been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.
Forever actually..that I’ve haven’t put fingertips to keyboard, and let pour forth the scatteredness that runs my mind.
I do know.
There was a time blogging..journaling..typing..call it what you will..was something to look forward to..something I did to keep track of, and wrap up my day. But of course as is usually the case..I grew away from it..got busy with the mundane..the bullshit that distracts me from what I should be doing, as opposed to what I want to do. Now,..I consider writing a healthy way for me to get some peace of mind..some order if you will. As I metioned earlier my gray matter tends to scatter if I don’t reign myself in.
Scattered = trouble = poor choices = repitition = using drugs..specifically..the drug of heroin.
Some one and a half, close to two years have passed since I’ve made a whole hearted attempt at keeping records of time spent. Rather I’ve reposted entries, written a few very shitty new ones, and pretty much ignored the great many lapses inbetween each. I was bummed when the host site for heroindiaries.com ousted us for not getting it together and fixing the many control panel errors causing them grief. The person responsible for that part of it got irresponsible..not blaming..just saying. And as nasties seem to happen in at least double digits my pc crashed, I hadn’t backed-up and much of what I’d written over the last 5 years along with countless unfinished entries vanished. So yea, I was down in spirit at having to say good-bye to those words, who knows if they’ll ever come back around again in exactly the same fashion.
Probably not.
And if one writes, one knows that every once in a great while, genius will find its way into a sentence or three of a long entry. Gone they are to the wordsmith bone yard..and may they rest well, from the smallest morpheme to the contridictory oxymoron..scattered..lieing askew one on top of the other, until the next mind dreams a way to express them in a perfect symmetrical harmonious arrangement.
Since my long absenteeism I’ve seen the inside of prison yet again, am out on bail, rehab a condition of said bail, and said case has now been postponed for over a year. I happened to be inside when all this host cancellation thing went on. Beg as I did, Bluehost felt no responsibilty despite the fact they debited my cc for the upcoming quarter. The backup didn’t go through, yes they credited my card..but I’d of much rather had all my writing. It’s unlike me to give up and in when fighting what I think is a reasonable fight..but I did.
Anyway..that was yesterday..and yesterday’s gone.
Let’s see, what else..but of course, what did I get arrested for. Trafficking, conspiracy to traffic, and possesion with intent to traffic. Fun eh..so not. It was surreal the whole thing..being back behind bars after 20 years, something I never thought I’d be again. Watch out for that word ‘never,’ folks, it’ll get ya each and every time. Did I feel like an idiot extrodinaire..oh you bet Idid..and was and to some extent still do. To admitt to the self you’re I”m back to where you I started from, is the most difficult for me. It used to be I questioned my ethics and morals, like how could I barter in wares that have caused those I love, myself, strangers & friends..much personal grief & loss. But it’s not the case anymore, I’ve come to realise, the drug, though the catalyst for so much of the grief I mentioned, is not the end result nor actual cause. No, it is a damaged part of our core selves that leads us to pick them up, but it in itself is not the cause.
This whole imprisoning people for dealing drugs, street level drugs I speak of here, is such an amazing waste of not only the taxpayer dollar, but all the resource people & effort that goes into incarcerating them. The vaste majority of street level dealers have serious addictions of their own. This draconian ‘punish them all and throw away the key’ attitude we’ve fallen comfortably into here in North America does nothing, and I mean nothing to get them back to a place where they could once again be productive members of society. No, it most certainly compounds the problem and 9 times out of 10, said person will be back in the system repeatedly.
How does that ‘fix’ anything?
I get that we must be responsible for fixing ourselves, that to depend or expect society to do it is impossible, shifting the blame and not owning our own mistakes. But in truth society eggs its way into our lives does it not, not only an addicts life, but each and every life. When laws dictate what human beings can or cannot do, or have in their lives, re: ‘illegal drugs,’ in this case, then society to that same extent, makes itself responsible. For instance, alchohol is no longer illegal, it does equal the amount of damage drugs do in the way of health and social/personal problems. There is virtually no difference between the two, yet my problem remains illegal to consume on a personal level.
There is rampant hyprocracy here. The war on drugs is a failure it will never be a success. Time to move on..like 30 years ago.
I’m not saying make it legal to deal drugs, but the time has come to decriminalize them, it only makes sense so we as a society can focus/move on to solutions that will actually work.
You can read more on the Decriminalization idea here:
http://www.nationalfamilies.org/publications/catalogue.html
My future or should I say my freedom, is up for grabs, next court date is in mid September, we’ll see what becomes of me then. I go into rehab in the next couple of weeks, so blogging will take a back seat at least for awhile.
I lost a very close friend at the end of April, he was the last of the old ones, the ‘I knew you when’ ones. The autopsy report is still not back, what do they count foranyway, the news is never good. In the end it doesn’t matter how he died, it only matters that he did. I will miss him, I do miss him, he was someone who was always there, knew me like not many do, and loved me despite.
My oldest cat, Baabsy aka Baabaliscious 17 1/2, passed last Wednesday night. She had CRF aka Feline Chronic Renal Failure. She fought the good fight, lived 2 years after being diagnosed, but in the end, not even she, who had the heart of a kitten, ruled this roost with fairness and compassion, and was as fiesty as they come, could beat this terrible disease that takes more older cats than anything else. I miss her jumping up on this desk 5 times a day to drink ice water out of a shot glass, I miss her unique call for me when she wasn’t sure where I was, I miss the warmth of her curling up between the middle of my legs every night to sleep, I miss how she licked clean the other cats and me of anything she thought shouldn’t be there. But most of all, I miss the constant sight of her padding softly through my world.
Our Baabsy
My Heart
August 1992 ~ August 2009
Mary Blackchurch - Woman Addicted 