Fuck you, antidepressants
Fuck your chemical cosh
That splish splash splosh
of no feeling in my brain
The more I change now
the more you stay the same
I know your game – You little fuckers
You frontal lobe suckers
Your uppers are downers
You fucking shoe-clowners, go
stick your cotton wool cloud and
opaque, drifting shroud where
the sunshine is not
allowed. I’m done.
And you’re not fun.
Hey I hate New Year's Eve! For me it's always spent cleaning (during the day/evening) with the foreboding of those final fucking seconds dying away, never to be seen again, beating like an emotional migraine in my left upper thigh. New Year's Eve is for the birds, everyone. Read the rest of this entry →
Just peed in my bathroom. Stood there, cock in hand, peeing in my bathroom. It was a long one. The pee, I mean, not my cock. Or my bathroom. I’ve got dry mouth and I’ve been drinking a lot of Pepsi One for a couple of hours while watching a DVD, so I guess that was some of it. I stood there – peeing in my bathroom – and Ladies and Gentlemen, it felt like heaven. Emptying my bladder made me close my eyes, rock gently back and forth on my feet, with the steady pleasure of release surging through me. I think I peed for a full minute, maybe longer. During the pee, it felt like a lifetime of futures were possible, that everything was well, and that life had substance – that life itself was alive. A beautiful, easy to quantify sensation. Tempered joy, contained and automatic while your entire being is fully relaxed.
Urinating can take on these lofty proportions if you do it while stoned.
The first time I tried hallucinogens was my freshman year in college. I’d been trying for months to score some acid or some shrooms. Mine was easily the lamest campus in New England and thus probably the only one that was not literally awash in drugs at all times. So it was in late November, when a kid from down the hall in my dorm finally hooked me up with a few tabs of acid. It wasn’t the best he’d had, but it was okay, he said. I dropped a tab of it that same evening. I’ve never been very good at saving my drugs. Whether it’s a bag of weed, some tabs or a couple of percocets, whenever I come into possession of decent drugs, it’s really only a matter of hours at best before they’ve been ingested.
Although the knowledge that suppurating sore on the face of humanity Paris Hilton has been arrested and held in Vegas overnight may provide some schadenfreude-infused joy to your weekend, don’t hold out much hope for justice. She’s very rich and comes from a rich family and these people have the best lawyers that money can rent, so it’s obvious already that she was just carrying the cocaine for a friend or something and nothing – absolutely fucking nothing – will come of this, and in a few weeks time she’ll be getting paid to flash her STD-riddled crotch at a bunch of gormless patrons in some fucking hellhole of a nightclub for money and life will just continue for her as if nothing happened, whereas everyone else’s life will continue to fucking suck, the end.
The Arizona police busted a guy with 743 pounds (or $409,000 street value) of pot. He was driving along the drug highway of I-19 with this huge ass haul when he was busted. Oh, and he was carrying it in the tank of a septic truck!
Apparently, the truck was unusually marked. I like to think it actually said “Good Shit” on the side. The pot was even carefully wrapped in waterproof bales. The driver gave his permission to search the truck and, in his defense, who in their right mind would go digging around in a septic tank?! Well the bastards did and now all the weed is off the market. I need to go make a few calls now to see how this will effect my weekend.