different topics, ideas, for different age ranges and folks.

No stranger to danger...
[
Consequences of the "inability to feel shame." ]

how I almost died! (click to view)

My name is paul and I'm an addict.

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

I'm not scared of dying but I am afraid of dying....

Dying a bitter junkie, all alone. :(


On days like this, Thank you Frank Sinatra. Yep, frankie.


<@montaigne> [ephialtes] < goredahn> i influence everything with a velvet glove of iron retardism

[05:05] *** Ana_Ng quit (Quit: Skirmish: You pray on young naive girls who think a bald old druggo is cool.)

What you'll run across on IRC, damn.

What an emotionally straining phone call.

I got out of bed about 25minutes prior to the call. I heard my mother speaking. I knew right away who she was talking to. Grandma Nina. I got intimidated. Then father felt the need to intervene and tells me whos on the phone.Thats when I realised it would wrong of me not to talk to her. So I asked for the phone...

Our conversation just about came to an end when she asked when I'll come to visit her (in St Petersburg Russia). I replied I need to get my passport. She's no fool. She says "Then I guess grandma won't live to see you again." I felt shitty, guilty, painful emotionally and physically simultaneously. I knew I couldn't speak to her anymore. Was an aweful feeling. I MADE SURE MY TONE OF VOICE DID NOT CHANGE. To avoid emotional conflict.

Conversation over. * Deep Sigh *

Vague yet distinct. Memories of colds night withdrawing from heroin in a 61st precinct cell.. Coney island. Awaiting transfer to central bookings for a night with 50 men in a steel-decorated living room. Youth flies by, oh man.


Heavy snow in queens new york. Images by "parakeet" on EFNet (IRC). Thanks.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Let's talk business. Oh yeah, suite and tie.



I made an NA meeting tonight, wearing that. I'll make 90 meetings in 90 days. If 90 seems like too much, I'll make a meeting a day and 90 will take care of itself. I just have to learn how to...live with myself.

Regardless of how life turns out. I don't think I can have a relationship anymore. Nastya slaughtered me in the end when she said in reply to me telling her I love her. "NO Pasha, You only love yourself."

Damn. 90 meetings, I guess.

First time I feel needless guilt. Neighborly guilt.

I stepped out in the front to smoke. As I came out, my neighbor was pulling in his driveway. He waved to me. I did the same. As him and his wife were walking in the house. She managed to even visually avoid my presence. Forget about saying hello. I thought about the ages I've lived here on and off (mostly on.) And as she was walking in, I said "As always in the last 10 years.". I supposes  that was my neighborly awkward hello to a woman that didn't feel the need to say hello to me. And i fucking can see validated reason. I'm a needle ridden dopefiend. (Said in brooklyn words, NYC for life!) I hope she doesn't feel in as a harsh way as I often think of myself. I respect her way of my life as I've seen it

That's all, as we IRCer's say, "Heh".

In regards to IRC, greatest quote of all time, in terms of questions.

[Shrike]: You ever IRC so hard you broke your keyboard?

-EFNet.

I'm going to attend an NA meeting tonight. Oakwood heights. Guyon ave, church. My name is pavel and I'm an addict. 3 weeks clean.

Since I mentioned IRC and Peggy, I should reveal what's really personal. It affects me so deeply now man, jesus christ. When I visited russian at the end of my teenage years.. I visited my grandma's hometown. Where people farmed for most of their living. One day at a bar, drinking heavy, I see a pretty blonde smiling at me.

I knew right away. Childhood friend natasha, her brother used to bully me infront of her and she would defend me. Eh. What got to me bbadly, is seeing what her father had stooped to. I ran across him at 12pm, he was already HEAVY into the bottle of liquor. This man drank morning to night.

How fucked up. Probably dead, Stroke/alcohol withdrawal.

"Such is life."

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Who's never going to dance again?

Curiosity. Murder one.

Young toni braxton was fuckin slammin. The hottest black woman next to young Tyra Banks.

Tyra was hotter but one look at braxton "dressed right". I get automatic erection.

Imp, Imp, Impa, Impaey. Fuck, I can't spell. Sub-arachnoid hemmorhage. Impagangster.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Acceptance.

At 31, 2 near fatal experiences, lost count in overdoses. there's still options in women I guess, trouble is, despite still being able to gain an erection...i don't think i give a fuck anymore. I'll die alone and I accept it. Guy told me when i was a teenager, he  said if you let the needle become part of your life you'll live a scumbag and die a faggot. (connotation, no word for word translation of the words he used).


im sorry.

Monday, January 12, 2015

A hello to distant fictional "characters".

Jeff Dann, Phil Dickerson, Jennifer Cuthbert...Andrew Ohenley.

I had the most vivid false memory imaginable. The way I recall of it is, I walked into the house and had the most definate image in my mind.. Of where he sat and how he had said it. Though, It quickly faded, in the back of my head, regardless of how much it faded...it remained certain. A neighbor had sat on the rear staircase of my house and had made an odd statement to me. An hour after it came to my mind, I told about it to someone. At that point, after all had been said. I realised the way I pictured it is him sitting at my mother's previous home. Staircase on the rear right, the lentgh of the house approximately similar. It would also be possible, size wise, for this house to have that kind of staircase/porch on the right. Man, that was some shit. Like I was coming down from an LSD trip walking in.

I could foresee knowing a neighbor is anything from police to pharmaceutical sales. But, a programmer?

I'd choke eating lunch that day,

Бока - Сын слепой ( Boka - Blind Son )

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Karen.

I've felt all a man could feel. Discipline, women, drugs. I've had all a  man could have in between the faults of these feelings. I've been within the experiences I maintaned in a somewhat foolish manner. But after what happened in September of 2005. It's been ridicolously hard to derive any form of satisfaction from any of it. Infact it created a void no experience, woman or drug could ever fill. The gap between instances mentioned above and the desire for or the end point of occurances seems, feels and is infinite. And that infinite space can not be stepped into and is no growing light. It's actually one long needle which describes justifying, accepting. And a pepetuating emotional string of knowing that with the faults, defects and lackings I have. The  capacity to fix the damage has never been present. Shallow attempts have been vague. Overshadowed by stains on that needle. Well, when it did not contain a life-enduring medicine. But rather the gift which is this passage. Likely only a gift to myself. Hence me sitting here alone on a Saturday Night calling my only two friends. I'll even share their names. Pen and Paper. As far as anyone else, I manage to become content only in deriving from the random presence of a few. The rare occurance in which this person has a "fault" thats already dealt considerable "problem"; be it along side a non-self imposed issue or not. And still won't stop. Rather continue into the infinite masses parallel to my needle. And just as my needle will eventually and fatally pierce my heart,  her masss will compress her brain out of existance...into darkness. What's next. Is there a next? According to how this has been worded; there is not. Simply stating I don't know; simply roughens the container of my gift. And as all know, opening gifts too early is never a good thing.

What adds to the bitter taste I wake up to and go to sleep with. It's that my youth has faded.\ Song is Armenian Artist, Boka singing "Youth".
I suppose being a recluse allows one not to "acknowledge" this fact. Making age non-existant.

Friday, January 9, 2015

To: Tyra Banks, Penelope Cruz, Kelly Mcgillis

mcgillis isn't too hot, rather wasn't but i live with myself i'm an addict.

The only problem with being an addict, particularly a junkie. It's that you in one way or another lose interest in sex, your sexual "ideas" become deviated. Next thing you know, you got some homo sucking your dick in his car around the corner from your mothers house. Teenage girls might surge the lust at 21. But "Those wild guys" (not me) want to experiment for proffesional information (no lust involved) . Who gives better head, guys or chicks. Well, "I was told", it's the ladies.

No homo, honestly. Oh wait, I already used that word. Too late.