ZodiacKiller

Hey everyone, I know I haven’t posted in a while, and this is just a little blurb to let you all know that I probably won’t be posting for a bit. Things have just been bad, bad, and then worse. And not to do with drugs (been mostly clean), or my marriage (which is still as strong as it ever was), just with the fucked up shit life can throw at you. I just haven’t been up to writing down line after line of depressing everyday bullshit, here or at the Opiophile forum. Suffice it to say that it all has to do with my business, which is at a point of utter failure–mostly due to complete betrayal, by “trusted” employees, fucked-up arrogant customers, and even family members. I am admitting failure, have shut the whole thing down, and am completely destitute right at the start of the holiday season. How wonderful. I may even get evicted. I’m not writing this to elicite sympathy from anyone, or to be all “oh, poor me…”—I just wanted to post something to let everyone know I’m not dead or done posting. I’m sure things will get better someday (they have to, ferchrissakes) and I’ll be back to my usual self again. Till then, I hope you are all well and stay that way.

ZK

Well, hello, all. As I sit here and write this I am officially clean. Weaned myself down to zero Subutex in about a month, after playing the whole ‘get high as fuck all weekend and use Subutex to fight the withdrawal during the week’. So now I’m fucking clean. No ilicite opiates of any kind, and no legally prescribed Sub either. I’m sure they’d freak out on that shit at the klinic if I told ‘em, seeing as they want me there for at least the next year. Fuck that. I want off, and I want off now. I’ll still go to the klinic and play the game so I can get my Subutex script—shit, I may as well stockpile that shit, ’cause I’l tell you all straight up: I ain’t done with opiates yet.

We just had to do it at this point, because it was geting weird–the dope had definitely lost it’s sparkle for us. Gone were the days of me recording killer new songs while my wife went shopping for Juicy couture (things we both liked to do while high)—–only to be replaced by us both sitting on the couch nodding off while burning cigarettes slipped through our fingers. Plus the withdrawal was getting more and more brutal—it was getting to the point where if anyone saw us on a Monday morning, they’d know something was up.

So we’re giving it a shot. I weaned myself down from 16mg Subutex daily to the last crumb I took three days ago. It was easy except for the final jump-off. I could still feel the godamn WDs after such a tiny amount—what the fuck is up wiih that?? But I’m off now, and gonna be clean as a whistle for a while.

I wil say this—-now that my brain has re-wired itself for opiates, shit sure is boring. Utterly boring; I have no interest in anything on TV (except Dethklok Metalocalypse on Sun nights on Adult Swim—the bestest show ever, don’t believe me? wanna fight about it?), and coming on here and Opiophile (which kinda makes me crave a bit too, but I must learn to compartmentalize this shit). The worst are two major things: the insommnia and the depression. Both can be awful at times. For instance, here I sit with 4mgs Klonopin in me; 20mgs cyclobenzaprine, a Skelaxin of unknown dosage, and an 8mg Rozarem. Yet I still can’t fucking sleep. Shit I know that what I took was probably enough to traquilize a horse, but here I sit, wide awake….

Me and Mrs. Killer went to a close friend’s b-day party Sat nite where we both indulged in a few cocktails and a few rails of cocaine. That was interesting because those were my two poisons of choice for over twenty-plus years, but I’ve done neither at all in at least 4 of the past years; I used to deal the shit, in fact–more on that in the future. But it was nice—seeing some old friends (cokeheads, every last one of ‘em, but I still love ‘em), having a few delicious Effen Black Cherry Vodkas and a few complimentary blasts of yeyo. And the shit was good, too, and I could feel the last vestiges of opiate WD blowing away like dust on the wind. And no hangover, either—I was worried because I hadn’t had one in almost 5 years. My hangovers toward the end of my drinking days became so debilitating that I was incapable of functioning for days after. So for sure I don’t miss those, but we drank/snorted in moderation, felt great Sun morning, and even enjoyed a wonderful sexual encouner that nite. Now that’s something that the opiate takes away from you, and when you quit, that libido comes roaring back with force…so that was real nice….heh, I almost forgot how yummy my wife actually is….

So, umm, yeah, that’s where I’m gonna be for a bit. Clean from opiates (sorry Freedom Club, I know you wanted a fucked up post, but for now you’ll just half to accept me fuckered up on K-pins and weed–if I could find any of that—this town is dry a a bone).

But I still got my ‘raw’ guy’s number–in fact I called him just to let him know I was taking a little break and that if he changes his number that he should let me know. He agreed.

I know it’s been a long time since I posted, but the Time-Warner nazis dug out some additional charges from when we moved and suddenly slammed us with a bill of $1400.00, which, when we couldn’t pay it immediately, they came out and disconnected us from te pole. Well, we paid the shit mere days later, but then lo! and behold, they had no reconnect appointments for close to three weeks. Man if ever I was gonna take my handgun and shoot up a place, that would be it. But since I don’t do those kinda things, we’ll just leave it at that.

So that’s what be happening in my little corner of the world. Been playing my guitar like crazy (once a god always a god, heheh!). I’d really like to see the big, signed band come out of ‘hiatus’, do another record, and a tour–we would go down a storm. I’m gonna push for it to happen, but my biggest fear is that our singer, now sober, is apprehensive–perhaps thinking he couldn’t pull it off sober. But I’ve always told him that he is more potent and violent onstage sober than he ever was inebriated. So we shall wait and see…..

So, in a nutshell: we kicked a 4-5 gram weekend (and sometimes weekdays, too) heroin habit in just under a month using Suboxone/Subutex. We’re clean right now, but craving lika a motherfucker, but have been keeping that in check with some benzos and other shit like Gabapentin and Welbutrin, whcih all seem to help.

It’s depressing, boring like you wouldn’t believe, and the temptations are always there. But for the sake of our own sanity, we’re gonna walk the straight and narrow for now. For now….

ZK

Hey, just wanted to write a quick post because I haven’t been on in forever…

Lost my internet service (and my digital cable and home phone), due to a total fuckery by the wonderful Time-Warner corporation. We’ve paid our bill in full after going back and forth with these corporate fucks, but it seems they’re ‘punishing’ us by saying that the first available re-connect appointment they have available is on Oct. 17th (like 2 weeks away…). No bitching or pleading on my part will change this, it seems, despite being valued customers who’ve paid our bills on this particular account for the last five fucking years….So I’m at a friends house right now, and he’s graciously allowed me to use his computer for a while…

I am now four weeks clean from heroin, and have been weaning down on my stupid Subutex ever since. I am now down to a measly 2mg of it daily, but this seems to be the hardest part. I can’t seem to make the jump from the 2mg to nothing. Maybe I gotta try doing 1mg increments, in fact that’s what I’m gonna do this next few days. I want off this shit, and I want off now, FUCK! I want to be clean, and I will be clean this week, I swear. I (and my wife) want this dependence/addiction shit to be fucking done with once and for all. And we will do it, I swear to fucking god. Or satan (gotta live up to my image, y’kow?, heheh). Anyway, I am not saying I will be sqeaky clean, and that I won’t ever do drugs again—in fact in the back of my mind I know I’ll wanna try ‘chipping’ and I think I can do it successfully, but for now, this shit has gotta stop. Me and Ms. Killer have made the conscious decision to stop being each others’ “enabler”, and with some willpower, we’ve been successful so far. But goddamn, I love dope, and I miss it and I crave it like you wouldn’t fucking believe. Every minute of every day. But with our Sub, some other stupid shit like Gabapentin, Welbutrin, and of course, benzos, it hasn’t been as hard as I thought. But don’t get me wrong, it ain’t been easy…

So I’ll be back online soon, I hate Time-Warner, and I’ll be clean. So things should be interesting, I guess. What do others who’ve kicked do about the sheer, utter boredom that follows heroin? God, it’s fucking boring….Maybe our sex-life will come back—that’s one thing I look forward to. I used to be a randy old fuck, and maybe I will be again….

To the person that I was ’sposed to hook up from outta town: don’t worry, I’ll be sending your money back soon. Please accept my apologies. You know who you are. Shit just spiraled outta control, and my cell phone got ripped off. I’ve never fucked anyone outta their money, and I never will. I hope posting this wasn’t inappropriate, but I wanted to get a message out to ya. Again, you know who you are. And again: sorry.

Well that’s it for now. Hope everyone’s doing good. I wanna thank my buddy S for letting me come over and use his computer to post this. Cheers.

BTW, today is my fucking birthday. Whoopee.

ZK

Hey everyone, sorry for the long time between posts, fuck, it has been a while. I figured I better get something up here, ’cause people have started to ask where I am. Still here, and glad you’re nice enough to ask, Kel, heheh (oh, and super-congrats on the engagement! I’ve been recently through the wedding racket–if you get overwhelmed or need any advice, lemme know, ’cause we had the whole big production). It’s just that I have thrown myself into work hardcore—I’d gotten over 3 weeks behind on my scheduled jobs, due to weather, dick-head homeowners (2 of the worst ever!!), and my van crash. So I’ve just been working constantly—in fact it’s 12:29 in the am, and I’ve only been home from work for three and a half hours and I gotta get up in five hours and do it all over again. So I am fucking exhausted, but it’s been good for us financially—finally there is light at the end of the tunnel after some depressingly huge set-backs back in mid-July to early August.

So the good news is that we’ve only been using on the weekends. The bad news is that we’ve been using ALOT on the weekends. It’s been fun, though, I guess. This past weekend was a four-gram weekend, which means that we spent from Friday to Sunday completely high, and I even worked Saturday. Then of course, it’s back on Sub on Monday, when we usually feel like shit for a day or so ’till our bodies adjust, then we have a couple days of relative ‘normalcy’, then it’s Friday again and it starts all over again, hence the title of this post. I hope I don’t sound like a fucking broken record, though, I may have whined about this before. If I become redundant and repetetive, you guys’ll let me know, right?

Actually, me and Mrs. K made a kind of pact that we’re gonna stay on Sub (ie. clean, if you can call it that, but to me, ‘clean’ means nothing, no opiates at all in the system) and not do any heroin ’till Sept 24th, which is our first wedding anniversary. I’ll believe it when I see it. The first time I have a bunch of money in hand, which will be this Friday, we’ll see what happens to our pact.

(Edit: so, it’s the day after I first posted this and we’ve already broken the pact, LOL—I got paid a day early and with amazement I found myself looking at my cell phone after ordering up a gram of smack. Fuckin’ loved it, though, awesome quality—I am still really high and it’s like five hours after my last line. It’s times like these that remind me why I love heroin so much.)

I don’t think we’ll have the kind of money or time to go anywhere or do anything extravagant for our anniversary, but I wanna do something nice. I’m gonna see if if we can afford to do a weekend get-away up to Door County (which is that little ‘arm’ thing sticking out of the right side of the state if you look at the map of Wisconsin), and it’s a very picturesque, touristy area, but it’s got it’s charms. We know of this resort where they have these little cottages that are nicely furnished and reasonably priced—and the place is pretty deserted and kinda creepy, too. We call it ‘The Shining’ lodge—for some reason the atmosphere brings that to mind. Anyway, maybe we could take some dope, some champagne, some Viagra, and go up for a nice weekend away from all the fuck-nuts that we call friends, and forget about our stinkin’ jobs for a few days, too. I think it’d be a nice romantic first anniversary…

And with that, I am off to bed. I will post again soon; I know things will slow down soon, allowing me time to compose my thoughts and write ‘em all down here. Plus I’ve been wanting to talk about some other stuff, too—and I WILL get back here soon, promise! Hope everyone’s doing ok, indulging safely, and not letting your habits get the best of you! ‘Night….

ZK

Driving to and from work, I’m forced to drive thru a good stretch of the honest-to-god ghetto. And every time I do, looking at the people on the streets, I can practically smell the heroin that is obviously around everywhere. I fact, my route at the moment takes me past this completely dumpy piece-of-shit food store that used to be the jumping off spot to ghetto-copping. It’s called ‘Alliance Foods’ and what you used to do was pull your car in the lot and within seconds someone would ask you what you needed. When you told them which particular poison you were looking for, they’d direct you to the appropriate near-by alley…

Of course once you got there, if you didn’t know your ‘dude’, you have several thugs or more holding up fingers, which you’d hold up in return, indicating how many bags you wanted. It was known as a pretty safe spot, in regards to getting ripped off, and with 5-0 encounters, because although generally a black neighborhood, some whites also co-habited the area. Soon, though, the spots got raided and shut down, and that was basically the end of ‘Alliance Foods’ being ‘the spot’.

So, my daily route now takes me back past ‘Alliance Foods” every day. First off, talk about Euphoric Recall! My stomach twistes in knots just seeing the place. Cravings are always bad in the morning for me lately and I wonder if it’s because of that. Plus there seems to be a lot of activity there lately—after the busts, that lot was a ghost town! But now, I’ve seen the same shady lookin’ mofos just hangin’ out there, and I’ve even seen a couple of white boys sitting in their cars, um, shopping?

Anyway, all that, and all the sketchy looking people I have to see on the streets everyday just makes me want dope! I can smell it, damn you, it’s in the air. Cravings hittin’ pretty hard these past few days…

This city is full of fucking heroin—I can just feel it. We’re nearing the end of our first full week of no heroin, only Sub, and I kinda feel us maybe turning a corner. Maybe this run at sobriety will allow us to lower our tolerance, and acually get rid of the monkey for a while. I doubt it though—we are too powerless in the face of that shit. Glad I don’t have to ghetto cop… But still, this city is full of heroin—-I can fucking smell it!!

ZK

Saturday night, late August; been on Sub for the last five days. The usual: depressed, bored, broke. The money/financial thing has been getting bad lately—all the shit that went down in July has really set us back, the van-crash, problems at work, etc…It’s been one giant slab of bad luck, it seems, but there seemed to be money for dope. Except for last night, when I, in a deperate craving episode, called my dealer and asked for a front. He said yes, despite me owing him some cash, and then proceeded to dog me on the deal the whole night. Told me a few times that he’d call me back in a bit, then stopped answering the phone. Didn’t answer today, either. I didn’t hound him by calling repeatedly, because I don’t wanna piss him off completely, but I’m getting the feeling that he probably wants me to settle up with him. And that is kind of a good thing, too—it wouldn’t be good to rack up a big bill with him and then not be able to pay. Nothing like getting your engines all revved up to get high and then the deal doesn’t happen.

I thought I’d made a new friend and business associate through a mutual friend, and now it seems I’ve been ripped off. The guy lives in another state and basically contacted me through previously stated mutual friend about unloading a bunch of OC. Well, all seemed good, he sent me part of our agreed upon amount, then I sent him a bunch of money, then he sent me the rest of the OCs. All good, except I sent him cash for some other stuff, too, and it’s been over two weeks since he promised to send the stuff (some benzos and 4 fentanyl lollipops, which I’ve wanted to try for some time, and these were the 1600mcg ones, too, so I was particularly excited). He’d been saying that he’s gonna get the shit out to me, then something kept “coming up”, like he’d been WDing, been sick, then all contact ceased. It’s been like four or five days since I’ve heard from him. Thing is, the OC deal was ’sposed to be a monthly thing, and I was getting a good price, so I’d make some money selling ‘em, ’cause god knows they’ve stopped working for me, and I assumed it was a mutually-advantageous thing, so I’m certainly confused. And a little hurt, too, ’cause me and him seemed to be becoming friends—I like the guy, and I didn’t see this one coming. Oh, well, live and learn, I guess, and that’s what I get for trusting someone, especially another junky, with my money.

Life just seems so pointless right now. My wife has the same shit going on with her, and we’ve just been sitting around, when we’re not working, and doing nothing. I mean, we’re not fighting or anything, but it’s not like there’s passion or romance, either. I suspect it all comes down to the drugs, or lack thereof. When we’re binging, it all gets romanticized, and when the party stops, it’s like the boredom just gets oppressive. I think this might be a good time to take a serious run at sobriety. There’s so much we could be doing that we used to enjoy: simple shit, like going to the movies or out to eat. I haven’t had sushi in ages, fuck I miss it—since September of ‘05 I’ve lost forty pounds and I suspect it’s ’cause of drugs, because that just happens to be around the time we stopped with pills and got down to serious business: heroin. My doc was concerned, but all tests came back normal. I have been eating healthier; no more McDonalds or Burger King for lunch, but that can’t be the only reason…We also have a couple of mountain bikes that are just collecting dust, and now that I mention it, so have my guitars…

The 80’s metal-band thing has kinda ground to a halt. We booted a sucky drummer six months or so ago in hopes of a better replacement, and we tried out a few guys, but they all sucked, too. I was motivated to get some ads out, and even made a flyer for music stores, but the other guys haven’t done shit, and I’ve been way too busy with my addiction, so nothing’s been happening there. We used to get together and rehearse the songs even without a drummer, but we haven’t even done that for a month or so. I should probably call everyone and see what’s up. All these guys are lifelong friends, so it’s not like something is going on behind my back, either, if that’s what you’re thinking, lol, in fact, one of ‘em stopped by last night. He stopped by to buy a few of my Subutex, ’cause he gets really high on them. He’s flirted with addiction, and has no problem doing a few rails of heroin, either, but so far has kept it in check, the lucky bastard…

I really miss doing my ‘rock-star’, signed-band thing. Man, those were the days. Yeah, it was a hectic life touring all the time, but it was kinda idyllic, too. Never really having to worry about much except getting to the next city in time for sound check. Drinking and doing blow every night, too, but it’s all part of the lifestyle—-you never really think about it in terms of ‘addiction’ and ‘abuse’. But that fucking rush when the crowd roars as the lights dim and you walk onstage, the people moshing or waving their arms around, the HUGE vibration that rattles your every bone from all the amps and shit, goddammit, it seems like forever since I’ve lived that life. We were getting pretty big there for a while, too. Our CDs were in all the major chains, we were getting press in lots of magazines, and the tour offers kept coming in. We did our last album at a very prestigious studio in Sweden, went there for a month and a half, and it looked like we were gonna cross that line into actual ’stardom’, and then it all fell apart. I spoke to the singer (who is also one of my best friends that moved away to Florida, and I miss him a lot) and he just didn’t sound interested in doing it anymore. He’s married, now, too, and has an interesting job, and is going on two years sober. He was gonna die if he didn’t quit drinking and doing drugs and I’m glad that he has turned it around and found some happiness, but man, it’s so weird where we were ten years ago and where we are now. We used to call ourselves the ‘Terror Twins’, kinda like a satanic Mick n’ Keith, and man, we’d roar into a town and do some serious damage. We’d just start drinking early in the day, then someone from the local crew or some chicks that we knew would inevitably pull out the blow and we’d just fuck it up, big time. And usually, that was what we needed to ‘prime the pumps’ or whatever to put on a good show, and we did put on quite a few. Yeah, there were a few times when one of us would get too fucked up and fall over something or blow our part (like missing the chorus or something), but that seemed to fuel the crowd (and our reputation) even more. I have a huge box full of photos, magazines, clippings, flyers, etc—I gotta dig it out and go through it one of these days, but I will probably cry. I’ll cry for lost ambitions, shattered dreams, and ‘what could’ve been’. I mean, I love my wife with all my heart, but other than her, my life seems so fucking empty right now. My stupid painting company and music are all I know. And I hate painting more with each passing day, I gotta get out, I fucking want out! I hate my customers, I hate everything about it. It’s not like I’m getting rich or anything—yeah, usually the money is good, or has been good, but it’s just so unfulfilling. The only thing that ever gave me true happiness was being in a rock band. Oh, and heroin, now I guess you could say that. Maybe that’s why I turned to opiates, because quitting blow and booze was fucking easy, man, easy as pie, but once I got that taste for opiates, I found something to fill the void. Now it fucking owns me and I hate it and I hate myself. I wanna go back to who I was ten years ago, full of fire n’ brimstone—ready and willing to take on the fucking world with my Stratocaster and a Marshall stack. Where the fuck did that guy go?

Hey all, sorry it’s been such a long time since I posted, I feel like such a fuck-up. It’s just the usual excuses: too much work, too much dope, not enough time, bla, bla, bla…And I’ll apologize in advance if I sound a little crab-ass, I’m writing in yet another between-high times—-back on Sub, no physical WD, but feeling the boredom, semi-depression, lethargy, all that accompanying crap that I feel when I’m not using dope. One of these days I gotta write when I’m completely fucked up–it seems like I’m always posting during the downtimes–maybe my posts when high will be all la-dee-da, I feel so good, everything’s peachy…but I doubt it. My cynicism and misanthropic outlook on the world ain’t gonna go away just ’cause I used a drug–in fact, it probably has a lot to do with why I do drugs in the first place. Oh, well, what the fuck ever…

My god, the heat has been unbearable here the last few weeks. Consistent 90s with high humidity–make it tough to work outside, or do much of anything, really. Today and tomorrow are both in triple-digit ranges—with heat indices nearing 120 degrees. I thought it only got this miserable in the deep south, wtf?? The heat has some bearing on one of my updates, which is why I’m posting. I wanna touch on a few topics so I’ll just categorize all that I want to say into sections, mmkay? So here goes….

Van Crash: On the 15th of this month I blacked out from heat-stroke behind the wheel and smashed my work mini-van into a parked car, which hit two other vehicles parked in front of it. Now, lemme preface all this by saying that up ’till now, I have always had a perfect driving record–no speeding tickets, accidents, nothing. It had been a stifling hot, humid Saturday and I went into work about 9 am. The night before had been a night of heroin indulgence, and I’d only had a few hours’ sleep. So we (me n’ my employee, Carlos) worked for a few hours, but the heat was getting bad. I sent Carlos home at about 1:15 in the afternoon and planned on leaving after I was done working on the window I had started. I was on a stepladder, 2 rungs up, with my chest supporting me, holding a caulk gun and some hand tools. I remember yawning and feeling very drowzy. When I opened my eyes, 35 minutes had passed—apparently I had blacked out on the ladder, and when I came to, I was still holding the caulk gun. Scary shit, right? I thought so, and I also thought “Fuck this, time to go home” so I packed up my crap and left to go home. I stopped for gas and cigs and had the AC cranked in the van, and made my way up Capitol Drive, a major east-west street through the entire city, including the ‘hood. And this is where I next awoke, to the impact of my van hitting the parked vehicle, the air-bag deploying, all my tools and shit flying forward and the most gut-wrenching noise I’ve ever heard. This is how I awoke. Screaming “what the fuck!!”, I jumped out of the vehicle. Well, I found myself on 24th and Capitol —a very ghetto neighborhood–and I was immediately surrounded by the denizens of the block, not one of which asked me if I was alright. I remember hearing shit like ‘damn, cracker, hope you gots insurance” and “motherfucker, you in the wrong neighborhood to be crashin’ yo shit”. I immediately called 911 and 10 minutes later two cops showed up, both white, and, man, I was never so glad to see two cops in my whole life. They separated the crowd from me and took my info, asked if I needed an ambulance (I was shaken up, my hand was cut, and my chest and neck hurt from the seat belt, but otherwise I was ok. The cop told me that had I not been wearing my seatbelt, I’d have flown thru my window and most likely would not be here to tell the tale), and arranged for a tow-truck. I then called my wife, who showed up with a buddy of mine. The tow-truck hauled my ruined van onto its flatbed, followed us home, and dumped it in front of my house.

As a result of this mess, I will probably be sued by the three people who’s vehicles were damaged, or their insurance companies. I was planning on doing a bankruptcy anyways, so I’ll probably just wait ’till all this shit starts rolling in. I got a ticket for ‘Inattentive Driving’, $89 and 4 points off my license—which I will fight in court and probably will get reduced. I have a faint hope of getting it dismissed, but it’s a faint hope at best. I went to my doctor two days later because I had neck and chest pain, was told I had whiplash, to keep taking my Tramadol, and here’s a script for 800mg Ibuprophen. Called back a week later and was given a one time RX for 28 Percocets. Who-hoo!! Livin’ large, but what did I expect, fentanyl lollies or something? My van was a total loss and the junkyard guy who hauled it away gave me $100 for it. Too bad I’d just put $900 into the brakes a few weeks before. Some scary shit, that heat stroke, though….wonder how much was related to the smack I surely still had in my system. The cop got real close to me and asked if I’d been drinking, but I think he believed that I did indeed black out from the heat (which was fucking unbearable that day—kinda like today, actually). Lucky they didn’t wanna take a blood test or something, and I am real glad no one else but me got hurt. Oh, and last week, our grandparents, out of the blue, called us down to this little out-of-the-way car lot, where they’d just purchased a mini-van for us. It’s better than the one I crashed, so geez, gotta love the grand-folk….

New kittens: Well, the momma kitty we adopted that I spoke of in my last post had her kittens. Six of ‘em, actually, and now, ten days later, they are just beginning to open their eyes. There are 4 males and 2 females, best we can tell, and they are just so innocent and adorable. The wonders of nature unfolding right here in my own house. It just makes me hate the world of man so much more to know that there are people out there that are capable of cruelty to our animal bretheren. As if nature herself wasn’t cruel enough. But I just spend hours looking at these fragile, tiny creatures in wonder. So amazing. We think we’ve found homes for at least three of them, and we’ll probably end up keeping the momma and a kitten, too, we’ll see. I’ll post a pic or two if I can ever get off my lazy ass and fire up the digital camera.

Drug Use and Suboxone/Subutex: I went in for my two-week follow-up after my initial induction into the Suboxone program. Dr. Bupe asked me how it was going, and I told him I’ve been getting some pretty bad headaches every time I take a Sub, so he immediately switched me to Subutex. For those who don’t know, Suboxone is buprenorphine and naloxone (an opiate antagonist put there to prevent IV abuse) and Subutex is straight buprenorphine. So I guess the Subutex is the more coveted of the two because one can shoot it, and is just an oval, white pill. Suboxone has a yucky orange taste, but still taste better than the ‘tex, which is really nasty. I can and did snort some of the ‘tex, though, which I would never have considered with the Suboxone. So I’m not sure if switching was for the best or not: I don’t IV, so I can’t shoot it like some I know, and it tastes way worse than the Suboxone. But I can snort it, yay, big fucking deal….

We’ve still been going back and forth with doing dope and WD follwed by sub. I would say that our use has diminished a bit, but that’s more due to financial constraints than anything else. We also got hooked up with some Oxy, from a long-distance friend who we worked out a monthly arrangement with. Fifty 40mg OC every month, which is cool. We ended up doing most of the first shipment, but next month we’ll probably sell ‘em, because our tolerance ain’t been going down, folks. I think that after months of just doing this high-powered raw heroin we get has shot our tolerances even higher, because when we got the OC, I had to take ELEVEN fucking forties to get high. My wife took twelve. It used to be that we’d be nodding on 160mgs each—this time it was 440mgs, an insane amount if you ask me. But, we still had Sub in our systems, so that may have played a role, it having a blocking effect and all. To be honest, OC has lost some of its appeal to me—I just love that H we get soooooo much. It is always good, convenient, and man, gets me fucking high as hell every time…..

I also am looking forward to possibly getting to try out the fabled fentanyl lollipops–it’s through our coveted long-distance friend, and he says he’s gonna send me 4 of the 1600mcg pops. Hope they work! Otherwise, with a bunch of downtime due to the accident, the heat, uppity customers, and Mrs. Killer switching jobs (which caused a gap in her payroll checks), we’ve just been toughing it out, not being able to score as much dope as we normally would (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing), and just trying to hold on. Things will get better, I’m sure, but when it’s this fucking hot, it’s hard to be motivated or optimistic about much of anything. Goddamn this fucking heat…..

Well, that’s all for now: just another junky and his junky wife struggling through the days. Hope you are all well, and hope to hear from all of you, too. Stay cool.

ZK

Hiya. Where’s everybody been? It seems like a lot of people must be real busy, ’cause it’s been pretty dead around here and over at the Opiophile site. Plus, I’m starting to wonder about some of the newer people that came here after I did (’cause I’m pretty new here myself): it seems that some o’ youse guys wrote one or two posts and then I haven’t seen anything more from ya. Shit, I feel guilty if I don’t write a post once a week. Anyway, you know who you are, start writin’, we wanna read it!!

I went in on Friday for my Suboxone induction, (and of course, they push some sort of therapy/counseling, which I can understand). They actually have two “suboxone groups”, one for younger people , and one for older. Plus there’s the option of individual therapy (which I chose), and NA meetings (which I wouldn’t wish on anyone–I find them cultish and religious, no offense to any 12-steppers that work that program to success—but it don’t work for me and what I’ve seen was pretty fuckin’ creepy). I think individual counseling would be best for me–I’ve done it in the past and it worked out ok. So I have to go through the whole intake process, which includes some physical stuff (BP, temp, eyes, ears, nose, and throat), and the barrage of questions about usage. Oh, yeah, and my first pee-drop ever! How exciting to point my pecker into this weird little triangular cup, squirt out some pee, then have to walk out past a waiting room full of people and hand it over. Ah, well, nobody seemed the least bit fazed by any of it.

So then it’s time for me n’ my nurse, (who is the coolest gal: talks all the street lingo, and if she hasn’t been down the road of addiction herself, she sure does act like it) to go into the room to visit the doc. He’s a middle-aged guy with a jovial face who has this little spiel about how HE gets the money now instead of my dealer (yeah, little does he know–more on that later), and how quitting opiates is like paying taxes—you can do it once a year (detox), or you can pay your taxes a little bit at a time off every paycheck (Suboxone). And we all laugh “ha-hah-ha”, then we get down to the nitty gritty. “Now you’re using heroin instead of Oxys since the last time we saw you, Mr. Killer?” “Yes” “Well, how much, and how many times a day, Mr. Killer?” “Well, if I can afford it up to two grams a day, starting in the morning, dosing all day, and going for the whole enchilada at night.” “Well, you realize that is a fairly large habit, don’t you Mr. Killer?” “Yes, I do…” “But you are not yet IVing, is that correct Mr. Killer?” “That is correct.” “Well, Mr. Killer, I think a fair starting dosage would be 8mgs morning and 8mgs at night, then you’ll come back on Tuesday and we’ll re-assess your dosage, ok?” “Ok that’s fine, Dr. Bupe”.

So, then I go with my cool nurse to the pharmacy –you have to walk to another building via a very pretty, well-tended footpath, and there they fill my script, which is ten 8mg Suboxones. Then we have to go back to the “Opiate Recovery Center”, which is the quaint old farmhouse-looking building I described in my last post. So she wants me to sublingually induce 4mgs to start, during which time she has to sit with me and monitor me. This apparently is due to the fact that people actually do go into severe precipitated withdrawal from the bupe while they sit there—something I find somewhat amazing, since I’ve never had the problem when making the switch. Usually I’ll feel some chills, yawning, nose-running, and maybe some bowel-issues which tells me ‘it’s time’. Anyway, I induce my 4mgs, all is well, my minor withdrawal symptoms are rapidly disappearing, and I leave with my 10-stopsign-script. With instructions to dose another 4mgs within the hour, then dose 8mgs more at supper time and follow this routine.

That all sounds super-duper peachy-keen, Zodiac’s well on his way to getting off the dreaded heroin and back to a life of sobriety, right? Well, lemme check you on that. As I posted previously, me n’ Mrs. Killer have tickets to the Slayer concert that nite (I fucking love Slayer–I remember when I saw ‘em in this dinky bar back in ‘84–I was so close I could’ve played Kerry King’s guitar for him–and I got the pics to prove it. Anyway, I love Slayer and always go see ‘em when they tour here). And what, we’re gonna hook up with all our coke-snorting friends, go see an intense metal show, and just stand there sober while everyone goes nuts around us? Not bloody likely (best Seinfeld-acting-British voice). So we cop a fat gram of smack, do most of that up, and when we get to the show we each pop a 10mg Valium and have a stiff rum n’ coke. That heroin I get is SO good, and this batch seemed exceptionally good, that it plowed through that Suboxone like a Panzer through Poland in ‘45. I was fuckin’ thrown, o faithful readers, and it felt sooo fucking good (it was the first dope I’d had since the previous Sunday, then it was Mrs. K’s Sub all week). We had an utterly fantastic time–we met up with some people we hadn’t seen in a while, and it was nice to be at a rowdy metal show—it seems like it’s been ages. After the show we went home and fixed up some yummy sandwiches and snoozed off in front of the TV. Also different from the old booze and blow days: when the show ended, that was when the REAL partying would start, usually staying up ’till the next morning doing line after line of coke ’till it’s just fucking pointless anymore. Ughhh, I don’t miss that shit at all—and I’m proud to say I haven’t had a booze hangover in, like, five years.

So, the next day being a Saturday, we figured what the hell, let’s get another gram. Phone call placed about noon, gram in hand by one. We spend the day toying around with itty-bitty lines, ’till about five, when I decide “Fuck it, let’s stop pussyfooting around and get HIGH!”. So now we’re doing the big, fat, juicy lines—the ones that make your eyes water and your face all scrunched-up looking. So by six we are FUCKED UP. That’s when we made the smart decision to have us a little Val, wot, wot? Yep, 10mg Valium each, another fatty of hank, and we are in Funs-ville, capitol F (for Fucked up!). So that was a fun night, too, Saturday was. We ended up watching episodes of Deadwood on OnDemand and having a jolly old time of it. God, do I love when the stars align and all the right chemicals fall into our bodies at just the right time, and everything seems perfect with the world. Rock on, Nod on!

So yesterday, Sunday, we knew was the end of the proverbial line for the fun time express. I have my follow-up appointment tomorrow morning (Tuesday), and I need to be all Subbed-up and have my lie-face on. It wasn’t too bad, though, I guess going back on Sub during the week made the WD a little less intense, and 4-8mgs of Sub and a benzo each and we felt alright. Same thing with this morning, I dosed 8mgs, and felt ok all day. It’s the fucking mental come-down that is the bitch-kitty of it all. I just feel so empty, like there’s been a hole ripped in me that only some dope would fill. I know if I copped, I’d feel just right as rain. It feels so hollow—I dunno, it’s hard to describe. I can usually get the physical part under control, but the mental thing, whew, that’s a tough one. The benzos help with that a little, at least. But I think if you take the depression for what it is, just the fact that you ain’t doing dope that day, and compartmentalize the depression for what it is, you can get through it. But the cravings, man oh, man. They be strong, people. It’s a good thing we’re basically broke this week, or I may have succumbed to weakness, and then I’d probably fuck up my brand new Suboxone program.

And I don’t wanna do that, see, because we have no intention of quitting altogether. We wanna have our little two-day or weekend binges, and we wanna have the Sub as a back-up for withdrawal. And since Mrs. K has been in the program for 6 months already, they’re starting to taper her down considerably. And since I’ve been doubling on her script, we’ve been coming up short lately. Not anymore, ’cause I’ll have a fat 16-24mg per day take-home script that we can stockpile for the future. See, it’s real easy to taper quickly with Suboxone, IMO: you just have to get back to baseline, then you can start tapering immediately. In the past, I’ve gone from coming off a month-long opiate binge to 16mgs Sub to zero in under 3 weeks with virtually no discomfort. Aided with benzos, 800mg Ibuprophin, and Immodium, of course…

So this week will probably be another Sub week with no mid-week ’smacky-treats’, but that’s ok, ’cause we really gotta show a little willpower here, get the tolerance down a little, and realize that our finances can’t support the habit we’d like to have. I mean $700 to a thousand a week on dope? That’s pretty fucking outta hand, if you ask me. I’d like to be in the $300-400 range personally. That’d be easily do-able without putting the hurt on our normal lifestyle. Plus I got a line on some reasonably priced OCs later this month–those are usually fun, especially mixed with some smack-o. So we’ll see how that works out.

OK, enough about dope and onto to our new-pregnant-kitty story. Mrs. K was sitting out in front of the house a few weeks ago when this cute little cat came running up. All friendly, but yet kinda stray-like, too. So started putting bowls of food out back for her, and she’s come every day like clockwork. Problem was, all the other critters did, too. Not only did we have every other pet-cat, and stray from the neighborhood in our backyard, but a Possum, and the biggest, meanest looking Raccoon I’ve ever seen. I mean, I went to chase this guy off, and he didn’t budge, just gave me a look that said ‘C’mon–you wanna piece of me?”. He finally trotted off, but that was it for leaving food out. So everyday for a while we’d shake the box and “Billie” (who we’ve named our adopted stray) would come running for her dinner. Well, at this time we noticed that she’d become weirdly rotund in the middle. I’ve had momma cats before, and I knew right away: Billie is pregnant. So we’ve kidnapped her and put her upstairs in a spare room away from the other cats (3), and got her a litter-box and a box-bed type thing for the imminent birth. Man, she is gonna pop any day now–it’s amazing how fat her belly is, and she’s the tiniest of cats to begin with. Really looks weird. So we’ve already got three potential homes for the kittens and I guess we’re gonna keep her (of course, that means paying for vet visits, shots, spaying, etc…), but what the hell—-fate brought her to us, and we’re gonna give her as good a life as possible. That is, if she can hold her own against Bob, our 24 pound tabby that’s a big crab-ass. So maybe by next post, I’ll have a bunch of cute kittens to report on….

So that’s it fellow, Junksters–hope to hear/see you all soon. I’ve really been digging the Guest Blog, IMO, some of those writers should have their own blogs here. Great stuff–keep it coming. And for you lackadaisical current JLers—time to get busy, dontcha think? I mean, bi11i set this shit up for ya, wouldn’t it be common courtesy to use it now that it’s all there for ya? You can do it—and you’ll be the better person for it. Trust me, it’s cathartic as hell, and we’ll enjoy reading it, and be able to offer sage words of advice and wisdom. I hope. ‘Till next time: stay high, stay fly, don’t poke yourself in the eye! Oh, yeah, and “Hail Satan!” Laters.

ZK

Hello everyone. It’s been a few days since my last post–and I gotta say, I initially planned on posting a lot more, perhaps everyday, but life just keeps getting in the way. I’ve been super-busy at work (it’s the summer season, which is my “money-maker” so-to-speak, and I’ve been doing a lot of 9-10 hour days), plus we’re still in-process of settling into our new house. Lots of painting, box un-packing, and re-arranging to do..

Then there’s the biggie: our godammn addictions. We have been going up, down, and up again on this fucking roller-coaster, and I am currently experiencing one of my lowest of the lows. I’ll try to explain as best I can, but I’m sure this ain’t something that most of you haven’t heard before. It’s just that we have been binging with heroin longer than any binges I can recall. We used to use dope for a day or two (or maybe three), then just take some time off, and use Suboxone to fight off the withdrawal. It worked out pretty good that way, actually. For me it took no time at all to make the switch, in fact if I’d snort my last line of H in the morning, I’d usually feel the first rumblings of WD by late afternoon, induce 6-8mgs of Sub and be just fine. My wife usually needed a little more time to adjust, and could count on a days worth of feeling like shit ’till she’d normalize out…

So now, here we are on the 4th of July holiday, and I’m realizing that we’ve been using every single day for a month. About a half-gram each, sometimes more, sometimes a little less. And we’ve been noticing that our tolerances must be growing, because we ain’t getting as high on those amounts. I thought our tolerances were big before, but now, well, they are bigger than they’ve ever been, I guess. So cut to yesterday morning: we had a little bit left over from the night before (we went to Summerfest, a huge 11-day music festival here in our city; we saw David Lee Roth and did some shopping there, ate some food, and had a good time, of course we were high on dope the whole time, so of course we had a good time). Anyway, we each did our little line in the morning, figuring that we’d cop in the afternoon and continue with whatever we were gonna do for the day.

Well, something unexpected happened: my dealer’s phone went straight to voicemail. At noon. Then again at 1, then 2:30, then 3:00. Oh, shit, what the fuck is going on? He always tells me if he’s gonna be gone for any amount of time, and usually has one of his runners takin’ care of biz. Not this time. Straight to voicemail. Everytime. Now the withdrawal is setting in. And guess what? It feels worse this time than I can remember. I got the fever/chills thing, my gut is rumbling, and I feel that “crawling out of your skin feeling” getting worse. What do I do? At around six pm, I feel like absolute garbage and am contemplating taking Sub, when lo and behold! he answers the phone. An hour later I feel good, relatively normal and have enough left over to last through this morning, so I can feel good enough to write this. I’ve already made the call and he’ll be here at 11:00 with the days supply. But yesterday shook me, more than a little, and it’s at those moments that you start thinking “what the fuck am I doing with my life?”.

The thing about it is that the WD we experienced yesterday (at least for me, my wife said it wasn’t too bad for her) was the worst I can remember in a while. And even after I relieved it with a couple of fat lines of smack, I felt exhausted, both physically and mentally, and still do this morning to a certain degree. Y’know how you feel after you’ve had a really bad flu that’s kept you bedridden for several days, that totally drained feeling? Well, that’s how I feel right now. I feel like I could go to bed for 3 days.

Well, I am not a stupid person, and I can read the writing on the wall. All this is telling me that my addiction is getting out of hand. And it’s time to knock it back a bit. Weird thing is, I must have had an inkling, a premonition, or whatever you wanna call it, because this past Friday morning I called the Suboxone clinic and made an appointment for this Friday to get an RX for Sub. They know me there, because when Mrs. Killer got her Sub, we were both ‘assessed’ then (I was supposed to get the Sub then, but didn’t. Another story…), and the nurse, S****, is a super-nice gal who must like us for some reason, because even though the recording says they are not accepting new patients, she got me in anyway. So, on Friday I go in for Suboxone induction. I, of course, have to be in withdrawal when I get there, and I’m really looking forward to that. But it will be a good thing, because we’ve been both using my wife’s scripts, and it seems like we’ve been coming up a little short each month. It’s because they’ve been slowly reducing her doses, and our dope use has been going up—simple math, I guess.

So I’m sure you can see where this is going: we obviously are not serious about stopping using dope. I wish I could say otherwise. I wish I could jump up on a fucking soap-box and proclaim the evils of heroin and how I’ve seen the fucking light, the error of my ways, and I am ready to ask forgiveness and want to lead a life of sobriety, but I’m not. I am sorry, I know this post sounds like a bunch of whining– about why can’t we use dope as chippers, why does WD have to be so hard, why, why, why…So I apologize if this post comes across that way, because we’re not stupid, we know what we’re doing to ourselves, and I’m not posting this looking for sympathy. I’m posting this because this is JL, ok, and I’m a fucking junky and I am fortunate enough to have a place to share this shit with whomever wants to read it. I have no idea how many people are reading this, but I wanna say “Thank You!” to anyone that is…And even if no-one is reading at all, it’s somewhat of a catharsis just to write it all down.

So, will I give the Sub a chance—try to stay on it alone for a while? I really want to. I want to lower my/our tolerance, and I wanna save some money. But the ‘pull’ of dope is strong..well, you all know that, right? It’s real easy to make excuses to use, that’s for sure. For instance, here’s one: we’ve got tickets for “The Unholy Alliance” tour, it’s Slayer, Children of Bodom, and some other cool bands—well, it’s this Friday, the same day I’m gonna get my Sub. So how do we go to a concert without dope? How are we gonna have any fun? We don’t drink alcohol, either, so it’s not like we can just get drunk. And I know if I get enough dope, I can blast right through that Sub no problem. And I’m sure Mrs. K is gonna want something, too. Ahh, shit, guess we’ll see when the time comes…

Other things a-happenin’: Mrs. K got a new job. She worked in the secretarial department of a large funeral-home chain here, and basically all the girls there had gotten wind a while ago that some changes were afoot. So a couple of weeks ago, they have her in the office and tell her that her hours will be cut to part-time, actually one day a week. She had missed some work due to our drug issues back in December and January, but they were within her ‘paid sick day’ allotment, plus she came clean to her managers what was up. She was totally honest, and they proclaimed full support. She even had her yearly review in April, she got a raise, and they told her everything was super. So now they stab her in the back with this. We know it was an excuse, though, because a few other gals got their hours cut, too, and we think it’s because they don’t wanna pay the insurance anymore. In fact, they’ve been brutal with people in other departments, too, the cheap bastards. But we can’t help but wonder if part of it was that they wanted to get rid of the ‘junky’, lest she tarnish their image somehow, bastards. So she looked around, talked to couple of friends in the ‘biz’ and found out about an opening at a huge cemetary, in the clerical department. She took an interview and got hired on the spot. This place has better insurance, and other benefits, too, so I guess it all worked out for the best, but Mrs. K is still hurt by the whole thing. She’d been at her job for 5 years and thought she had some good friends there, and she feels really betrayed. I can’t stand to see my wife cry, it really hurts me, and I just wanna exact revenge on anyone that would hurt her. But for now, I’ll just let it be…

We’ve been looking for a drummer in this ’80s cover-band’ thing I’ve been doing (basically to kill time and keep my ‘chops’ up while my ’signed-band’ is on hiatus), and we tried out a guy last week. We had high hopes for this guy–he sounded like he was the shit, said he had all the songs worked out, blah, blah, blah—and when we got him to the rehearsal spot, well, he just sucked the bag. Really awful. So I guess it’s back to square one–we’ve been jamming together for a year and a half now, tried out a bunch of drummers, and none of them has worked out. It’s getting depressing–we’d hoped to be gigging out by now. And my “main band”, the one that toured and did records and stuff, shows no sign of reformation anytime soon–and I don’t know if it ever will, at this point.

OK, well, I guess that’s it for now. I’ll post back this weekend after my trip to the ‘Opiate Center’ on Friday. It’s kinda funny, it’s part of the main Aurora Mental Health complex, but it’s in its own building—this quaint little farmhouse that has in-patient treatment upstairs, group meeting rooms downstairs, and the clinic on the main floor. Very unobtrusive. And they do not have methadone there, either, only Suboxone. Guess I’m lucky to have a place like this, from what I’ve read of other people’s nighmares with obtaining Sub, I can’t complain….

I hope everyone is in the place they want to be, and I hope you are all enjoying your lives the way you want to be enjoying them—who could ask for more? Me, I hope to be there soon, one way or another. Happy 4th to y’all. Cheers!

ZK

Ah yes, I fucking love old Who. That line is from “The Seeker”, great fuckin’ rock song and very appropo to the way I’m fucking feeling right now. They say misdirected anger is an unhealthy thing, but I dunno, I sometimes feel that old angry rage boiling to the surface. It’s an anger that I learned to control a long time ago, through a shitload of counseling and pure old fashioned willpower. They used to call me “Angry R***” back in the day, I was one rage-filled motherfucker. If I had all the stuff back that I destroyed in a rage-fit, well, I’d have a lot of my old stuff back, now wouldn’t I? I’ve smashed up a bunch of shit onstage in front of people, too—how embarassing looking back. Guess I fulfilled that stereotype of the petulant rock-guy pitching a fucking fit cause he can’t hear his fucking guitar in the piece of shit monitor, now fix it, assholes, arrgghhh!!! Geez. I am a kindler and much gentler petulant rock-guy now, and I see the same rage in my brother. My dad had it, too–he was a violent, abusive, rage-filled man. He’s dead now, actually since 1990, from a sudden, massive heart attack, probably from all the misdirected rage and anger. But I think anger is a powerful and very human emotion. It’s something all of us experience, it’s what you do with it that makes the difference in defining who you are as a person. Now I make concious efforts to channel it towards something productive and make sure I NEVER take it out on those I love, mainly my wife. We never fight, did I ever tell you that? And I mean never, and that’d be a first for me…

Anyway, I just wanted to come on and update ’cause it’s been quite a while, and here I go starting off with some Dr. Phil shit. Hummppph. Okay, well what’s been going on is heroin, that’s what’s been going on. And lots of it, too. And now here I am on my first 24 hours off smack and back on Suboxone. I’ve had 16mgs total today, and I feel pretty much ok. I just took a 2mg Klonopin ’cause I gotta have my benzos if I’m off dope. But the buprenorphine is doing what’s its supposed to do, at least for me. I always have an easy time making the switch: this morning at work I started feeling a little gut-rumbling, a little gooseflesh chill, and that’s it– I know it’s time. 8mgs under the tongue later and I feel ok. A little ephedrine caplet or two to combat the always-present-when-kicking lethargy, and I’m good to go. We used to call those things ‘white-crosses’ back in high school, and I’ve heard other people call it ‘trucker-speed’, and now you can buy it at any gas station, what the fuck is the world coming to. So I can feel the K-pin starting to kick in and those things always get me loopy, so if I start writing erratically, you’ll know why. I have decided I will just hit ‘publish’ at the end of this session regardless of where I am, so that’ll be that and you’ll know why.

OK, back on topic: I seem to make the switch back to Sub really easily, but man, my wife has such a hard time of it. And I feel helpless to do anything for her. I just think that she seems to ususally need more to get her back to ‘normalcy’, and I encourage her to take more ’till she feels better. I mean, she’s had only 16mgs today, nowhere near other people’s daily maintenance doses, and what, the ceiling dosage is 32mgs, so why the fuck not? Anyway, it’s gonna be a few days of her feeling like shit till she starts coming around again. And she’s got her Sub-doc appointment on friday, so we’ll be all stocked up again.

Ok, the Heroin: well, it’s been since the last post that we’ve been copping every day. See, it’s the season where I make mad cash, and basically, as I said , we are some functional addicts. Our bills are paid, we bought some cool new shit for our new place, and we still had mad dope money left over. We’ve been doing a gram and a half to two grams daily. Still snorting, of course–I’ve banished all thoughts of the needle from my mind. But man, the shit is SOOOO good, nice hard brown rocks that get delivered right to my doorstep. I jump in his SUV, round the block we go, lets PAAAAARTY! We’ve been copping enough to be able to have it with us while at work, so now it’s a round-the-clock thing. It’s just that we are reasonable people, and we knew a break had to come, so here it is. Try telling that fucking logic to my craving brain, which is telling me: makethecall makethecall makethecall makethecall. Well, fuck you, brain, I’m calling the shots here, and it is motherfucking breaktime, goddammit. For a little while anyway, hehe. I ain’t gonna sit and be all self-rightcheous and say, “oh, gosh, me-o-my, whatever shall we do, somebody plese help us”–we created this fucking mess, so it’s time to pull ourselves up by the proverbial bootstraps and shit, piss, or get off the pot. We’re gonna be addicts forever? Fine, then lets adjust what needs to be accordingly and get on with our life. I’m ok with that right now: I fucking love getting high, hearin’ me on this? I love getting High. It’s that fucking simple. And no matter how addicted I get, I still get high and I still love it. I don’t sit around and mope oh, gee, what am I gonna do, I have a drug problem, and golly, what will people think? Well, most fucking people have no idea whatsoever, and if they did, I defy ‘em to say something. I will verbally crush them to the insignificant speck that they really are with their picture perfect lives and more skeletons in the closet than a mortuary John Doe room…

Man that smack we been geting is sooo godammn good; at a buck and a half a g, the shit weighs out and makes this fat brown pile that you just wanna put your face right into it and inhale. Ain’t nothing in this town on the street that can touch it, IMO. At least with all the ghetto hooks I got; their shit is fucking drain-cleaner as far as I’m concerned. Man if the day comes that I lose this connect, I’m gonna be one sad dude. But I be his “favorite white-boy, you always straight wit me R***, you ain’t be fuckin’ me around like dem otha assholes”. Cool, baby, just keep that fine raw comin…

Ok, well, on to other shit, well, that’s another reason I haven’t posted in a while, I’ve been crazy busy working: 10 hour days to catch up after the rainy season, plus unpacking every day when I get home to get our house in order, I’ve been working on getting my “guitar-room” all set up, I mean I have the computer up, but I need my practice amp, my recorders, and a place to set all my oh-so-beautiful guitars. In the time my main ’signed’ band is on hiatus I’ve been doing this 80s cover-band thing with some old jam-mates from back in the day and we’ve been having drummer woes. We can’t find anyone who can play this stuff, we’ve run ads, and tried out a bunch of guys who we can tell can’t cut it like 5 minutes after we hear ‘em play. It’s been frustrating because now it’s too late to book any gigs for all the summer festivals and stuff. But we are trying out a guy tomorrow who shows some promise, let’s hope he’s the one. In he meantime, I’ve got to do some serious woodshedding tonight to make sure MY chops are up to speed so I don’t look like an incompetant fool when I plug into my stack tomorrow night (like that’d be possible, wink, wink, nudge, nudge)….

OK, so one more thing: I wanna try this pod-tea that everyone is so jazzed about. I’m gonna place an order and try a method I’ve heard everyone say works really well, and even with our tolerance, I’ve heard it is still a worthwhile thing to try, so why not? I should be able to give it a shot by this weekend, hopefully, and I’ll post back on my findings. I’m actually kinda jazzed about it. Oh, I’ve got ten 7.5 Watson Hydros that I found in a customers’ house (yeah, I know, but what junkie doesn’t medicine-cabinet-dive, huh?)–these rich fucks will never miss it anyway. You’d be surprised what ya can find that people just stuff in their closets and forget about, hah. I just wonder if the hydro would even work at all for me anynore–I know I stopped buying them some time ago because they simply stopped working, but it has been a while. I think I’ll just save them for a rainy day and stay on Sub for a while. I’m sure I can wean down to almost nada in a week or so. I wish the fucking tolerance would go as fast, but that seems to stick around forever. Ok, well, that’s all thats haps in Zodiac-land, just a bunch of drugs and over-all happiness, except for right now while Mrs. Killer makes the switch. I feel bad for her and offer words of comfort and support, but ultimately, she needs to figure out how to make this work. I am pretty sure she does not want to stop with dope–she loves it as much, if not more, than I do. Why is it so easy for me to make the switch, but she has such a horrible time of it? Is it the gender thing? I have no answers….

“They call me The Seeker—I been searching low and high–I won’t get to get what I’m after ’till the day I die”