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

Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh since there's less cleaning up to do afterwards. -K. Vonnegut
Consequences of the "inability to feel shame." ]

how I almost died! (click to view)

"Genius is an african who dreams up snow." - Vladimir Nabokov, Author of "Lolita".

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Here comes a Best Seller.

The Inconvenience of Lenience.

Given the legal circumstances, attending an outpatient along with getting off methadone (recently done) would be greatly beneficial. To make sure that would occur, I returned to the prolonged half-life junkie's spirit building. Ah, the what would have been fury inflated by likely the methadone in his voice. The, man, himself on it. His wife, recently gotten off. Fury vocally played out as half-witted sarcasm overshadowing spite. He states "You're here, again?" I, Politely replying, he rephrases the question two more times. Given our age difference and the fact that I'd given a teenager I recently met, my word I'd get off it. Being off it today, and greatly noticing the bitterness recited in bordering-rage flowing smoothly through his cigarette-filled vocals. Phew.

That was a rough one. Greg Iles, mayhaps I'll even be in an inpatient reading your last publishing. Rather than coming home from these "groups."

Владимир Высоцкий - Мне ребята сказали

Other day, walking home from the train...

Walking home from the train, coming home from methadone.(just got off it). I saw a man rolling down the long street in a whHeelchair. He had BOTH legs missing hips down. I got so intimidated, I said hello involuntarily. 7 blocks away, still walking. I felt guilty. I realised when I said hello, I'm being a sympathiser. And no more blunt way to spit in a mans face, than that.

My health was sold indirectly to profit. Mortgages are hard to get by these days.

When you can cause ppl grief by "playing the piano" much quicker than Tchaikovsky allows.

Ultima Online , Pre Reinassance ( Pre-UO:R) was an amazing game.

ar video

If Tchaikovsky was a little quicker, exchanging the piano for a keyboard, maybe he could have been heterosexual and lived. Can't really be explained, looking at the screen, it looks silly. Was FAR from.

The Anatomy of a Secret Life.

First guy to have bought me heroin. Year later, I found out these kid-girls that aggravated me/friends(stoned) at the beach. I found out one of them was THE GUYS DAUGHTER. 6 years down the road. She says paul, me and you are going to get married. You're the only man whos ever known my father. I didn't play on that. Few years later, I was on brighton beach, I ran across him. He said he's finally resorted to methadone. Made me depressed. Not long after, daughter told me he died from an overdose. IAM SURE, it was from mainlining cocaine. That shit is NOT to be played games with. Banging blow, thin, REAL thin line between pure pleasure/blowing mitral valve out your fucking asshole. This guy was so full of himself that he can be in full blown withdrawal and laugh in your face, then claim you should give him money to "Raskumaritsa". (russian word , means get-straight)

After his death, I came to terms with being full of yourself (A narcissist) and being confident. Different. Just as mainlining cocaine, sometimes a real thin line in between life and death. Being a selfless simultaneously selfish pig. Years after his death, I had been walking into shop rited AT 3AM at 28 YEARS OLD, Putting 2 beer cans inside jacket pockets and walking out with a straight face to drink em inothers basement.  I realised I'd more or less become her father.

I'm selfless, selfish, an asshole. I live with it because a substantial life insurance policy worth more than my AORTIC VALVE (mild stenosis FROM mainlining cocaine) is NOT available.

Had I finished YALE LAW with flawless memory still partially intact post-subarachnoid hemmorhage 9 years later. I don't think it'd make my father happy. Not for me or himself. He'd say it did, wouldn't be true. He's just always prone to saying/doing the right thing. Because had I done that or anything similar? I'd just be him, the working man living the average life. He grew in communism, sure I'd be a little wealthier. I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT. BECAUSE THE SHIT HES PUT UP WITH  AS FAR AS I GO, HIS PRONENESS TO "SAYING/DOING THE RIGHT THING" went out the door.

Friday, October 17, 2014


I got outta prison in jan of 2012 but the last 4 years before that I spent twacked out cookin dope in hotel rooms! (How I made it 4 years is beyond me, Gods Grace and sheer luck) anyways I swear I power napped those 4 years of my life. I would pass out every once and awhile and sleep for days. In this little binder I wrecked 5 cars, lost everything, went to jail about 10 times and have severly damanged any and all veins in my body! (I still have a few, thank goodness) I think towards the end it wasn't about gettin high anymore it was about just staying awake and tryin to keep up with the "real tweekers" (that was my justification to doin my own product, I had to stay up with them to make money...addicts! Thankful that's the past) anyways I think the longest I've stayed up is like 13 days with power naps (1 to 2 hour naps) here and there. I struggle with meth addiction bc I know me and its either all or nothing, I have a real issue with commin down so I just choose to stay away from it as much as possible! It makes me a little monster! A METH MONSTER! I swear. I seen and heard shit that wasn't there on a regular basis....no bueno! I'm straight on that now! Id rather do a roxy! From one extreme to another!

Call me a masochistic sociopath. I'm genuinely IMPRESSED.

I remember as a kid, guy next house over; speedball overdose. CARDIAC ARREST. My father tried to rescusitate...he couldn't.

Fear is karma's ransom.

I did what I had judged others significantly older men in NA meetings, attending...on the way to a coma. I stole from a family member on the concious agreement with myself, there'll be a slap in the face and a substantial pay back.

The former, didn't happen. For this person, to not have noticed. Signifies a serious change in mind state over a few years. A guilt trip hits harder than any slap in the face ever will. Unless you're being slapped by a  young tyson's fist. The slap in the face didn't come after me admitting  either. Which means, potency as well as mind function diminished by psychiatric medication. (Further, future health problems in those prone.)

Irony. Coincedentally other day by the Sand Lane Church (Staten Island, NY) , I was near the largest NA meeting in staten island. Active. The irony is that this was 5 days after my last dose of methadone. And it's the last NA meeting, I attended...ever and briefly before ending up in a coma post sub-arachnoid hemmorhage.

Few weeks back, shortly prior to methadone being cut out. Two guys come up to me at the local train station. One, I owed $25 to. Other, I never met. Other charismatically and cautiously asks me for the money. I hand it to him. He walks away... drunk stoopered on xanax. Xanax added to alcohol = conversation over. Then another guy comes up to me and asks how much he took. I tell him $25. Guy denies it, says $15. So a split petty profit amongst the two. Guy who asked about the amount , hands me $15 worth of xanax.

STORY IS IRRELEVANT TO WHATS NEXT. Week later, I end up in the hospital. Guy who took the money out of my hand, is there. Two weeks later, I'm told he died from AIDS. My man looked like a probowl linebacker, not end stage hiv. Who knows, maybe I'll manage a life insurance policy then join my linebacker friend in hell.

Irony is in that while fucked on the same pills, I was handed that day. I told some teenager I'd get off methadone. The fact the two coincided means I'm drug free this time. Call me a sociopath but If I could never do it for anyone else, I'll stay sober for just...I guess my ego. That kind shoved it out of bounds. And I'm no Jerry West. Don't win MVP's on the losing team.


Thursday, October 16, 2014

Life in the seasons.

You're born in the winter. Live in the spring. Age in the summer. Die...in the fall. Though, I was born in the spring. Late may, infact 27th.

In the end of 2004, my initial boredom leading to college. End of the semester, I had overdosed twice in two weeks. One of them, was in a local somewhat ghetto-ish neighborhood. OD had been bad. I was layed out on a bench, guy couldn't wake me up. He called an ambulance. They hit me with narcan, I hopped out the stretcher like a tiger jumping a hill. Next thing you know, Dr. "Walters" tells me he can't let me go. Piece of shit plays the ethics card stating another OD might be fatal and tosses me into inpatient psych. Won't lie. This taught me that when I'm bored not cleaning up after my dog in the face of the LOCAL WHITE CROWD! Or awaiting travelers check as a result of being a methdonian. I can toss myself into inpatient psych and manipulate FREE narcotics.

Neither is the point. Guy who had found me unconcious(likely mid-stage respiratory depression) tried to play on my sympathy card the next day. Like he was the local hometown hero amongst minorities in a white suburb down south turning black. Though can't honestly say I remember his race nor face. Never the less,

Person who saved me. Likely the only person I've felt that I've ever despised. If not for him, I could have died HAPPY. Slightly bitter overturned by narcotic. But, Happy. Because a year after this incident I woke up from a coma, post sub-arachnoid hemmorhage. STUPPORED. Told I'm now a juvenile diabetic.  What caused it? I walked off 80mg methadone, blood glucose sky rocketed. Rest goes without saying. Why I did it? I spit in the face of the only woman who ever loved me. And that woman... aint my mother. Guilt had overridden narcotic.

Hell is perpetual guilt. Heaven, a woman's love. Neither comes after your heart stops, brain decays. I quit on this jesus talk. I see how revenge is bitter sweet now. She was sweet. And now...I'm just bitter.

за уважение оскорблением не платиш.

Only regret is being born with a concious.

Shame, I'm no sociopath. Far from crazy.

     Any man who fears death after the nerve endings in his dick stopped working is a coward. Yestrday, Sober, I felt the kind of neuropathic pain in my left leg, knee down that made me cringe. So,  iit's not long now. Sobriety, conciously might be better but physically it's more stressful. Constant and stable narcotic intake allows zero stress. Which allows a BASELINE insulin intake. My last A1C was 6.5. Being that I never test my blood sugar. Thats FLAWLESS. Now off methadone, that's a thing of the past. Which means replacing methadone with long acting insulin on top of flawless coverage. Lantus. You can't maintain perfect blood glucose with lantus use. A baseline is impossible, That given...rest is said in beginning of paragraph. Hard to see eventual novel, fore as a juvenile diabetic addict...ritalin is no option. And deflawed focus doesn't coincide with creativity that simply.  Between John Doe and Junkie, I chose the former.

...Dr. Giannone you soulless maggot of a human being. If mayhaps, you run across this writing. Remember, If I live to see a terminal problem, and I'm strong enough to lift a gun. You'll go first. Mr. Lambertson, if by some odd chance you run across this...your last name coinciding with the doc's. A picture of your wife may encite me to provide an earlier execution to the one who's caused us both..grief.

Thin line between Per Se...and eventual fiction.

Mayhaps someone familiar runs across this post and refers The Wandering Healer to it. He'll likely take it...with a grain of salt. Careful champ, Salt can shut kidneys off, alot faster than Juvenile Diabetes.

intake.   video

Совсем меня убрали из Весны...

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Владимир Высоцкий - рецидивист

Это был воскресный день, я был усталым и побитым, Но одно я знаю, одному я рад: В семилетний план поимки хулиганов и бандитов Я ведь тоже внёс свой очень скромный вклад!


Friday, October 10, 2014

My name rapper pseudonym is "Matoohshka G"

Because Matushka means the Priests wife in Russian so I'm MATOOhSHKA.

You know how it do in the hood, stay reppin' the glock and nailin niggaz with wood.


Jadakiss - beanie sigel Diss.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Translation of Vysotsky's song: Didn't hit women till I was 17.

I didn't hit women till 17
At 17 was the first time
Since then I've lost all self control
To the right to the left
I hand out deserved
How'd it happen that an intelligent
Defender of rape
So low I stooped at that moment
But if wanted
I'll defend myself with a beating
This is how it went
I didn;t cheat on her
In 3 whole days
What's there to say
I bought her perfume
French for 34.17
But her seller from teegee
His name was golubov slava
He already bought her that perfume
To the right To the left
Smiled my whore
I was young and fierce
Handed complaints fiercely
Told her yestrday I beat down slava
Today kasatka I'll beat you for what's right
I came up to her with hands shaking
Teeth stuttetering
Came out my tongue
To the right and the left
I concretely punched her
Since then all whores are afraid of me
And thar for me is painful
And that's why not a day passed by
I hit long and hard
But can't hit them all
There's too many
Let the soviets discuss me
Hoping I end up in the morgue
Then I got sentenced
But the other day
I hit long and painfully
The district attorney in his face