Crisis Dilemma and Doubt

Actually, in the physical world, there is no crisis. Everything is fine, don't worry.

In my mind, there are a million conflicting thoughts, ideas, and ambitions. This year has already been recognised as a time of 'sink or swim'. If I don't get my ass in gear by 2010, then chances are I will end up stuck in this town forever. I do like Belper, we've had some great times here, but I do not want it to be my only experience of life. I need to spread my wings, broaden my horizons, see the world, explore, experience new people and places.

However, it would be far too easy to get trapped here, turn into an ignorant local type, for whom Derby is the capital of the world and Nottingham is another country. How would this happen? Well, the persuasive action of unlimited drugs and a familiar environment. I've only just settled in to the town, got to know the dealers, local faces, etc. And seeing as most people left are those who didn't go to uni, this has narrowed my choice of companions down to workers and stoners. So I spend my days with wreckheads, with the workers joining in at eveings and weekends. I have basically unlimited and everlasting free time. (For a few more weeks at least).

The problem is that getting wrecked gets me nowhere but poorer and lazier. When it is your permanent state, then it stops being fun or interesting. However, if you stop being wrecked, then everything becomes much, much worse. Sensible and productive activity becomes very difficult, because you are always either too wrecked, hungover, coming down, or asleep.

This has somewhat spoiled my ambitions of doing really well in my course and then getting into uni. Assignments 2 and 3 are basically write-offs, as I did no work for two months. I do not regret this, as these were the two months before drugs and alcohol became dull and everyday occurences. However, I will probably regret it a lot later, when I get a really awful final grade. I still judge my worth by my grades; this has been drummed into my brain almost since birth, and sadly I have not been able to completely shake the habit.

Now my friend wants me to get a flat with her. However, she is a much greater wreckhead than I, and I predict that, in the very unlikely event of us actually being able to afford this, then it will quickly degenerate into a lovely drug den. This will be fun, but it will be expensive, and I will be even less able to work than I am now. However, I will gain some inependence (I really can't still be living at home when I'm twenty), and maybe this will actually give me the strength to organise other aspects of my life. Home is possibly too comfortable, and lets me forget that I will have to fend for myself.

However, I need to gain more willpower if this can succeed. I went out with Madma today, thinking that I would try and spend no money and smoke not even a cigarette. Instead, I spent £16 on pretty much fuck all of lasting value, and all of this due to me giving in to persuasion way too easily. I would have been able to quit smoking if it hadn't been for today. I think I will try again to quit. And I will quit buying in weed on random weekdays. It's too expensive, and I need to be saving as much money as possible for the future.

How do I get willpower? I'm just too nice to resist anyone asking me for stuff. I need strength, to realise that real friends will not resent me for not giving them free money.

I really don't know what to do with my life right now. I know that the basic answer is to carry on, finish my course, get my credits, then go to uni or get a job, but it is never that simple. There are so many details and principles to sort out as well. Too many decisions to make, and I have no idea what to do. I think I'll end up sitting at home, crying and hoping that it all goes away...

New Year's Eve

Well, I am finally conscious enough to blog about it. I can't really remember the details, and everything else is slightly hit and miss with the accuracy, but hey, this has to be recorded. So, at 4 or 5pm I went to Maddy's house, where we got all tarted up. She has a corset! Jealous, me? Anyway, our first stop was a visit to certain dodgy individuals to obtain our supplies. I got the stars, wife got the green, and after a double-drop and a spliff, we were off.

Wearing my pointy stilettos, while she changed to flat shoes, we walked up Mill Lane. This was a slightly painful test of endurance, but the destination was deifinitely worth it: Tom's house. This is where things start to get very hazy. There were crates of beer, bottles and bottles of vodka, sambuca, Martini and Sours. There were mostly boys there; actually me and Mad were the only girls. And put a bunch of wreckhead guys in a room with that much alcohol, then things will always get stupid. Thankfully I avoided the 'vodka-sambuca-Martini-apple sours shots challenge, but the mixture of said drinks plus cherry sours in a jug could not be ignored. Neither could the cans that kept getting passed to me. There was a guy there who everybody had been telling me for weeks that he fancied me. I didn't believe them until we ended up making out. By this time I was well up on the pills, and then I washed down another with apple sours.

Then we walked back down Mill Lane (luckily by this time I was too fucked to feel pain) and everyone went to the pub, while I went to Jess & Alex's awesome party. I really don't remember much, but I think I got off with all my wives and probably was way too high to do anything remotely normal. There were glowsticks and champagne, and we possibly planned out our future careers in porn. After we were finally chucked out, I remember nothing until me, Anna and Kayl, along with everyone from earlier, ended up at a random party in the house across the drive from Muz's sister's place. There were lots of drugs, and lots of people from all over Belper, and also many that I have never seen before. John Lennon and evil black Spiderman were quite unexpected guests. I remember pills, and spliffs, and a dab of pure MDMA. I then remember slapping Ozzy, and then complimenting him on his glowing UV lip piercings, which confused him slightly. I also lost my scarf, which I am disproportionately upset about, and getting my bag utterly soaked with beer and covered in mud, which strangely doesn't bother me at all. Eventually, me, Kayleigh, Joe, Barney, wife, and a variety of other people ended up crashed on a sofa in a back room, surrounded by those more hardcore/drugged up/conscious than us.

Eventually, at about 9.30am, me and Kayl got a lift home from my mum, went up to my room and crashed out. For the next 12 hours, my pupils were unaturally huge. Try sitting at the dinner table in that state, trying to look inconspicuous and sober. Well, nobody has mentioned anything yet...

All in all, a good New Years Eve. For the first time in my entire life, I managed to celebrate the occasion properly. Hard core, dudes.

Parties And Pre-Party Parties

Wake up warm and naked in a strange bed, heart pounding from last night's pills. Ask the age old question: 'Where the fuck are my clothes?'
Realise that most of last night has been forgotten. The remaining memories are fuzzy images of laughing, cool people, smoke and drink and pills. Oh, and toast. We had toast.

The day before, wake up cold on a sofa, in the same house. Next to me is a guy, fast asleep, kneeling on the floor, his face resting on the sofa. We wonder how he sleeps like that.

The preceding night, walk for miles, picking up, sorting out, rounding up the select few for the pre-party. Bottle of whisky, coke, and cans of Stella. Lots of weed. Great people to just chill with, and to cover with star and smiley-face stickers. A beautiful night.

A Report On The Series of Events Which Comprised my Day

At 1pm, on Wednesday 19th November, I was awoken by my friend Grace's sudden appearance in my bedroom. I got out of bed, and we both agreed that my pyjamas were awesome. Zebra print trousers, yeah? So she went downstairs, I got dressed, and got a cup of coffee, and we sat and did crossword puzzles. When we had completed all of the puzzles we could, and I had finished my coffee, I went to clean my teeth and fetch my handbag, and then we walked to Tesco, where Grace bought sirloin steak and Finest* Light Coleslaw and I bought a Finest* Belgian chocolate cake and a bottle of wine. We walked home, taking a nice route which led us on a little track by some pretty stone houses. When we reached home, we washed our hands, and Grace set about cutting the steak in half so we could each have a piece. She decided to cut it in half flatways, making two thin steaks instead of one thick one. Or at least, that was the aim; we actually got one thin steak and one selection of butchered beef slices. So we cooked the steak, nice and rare, and in the process, a large glob of sizzling oil leapt from the frying pan and landed right on the end of my nose! Man, that stung. Eventually, we sat down to our nice meal. It was delicious, and by the time we got to dessert, we were both rather tipsy and playing notes on a wineglass. At this moment, the doorbell rang, and it was the postman with a parcel for me to sign for. Inside this innocuous white parcel, were two bottles of Benylin non-drowsy dry cough medicine. Now I decided that it was a good idea for me to get high. I ran and fetched my half dose of Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds. I washed down the seeds with wine and slugs of cough syrup, obscuring their bitter taste with the sumptuous flavour of chocolate cake. Before long I was dancing around to the Beatles' Strawberry Fields Forever. Soon, my mum got home from work and quickly figured that I was 'drunk'. Grace's mum drove up in her minibus and agreed to give me a lift to Belper to go see Alex and Jess. I never actually got to see those two people.
Left in Belper, I went to the shop for cigarettes before heading to King Street. And there, I found Maddy, a shocked girl with her little finger hanging at a right angle to her hand. It was so broken. I offered to go with her to Ripley A&E but she decided against that, so instead we went to Morrisons and I bought her some tape. She taped up her fingers, and later had some fun playing with a reel of surgical tape. Right now we walked up Belper, smoking. We eventually met Ozzy, Jake and Beardy, among other people, and we stood around outside the Memorial Gardens trying to find out who in Belper had any weed. I seemed to be the only person in the group with any credit, so this ringing round of every known dealer was mostly done on my phone. After getting no luck, we drifted up to the Market Place and the Local shop. Outside here, we collected a bigger selection of people: Dan, Collyer, Christian Swann, Ezra, Jonathon, Dukes, Archie, and more people whose names I don't know. We were all looking proper shady, standing around on the Marketplace and trying to sort out some weed. We were there for about two hours before something was tracked down in Derby, and I got into a car with Maddy and other people, and went to Derby. We drove around Derby until we found Normanton. There, we realised that there was no space in the car for the dealer to sit and sort our stuff out. So I moved from the middle seat to the boot. I lay back, smoking a fag which somebody had generously provided, and felt beautifully cozy and relaxed. After a length of time, driving around and general waiting about, the always-delicate 'take the chick out of the car boot' procedure was performed, and I was back in place in the middle of the back seat. So spliff was smoked, and once we got back to Belper and got a scales, amounts were weighed out and distributed amongst the crowds.
We stayed in the car, chatting life and politics. Maddy is incredibly cool, and one of her brothers is awesomely wise. We had some great conversation. Oh, and one of the guys was a proud, out and out racist, so we had some nice political debate there. I've realised that racists are not inherently bad people. They don't hate me personally, and indeed, this guy was a perfect gentleman. He acted with so much honour, of a sort which I thought had died out long ago.
Once we were nicely stoned, we went into Maddy's house and got ice cream. With cream on it. During this time I was texting Beardy, and sorted out that, once we had chilled for a while, then we would meet them at the triangle. This blog entry is becomong like a novel, and as we went into Maddy's room, I demanded a pencil and paper, which were eventually found for me.

A Beautiful Experience

Tripped out on hawaiian baby woodrose last night. It was truly, life changingly amazing. I held the universe inside my mind as simultaneously my mind expanded to encompass the entire universe. My soul was free, expansive and generous, as I was connected to everything by the energy which runs through all that exists. I became a goddess, while at the same time feeling uniquely human, a small part of the whole, and gazing awestruck at the beauty of the world. Music, art, colours, everyday objects and equperiences, all made my heart soar. We watched Yellow Submarine and ate Haribo, our minds riding a thrilling psychadelic rollercoaster.
It was a primal and shamanic experience. The woodrose seeds make you feel very sick for the first two hours, but you don't mind if you throw up; it's all part of the experience, as the poison is cleansed from your body and the trip continues. This plant does have the potential to make you feel very ill indeed, but it is still worth the experience. After some hours of tripping, I felt very sleepy in a pleasant way. Like you would feel curled up in a cozy bed, even though in reality I was on a hard floor in a thin sleeping bag. It was comfortable to be though, and I fell in to a deep sleep.
I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in days, and still feeling a few after effects. Listening to music, when I closed my eyes I got interesting little movies in my brain. I seemed to be seeing the world with a greater clarity than ever before. And we may forget it sometimes, but this world really is a beautiful place. I feel much calmer, more centred than before. Inspirations, insights and ideas are flowing around my mind. I also now get the Beatles' music. I am so appreciative of everyone and everything which enabled me to have this experience. Thankyou, universe.

In Sheffield, Again

Yes, I am back at Kayleigh's. We went to meadowhall. Nothing makes me want to join a radical anti-capitalist collective more than shopping centres. Now I am imbibing the spirit of hardcore punk in a little brown bottle. Shortly I will be journeying to a magical world. Bon voyage...

In Sheffield

It's bloody great. Kayl has cool friends and everything has been fun. At about 6pm me, her and her friend drank our bottles of DXM, and the rest of the night has been epic fun. Room dancing, 24 hour shop visits, blue alcopops, gay dudes, kebab and chips, and now back in Kayl's room chilling and drinking. DXM rocks. And my friends rock. I'm happy.

Fear and Loathing in... Belper?

It started on a Friday. Parents went away for the weekend. We drank a few beers, chilled at home with Grace. Brother, Teddy, and Alice made varying appearances. Bearing in mind that my memory has since deteriorated, I couldn't tell you the exact sequence of events that led to me eventually drinking a bottle of Benylin Dry Cough mixture. I know that I had a cough. And I know that I knew that dextromethorpan gets you high, and diphenhydramine makes you trip out and go to sleep. I wanted sleep. I think.
I was getting sleepy, and couldn't see properly, I was so stoned on this stuff. I staggered to bed, and slept for 13 hours.
Saturday was party day, and having woken up at 3pm, I was in a bit of a hurry to get things ready. I went to Belper on a mission for weed and vodka. The vodka part was easy enough, but weed involved finding Ozzy, and then accompanying him on a long trek, involving many breaks to 'wrap one up, yo.' It was such exhausting work...

At this time I was already pretty out of it. Dextromethorpan (DXM) is a euphoric dissociative hallucinogenic, and diphenhydramine is a deliriant hallucinogenic and also boosts the effects of alcohol. I wasn't actually hallucinating, I hadn't taken nearly enough for a proper, reality-breaking trip, but I was definitely high.
My body and brain seemed to be disconnected. I was walking, very fast, into town, but felt no pain or tiredness. I looked down at my feet, seeing them walking, and knowing that it was nothing to do with me. I tried to tell them to stop walking, but it didn't work. I was being carried somewhere. This was slightly worrying, but also intriguing. I managed to gain back my autonomy enough to go and buy some cigarettes. Then, I was in a supermarket, eyes aching horribly in the bright lights. My pupils couldn't shrink, they stayed huge, so I wandered around with a wide-eyed 'deer in headlights' expression, trying to focus enough to understand the world. I managed to buy a bottle of vodka, and then went to meet people. We smoked some, walked, smoked some more, and somehow ended up in a house, with the guy who we were buying off, smoking joint after joint, and generally passing time. I realised I had the shakes again, real bad, it was so difficult to even take a spliff when it was passed to me. Then I realised that I was supposed to be having a party. Grace was at home on her own, and she would be pissed off...
However, the warm and cozy house, with endless supplies of weed, random conversation, and a little dog, was too nice to leave. It was pouring with rain, too. However, at some point, we walked, via many other places, up Mill Street, and ended up home. There was, indeed, a party. And a very pissed off Grace. I was 2 hours late for my own party. And, ironically, Ozzy had disappeared somewhere with my weed. Anyway, my room was hotboxed, and everyone was happy. And I got some people stoned through passive smoking, who would never dare to active smoke. So generally, I won. At about 7am I fell asleep. Apparently I twitch a lot.

The parents just came home. My room smells of insence. I have some vodka left. I finally ate some real food. And now I'm so chilled, it's awesome. I just want to give everyone a hug. So, dear reader(s), imagine that you are being hugged by a short, twitchy, vodka-scented girl. Nice, isn't it?

Isn't this fun?

I have the house to myself and mulled wine (because its freezing) and brownies and nice things and Fable 2. Half my brain is missing and luckily its mostly the bad parts. Unfortunately some intelligence went with it, but I'm sure they'll come crawling back soon enough. I'm actually somewhat calm, which is the rarest and coolest of things. :)

Everything Is Broken

My phone is broken. Or rather, I stupidly broke my phone. Lost everything on it, so now I have to hunt down everyone I know and get their number again. At least my internet is working again. The BT dude came round today, and went to the box up the road. He just had to fix one wire, and now the webs are back in action.
News... this blog is meant to have news... Ah, the weekend was fun, went out with my love, had plenty to drink, and generally was happy. The Vaults in Derby is our new favourite bar, it is an awesomely chilled underground place with well priced and delicious drinks. Happy times.
And weird times, in a field, surrounded by mists under the full moon, smoking white widow and laughing and paranoid to fuck as people walked up out of the mist. Surreal yet beautiful. That stuff fucks with your brain something serious.

Trash-Head

I just realised that pretty much every post on this page involves me getting drunk or stoned or both. Oh dear.

Gun City

I went into the big city today. Everything was strange. I went alone, wearing a very short black skirt and stillettos and a grunge jacket, looking like some kind of tramp-whore. I love my boots. Every time I wear them, random weirdos say 'nice boots'. This time, I had complements on my look from a fat middle aged guy (yes, I was weirded out), a black guy, and a random woman.
A surreal moment... walking down a main street, eating an ice cream, dressed like a tramp, with my bag full of drugs. (I spent my easter egg money on legal drugs. The Egyptian gives me a discount on Salvia. He thinks he's saving me from a life of junkieness.)
I did get Easter eggs. I just skinted myself. Dad picked me up from Derby, we got stuck in traffic, and somehow lost in Hazelwood when he tried to turn around in Duffield. Yes, only my dad could manage that. We got fish and chips. Every time I eat it, I regret it and feel ill. The portions are huge, it's greasy and stodgy and yuck. Anyway I threw up. Which sucks, but I was in so much pain. My stomach is so fucked.