Any of you may not know that I have another blog Junkysays@blogspot.com which has many more entries. I also just had a book published called Junky Chronicles which can be purchased here http://www.softsculpture.org/

Thanks
MLD

Since about 13 years of age I

Life is hard enough, trying to get that shotgun barrel into your mouth was a huge leap for me as well as feeling the trigger on my calloused thumb. It would just take a the slightest movement to end what Ive been to the world as I see it, a negative on society. I watch and read on Facebook from old friends how people who dont have a 9-5 McJob should just somehow magically figure out their problems, put down the bottle and the needle and become one of them.  And it worked, Ive been made to feel like a negative rather than a positive. Ive tried to explain my exploits of living a Dr. Hunter Thompsonesk life but my words have not done my soule justice as it very well may not deserve justice. Im just a junkie alcoholic sonless father who has been nearsighted literally and figurateively my entire life. I blame my Mother, she had a maid and liked Waterford Crystal, I blame my Dad for joining the Marines to go get killed in VietNam, I blame my Stepfather who did nothing but provide a stable home and my Mothers happiness but couldnt reach me, I blame my Granna who spoiled me rotten after losing her oldest boy to a stupid war, I blame my sister who I would roll up in the bottom of a sleeping bag, place the bag in a box and put the box in the garage with the lights turned out and the door locked, I blame her because she didnt hit me hard enough even being the wild wild woman she was (and still is). I blame Mr Winters and Mr Chipunski for only taking me fishing a few times a year with the blackberry brandy, I blame my Grandfather who taught me how to hunt but we never  killed one thing together, I blame my Uncle Tommy who tourtured me with tickles and farts in the face while showing off his wrestling moves but he didnt show me what a correct destiny was. Everyone is to blame.
I wait for the end so unpatiently, I cant get a grip on the fact that I can neither pull the trigger or that drinking and drugging may take longer than I thought.
  Maybe my mind was just not born for this world, a glitch, a small non synapsis that prevented me from being what most would call normal. It seems normal to want to do everything you have to love your child, to protect your love ones, your family, to give more to the world than you have taken to make a better place for generations. Do I have a glitch? am I just selfish? Are the drugs worth it so much that I can ignore every viable point in life? 
   If you could come to a conclusion as to wether your life is a negative on the world or a positive, wouldnt it be best for the world and generations to come if we had a simple "way out".

Im sorry, I dont proofread what I say, I try to just let it flow. Im a negative for not learning basic English Im trying my best to be a positive so I can get on with things.

It was a perfect day to be dopesick.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

It was a perfect day to be dopesick.

The cool October wind is rushing past my window, howling at the trees who make spitfire shadows on my cigarette burned laptop. Its been a nice day except for the fact that I have no cash, and I have to go for credit with the dickhead down the street. I dont want Strict dead, or even jailed, just realized.

My drug dealers future.

Id like to see my dealers, the ones who tell me they got my back, the dealers who tell me they'll be back in 20, the dealers who smile through their teeth, the dealers who sell me bullshit for my money, the dealers who think that selling poison is acceptable, the dealers with gold teeth, the dealers in jail, the dealers in prison, the dealers who smile when you tell them your quittin. Id like the dealers put out of business, for a minute, and take stock of what their doing, take stock of what they earned and take stock of what misery gave them what they have.

Dealers wont go away with Barr Pharm. Par Pharm, Danbury, Endo, Watson Laboratories and Teva Pharmaceuticals, Sandoz is my favorite makers of methadone.

If I had a $100 Id buy any of their scripts.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Cops at the door

I had brought back a nice little amount of Burmese powder from Northern Thailand and was surfing a friends couch at EMU. We had known eachother for some years and he initally turned me on to a few drugs Id never tried back in high school. He was my idol, he knew the trade and had connections but he was in his Christian phase at this point and wasnt using anything really, until that day. "let me toot a dot of that stuff you brought back" I was surprised but knew he was the type that knew the dangers of starting in on this type of stuff., I knew he could handle it. I laid out a dot and he sniffed it up and went off to jam in the basement with some other friends we knew from high school. Mudflap as I sometimes call him called me the next day in a panic, "dude, I was jamin with friends in the basement and Ding Dong (as I call him) was askin why I was fallin asleep in the middle of my solos" Well yeah I said, so what, thats normal, what did you tell him? "I told them I did a little bit of your stuff, no big deal I thought, but Ding Ding got all crazy and said hes going to call the cops unless you flush all you got down the toilet" I couldnt believe it, Id known Ding Dong for years, I may have set his locker on fire in high school but it was an accident. DD really thought he could do his part as a good Christian by threatning me with the law. Mudflap says "Dude you got to get that shit outta the house" I hung up the phone and borrowed a car and drove to the woods and buried my shit near a big ghetto palm.
For the next two days Mudflap apoplogized profusely, I of course understood, no one saw that coming but sure enough the door bell rang and three Ypsilanti cops were at the door asking me about drugs in the house. The house was clean so I wasnt worried much. The cops wanted to look around and I promptly told them no and that this drug war was a load of crap. They left and I moved to Detroit for the first time the next day, I figured it would be business as usuall down here.

It was a perfect day to be dopesick.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

It was a perfect day to be dopesick.

The cool October wind is rushing past my window, howling at the trees who make spitfire shadows on my cigarette burned laptop. Its been a nice day except for the fact that I have no cash, and I have to go for credit with the dickhead down the street. I dont want Strict dead, or even jailed, just realized.

My drug dealers future.

Id like to see my dealers, the ones who tell me they got my back, the dealers who tell me they'll be back in 20, the dealers who smile through their teeth, the dealers who sell me bullshit for my money, the dealers who think that selling poison is acceptable, the dealers with gold teeth, the dealers in jail, the dealers in prison, the dealers who smile when you tell them your quittin. Id like the dealers put out of business, for a minute, and take stock of what their doing, take stock of what they earned and take stock of what misery gave them what they have.

Dealers wont go away with Barr Pharm. Par Pharm, Danbury, Endo, Watson Laboratories and Teva Pharmaceuticals, Sandoz is my favorite makers of methadone.

If I had a $100 Id buy any of their scripts.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Cops at the door

I had brought back a nice little amount of Burmese powder from Northern Thailand and was surfing a friends couch at EMU. We had known eachother for some years and he initally turned me on to a few drugs Id never tried back in high school. He was my idol, he knew the trade and had connections but he was in his Christian phase at this point and wasnt using anything really, until that day. "let me toot a dot of that stuff you brought back" I was surprised but knew he was the type that knew the dangers of starting in on this type of stuff., I knew he could handle it. I laid out a dot and he sniffed it up and went off to jam in the basement with some other friends we knew from high school. Mudflap as I sometimes call him called me the next day in a panic, "dude, I was jamin with friends in the basement and Ding Dong (as I call him) was askin why I was fallin asleep in the middle of my solos" Well yeah I said, so what, thats normal, what did you tell him? "I told them I did a little bit of your stuff, no big deal I thought, but Ding Ding got all crazy and said hes going to call the cops unless you flush all you got down the toilet" I couldnt believe it, Id known Ding Dong for years, I may have set his locker on fire in high school but it was an accident. DD really thought he could do his part as a good Christian by threatning me with the law. Mudflap says "Dude you got to get that shit outta the house" I hung up the phone and borrowed a car and drove to the woods and buried my shit near a big ghetto palm.
For the next two days Mudflap apoplogized profusely, I of course understood, no one saw that coming but sure enough the door bell rang and three Ypsilanti cops were at the door asking me about drugs in the house. The house was clean so I wasnt worried much. The cops wanted to look around and I promptly told them no and that this drug war was a load of crap. They left and I moved to Detroit for the first time the next day, I figured it would be business as usuall down here.

It was a perfect day to be dopesick.

The cool October wind is rushing past my window, howling at the trees who make spitfire shadows on my cigarette burned laptop. Its been a nice day except for the fact that I have no cash, and I have to go for credit with the dickhead down the street. I dont want Strict dead, or even jailed, just realized.

My drug dealers future.

Id like to see my dealers, the ones who tell me they got my back, the dealers who tell me they'll be back in 20, the dealers who smile through their teeth, the dealers who sell me bullshit for my money, the dealers who think that selling poison is acceptable, the dealers with gold teeth, the dealers in jail, the dealers in prison, the dealers who smile when you tell them your quittin. Id like the dealers put out of business,  for a minute, and take stock of what their doing, take stock of what they earned and take stock of what misery gave them what they have.

Dealers wont go away with Barr Pharm. Par Pharm, Danbury, Endo, Watson Laboratories and Teva Pharmaceuticals, Sandoz is my favorite makers of methadone.

If I had a $100 Id buy any of their scripts.

Cops at the door

I had brought back a nice little amount of Burmese powder from Northern Thailand and was surfing a friends couch at EMU. We had known eachother for some years and he initally turned me on to a few drugs Id never tried back in high school. He was my idol, he knew the trade and had connections but he was in his Christian phase at this point and wasnt using anything really, until that day. "let me toot a dot of that stuff you brought back" I was surprised but knew he was the type that knew the dangers of starting in on this type of stuff., I knew he could handle it. I laid out a dot and he sniffed it up and went off to jam in the basement with some other friends we knew from high school. Mudflap as I sometimes call him called me the next day in a panic, "dude, I was jamin with friends in the basement and Ding Dong (as I call him) was askin why I was fallin asleep in the middle of my solos" Well yeah I said, so what,  thats normal, what did you tell him?  "I told them I did a little bit of your stuff, no big deal I thought, but Ding Ding got all crazy and said hes going to call the cops unless you flush all you got down the toilet" I couldnt believe it, Id known Ding Dong for years, I may have set his locker on fire in high school but it was an accident. DD really thought he could do his part as a good Christian by threatning me with the law.  Mudflap says "Dude you got to get that shit outta the house" I hung up the phone and borrowed a car and drove to the woods and buried my shit near a big ghetto palm.
For the next two days Mudflap apoplogized profusely, I of course understood, no one saw that coming but sure enough the door bell rang and three Ypsilanti cops were at the door asking me about drugs in the house. The house was clean so I wasnt worried much. The cops wanted to look around and I promptly told them no and that this drug war was a load of crap. They left and I moved to Detroit for the first time the next day, I figured it would be business as usuall down here.