.  I was so oblivious to any other type of lifestyle and the only worries were, who had the best heroin.  I tend to gloss over those nights where I was flipping around in my bed like a fish out of water.  Twisting my body trying to ease my aching muscles, feelings like somebody was trying to drive nails into my calve bones.  That sense of nothingness after cooking up a couple bags to get my sick off and not being able to register a hit in my veins.  My hands trembling as I realize fuck my damn syringe is clogged and I dont have another fresh one.  Taking a lighter to the end of the needle hoping to burn out whatever is blocking the opiated water from entering my bloodstream.

One specific memory pops into my head when I think about clogged shots.  I was copping in Chicago and I was riding the L from the ghetto to Oak Park where it was just ‘easier’ to find a bathroom.  With a robotic rhythm I would shuffle with a quickness to a bookstore and walk straight to the restroom bathroom stall, filling up a glass of water at the drinking fountain if I didnt already have some water on me.  Which was rare unless I was super sick as dope paraphernalia was almost always in my pockets.  Lighter, a cigarette filter, and a pop can ripped in half.  Fingers and/or pants leg smudged in that black soot.  Most of my clothes had drippings of bleach on them as syringes were not sold over the counter than.  My scarred arms can still attest to fact I was stuck using a dull needle to get the job done.  Occasionally I would have to do a little ‘Junky 101’ and wet sand the burr off the tip of the needle using the gritty striker pad on the back of a patch of matches.  Back and forth, up and down, wash out with water, repeat, etc.  The thought of maybe not cleaning out the barrel of the needle all the way was a fleeting thought as it simply did not matter.  Whatever was needed to be done was done.  I wish I still had that insane twisted drive in my life [albeit in a positive manner] as the only thing that was going to stop me from getting high was the police.  Twisting on the concrete floor of some cold holding cell was just not in my plans.  That motivation to get that next hit was an intense feeling and puzzling as I think back on some of the stupid shit I would do.

The only thing standing between 50 units of an ice-tea colored elixir and my vein was usually some foreign substance blocking the needle.  Was it a shitty cut?  I had a few shitty cuts in my day, one of which I still recall scoring that day from the Southside of Chicago CPH buildings [Chicago Public Housing] the bags that day were ‘black spades’.  Big one inch by one inch square little ziplok baggies with black spades on it, [duh!].  Those southside bags you would always get much better dope not to mention bags that were almost twice the size.  That was some fucking good heroin, beige and clumpy.  This was probably 1999 or so a few years after the westside was completely flooded with dope and the quality there started to fall off after a huge influx of young suburban dopefiends started to look like walking or driving dollar signs.

Anyways it must have been an off day that day as the dope was still excellent but what ever they were cutting it with was probably best left to cater to the snorters.  A little residue was left in the cooker, gritty and sludgy.  A couple times I recall pulling a hair out of my head and than patiently using the hair to floss thru the tip of the needle as that was the only thing small enough to fit in there.  That was next to an impossible task to thread the needle as I was usually shaking like a leaf in a spring thunderstorm by that point and steady hands was something I just didnt have.

Thankfully I dont have to deal with that crazy lifestyle anymore.



I am watching the Golden Globe pre-show what ever, you know where everybody shows of what there wearing.  No surprise that boredumb has permeated my life.  Maria Carey has her own brand of champagne oh god.  I wonder what pills she has in her system?  I definitely know she is hitting the booze.  What is coming next…  The party pack, Voluptuous Valium – watch your cares slide off your back .   I have always had this little crush on Tina Fey.  For some reason I am attracted to those type of girls, i.e the librarian that is completely different than she seems.  Something about that quiet, mousey type of girl does something for me.

I just dosed my bupe and I can taste that orangey drip in the back of my throat.  I can almost feel it flipping some molecular switch in the organic mess I call my brain.  Since school has started I have switched to dosing twice a day.  .5mgs in the morning and .5mg in the evening.  I dont like dosing twice a day because I catch myself thinking more often…  Ahh I kinda feel a little achy…  Or  No wonder why my appetite is lacking I didnt take my bupe.  I am always a sucker for convincing myself I need a bump or so.

Neil Young is pouring out of my speakers, I havent changed a CD in months.  I just mainly listen to music off my ipod but when I do turn it up loud it just doesnt sound quite as good as CD quality.  God I really dont have much to talk about as my social life has gone thru its own drastic detox over the past year.  I have no urge to go out and get drunk and bounce from bar to bar.  I liked doing that when I was 19 or 20 and now I am getting old at 33.  One thing I dont like about going out is running into people I havent seen in a while, most people would like that I think?  But I am not most people.  A friends band played this weekend at a little bar and I decided not to go I feel a little guilty about that and the deciding factor in that decision was the bar that it was held at.  They tried to kick me out of their bar years ago for no good reason, they said I was selling drugs.  As if…  to whom?  My friends?  Fuck off.  They didnt take to kindly to that and I consciously avoid that bar with a passion.

Although about 5 months ago I decided to stop in there and have a couple beers and watch a Cubs game but who is serving the beer?  Some freakin’ dickhead bartender that obviously remembers me and told me I was not allowed to be there.  I debated going into there in the first part as I sat in my car listening to the radio on a rainy weekday night in a church parking lot.  It was either another AA meeting or I could actually do what I wanted.  Rather not really what I wanted to do but it was something that would pass the time.  Maybe I consciously chose that bar with the thought I wouldn’t get served.  Thank god it was empty as that is embarrassing when the bartender gives you some lip and says no beer for you.  Whatever punk.

My friends band is going to play in 2 weeks at a much nicer place and I will just wait untill than.  So the highlight of my weekend?  Probably stopping by the library as they were having a sale.  Selling all of there back issues of magazines, I bought a huge stack of ‘New York’ for like 2 dollars.  They have kept me busy all weekend when I should be outlining the reading I have in some of my classes.

I could ramble on about useless stuff but I dont really feel like it.  I do wonder when the hell am I going to find a girlfriend that I am intrigued by?  Sometimes I wonder…  What if I already meet whom I should marry?  Girlfriends come and go but its a little bit of a dry patch I am hitting lately.  I have told myself I am going to change the modus operandi concerning finding a girl as I am tired of waiting for a girl to pick up on me.  The last string of past girlfriends have been the ones to pick me up and I am talking like the last 10 or so g/f’s.  There is something I find attractive about the woman being the aggressor but it also makes me question if I am just settling for someone that likes me.  I am getting better but sometimes I just dont know.  My nerves are wrecked.  I probably sound like a pussy.

Such is life eh…?  Instead I will listen to Jamiroquai and put on some fresh clothes and go to a AA meeting because I have nothing better to do.  ARGH!  Things could be so much worse and I have been concentrating on being content but its hard when you feel like there are a few things missing in life.  Fake it till you make it?  I dont really find any comfort in that phrase or motto.  It kinda just seems like a cop out.  I need a hair cut.



What a couple of crazy days in the news!  Oranges dripping in icicles, Playboy playmate killed after Club Space tossed in dumpster and lit on fire, Sarah Palin joining Fox News, and of course the massive rescue efforts needed to help with the Haiti earthquake.  This world is starting to teeter on chaos and its been a long time coming, awaking.  I wish I could do more than just pray but thats all I can do.  The American Dream is now the American nightmare according to the talking heads on television.  I wonder how long this transition will take before it gets much, much worse or before the golden dawn breaks and light starts to illuminate all.  Such a tumultuous time to live during human history.  It is exciting concerning the positive new spiritual ideas that will be coming out but also a sad and depressed time with way to much suffering.   Makes me realize how luck I am to live in the lifestyle that I do but yet I still am unhappy or I complain to myself.

I guess I am finally starting to break thru the tail end of this depressive slump I have been in.  Although I think it was more of growing up period as quitting drugs last Jan. has been an extremely awkward adjustment.  Things will start to fall into place soon.  I started school on Monday and it great.  I hesitated for so long to get my life on track and this is just what I needed to start being active in my life again.  I sometimes I wonder what I was the fuck I was thinking I was doing the last decade but I know that answer.  I wasn’t thinking, I was just a numbed out, zombied, dopefiend.  I only am taking 3 classes this semester, as I didnt want to jump back into school to quick and all of a sudden I would have too much going on.  Although at this point I think I could have handled one more.

Tonight I am going to get some pizza with these 2 girls from AA and then go to the meeting we normally go to.  I have considered asking one of the girls if she wants to hang out or do something sometime.  She asked me out maybe about 6 months ago but I was hesitant to get involved in a relationship because I was so fresh in recovery and needed to stay focused.  I did end up hanging out with her a couple times and I do see her twice a week.  I am sure she wonders what the fuck is with me but then again I think about things way to much and psych myself into a position I am not comfortable in.  Finally I am starting to feel alot better from those never ending benzo w/d’s and my anxiety is dropping to close to nothing.  I constantly self-sabatoge myself when it comes to relationships and this is one thing I have been commited to changing as its well past due.

There has been this huge hawk hanging out in my backyard all afternoon.  It is probably keeping its yellow eyes peeled for an afternoon snack.  Such is life.  My prayers go out to the people of Haiti and I hope things start to get better.  I am sure there are heroic, good-natured, caring acts occurring as I type.  The hand of God is busy at work and filled with light juxtaposed onto the dark destruction that was allowed to occur yesterday.  Everything for a reason, another domino falls…



This is a tale from the past, Winter 1999 to be exact.  I was definitely a full blown addict at this time.  My main line of discomfort was IV heroin although I was basically a drug dustbin during these days.  To put it mildly I was gone.  I was 22 and I was in my prime of using.  I knew I was an addict and frankly I could careless, the poppy had me hook, line, and sinker.  I was using close to a bundle a day and was not looking to change.  My ethics at that time were questionable at best.  I was staying at my parents house doing nothing and they were fed up or just didnt want to see me wasted day in and day out anymore.  I was loaded on H, pills, coke, booze, and weed always.  Prior to this I had been to a few rehabs, been on methadone, and have had a few drug arrests which thanks to a lawyer had gotten dropped.  I was not working just using fulltime.

So my parents [more so my Father] booted me out of the house and my lovely Mother rushed out and got me an apartment.  I never even mentioned wanting one was probably just going to couch surf and party, shit not much really mattered to me except for that heroin in my spoon.  So I move in and set-up shop.  I was hanging out with a girl friend at the time and what was on the agenda that morning?  Scoring.  She pulled up to my place as I shuffled out towards her car, I pop’d some Xanax and Valium prior to leaving to keep the sickness from creeping in.  It was a cold winter morning and I was ready to get fuct up.  We pulled away and were soon in the city making a right onto Independence Blvd.  The dope spot I was frequenting during that time was the original ‘pony-pack’ spot.  We pulled up and bought a strip [12 bags] of their dope to test out.  At that time they were one of the very few dope spots that were marketing their dope [in Chicago] in an East coast manner, stamped bags.  The stamps were a picture of a horse with the word, ‘Unbelievable’ written underneath.  We hopped onto the expressway to shoot a couple bags and get well, normal run-of-the-mill stuff.

When-we were returning to buy [stock up] I wanted to get some crack also.  The girl I was with just hated crack for some reason and would hate when I did it, especially with her around.  So I picked up a few $10 bags of yellowish rocks and started to smoke them on the way home.

-Load the pipe, bell-ringer, twinges of paranoia, g/f bitching about crack, inject another bag to relax a little, smoke another rock, more bitching from g/f, another shot, cottons, blackened spoons, digging for a clean shot, relaxation, numbness bliss behind the dashboard.

I decided to save the last bag of crack for when I get back to my new apartment but the damage was already done as the girl was pissed of at my using crack in her car without her permission.  Yet it was ok for her to inject her dope while we were cruising down the expressway at 70 mph, whatever…

I shot a few more bags on the ride back and was nodding out feeling real good.  All of a sudden I got a huge craving for KFC mashed potatoes and she drove me up there.  Remembering I just moved in and needed some vinegar to break down the crack for injection I asked her to stop at a store, thats when she blew up and said after this I am just dropping you off at home and were not hanging out.  Fine with me as all I could think about was that rush I was going to get from the IV crack.  We shot another bag each out front and than I stumbled out of the car completely wasted.

I was staying in an old historic house that was a 2-flat so we had a communal entry with an old twisted wooden suitcase leading up my apartment that was on the top floor.  I was struggled with the keys dropping them, not being able to get the key in the door, nodding off, etc.  All while balancing my cup of KFC mashed potatoes and bottle of vinegar.  Damn was I high, real high.  The benzos I took were really adding to my intoxication.  So I finally get in and start to walk up the first few stairs when I trip and fall down.  My face landing in my mashed potatoes, spralled out on 3 or 4 stairs.  I ended up nodding out, unconscious for quite a while.  I dont even know how long but long enough for the mashed potatoes that were on my face and all over the stairs to turn crusty.

I woke up to someone shaking me, ‘Are you all right?!’

“Ugh, ehhh… what’, I mumbled in slurred words.  

I shook my head and slowly the effects prior started to kickin.  Oh yeah I scored dope today.  Fuck I musta passed out while laying on the stairs, face covered in mashed potatoes.  Fuck! nice move Seedless nice.

“Well you must be the new guy living upstairs right, my new neighbor?”,  was her reply 

“Yup thats me, my name is Jimmy.”

“Hey Jimmy, I am Jenny… What happened?  Are you alright?”  She seemed a bit taken back.

“Oh I dont know I think I tripped and knocked my head.”

“Are you sure you were pretty out of it.”

“Yeah I will be fine, nice meeting you.”

 Boom I ran up the stairs unlocked my door and than shut it.  I stood up against the door thinking what the fuck just happened and slowly slid down to the floor trying to recollect what happened right before walking into the house.  Zing…  Fuck thats right I have crack to inject and boom off to the races again.  I did wipe the mashed potatoes off my face before getting out all my gear.  I tried to avoid my neighbor from than on and we greeted each other briefly and with the bare minimum.  That was one of the worst and most embarrassing time of moving into a new place and one that still makes me twinge with feelings of disgust and ‘what the fuck was I thinking’.



I am in a weird mood, thinking about old friendships that crashed and burned mainly because of my fuct up personality.  I dont know why I did some things I have done.  I wish some of those friendships would have drifted away as they do as you grow older, rather than being fractured and shattered from selfish indulgence from a drug addled mind.  I guess I dont really say what I mean or really say anything, its like I am frozen from expressing emotions.  Where did I get that from?  My Dad maybe.

It’s a bright and shiny day today, oh and cold.  I am listening to some old John Prine and he is kicking in some old memories.  I was just sitting here watching Fox news and I got a craving to take some tranquilizers.  Than it seems as if that old ache creeps back into my body.  Thank god I am not feeling that op8 ache though.  I cant really describe how that feels, it’s almost like a lightness of my body thats filled with twinges of anxiety.  In my head I can see an old cassette tape that starts to play real slowly and than I get old images that pop into my head, usually images of the ghetto.

Waiting at the curb, clogged needles, shaky hands, plump tinfoils filled with numbness.  Feelings that nothing matters.  Two for One after dark all I heard was blows park.  Its just an empty feeling that feels like I want to crawl outta my skin.  In days past when I would get a feeling like that it would be dealt with by me throwing pills at it.  Today those thoughts told me I would feel much better if I melted a klonopin under my tongue, instead I took a hit of pot.  Throw my brain in a hurricane.  Why do I even entertain these thoughts?  Reminesent?  Or maybe I am longing to feel something as my life feels so empty these days.  As I have pushed away most of my friends and trying to find new ones just doesnt seem to work out to well.  I am so unhealthy.

I was thinking about taking a drive to go pick up a quart of Bishops chili, I remember going to the old Bishops chili in the city with my parents long ago.  Although I think they tore down that one.  Decent chili, maybe I will do that later.

All the snow has turned to water,
Christmas days have come and gone.
Broken toys and faded colours are all that’s left to linger on.
I hate graveyards and old pawn shops,
For they always bring me tears.
I can’t forgive the way they robbed me of my childhood souvenirs.

Memories, they can’t be boughten.
They can’t be won at carnivals for free.
Well it took me years to get those souvenirs,
And i don’t know how they slipped away from me.

Broken hearts and dirty windows
Make life difficult to see.
That’s why last night and this morning
Always look the same to me.



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