Druckqa
On the day before this night plus fourteen days ago I made a decision that I assume most people in my position ponder or glance at after having lived an invariably care free, drug flowing, sporadic sleeping and eating cycled student existence, with little respect for ones health and well being for the best part of 3 years.
- Am I doing this all too much?
- What else could I be engaged in right now and with whom?
- Would I be having a better time?
- Actually, am I even enjoying this anymore, or is it simply a routine that myself and a number of close friends, friends and friends of friends have gotten ourselves glued to?
- How long has all this been going on for?!
Yes, when these types of questions start piling up inside your brain – At a point in the morning when you’re in a state of mind that technically constitutes an ‘up’. The point where you should be in full throes of serving up a sweaty dance jig or in an emotionally, outpouring gabfest.- they eventually guide you to make a decision. A decision that you are now going to begin to start thinking about making a decision. A decision as to whether you can be arsed changing anything or will simply let go of an idea and get stuck back to the same old routine by the pot.
I meant glue pot, but now that you mention it I’ve been wondering recently whether weed is as strong an ally as I once thought. Maybe he doesn’t always have my best interests at heart. Maybe I should sanction some tighter checks and controls upon him, until I’ve received some fresh intelligence that isn’t five years outmoded anyway……………………………………………………………
Is he secretly plotting against me? Is this starting to sound less like a battle and more like a war? Dramatic perhaps, also, frightening perhaps. At least I’m beginning to feel more cemented internally right now for pursuing these passing thoughts.
The two easiest and most obvious proposals made themselves known. One, to limit substance intake allowance to a finite number of munchin’, stompin’ nights out per month (This means As and Bs. Weed to only be sampled when helping in alleviating and soothing the aftermath of said nights out.)
The other plan hangs itself upon booking off a rest period for a set amount of months or allowing yourself to drift unguided into the unknown, possibly heady ether of the non-druggie realm and follow its untravelled path to the end. We’re all on the path, separated only by different points and locations. Flittering and dithering at some point on the line between either side: to take drugs or not to take drugs. Each side is like a magnet and the side we closest stray to ‘tises and claims our scalp, until we arrive at this same fork again at some distant point.
Surprisingly, the number of times I have selected the Cut it down not Cut it out methodology evades me. What did I base these cut it down selections on……………?
Well, it’s just easier really.
You get that same invigorating, self-satisfying buzz you feel when you wave goodbye to any detrimental habit that you fear maybe trying to drag you back into a world which you are weary of. You get all this whilst at the same time receiving that same invigorating, self-satisfying buzz that you get from your speckled and coloured new best friends down at the old discotechque. Aha, you win on 2 fronts now, plus, it all comes guilt free! You consume less and less means more. More free days, nights, to give life a clear head and use that clarity to nudge yourself in a different direction. Times when you actually have a weekend instead of a sleepless, heavy night followed by a few hours kip, then proceeded by a none-day that has to be declared a write off because you aren’t physically or mentally capacitated to do anything. Anything bar mooching about someone’s place, listening to tunes whilst chewing the phat with your closest chums (And any other additions that have been acquired during the night’s proceedings.)
You smoke spliff after spliff smoking shitloads of skunk and after you stumble part way to your home you suddenly feel as you felt once before. The same as you did as you turned then looked up as your saviour first signals then says, “ Take this spliff.”
The herb can only feebily slap back the pervasive, downwardly dragging hands of the tablets , not sever them completely. Still, was the right thing to do even if you do arrive home un-caned. You are now tired and can realistically attempt sleep. You deflected the worst of the trauma away in an unaware, hazy cloud amongst friends. (You won’t be tired if you decided to take speed. If you ever find yourself wide awake and alone after phet then I often find a book helps to dampen those demons. Perhaps also listen to PWEI who after completing a seven year reign were asked what advice to give to any aspiring bandsters advised ”Don’t smoke speed”)
You then lie in bed, fragile and numb. Safe in the knowledge that tomorrow the biggest problems you will face are getting out of bed and whether to eat or not. At the end of tomorrow you experience a gratifying sense of relief that you have spent 2 days blissfully unaware and out of touch. Separated from a general society whose uninvited, out-thrust hands promise you your dreams if you join them, but instead pin one arm behind your back whilst making you sign away your precious life to them with the other. They nail your feet to the ground. The ground is the mortgage they so eagerly enslave you to for 25 years. They’ll keep working on you; slowly chipping off chunks and demanding whatever they desire off of you. Be it money, compliance or your consent to let them do whatever they want. If you remain in the dark thinking everything’s fine, accepting everything they ask of you without question, without thinking in fact then they won’t bother you in any other form. As long as you play by their rules you’ll think you are a free subject living within a free democracy. For all the slick promises they deliver nothing. Nothing except debt and depression. The only guarantee is that they’ll grip you round the neck and start to squeeze, constricting you tighter and tighter until you are left gasping for air, unable to consider anything except what a dire situation you find yourself in.
Some of you may read this and see parts myself in you. Some of you may label me as misguided, a waster who needs to grow up. I see it as having felt lost, distant and disassociated from a large part of the population who all I seem to see from are petty, selfish, close minded views. People whose only conception of a standard night out is excessive drinking, appalling come on tactics, and pissed arguments coupled with post club head smashing that we have all come to accept as the ‘norm.’ People who care more about the welfare, fortunes and misfortunes of “contestants” on shows such as Big brother, Pop idol, than their own next door neighbours or any random people they encounter on the street. It makes sense to care more about a reality tv show contestant, who you’ve never met, than another person who you physically encounter and could change your life and who is living a REAL life, complete with REAL decisions and consequences that you could play a part of. Ever sat on a bus on your own? Ever got caught up in listening to other people’s tedious small talk, talk that is perfectly fine for them to dicuss because it refers to people and experiences that the have been privy. Has what you have heard said ever comes across to you as…….. irritating bollocks that is of no gain or consequence to you? Ever thought that, forgotten about it and then gone home to sit in front of BB, wide eyed and desperately waiting for one of those crucial updates to ascertain whether the team passed the task this week. If they don’t pass the task they have no money and can’t buy food and definitely, definitely not alcohol.
One week goes by.
“Bit stale?”
‘mmm, yes. I’ve been feeling that’
“What do you suggest?”
“I know. Should we set a topic of discussion for the house mates to debate? Share certain experiences, talk about relevant issues facing the world today. That way the viewers can gain a deeper insight into the true personality of each character, sorry, contestant, and then make a truly informed decision about who genuinely deserves the prize money. What do you say”
‘I say that involves getting up early for an afternoon meeting. Besides the British public don’t want to be intellectually challenged and stimulated by their favourite characters. They want to see them hammered out of their faces, making tits out of themselves and hopefully offending one or two of the squares we strategically placed there to react to all the piss ups we set up.’
“Fuck it. Big brother is omnipotent. Ignore the written code and flood the house with alcohol. Anyway, I just remembered I’ve got £50 riding on Dazza and Tina being the first 2 people in British broadcasting history to openly join together in an act of public, tv, felching.”
When I see atrocities such as this happening willy nilly all around me it makes me feel distant and want to look for a different life. Drugs aren’t dooper, They’re a different kind of outstretched arms, ok this time only wanting to give you a hug, but they claim to offer you a happy world if you give yourself to it. I only want to go there when I wanna take a couple of days off and can’t be arsed entertaining myself. Drugs may have been the wrong choice, personally, I would say definitely not. You might say I was wrong to choose to take drugs, but I think you may have been wrong when you chose to run to those arms which hold you back in a way you may never wake up to. At least I know who my potential enemies parading themselves around as friends are. Do You? Yes, I think that it shall be a drug free summer. I look forward to seeing where I end up.
lives of people who are paraded around on reality Tv shows on “ ‘Celebrity’ wrestling” than their nextdoor neighbours
Losing cont
Right before you did before you smoked that first spliff
Drugs aren’t dooper. They’re just an easy escape route you take if you wanna take a couple of days off and can’t be arsed to entertain yourself.
- Am I doing this all too much?
- What else could I be engaged in right now and with whom?
- Would I be having a better time?
- Actually, am I even enjoying this anymore, or is it simply a routine that myself and a number of close friends, friends and friends of friends have gotten ourselves glued to?
- How long has all this been going on for?!
Yes, when these types of questions start piling up inside your brain – At a point in the morning when you’re in a state of mind that technically constitutes an ‘up’. The point where you should be in full throes of serving up a sweaty dance jig or in an emotionally, outpouring gabfest.- they eventually guide you to make a decision. A decision that you are now going to begin to start thinking about making a decision. A decision as to whether you can be arsed changing anything or will simply let go of an idea and get stuck back to the same old routine by the pot.
I meant glue pot, but now that you mention it I’ve been wondering recently whether weed is as strong an ally as I once thought. Maybe he doesn’t always have my best interests at heart. Maybe I should sanction some tighter checks and controls upon him, until I’ve received some fresh intelligence that isn’t five years outmoded anyway……………………………………………………………
Is he secretly plotting against me? Is this starting to sound less like a battle and more like a war? Dramatic perhaps, also, frightening perhaps. At least I’m beginning to feel more cemented internally right now for pursuing these passing thoughts.
The two easiest and most obvious proposals made themselves known. One, to limit substance intake allowance to a finite number of munchin’, stompin’ nights out per month (This means As and Bs. Weed to only be sampled when helping in alleviating and soothing the aftermath of said nights out.)
The other plan hangs itself upon booking off a rest period for a set amount of months or allowing yourself to drift unguided into the unknown, possibly heady ether of the non-druggie realm and follow its untravelled path to the end. We’re all on the path, separated only by different points and locations. Flittering and dithering at some point on the line between either side: to take drugs or not to take drugs. Each side is like a magnet and the side we closest stray to ‘tises and claims our scalp, until we arrive at this same fork again at some distant point.
Surprisingly, the number of times I have selected the Cut it down not Cut it out methodology evades me. What did I base these cut it down selections on……………?
Well, it’s just easier really.
You get that same invigorating, self-satisfying buzz you feel when you wave goodbye to any detrimental habit that you fear maybe trying to drag you back into a world which you are weary of. You get all this whilst at the same time receiving that same invigorating, self-satisfying buzz that you get from your speckled and coloured new best friends down at the old discotechque. Aha, you win on 2 fronts now, plus, it all comes guilt free! You consume less and less means more. More free days, nights, to give life a clear head and use that clarity to nudge yourself in a different direction. Times when you actually have a weekend instead of a sleepless, heavy night followed by a few hours kip, then proceeded by a none-day that has to be declared a write off because you aren’t physically or mentally capacitated to do anything. Anything bar mooching about someone’s place, listening to tunes whilst chewing the phat with your closest chums (And any other additions that have been acquired during the night’s proceedings.)
You smoke spliff after spliff smoking shitloads of skunk and after you stumble part way to your home you suddenly feel as you felt once before. The same as you did as you turned then looked up as your saviour first signals then says, “ Take this spliff.”
The herb can only feebily slap back the pervasive, downwardly dragging hands of the tablets , not sever them completely. Still, was the right thing to do even if you do arrive home un-caned. You are now tired and can realistically attempt sleep. You deflected the worst of the trauma away in an unaware, hazy cloud amongst friends. (You won’t be tired if you decided to take speed. If you ever find yourself wide awake and alone after phet then I often find a book helps to dampen those demons. Perhaps also listen to PWEI who after completing a seven year reign were asked what advice to give to any aspiring bandsters advised ”Don’t smoke speed”)
You then lie in bed, fragile and numb. Safe in the knowledge that tomorrow the biggest problems you will face are getting out of bed and whether to eat or not. At the end of tomorrow you experience a gratifying sense of relief that you have spent 2 days blissfully unaware and out of touch. Separated from a general society whose uninvited, out-thrust hands promise you your dreams if you join them, but instead pin one arm behind your back whilst making you sign away your precious life to them with the other. They nail your feet to the ground. The ground is the mortgage they so eagerly enslave you to for 25 years. They’ll keep working on you; slowly chipping off chunks and demanding whatever they desire off of you. Be it money, compliance or your consent to let them do whatever they want. If you remain in the dark thinking everything’s fine, accepting everything they ask of you without question, without thinking in fact then they won’t bother you in any other form. As long as you play by their rules you’ll think you are a free subject living within a free democracy. For all the slick promises they deliver nothing. Nothing except debt and depression. The only guarantee is that they’ll grip you round the neck and start to squeeze, constricting you tighter and tighter until you are left gasping for air, unable to consider anything except what a dire situation you find yourself in.
Some of you may read this and see parts myself in you. Some of you may label me as misguided, a waster who needs to grow up. I see it as having felt lost, distant and disassociated from a large part of the population who all I seem to see from are petty, selfish, close minded views. People whose only conception of a standard night out is excessive drinking, appalling come on tactics, and pissed arguments coupled with post club head smashing that we have all come to accept as the ‘norm.’ People who care more about the welfare, fortunes and misfortunes of “contestants” on shows such as Big brother, Pop idol, than their own next door neighbours or any random people they encounter on the street. It makes sense to care more about a reality tv show contestant, who you’ve never met, than another person who you physically encounter and could change your life and who is living a REAL life, complete with REAL decisions and consequences that you could play a part of. Ever sat on a bus on your own? Ever got caught up in listening to other people’s tedious small talk, talk that is perfectly fine for them to dicuss because it refers to people and experiences that the have been privy. Has what you have heard said ever comes across to you as…….. irritating bollocks that is of no gain or consequence to you? Ever thought that, forgotten about it and then gone home to sit in front of BB, wide eyed and desperately waiting for one of those crucial updates to ascertain whether the team passed the task this week. If they don’t pass the task they have no money and can’t buy food and definitely, definitely not alcohol.
One week goes by.
“Bit stale?”
‘mmm, yes. I’ve been feeling that’
“What do you suggest?”
“I know. Should we set a topic of discussion for the house mates to debate? Share certain experiences, talk about relevant issues facing the world today. That way the viewers can gain a deeper insight into the true personality of each character, sorry, contestant, and then make a truly informed decision about who genuinely deserves the prize money. What do you say”
‘I say that involves getting up early for an afternoon meeting. Besides the British public don’t want to be intellectually challenged and stimulated by their favourite characters. They want to see them hammered out of their faces, making tits out of themselves and hopefully offending one or two of the squares we strategically placed there to react to all the piss ups we set up.’
“Fuck it. Big brother is omnipotent. Ignore the written code and flood the house with alcohol. Anyway, I just remembered I’ve got £50 riding on Dazza and Tina being the first 2 people in British broadcasting history to openly join together in an act of public, tv, felching.”
When I see atrocities such as this happening willy nilly all around me it makes me feel distant and want to look for a different life. Drugs aren’t dooper, They’re a different kind of outstretched arms, ok this time only wanting to give you a hug, but they claim to offer you a happy world if you give yourself to it. I only want to go there when I wanna take a couple of days off and can’t be arsed entertaining myself. Drugs may have been the wrong choice, personally, I would say definitely not. You might say I was wrong to choose to take drugs, but I think you may have been wrong when you chose to run to those arms which hold you back in a way you may never wake up to. At least I know who my potential enemies parading themselves around as friends are. Do You? Yes, I think that it shall be a drug free summer. I look forward to seeing where I end up.
lives of people who are paraded around on reality Tv shows on “ ‘Celebrity’ wrestling” than their nextdoor neighbours
Losing cont
Right before you did before you smoked that first spliff
Drugs aren’t dooper. They’re just an easy escape route you take if you wanna take a couple of days off and can’t be arsed to entertain yourself.
posted by Swedophilia at 1:58 PM
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