woke feeling shocking/ intake de yester: 3 bottles wine, 2 cans k, usuals/ listening: dirt, alice in chains/ i have to quit/ the problem is the methadone assuages hangovers so effectively that by the time i've had my shots and a cup of coffee i feel passable/ a prolonged period of malaise would be welcome as it would encourage me to quit/ however the side effects are not severe enough to force me into abstinence/ am still a true addict/ just reading about layne stayle's death and rather that think 'oh how terrible that he died' i thought' what a shame he didn't get to shoot the loaded syringe he had in his hand'/ i also felt jealous that he had the money and privacy to get really wasted/ oh what an addict i stille be.... / haven't used now in 2 weeks and 1 day/ thus when i eventually get it'll be great/

drinking beautiful iced coffee and nursing a monster hangover/ intake de yester: 4 cans k; 1 bottle margeaux; the usuals/ listening to: season of the witch, donovan/ leaving shortly for an appointment at the ddu (drug dependency unit)/ have not used for two weeks/ i think thats the longest i've been sans (or without) in three years/ i'm not impressed with my abstinence/ more upset in fact/ however, marcus my words, the moment i have some money i will to splurge a merry wee fortune on a big celebratory blow out/ oh yes/

egg-che-llent/ im-bye-b-d uno kannini du koy en root twain zoopermarshay/ within i did stollen einun £60 bouteille margeaux, season-of-the (id est 'witch') eye shull imbibe layter/ nyce/

veeling grayd/ intake de yester: 2 large glasses house white at lunch; 1 bottle shiraz; 1 bottle table red; und de course, the yewzualz/ listening: subterranean homesick blues, bob dylan/ bit of a delay at the pharmacy this morn but managed to get my 70mls, which i imbibed immediately/ then parents visited to deliver advice, a new computer and an old desk with sentimental value/ then imbibed fine iced coffee, chatted plesantly then saw them ophph/ went out for lunch and on way home purchsed three cans k/ currently on my third, typing and smoking/

feel q-mazing/ many wyne, v-numeenal zegz 'n' eye stille've my ssris twain professionally-ceed!/ crayshe lyphe!

feeling ok/ two cups of coffee, 60mls methadone and a good breeze are conspiring to enhance my enjoyment of the day/ have also cleansed so am feeling roughly 750, 000 bukz/ these antis are most certainly working/ ssris they are and i 'come up' on them, no joke/ about an hour after i take one my pupils are hugely dilated/ i read a short statement of how i felt about a fortnight ago (just before i started taking them) and i've improved massively/ still have a long way to go, and must conjoin them with counseling, but early signs are certainly encouraging/ so this eve i begin my reading regieme/ i'll benefit from it, no doubt/ i also need to purchase another notebook/ before i started to keep this blog, i wrote all in notebooks/ thus the house is strewn with them/ although i find keeping a blog a more orderly way of diarising, i miss having somewhere to write words and phrases i find appealing/ i've some great ones scattered hither and/ i'd a moleskin before, as used by some of the greats (viz. pablo, ernie, eff scott), and 'twas a beauty/ wonderful thick creamy paper, so i covered every spare inch in psychotic despairing musings/ i'll think i'll add a moleskin to my birthday list/

up reasonably early/ to lunch with a and m and p later/ intake de yester: 1 btl table wine, usuals/ listening: i looked at you, the doors/ picked up a remastered version of their eponymously named album t'other jour and have been having a touch of a revival/ an excellent band/ i was obsessed with them, and with jdm (james douglas morrison) from about the age of 12/13/ this obsession lasted until i got into rave culture heavily/ recently, having read a lot of decent literature, i started to hate them for jdm's cringingly bad lyrics/ then i heard them a couple of months back on a tv rockumentary and remembered just what a great band they really were/ all their albums, produced in a five year period, are exceptional/ i know every lyric and musical nuance they ever produced, so this revival is also a pleasant exercise in nostalgia/ i must start reading again/ this has been a bad year for books/ i've read some great ones, but very few/ and reading makes my brain feel great/ instead i sit in front of the tv for several hours every evening, my brain silently rotting/ never mind.../ right, today i will force myself to read in the evenings/ there are enough rooms in this house for me to have a study, so i shall set up a study and retreat there every evening and read or write/ i just tend to blanch at anything which i know is either not going to give me pleasure or will take a bit of an effort to get the pleasure out of it/ that said, i'm willing to travel for two hours to score heroin, so i'm talking shit/ i shall learn to read!...

so yeah...nothing on tv, of which i watch far too fucking much/ man if i spent the time i spend in front of the tv on more productive tasks i'd undoubtedly feel more fulfilled/ but, i don't, so fuck it/

feeling good/ phenomenal b'fast of smkd smn and free range organic scrambled eggs on the freshest granary toast i've experienced yet/ then back to bed, where i stayed sleeping soundly till about half six pm/ now watching mtv and sipping table vino/

still drunk/ intake de yester: 1 bottle syrah; 2 cans k; 1 can stella; 20cls whiskey (roughly 30 units)/ currently listening to nashville skyline, bob dylan/ stupidly filliped last nochtie, consequenting in my walking to not-so-nearby tooting broadway to buy booze at about 0130/ got back about 0330 and i was walking pretty much constantly/ if i carry on like this i won't make it to 40/

feeling good/ went back to be around 1300, rising again at about 1630/ must be sleeping off mild sickness/ i usually imbibe 50mls/day and my recommended dose is 70mls/day/ amazing considering the 6 shots of espresso i'd imbibed/ about to uncork a bottle of shiraz (or syrah)/ time is 1745 (though my blog registers the time somewhere else in the globe)/ my profile's been getting a bizarre number of hits, so i can only assume people are reading my blog/ happy days/ need to go out and get a job/ just read something the alba wrote and she's terribly depressed/ i guess i'm not as good at reading people's thoughts as i think/ what to do i have no idea/

intake de yester: 1 btl shiraz/ currently listening to: break on through(to the other side), the doors/ feeling ok/ antis're definitely working/ general disposition far improved/ ace/

feeling a tad off kilter/ intake yester: 2 bottles wine, 2 cans k/ units: 28.8/ shit/ i have to quit drinking/ have to/ problem is, i enjoy it so much/ giving up skunk was easy/ i caught acute cannabis psychosis, resulting in my experiencing the most terrifying paranoia whenever i lit a joint/ thus i stopped rolling joints/ heroin and crack: moved out of the area and haven't tried to connect locally/ i'm also on methadone (which is key: were i not nothing in the world would prevent me from traveling north daily and latterly finding someone locally)/ but alcohol: it is fucking everywhere and i still fucking love it/ i've decided to add a new feature to this blog/ as well as intake de yester i will also inform you what i'm listening to/ i am currently listening to the excellent wind coda on lou reed's hudson river wind meditations album/ it's bizarre/ i'e noticed a small but regular increase in my profile views, yet no one ever leaves comments/ i assumed it was the same few people checking it out regularly but then why would they check my profile each time they look at my blog?/ a mystery.../ sipping delicious coffee and contemplating how to spend the day/ a leisurely stroll to the shops and a good wank have improved my disposition/ when i've finished my coffee i'll cleanse, wash and then perhaps write some more/ i should really try and write stories, but i'm not disposed thus/ besides i've been put off the medium a bit/ yesterday i read a concatenation of contrived nonsense masquerading as a collection of cutting edge short stories in the times weekend magazine and was left enfarced with rage/ it was peerless shit/ is there no integrity left in writers?/ i understand they have deadlines to meet &c, but really it's no excuse/ and believe me, i'm not 'playa hating'/ this is about writing/ i would rather languish in obscurity, or less, if to be published meant churning out guff like that/ i shudder to think/ shudder tremor quiver.../