I have never touched a narcotic in my life except one time—”accidentally” in weed I smoked (long story, not for here)—and other than that I’ve treated pain (toothaches, broken bones, torn ligament, carpal tunnel) with Extra Strength Advil Liquid Gels or Extra Strength Tylenol Liquid Gels. Prior to those being on the market I used rapid-release Advil/Tylenol (the red/blue pills) or Tylenol Arthritis.
Talk of getting violently ill under the cut.
I am live blogging from The Winchester Arms for the National Novel Writing Month (NANOWRIMO) TGIO (Thank God It’s Over) party which is dinner and thankfully so. I am starving, and eyeing the Shepard’s pie that is on the menu.
At the moment we have 23 people (as of 516p) and it is 5:09p so everyone seems to have made it. Excited to be around so many writers!
Expect this post to be updated throughout the evening.
It’s all scribble. I don’t really have anything original to say. Writing can’t save me. How can I escape from the demons in my head?
Hemingway had this classic moment in ‘The Sun Also Rises’ when someone asks Matt Campbell how he went bankrupt, all he can say is, “Gradually, then suddenly.” That’s how depression hits. You wake up one morning afraid you’re going to live. —Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation
Being bipolar is an excuse to be a bitch. Having borderline personality disorder is an excuse to explain away the guilt, the hot-and-cold emotions (on-again, off-again relationships), the flitting in and out of people’s lives until they can no longer take it and you find yourself without friends. Having a mental illness is a crutch, an excuse to do stupid, regretful actions and to say horrible, regretful words. Continue reading
The voices around him disappear as he lights his torch and the bud lights up, glowing in the darkness. He takes two quick inhalations and then another slower, longer one, until the sweet smoke burns his throat and he can feel tendrils of it curling into his lungs and nose. There’s chatter but he’s vaguely aware of anything other than the glow of the burning drugs and the soft snick snick of the lighter.
As the pipe warms in his hands, he takes one last inhalation before handing both the lighter and pipe off to the girl beside him. She’s his age, with shoulder length hair that is bleached blond. She is totally beautiful. Married, unfortunately, and her husband is asleep inside, as are her three children and we’re sitting on the porch, the townhouse unit beside us empty of its previous tenants and darkened. The pipe is passed around and suddenly the laughter and hushed voices come rushing back. The peak of the high is quick and leaves his face feeling numb and slightly pinched, as if he’s just had botox or something.
Soon they’ve made it through a couple of bowls and she decides to start walking. They gather their drinks – his is Jack Daniels and Nestea – and walk with the pipe, dodging spider webs between the townhouses and trees and trying to light the pipe while walking, with the flame getting low. They’ve used up all of the lighter fluid already.
He wants to see the shell of this house that burned down five months ago and so they go, then decide to hit the Palmwood, but the beach still reeks of shit, and they aren’t that high to appreciate ‘nature’ like that. One guy drives by and asks where they’re going.
To the bar! They say.
Well.. you’re going the wrong way! He says. It takes a minute and they all laugh.
The walk home seems slow as the drugs kick in and the air is sticky and humid. Heat lighting is off in the distance and humidity is starting to fog up the air. They trudge home, splitting off at each of their respective doors, settling in to do their nightly routine – she goes to bed with her husband and kids; he goes to write on his laptop and the third – his cousin – gives into his munchies and hits the sack.
Eventually, he is left awake, alone, watching storm come in and sitting on the laptop, alone, slightly hypersensitive to sound but not enough to truly be psyched out. It’s a good high; and short-lived. Just for this week, and come Thursday, when he arrives home – no more oxys, kush or skag.
Almost wrote vah-jay-jay.
Since June 10th last week I’ve been staying with my aunt and cousin in Crystal Beach, Ontario, where she lives. I don’t feel like typing a whole long thing and I wanted to test the ‘gallery’ format option (it was annoying so fuck the gallery function) so have a few photos from the trip so far. Most are of me in Crystal Beach, some in Port Colborne at Lock 8 and the rest were taken in the Canadialand side of Niagara Falls. All were taken with Camera+ app and edited using Pixlr-o-matic and posted with Instagr.am (I’m nixysixx on Instagr.am if you want to add me – let me know who you are :] Continue reading
Moi, drinking from the sulphur spring well.
I haven’t explored in close to a year until June and July of this year. June my neighbors Dom and Nate and I went to the Hermitage Ruins and then the Darnley Grist Mill. I still have to go through over 1500 photos and upload and post them. Just tonight we (along with my best friend, Miu) returned to both locations but spent the most time at the Darnley Dam / Cristie Dam and sat on this giant walkway that stretches across the top of the dam. If you’ve just entered the walkway then you face the length of the walkway, on your right is the drop off where the dam opens up to, and on your left is the Cristie Lake. It’s beautiful.
Moi, rocking the Doc Martens on the walkway above the Darnley Dam.
We sat atop the walkway staring up at the sky and all you could see were hundreds of stars (and heat lightning). It was amazing. I tried taking photos but I didn’t bring my tripod so all I got were some creepily blurry shots through the railings of the lake, and I might upload those once I Instagr.am them (because I’m too lazy to post-process them on the PC).
I hope to be doing a lot more exploring this summer, and possibly even seeing all 125 (or so) of Hamilton’s waterfalls.