Today 21FEB23 is a big historical day

It is, and that is why I am releasing this post early on 20FEB23.

What is going on?

I do not know…

Electronic Billboards in Moscow: “Preparing for Historic Day 02-21-2023 No Turning Back”

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Electronic billboards in Moscow Russia are broadcasting war images with the message “”Moscow is preparing for tomorrow’s historic day. There will be no turning back. 21.02.23”
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I don’t know what it is that President Vladimir Putin has planned.  Of course, all of us already know that, last week, the Russian government ORDERED all TV and radio stations in the country to carry President Putin’s speech to the Federal Assembly tomorrow.  They were all told to expect it to be a one hour speech.

Never before in Russia’s history has government ORDERED the carrying of a Presidential speech live, on every TV and radio station in the country – because the country has twelve time zones and is so huge, the government allowed TV and Radio to cover past speeches as appropriate for each time zone.  Not tomorrow.

So whatever is coming, tomorrow looks like it’s a doozy.

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Video promo in Russia

https://rumble.com/v2a6v0a-attention-what-are-the-russians-preparing-for-us-on-february-21-alert-.html

What Is A Typical Day In Prison Like

Not the same as my experience. I was in a hard labor prison. We lived in dorms. Ate grewl, and worked the fields in chain gangs. -MM

 

I was in a cell. There are also dorms, and I haven’t been in a dorm.

I was in a 2-3 man cell (new guy had to sleep on floor).

I woke up around 5:30 AM or just before( you get used to it). Then there was a count.

At that point you had the option to go back to sleep until breakfast or do something else, such as watch the local news on T.V., work out or try to shower.

You could also read, or do something. I usually got up and started moving around.

Around 7 you’d do another count where they actually looked in you cell to see if it was in order, and then chow.

 

Have some breakfast. Then, the day started really. I had a job, so I’d wait around in my full uniform, to see if they came for me that day. Sometimes they didn’t come. (M-F). After that I’d chat with some people, mess around, play a few games of chess or what not and maybe read a little bit.

Then there’s another count: This is where you line up and the guards just come around and count every head they see, sometimes look in you cell or maybe give a speech about things in the unit going well or poorly.

Then Chow (lunch) This is around the time I came back from work on the days that I did go. Id eat, bargain with the food depending on what was on offer. (I liked to get an extra hamburger on Wednesday so I’d hustle that)

Then I’d work out for 2-3 hours about 3-4 times a week. After lunch until dinner was the best time for me. I hated waking up in jail so bad, but when it came night-time, it became like a whole viable world in there and I knew after I worked out that I’d be sleeping soon which was my favorite part of doing time.

Then dinner came. At this point everyone would be winding down, and if I didn’t do a late work out, I’d read by myself, or just take a shower and be clean and socialize, maybe casually shoot some hoops or take a walk around the unit. This is something that I did quite a bit. I’d just do laps around the unit with my headphones in, or more rarely, I’d walk around with another guy, just talking.

I should say that I read quite a bit. I read over 350 books while I was in for one year.

In addition I read countless magazine articles and newspapers.

In the morning or afternoon when I was waiting for work etc, I would do some work, or academic study. I would read biographies, or study some subjects like math, drawing, or random. I read and write letters around this time, and did crosswords, puzzles, and played a little chess.

Then in the evening after dinner, I would read a novel, or something fun, or light. In many cases this was actually literature, something that I could sink my teeth into more than T.V.

I hardly watched T.V., but there were some guys who basically did their whole time watching T.V. or sleeping.

Tee evening after dinner was the happiest time for me. Generally people were in a good mood. Although I am not religious, sometimes I would go out to the prayer circle that was held on the basketball court. I liked the positivity of it, and the guys, all would give one another a hug. Being in such close quarters all the time it just felt nice to have a positive prayerful space.

Then I’d hit the cell before we got locked down, just to be out of everyone’s way in the last run-up to lock down. I felt like I was being the cool guy who leaves the party early. I’d hit my bunk and grab a book, or write a love note to my wife.

They came and locked the doors at 1030 after I’d been laying down for a bit. My cellys all would stay out until the very last second, so in that last hour or so I had the place to myself to clean up the cell again (another constant activity) or use the bathroom, and brush my teeth by myself.

Then we’d have to sit there for another half hour until they came and counted us again through the cell door before we could turn off the lights and go to sleep. I had a reading lamp and would just lay there reading until my eyes got tired.

There are also highlights and benchmarks of certain days.

There is laundry night and then laundry day. You have to be present and get your clothes and sheets.

There is commissary day which is like Christmas, you get all your treats for the week (2weeks or more sometimes)

There are also the weekends which are a little better rules. You can be out of your cell more, and you didn’t have to go to work for most people.

There are visits which are amazingly huge.

There are phone calls. I always chose times when the phones were slow, and dragged a chair over there to chat with the wife or someone like my mom or brother.

Then there’s the usual killing time bullshit.

There’s shakedowns, when they come and ruin everyone’s day and schedule and everything by tearing up your cell and fucking up everyone’s trip.

There’s holidays which work in a similar way to the outside, people are just people, and Christmas hits everyone.

There’s a tremendous amount of sadness. Just writing this makes me feel so amazingly grateful that I’m not inside anymore and am not going back in. I make every decision predicated on not going back to that nightmare. It’s so easy to go in and so hard to get out.

Korean Barbecued Beef (Bulkokee)

Yield: 4 servings

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3983202

Ingredients

  • 1 pound beef boneless top loin or sirloin steak
  • 1/4 cup soy sauce
  • 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
  • 2 tablespoons sesame or vegetable oil
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 3 scallions, finely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped

Instructions

  1. Trim fat from beef; cut beef diagonally across grain into 1/8-inch slices.
  2. Mix remaining ingredients; stir in beef until well coated.
  3. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
  4. Drain beef; stir-fry in 10-inch skillet or wok over medium heat until light brown, 2 to 3 minutes.
  5. Serve beef with hot cooked rice.

CRFCPD Chinese side holds plenary meeting in Beijing

From HERE

On Feb 16, a plenary session of the China-Russia Friendship Committee for Peace and Development (CRFCPD) on the Chinese side was held in Beijing.

In his speech at the plenary meeting, Xia Baolong, vice-chairman of the 13th National Committee of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference (CPPCC) and chairman of the Chinese side of the CRFCPD, said that in 2022, which marked the 25th anniversary of the CRFCPD, the CRFCPD focused more on the immediate needs of further development of the China-Russia comprehensive strategic partnership of coordination for a new era, and carried out a series of friendly non-governmental exchanges between the two countries to consolidate the traditional friendship between the Chinese and Russian people and to strengthen the people-to-people bond.

Xia stressed that the CRFCPD should make thorough studies, focus on the implementation and publicity of the guiding principles of the 20th National Congress of the Communist Party of China (CPC), implement the consensus reached between the two heads of state, expand the depth and width of people-to-people exchanges between the two countries, translate the high-level political relationship into more pragmatic cooperation and people-to-people exchanges, and create greater benefits for the people of both countries.

The secretariat of the CRFCPD and delegates to its subgroups held talks on their work.

The plenary session also laid out the work plan of the CRFCPD in 2023.

When Did You Realize They Were The One?

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What’s It Like To Be A Rockstar?

 

Well, first off, I wouldn’t ever describe myself as a “rockstar” (that seems cheesy to me haha), but I drummed for a popular underground hardcore-punk band for a few years. We toured all the time, headlined a few tours, played all of Warped Tour 08′, and all of Warped Tour ’09. I was 17-21 in the years of playing for the band and touring and everything. I will try to breakdown each part of your question…

 

  • Lifestyle: It was amazing. We were on the road 80% of the year and for that 20% when we were home, we were resting, with our friends/familiares, and working part time jobs to save up for tour money. We obviously all loved music more than anything, so getting to play almost every day was a dream come true. Since we were all 18-21, also, we loved to party and meet new people. Being in places where lots of people already knew who you were made it very easy to meet new people and have lots of conversational topics. I’m not going to lie, either, it was amazing being in the limelight after shows. It just gave you this sense of a “king” or something. You also got lots of fun gifts and such that fans would make you. Even small things like a fan baking us brownies or something was amazing to us.
  • Sexlife: You definitely got to meet lots of random girls on the road. We would typically get invited to lots of house parties after each show. Sometimes the parties were lame but other times they were pretty crazy. IT was typically very easy to find a girl to hook up with at the party, if that was what you were into. I had a girlfriend for most of the years in the band, so I wasn’t super into the hooking up, but if you wanted to, it was very easy. Most of the girls at the parties obviously knew who we were so it was an easy conversation started and with the combo of alcohol and occasionally minor drugs, it was very easy to get girls in bed. They would basically throw themselves at you, anyways. Haha
  • Daily: This could vary. On the road, there was lots of driving. We had a bus and a bus driver, so we would typically hangout on the bus, play cards, play video games, joke around, etc. while we were traveling. As far as show days went; we would get there in the morning, find out times and schedules, play out show, and then typically just party after we played. Since we didn’t have to worry about driving, it was the best case scenario. We got to live a dream that was perfect for us.
  • Diet: You learn pretty fast on tour that fast food and junk food will make touring a horrible experience. So you make a lot of sandwiches, or get sandwiches (like Jimmy Johns or Subway). Or to save money we would stop at a grocery store and get things for PB&J’s, granola bars, fruit cups, veggies, fresh fruit, etc. Since we had a fridge on the tour bus, it was pretty easy to keep food good and fresh like you would at home. Also, a lot of the shows had red room platters and all that jazz, which was typically pretty damn good. Lots of BBQ’s with other band friends, also.
  • Working with a manager: We had a tour manager, and a band manager from the same company. The tour manager was on the road with us (obviously), and would do more day-to-day operations and handle all the on-the-road logistics and financial stuff. While our band manager was at his offices in Seattle, WA and did more of the big picture stuff. Promotional stuff with the label, CD/DVD stuff, etc.

All in all, the rest of the band and I stayed very humble. There were times you were cocky in your head a little, but we never liked to show that on the outside.  We didn’t want to ever come off as dicks or anything, so we tried extra hard just to be friends with everyone we met and “keep it real.”

– Anonymous

China’s new top diplomat to visit Russia as tensions with the US mount

2023 02 21 16 18
2023 02 21 16 18

From HERE

China’s top diplomat is in Russia right now, this week. Reporting by CNN is the same ol’, same ol’, but pay attention to this…

According to China’s Foreign Ministry spokesman, Wang’s visit to Moscow will provide an opportunity for China and Russia to continue to develop their strategic partnership and “exchange views” on “international and regional hotspot issues of shared interest” – a catch-all phrase often used to allude to topics including the war in Ukraine.

The Foreign Ministry did not specify whether Wang would meet with Russian President Vladimir Putin.

“China is ready to take this visit as an opportunity and work with Russia to promote steady growth of bilateral relations in the direction identified by the two heads of state, defend the legitimate rights and interests of both sides, and play an active role for world peace,” spokesman Wang Wenbin said.

Wang’s visit may also foreshadow a state visit by Chinese leader Xi Jinping to Moscow later this year. Putin extended an invitation to Xi during a customary end-of-year call between the two leaders, but China’s Foreign Ministry has yet to confirm any plans.

10 Addicts And Former Drug Addicts Reveal Their Daily Routine

1. Wake up dopesick at about 8-9 am. Shoot up heroin in the bathroom with the shower running so room mates didn’t know what I was up to. Often mixed in meth/coke for the energy boost.

I would then get ready and drive to work as a salesman for a major cell phone retailer. Shoot up again in the car before I walked in the door. Many days I would steal iPhones or galaxy s3 phones and pawn them to stay high. It’s a miracle they can’t prove it and just withheld my last paycheck, or I would be in prison today for theft over $20k.

I would also call my parents and make up reasons I needed money, and sometimes just steal shit from people’s garages. I sold everything I owned, including my own phone and computer.

I had to, if I did less than a gram of heroin a day I got sick. To actually get high I had to mix in Xanax or alcohol or meth or coke. Another party of my routine was contemplating suicide. Usually thinking about driving off a bridge on the highway.

I shot up everything except alcohol and Xanax, cause there’s no reason to do so for those. I shot up about 7-9 times a day.

2. I would usually wake up around 6 am to the sound of my dad getting ready for work, and I’d go throw up in my bathroom. If I threw up or pissed the bed I would usually have a garbage bag in the room to throw my sheet in so I could take care of it later. This only happened a few times but it got more and more frequent. Usually the vomit was dark black, goopy, and extremely acidic. I found out later it was blood.

I had a constant supply of tums that I would eat from. I would then drink a bottle of water, a hit from the bong to reduce nausea, and some valium to stop myself from shaking. I would then wake up at around noon and take more valium to stop shaking. I would usually sleep until about 2 or 3pm, sometimes up until 6pm. Once I woke I would take a few shots of captain morgan to keep the constant body high going, and depending on how much weed or valium I had I would try and make some calls to get some more. Around 7pm before my mother left for work I would go through her meds to find Klonopin and Ambien that I could take later in the evening. I was ALWAYS thinking ahead – because I liked to be completely fucked up by around 11pm. She took a quarter of a 10mg of ambien to sleep, and I would usually take about half of her bottle over the month (Between 20 to 60 depending on the script). Denial.

If I wasn’t hanging out with friends that night I would be on the computer all night or with my girlfriend getting wasted and popping valium. Each valium was 10mg and I’d usually take around 20 per day. Eventually I would get really nauseous because I forget to eat, or just took too much, and I’d have to smoke weed and eat more tums. If I didn’t want to stop drinking at this point I would purposefully push the contents of my stomach up and I would vomit violently, and then continue drinking. By the time it was all winding down I would take up to 40mg of ambien. At the time I liked to tell myself this was to sleep, but I always stayed up and drank with it in order to gain more of a body high/psychedelic experience. Usually by this point my girlfriend would be passed out, and I would just be on the computer. Many of these nights I spent crying from 2 am to 5am, either when my dad would wake up and he could console me, or my girlfriend woke up. Needless to say those two and my substances were my only coping mechanisms. Many times my father would come check on me to make sure I was okay every morning.

This was my routine for 3 years until right around age 22. The only thing I have left that reminds me of it is a bald spot of cement on my floor where my black vomit destroyed the carpet, so we had to cut it out. When we got new carpet (they did this when I was in rehab) they left that cut out. Every morning my feet touch the cold reality of the world, and I am ever so grateful that I am alive. Sorry this was long winded. I had a hiccup last night after two years of sobriety and this was really perfect timing for me to write.

3. Wake up. Hit snooze. Hit snooze at least 3 more times. Brush teeth, outside for a smoke, and hit the shower. Groan under the hot water for at least 15 minutes, trying to burn some of the hangover away.

Drive to work, right in between half-pissed and hung-over, praying I don’t get pulled over. Grab a takeout coffee so big I can swim laps in it. Stumble into work and hope nobody notices.

Somehow make it through the day, and since I didn’t bring lunch, grab a slice or a sub for lunch. Now the work day is done, and it’s time to head home.

Inventory the smokes. Are there enough for the night? Try to remember if there’s enough ice and mix. Maybe pick up a bag of chips or something when I get more smokes. Stop at the liquor store and pick up a 375ml bottle of whatever, and 3 or 4 500ml beers.

Ah, now I’m home. Crack the first beer, and use it to chase a solid shot of the booze. There’s a nice glow, good. Wait 10 or 15 minutes until for the warmth to spread before the first bowl of the night. Fire up the computer.

Take off my clothes, and throw them on the pile on the floor. Put on my tattered robe from better days, and then grab the least dirty glass from the massive pile in the sink. Sit in front of the comp, in my underwear, bathrobe and socks, drinking, and smoking the night away. Maybe make a phone call. Maybe have a wank. Once in a while, score some lines, or an Oxy, just to mix things up.

Toss the empty beer cans in the general direction of a trash can. Maybe empty the overflowing ashtray, but only if a lit butt put another burn mark in the table. Try not to miss the toilet when I piss. In fact, try to piss a little harder to scrub the freckles off the bowl.

Down that last shot, then stagger into the bedroom and flop down on sheets that haven’t been laundered in a month. Bam! Coma sleep.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat….for 30 years.

Picked up my 6-month chip last week. In those 6 months I have lost 40lbs, got a promotion, new clothes, new furniture, and this week I get a new car. I ended a toxic relationship, and have a great social life through the people I have met in AA. I’m not healed, but I’m healing, and I have a sense of optimism for the future that I haven’t felt in decades.

Relying on a molecule for your happiness is a lot like repeatedly hitting yourself in the forehead with a hammer. It feels really good when you stop.

4. My thing was speed. Seeing as my particular drug of choice takes three normal days and makes them one hellish one, I’ll go over my routine during the course of a several-day-long span.

I’d wake up extremely groggily and slowly, feeling like I was walking through molasses trying to go anywhere. So I’d stay in bed until the time I needed to get up, then take ~60-90mg Adderall along with a cup or two of coffee. I’m a physics major, so I’d usually have a problem set or two to do; once the Adderall kicked in I’d sit in the science center and WORK. For hours – up to 12 straight, in the same position without moving (except for the frequent bathroom breaks, after which I’d sit back down and resume my proofs etc.). If I had to go to class or work or something, I’d go, but would keep consuming a steady supply of coffee, Red Bull, and TONS of water throughout the duration of whatever I was doing. Every 4 hours or so I’d do another 30-60mg of Adderall (depending on how much I had allotted for that particular binge marathon). I wouldn’t eat the entire time, and my skin would constantly feel hot to the touch. My heart would race (palpitations were frequent), my hands would shake, and I would be extremely jittery. I would just be your typical idea of a speeded-up person. And I loved it.

Towards the end of the second day I’d simultaneously be fully awake and very fatigued, which is a singularly miserable state in which to find oneself. My body and mind would work slower and slower but wouldn’t ever be able to stop for rest, because the Addy, like a slave driver, would make them power through. At this point it was no longer enjoyable because no matter how much I took, the kind of euphoria I loved from the beginning would refuse to make an appearance now.

So then I’d wait: wait for my body to get this devil-drug out of my system, for my running mind to slow down, for my heart to stop racing, albeit all just enough for the diphenhydramine to overtake it all and let me rest. If I happened to fall asleep with still some amphetamine in my system it would, needless to say, be a very unrestful sleep. I’d wake up every few hours to drink more water. But once the long sleep came, it’d last a good 24 hours. This meant that I’d miss everything that happened: all classes, social events, meetings that I’d scheduled. If I was particularly on top of my schedule that week, I’d have made sure to cancel/flake on everything during the “big sleep” before it actually came. Then, after my hibernation, the whole process would begin again.

While I was using, I was extremely unreliable, my behavior was erratic, and I was generally an unpredictably volatile being. Adderall was my best friend in the world and I often call my separation from it the emotionally worst break-up of my life. It sounds crazy, but I loved everything I thought it gave me because it allowed me to shed all the human trappings of existence: hunger, tiredness, and everything mundane. But eventually I crashed and burned, landing myself in a psychiatric hospital being held against my will. Now I’m 71 days clean and absolutely loving it; the chaos is gone, and everything has been normalized once more.

5. I’m having a difficult time right now with alcohol. I’d estimate I’ve had a problem for five, maybe seven years or so, maybe more. I’ve managed to get two undergraduate degrees and a law degree despite this.

Anyway, after a failed business, I’m now living at home with my parents. Planning ahead, like others have said, is crucial.

I wake up anywhere between 11:00AM and 2:00PM and hope there’s something left over from last night because I usually don’t remember how much I drank before I passed out. If not, I go downstairs to see if my mom is around. If she left me a note saying when she’ll be back and I have time, I’ll immediately run out and get a “big” bottle of vodka (750 mL) because I can get that in without her there and it’s cheaper.

If she’s home or I don’t have time, I’ll go get two smaller bottles (375 mL) and tuck them into my knee-high dress socks under my jeans that I wear with my boots solely for that purpose. Literally bootlegging. Since I wear boot cut jeans, they’re not visible, so I can sneak them in. I’ll even sit on the sofa for a few minutes or so with her to “prove” I didn’t get anything while I was out.

Then comes the planning. If I have a small bottle and 1/3 of another, I know I’ll “make it through the night.” Sometimes I only buy one small bottle to try to cut down and end up in that horrible place between being properly drunk and sober and annoyed by that fact.

I did that today and I don’t know what’s going to happen later. I only have half of it left and I don’t feel fucked up enough. So what do I do? Do I go out for more? (I’m sure I can drive, but tomorrow is going to suck.) Do I chug it now and hope it works? (Risking a DUI later in the evening if it doesn’t.)

I’m trying to break the chain, but it’s become such a habit that I don’t know how I can. I goddamn promised myself today was the last day before I try to get my shit together tomorrow.

For me, it’s entirely reactionary. If I’m with friends having a good time, I drink like a normal person. If I’m depressed and in my own head, all bets are off.

6. I wake up, and the first thing I do is prep a shot. Like before I even think, I prep a shot. I take a deep breath. I tie off, just about an inch above where I’m planning to enter the vein. I release my breath and push the needle in, waiting to see that bright red sign that I’ve hit my mark. As soon as I get it, I remove the tie and push my liquid version of heaven into my arm…and blast off. That’s the best I’m going to feel all day, and I know it, so I savor it for a second. Then I go outside and smoke, and proceed to start my day.

I went to work. I got home, I went to meet my drug dealer, bought some more, and repeat.

It was a truly miserable existence. Working for money, to run out and spend every dime of it, for not enough junk.

7. When I was badly strung out (Opiate addict, polydrug abuser), it was wake up early because I was sick, either get high or scheme to get money. If I got high, I would flop back down and waste away time. If I needed to get high, I would frantically call my girl or my mother to get money. At best, someone had money for me (or someone needed drugs and I’d middleman), at worst I suffered for a bit until I pulled myself up and went to kick in some poor family’s door and take their jewelery, change jar, photo/video shit, laptops and assorted small things that rinsed well. Lots of time was spent driving a 100 mile round trip to an open air drug market. The rest was spent getting high or selling the drugs at huge profit so I could get the next batch (which was always smaller, since the money never got made back entirely). Occasionally an arrest, OD, or change of supplier would shift things a bit. Eventually prison.

Nowadays I’m going to the suboxone clinic 40 miles away once a week. Unfortunately, it’s in the closest open air drug zone. So I take someone’s clean urine, pass my screen and get my script. Then I go and spend every cent a few blocks away, drive home and furiously stick a needle in my arm until the typical $100-150 purchase is gone. Then I wait for the next appointment. I have no motivation to do much of anything. I have virtually no job experience at 25 years old, and a felony record. I live in isolation, having alienated 98% of the people I know. I constantly dream of getting high, and only go through the motions of living. I am a dead man at 25. This course of action will eventually kill me literally, but unless my heart pops from a fat blast of coke, it’ll likely be a long and slow fade away while juggling opiates.

8. I have been sober for a little over a year but will attempt to give an accurate story of my different stages if addiction.
It all started when they took OC (OxyContin) off the market. A few days before it happened my friend got his hands on about 500, 20 mg pills.

I sold about 150-200 of them I took my profit and went up to Portland Oregon to buy some heroin to start selling. I started selling points for $15 which was cheaper than anyone else. So I started making some decent money. I would smoke and sell all day and go to bed around 5-6 am and wake up around noon. Depended on when i started getting calls or if I needed to head to Portland that day. I wasn’t selling huge amounts so I would pick up a quarter to half ounce each time I went up and I would make 2-3 trips a week.

I had to supply heroin for me and my girlfriends addiction so I never moved past about a half ounce. Well this lasted about a year until I got pushed out of business. Someone paid the guy who was hooking me up to start cutting my shit and I didn’t know who else to go through. I also let people get in debt to me which was a bad idea. One kid owed me $2000 which was a ton of money to me. Times got tough after I stopped selling. Each day I would wake up around 10-12. If I had money then I would go and get some heroin since I would already be sick upon waking up. If I didn’t have them money then I would have to go sell some clothes or my electronics. I went through 2 TVs, 4 ps3s, a surround sound system, 4 iPods, 3 iPhones and a bunch of movies doing this.

When I was selling I could only go 12 hours without using until I got sick but at this point it was 24 hours. I was not shooting up at this time. So this went on for about a year. It was fucking miserable!! I couldn’t enjoy my high anymore because I would constantly be thinking of how I could get more. It wasn’t about getting high anymore. It was about not being sick.

So after about a year I was tired of this routine. I decided to get sober. I quit cold turkey and was able to stay away for 6-7 months. Then one day I got a call from my friend who was selling. He needed a ride to go pick up his stuff. I agreed and that’s what started me being his driver for about a year. He was shooting up so I decided to start. He would pick up about 6-10 ounces a week and a couple ounces of cocaine. I pretty much lived at his house going on huge binges. If I wasn’t at his place then I was at mine, sitting and waiting for him to call me so I could drive him and get some free dope.

At the end of one binge I noticed my ankle starting to get sore. Within 2 days it has swelled to twice its normal size. I decided to go to the emergency room. When I got there I had a 103 degree fever along with my swollen ankle. I ended up having a nasty blood infection and had to be on I.V antibiotics for 3 days. One of the scariest times of my life but I was back to shooting up while the I.V was still in my arm.

I remember doing shots of coke while driving on I-5 on the way to Portland. Shit got pretty bad. I got to the point of doing 4 point shots. To me that was a lot but to my friend it was nothing. He would do 1 gram shots like it was nothing. His arms were covered in black holes where he had missed shots of coke and heroin. So I drove him for about a year until I just couldn’t take it anymore. I asked my parents for help and was on a plane to Sierra Tucson treatment center the next day. I have now been sober for about 15 months. I hope this granted you a little insight in to the day of a drug addict.

9. I wake up and body check to see how bloated i am. i eye the pile of food wrappers, wine glass, and beers that might be laying around. i throw the wrappers and put the plates away, and if i’m lucky i have a bit of wine left i throw that back in the fridge. i feed my cat. i struggle to decide what to wear, i rush to do my make up, then smoke a bowl at the last second. i walk to work.

i might have a few beers or glasses of wine over lunch if we go out. i might even do a bump if i haven’t slept enough. i drink a lot of black coffee too.

when i get off work, i go to the liquor store. i buy two bottles of wine (i hate that they know me), then i hit up the supermarket. i’m not just a drug-addicted and alcohol-fuelled bitch, i’m also bulimic. i buy around $50 of food every day.

i come home and pour myself a few glasses of wine before i start binging on food. i usually can’t eat sober. if i have powder, it delays the process, but not even the powder stops my bulimia now. i’m pretty worried about that one! i feed my cat again.

fast forward a few hours and the bulimic part is over, i clean up, i might go for a run, then i’m great and empty again so i drink more, now i might do a few more lines. sometimes i go out, oftentimes i have friends come over. we’re all addicts, so they don’t confront me, and we party. my sober friends hardly come by anymore. they might though, so i sneak drinks and lines in my own bathroom. if i’m alone i’m surely online, talking to friends, browsing a bunch of forums, on IRC, online shopping, or watching netflix.

sometimes i pass out, which i don’t mind, because i can hardly sleep. of course i hate those mornings though. sometimes i have to smoke weed to sleep, but most importantly i take 20 mg of ambien. sometimes even that doesn’t work, but i have to use the ambien correctly or i’ll run out before my renewal.

i guess that’s it.

10. Wake up @ ??AM, take 60mg amphetamine and go back to sleep until it kicked in and woke me up.

Do tweaker shit for a few hours (waste time on the internet, fuck with electronics/circuits, clean my room over and over). Go to work if it was a work day, somehow avoid getting fired because I worked retail and the speed makes it way easier to talk to people. Usually had to take multiple breaks to puke or clean up a bloody nose, and I very rarely ate during the day. At this point I was 6’2″ and maybe 130lbs.

More amphetamines and caffeine to boost the high about halfway through the day, start freaking out a bit so usually smoke a bowl of weed to “even me out” (stupid as fuck, it never worked and just made me paranoid).

Start the nightly routine at about 5PM or sometimes earlier. Get some beer or liquor, shoot the shit with roommates and start getting down on the night-time drugs. Usually doing lines of oxy, klonopin, xanax, and/or coke and any combination of the above until I realize I’m too fucked up and still tweaking from the morning’s speed and night’s coke and take an Ambien or more xanax to knock me out.

Wake up the next morning, puke my brains out, start it over again.

Korean Pickled Vegetables (Kimchee)

Yield: 3 or 4 servings

2023 02 19 18 24
2023 02 19 18 24

Ingredients

  • 1 cup 1/4 inch slices carrot
  • 1 cup 1 inch pieces bok choy
  • 1 cup cauliflower florets
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 3 scallions (with tops), minced
  • 1 thin slice ginger root, minced
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper

Instructions

  1. Sprinkle carrot, bok choy and cauliflower florets with 2 teaspoons salt; toss. Let stand 20 minutes; rinse with cold water and drain.
  2. Toss drained vegetables with remaining ingredients.
  3. Cover tightly and refrigerate at least 48 hours but no longer than 4 days.

What’s It Like Finding Out You Have A Terminal Illness?

It sucks. hah.

For me, the entire process involved a great deal of disbelief – some of it rather normal, I suppose, and some of it quite intentionally brought about by myself.

I’d actually first noticed the tumor myself. Not even being out of my 20s yet, I had a hard time believing it could be what I suspected it was, and managed to convince myself it was fairly harmless. At one point, while seeing a doctor for an entirely unrelated thing, I pointed out the lump to him and he gave it a quick look and feel but didn’t seem overly concerned by it and nothing came of it after that particular visit. That ended up adding to my own idea that it was something harmless and not worth thinking about much further.

Believe it or not, I went on to essentially ignore it for over another year! You’d imagine, first thing you’d do when suspecting something was up, would be to run off to every physician imaginable and do all you could about it. What ended up overpowering any inclination to do just that was, instead, a desire to ignore it and almost wish it away – if I never got confirmation it was something serious and never got diagnosed with something serious… it was nothing serious!

That time between initially coming across the suspicious lump and finally getting confirmation it was what it was involved many hours of self-diagnosis, thanks to endless hours on medical websites (such as WebMD) from the legit to some pretty crackpot sites. I’d come across one article that would convince me I’d be dead within a month, and another that would leave me feeling I had nothing to worry about at all; some articles mentioned symptom after symptom I was absolutely certain I had and leave me feeling frightened and anxious, while others would mention symptoms I quite clearly never had and so would convince me I had no reason to be concerned at all; some suggested that bump (and obvious mass, as I could actually feel it when pressing around it) was one problem, while others allowed me to believe it was something else entirely. At various points along the way I was both convinced I had just about every malady one could imagine, alternating with being certain there was absolutely nothing wrong with me at all.

The only reason I finally went through the process of getting confirmation it was indeed cancer involved, again, an entirely unrelated condition. I needed surgery for a relatively benign thing (“If it involves getting put under, how benign could it really be?”, my dad asked at one point) – gallstones. The funny thing is, while this suspected tumor had the potential to be some serious business, I ignored it for quite awhile. The gallstones were not too big a deal, but I was all over them instantly. Gallstones can make for some serious pain; a tumor can just be kind of painlessly there and unnoticed. The gallstone pains were immediate and real; the tumor was still kind of abstract, in a way. Nonetheless, while in the process of getting ready to have surgery for the gallstone problem, I figured it best to point out to the main physician I was dealing with that I had this lump. After all, I didn’t want it to complicate the surgery! Odd thought process there, too. “Hey, doc… I don’t wanna complicate this fairly routine procedure so figured I should point out this possible cancerous tumor”. He made it a point to schedule some other appointments with other specialists during the whole lead up to my gallstone surgery, and that’s when confirmation was received. Thank goodness for those gallstones, though, as my absolutely having to go through the process of getting surgery for that is really the only thing that forced me to see these other doctors, follow through with these other appointments, and finally deal with the issue.

While I certainly could have benefited from an earlier diagnosis and that whole year+ of denial was sorta silly, at the very least I suppose it did help me avoid that shock many often feel with diagnosis. I’d essentially resigned myself to being certain I had *something* by the time it was ever concerned, so never actually went through a phase where I was blown away or overwhelmed by it.

Funny enough… I don’t much worry about myself. I’ve been all over the world and seen people living in some pretty miserable conditions. Relative to the overwhelming majority of the world’s population, I’ve lived a pretty fortunate life and have been pretty damn lucky. Born in to a well-off, close-knit and loving family; financially secure and even well-to-do; going on many years of a stable and fulfilling relationship; having done and seen some remarkable things in my life to this point, how could I ever feel sorry for myself when there are countless kids in Africa who will know little more than suffering before they die short of their 10th birthday?! In the context of human history, I’ve already made it well past the lifespan most others could have expected. I’m not some 20 year old getting wiped off the face of the planet in an instant during some war; I’m not some young child who was diagnosed at so young an age I’ll likely know nothing of life but cancer before I die.

I’m not religious at all, so don’t get – nor do I really need or want – any comfort from that angle. I’ve always been a pragmatist – to a fault, almost – and I know I’ll deal with things as needed (so far, at least). It’s my loved ones I feel sorry for the most. I hate knowing my parents know, and knowing it saddens them as it does. My partner depends on me entirely as I’m the sole wage earner in the house, and that does cause me some anxiety and stress. We’re doing what we can to prepare for things should I go bye-bye anytime soon, but it’s not easy given our circumstances – we’re a same-sex couple and so don’t get any consideration from the state, and the stress and worry over ensuring he’ll be taken care of if something happens to me is something I’d certainly rather not have to deal with given everything else. You can’t take anything for granted in our situation, and I probably spend as much time dealing with insurers and estate folk to make sure everything is lined up there as I do with doctors. To bad paperwork isn’t a cure. All the medical appointments are kind of a pain in the butt, too. It can be a bit difficult balancing work, personal life, doctors appointments, treatments, paperwork and preparations. I don’t have much in the way of free time.

What stresses me out the most and probably causes me more grief than anything else in all of this? My dogs. And that probably sounds kind of nuts. But I know people can at least comprehend what is going on and what has happened to me once it does. But, funny enough, I probably spend more time thinking about them and how they’ll be in all of this than myself or anyone else. I’ve never once cried during this whole process as a result of diagnoses or discussions or revealing my condition to loved ones; the one thing that’s brought me to tears, and does so regularly, is the thought of my dogs sitting around and wondering what might have happened to me, where I went, and whether I’ll come back home at some point. I know they’re resilient and adapt easy, and given the lifespan of most dogs there is still a reasonable chance I’ll outlast them. But, out of all I find myself having to deal with, that honestly gets to me the most. Part of the process of making arrangements and ensuring my assets and such are all in order for my partner and family has involved also creating a trust for them.

When I say I don’t worry much about myself it’s not to try and put forth this image of confidence and strength. In fact, at times it’s bothered me how little I stress over my condition itself. The fact that I seem the least bothered by it of all that are aware probably bothers those close to me the most. Sometimes they’ll interpret my lack of outward anxiety as denial. People almost expect you to be moping around, feeling sorry for yourself. I’ve not fought those feelings off! I just haven’t really found myself feeling them yet! So when people ask how I’m doing and I confidently and honestly respond that I’m doing quite well, they won’t let it go. “Are you sure? Really? Do you need to talk?”. That kind of bothers me, but I’m also aware they’re not asking these things to bug me and are doing so out of genuine caring. I just don’t much care for thinking others are constantly feeling sorry for me or expecting me to break down at any moment. And certain symptoms do become more and more apparent or uncomfortable. It’s safe to say I “feel off” more often than not, there are complications from this and that, and side effects to be dealt with. I’d much rather do without all that stuff. But there’s not much to be done about it.

I’m in my mid-30s now. There’s a decent chance (worth betting on, actually) I’ll get in to my 40s. It’s even not entirely unlikely I’ll make it in to my 50s, but at that point we’re getting in to some extremely far out odds. One the scale of things, though, to have 5 or possibly 10 years to look forward to isn’t that bad a diagnosis. It does give me time to do some cool things, still, and quite enjoy life – which I honestly do! At the very least I now spend more time with family than in years past, and my partner and I hang out, go out, travel and have fun more than before. And I’m doing a pretty damn good job of knocking out my bucket list:

  1. Spend as much time as possible with my dogs

It’s hard to not still enjoy life when their looks and antics practically force you to smile and have fun.
– Anonymous