Your real friends will always love you, and honestly we do, and that is honestly far far more the advice I wish I listened to than it is the trite suggestions I provide out of charity for the benefit of others.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write. But I'm cut down like a sliver of bamboo by my own lack of self-confidence. Constant case of unfair comparisons I guess, I've read too many spectacular successes to want to be a mediocre failure.

I need to start writing every day again, even if it's trash.

We! We are wild, and absolutely anything possibly conceivable could happen, and does, and frequently. We are scavengers, feral dogs, eaters of carrion and left over table-scraps. We, you, me; them and yours and each of us, as overgrown and untamed as the bottom of the ocean. Say: ever have one of those days where you feel like a complete failure? Yeah. Me neither. Intelligence being a verb not a noun, a continual flowing action rather than just a static state; and inspiration! inspiration moves quick, runs fast, is swiftly fleet of foot and must be chased.

Tonight I have downed so many prescription drugs, I reckon I could almost start my own pharmacy with the chemicals I've ingested. A little more ritalin, just a touch, a pinch, a tender punch of zoplicon, and why not? For nearly every illegal drug there is, the American money machine is perfectly willing to (and indeed actually does) provide a legally available pharmaceutical equivalent. All you need is the illegible squiggle of some random doctors signature, or else to have previously arranged the proxy purchase for you by someone who has a legitimate scrip.

Are there any limits to how far this could go? I guess not. These people have serious psychological conditions that require serious psychiatric treatment, but at the end of the day they still need to eat. The black market for off-label illegal sale prescription chemicals is far larger than even the scariest narco-ambien nightmares of the most radical of Washington think-tanks

Word on the street is apparently zoplicon (in combination with certain other compounds) can lead to temporary delusion, and even (in some cases) actual delirium, a total psychotic break with reality. No matter. Not to worry. We were always breaking up anyway, arguing over this, fighting over that. I'm not sure on balance the relationship is worth the cost.

Down the fucking hatch. I'm already bored with the world. I read a list of a billion and one ways to blow your brainos out on some website. Son youknow reality and me divrced some time ago, and now it's time to fork over your m,others alimony. Here, take everything. I never wanted the 95 inge intelevisio.n You can decice imong yourseles who wants I wan .boox.

At this point I guess I must have passed out. I was attempting to counter the sedative and hypnotic affects of the valium, alcohol and zoplicon by way of snorting regular lines of ritalin so that I could stay awake and keep writing. It seemed the sensible thing to do at the time, but the zoplicon was just totally over powering. knocked me on my ass in the space of half an hour. I had read somewhere that by forcing yourself to stay awake on sleeping pills it was possible to enter a kind of waking dream or nightmare, a way to take a bathosphere down far below safe diving distance and deep into the murky grotesque depths of the subconscious. The polydrug combination was an extremely bad idea. Especially the Marilyn Monroe style cocktail of depressants and alcohol. Slap on the wrist Caleb. I am sometimes indifferent to my own safety. In fact the sheer willful stupidity of the deal was, in a twisted kind of way, terribly exciting.

Still have writers block however.