Monday, July 18, 2011

I don't do dishes I throw them into the crib

I finally got a hold of my dealer. I feel much better. I had no money, but my friend shared with me. At the moment I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I'm trying to watch a film called Magic Bus, about Ken Keasy and Neil Cassidy Its about the bus trip they both took with a  bunch of beats, band hippies from LA to NYC.Just writing this is hard for me, everything is blurry. Fuck my dad just walked in and I was nodding out. Fuck I hate this.

Today I appealed my denial to be a client at the Methadone clinic. I had to write a letter to the head honcho, and then they take the letter before the Doctors. I called the Appleton clinic and they denied me because I live in Green Bay and they said there was to much clinic hopping. I doubt my appeal will work. I wrote the letter out fast, and at the end said, I pray that you take me back, my life hangs in the balance.

For me the Methadone helps to keep me as straight as I've been since 17. I remember hating it while I was on it. Mainly because I couldn't get high on it. That was a good thing for me though, I didn't use very much on it, when I was on a high dose. Of course in Hawaii I was on a low dose, and could get high without spending tons of money. Am I just fucking up my life more and more? I do want to get clean I want to stop this madness. I think a gun is my only true way out of addiction. The big sleep.

I wonder if after you die, a part of the brain dreams, and that's what makes up heaven or hell, how good the dream is or how horrifying. The brain is a mysterious organ. We could think it is dead, but perhaps its just working in a different way/ Then again I googled photos of shot gun blasts to the head, and some of their brains are almost all gone. How could that work, how could it be alive on a different pane when its all over the walls? Unless the brain keeps working even when in pieces or outside the body. Who knows what happens when you die.

I found a bar that I actually feel comfortable in. Its called the crusty Frog. Its definitely my scene, and a great juke box.
They actually have Elliott Smith on the juke box. You don't even have to do an Internet search for it. Its right there with rest of the music already downloaded on the juke box. They have the Pixies, Morphine, L7, Bikini Kill, Nirvana etc.I like to go to the bar when I'm having cravings and have too little money to buy dope , but enough to get drunk.

I've got to end this post. I have more to tell you, but you'll have to wait till tomorrow.

3 comments:

"AA" said...

Interesting thought process on the brain after you die...but, what would happen to the folks that get cremated? On that thought, I personally believe our energy gets passed on, moves on, goes out into the great beyond - we can all access others, we all do every day. How else can you explain away the ability to make phone calls via a cell phone across the globe? It seems ridiculous to me, IMHO, that we can do THAT but that there's no way our energy inside ourselves (the most complete and misunderstood thing on the planet) doesn't live on after a physical death. -AA

Danny said...

Aah! Anna you've made me anxious this morning! ...i don't like thinking about the afterlife - it gives me the willies - i believe that if the traditional visions of hell are real i am in for an eternity of pain!

but another thing that frightens me about the afterlife is when i think about that book The Unbearable Lightness Of Being and how they cite Nietzsche in the first few chapters when he says that this life you lead is lead again and again and again in a constant perpetual loop and the mistakes you make now will be made again and the choices you make, the same - i think this is a terrifying prospect...a terrible joke from God, and Heaven must be a disaster anyway, hon!

PS i'm glad yer not dead, though i never thought you were anyway - having never commented on that whole affair, though i did 'lurk' -

“All of us have to learn how to invent our lives, make them up, imagine them.

“To think that realistic fiction is by definition superior to imaginative fiction is to think imitation is superior to invention.”

Ursula Le Guin

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Don't shoot yourself in the head. What if your parents find you? That's a terrible idea, Anna. The WHOLE THING is a terrible idea. Grow some balls. Get on with your life.

You know I love you.

SB