Tuesday, August 13, 2002


I've been wondering how to explain this without it sounding absurd - to get it down with the true weight and wonder of it.
Saturday August 3 was a new experience in misery. So sick, so awesomely ill. Bugs under the skin, mudslides every half hour. Objects around me so impossibly bright they terrified me. It felt like my skin had been torn away and I was pure raw nerves. I walked over to Andre's place and the crowds on the street were almost too much. Icy sweat poured off me and I somehow managed to stumble along in sick terror of everything. I got to Andre's place and he was horrified by my visage. I looked like a dead man, barely animated, grey slimy skin - a ghost in the middle of the day. I managed to eat a cracker and a small piece of cheese, then I had to leave. I hauled myself back home and when I got there I marvelled at the fact that I did it, and didn't collapse in the street. Saturday night I was in bed at 7:30pm with my sheets smelling foul from the oceans of sweat that came out of me. One minute freezing, the next burning. Why couldn't I just die and be done with it?
I woke ridiculously early on Sunday morning and couldn't get back to sleep. HA! The nightmare continues. Rolling around my bed in miserable endless torture I turned the radio on. I had to get my mind off my woeful state. Every station I hit only seemed to add to my plight. Horrible noise, dumb lyrics. Then I hit a station where a man was talking about God and Jesus Christ. I listened. I found myself thinking hard about my situation, how ashamed I felt because of the point I had reached with the drugs. I meditated at length. I had been doing my best to fuck myself up good and proper, that's for sure.
Then some music came on and it seemed to ease the pain I was feeling. I found my Holy Bible and flipped it open randomly. It was the Psalms. Soon I found this one:
Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. Se-lah.
- Psalm 4:4

It struck me like a lightningbolt. I realised with absolute clarity how I'd been destroying myself. I felt in awe of the words the preacher was saying, and those words from the Bible, in that Psalm. I communed with my heart on my sick bed, and was still. I became still because the pain disappeared. The great and relentless agony ended.
I got up from my bed, feeling better than I could ever remember feeling.

Friday, August 09, 2002

Crash: Part Three

Tuesday, July 30, 2002 11:16pm -- First thing this morning I managed a shit - no battle this time but still it was painful.
My dear, great brother "loaned" me $50 today because of my tenuous financial position. He even dropped it off at my work. I don't deserve such a brother.
Of course, I fucked up my plan: I had the 8ml tonight when I got home (after quite a sick day at work) but that did so little I thought What's the damn point of these tiny, teasing amounts when there's still more? If you can't at least lose the sickness what's the point? Either you do it properly or not at all. Do enough to get you high and when it's gone, it's gone. Deal with it.
I'm scared.

Wednesday, July 31, 2002 midnight -- Mikel just left, we finished watching American History X.
Finished the morphine tonight. It gets ugly after this, I'm really not looking forward to it, that's for damn sure. It's gonna be HELL.
I'll make sure to savour falling asleep now, feeling good for the last time in days.

Thursday, August 08, 2002

Crash: Part Two

Tuesday, July 23, 2002 11:11pm -- Another day at work without the boss. managed to get a lot done. Printed 10 more SP#8s - this huge bloody back issue operation to put these SP#1-13 packs together that Polyester Paul originally asked me for. Of course it's a good idea, so I'm also letting everybody know that they're available to buy from me. At $40 for each one it's no chump change, bud.
So when I got home tonight there's a nother night of collating, folding and stapling.
Hit the Brown Bottle again, also this morning. It's on my mind a great part of the day - wondering how to make it last until Mark gets back; if I should really try to get the Hell off it... I also spend a lot of time brooding over my Goddamn teeth situation. I cancelled the appointment last Thursday, happily justifying it since I bought my radio, and wouldn't have enough money for the dentist. So now I'm going a week from Thursday. Of course, the time will fly and before I know it, that day will come. Goddamn teeth.
Oh, also today at work i made the invitations for ATOMISER #1, with the *Ancient* theme. Sent my Australian contributors one; tomorrow I'll send them to my International contributors.

Thursday, July 25, 2002 9:29pm -- I've been full of rage lately - it's either the downers, quitting Zoloft, or both. Sooner or later I've really gotta quit the damn morphine and STAY QUIT. Then see how my damn brain performs then.
It's been bloody great with M. on holidays - I've managed to get heaps of comix and other personal stuff done. Yesterday I printed more back issues. Only another day and they're all done.
A great proportion of my internet time lately is spent writing for my own blog Atomiser, and checking out other folks' blogs. The best one I've come across is BRING THE HATE by a young (18, 19, 20?) Asian dude Gordon Cheng. He's smart and full of bile. Calls everybody "fag" - his writing makes me laugh. He's good, not boring, which the majority of these damn blogs are. Fuck them - there's so many. See, that's why shit like 'links' and recommendations are so important. When you find somebody who has "got it" and knows their shit, then you can be almost sure that whatever they recommend is gonna be to your taste, too.
Good old Kapreles started his own blog after he checked mine out. And I've got good old laurie Adams at work to thank (he originally asked me if I had one).
The days whizzing by makes my head spin; it's already Thursday. You get older, time goes by faster. No time to waste fucking around, that's why I've gotta push myself like a bastard. I'm naturally a lazy motherfucker so i have to force myself to work. I'm so weak. So fucking undisciplined.
That thing I mentioned about these rages: I get them at work and had it today so bad I wrote about it in my blog. Small things make me so mad I shake and profanity pours outta my mouth like a torrent. Not good. Or is it? Sometimes it DOES feel good to HATE.

Saturday, July 27, 2002 11:57pm -- I went through the entire day without speaking to anybody. Well, I did go to the supermarket and said "Hi" to the checkout girl. And I went to the pub and asked for two bottles of beer. And tonight the phone rang but I didn't answer it. Whoever rang refused to leave a message. I suspect it was Nita. That has happened at least twice the past week.
I was happy to not talk to or see anybody. A day just by myself is so rare.
So what did I do? I read stuff all day: newspapers I found in the recycling bin and Celine's Death on the Installment Plan. Ate lots of smarties. Baked beans on toast. Ham and cheese sandwich with mustard, pepper and salt. Cigarettes. Beer later on. Also listened to the radio. My new radio is great great great. I feel like a kid with a new toy; one of the best ones I'll ever have.

Sunday, July 28, 2002 6:00pm -- What the FUCK are these idiots doing around here?! HUH?! These FUCKHEADS next door are going IN THE FUCK AND OUT, SLAMMING THEIR MOTHERFUCKING DOORS EVERY GODDAMN FIVE MINUTES! I don't understand what posible reason there could be for this NON-STOP IN & OUT SHIT. FUCKING MORONS CAN'T MAKE UP THEIR SIMPLE GODDAMN MINDS WHETHER THEY WANT TO BE INSIDE OR FRIGGIN' OUTSIDE. IT IS SOOO FUUUUUCKING IRRITATING!! It's making me so mad I wanna go and YELL in their STUPID FACES: "WHAT THE FUUUUUCK ARE YOU DOING, IDIOTS?!"

8:13pm -- The next week and beyond is gonna be very interesting. See, I've only got 44ml of my magic potion left and Mark doesn't return for another week and a half, which means during the next week, no matter how I ration the potion out (and I am hopeless at doing that) there's gonna be one Helluva crash coming up. I will be sure to report all the gory details right here.
Ideally I would like to keep half of it for Thursday when I have to go to the dentist; and the other half for next Saturday which is Cath's birthday party. So if I manage to discipline myself to not have any until Thursday, I'm gonna start getting quite sick around Tuesday. Alternatively, I could ration it in smaller and smaller doses, which is probably a better idea. I think I'll try it that way. Mon: 12ml; Tues: 10ml; Wed: 8ml; Thurs: 8ml; Fri: 4ml; Sat: 2ml. Finished.
Stay tuned for progress reports.

Monday, July 29, 2002 10:37am -- Jesus H Christ this morning i had the most FEROCIOUS battle with a Moby Dick turd. i was sweating and pushing for all I was worth just like a woman in labour. Of course, it's all because of the m-potion. This is pretty disgusting, but it got so fuckin; desperate at one stage I put my hand down there and attempted to pull the bastard out. It felt like a chocolate crackle.
In a horrifying realisation, i recalled a passage in a book I read recently (Hamsun's *Hunger*, I think) where a woman lubricates her anus to make the shit come out cos she's so constipated - so I did it with soapy water. I really think it helped.

10:55pm -- Yes, the day is almost over buit still I say the most noteworthy event was my battle this morning trying to get that humungous fucking turd OUT of my body. I'm not exagerating when I use the word "battle", either - it was just like a very violent, exhausting fight with this damn turd that seemed to be trying to exit sideways. I was cursing at it; sweating, worried about a heart attack but really determined to get rid of this massive passenger I would no longer put up with.
Enough about THAT!!
In other news: tonight i had only 10ml of the magic potion. I feel OK. Tomorrow night: 8ml.
I really want to see BULLY tomorrow night, but of course money is supertight as it is just before payday. I'm expecting all this money to come in from people buying my comix but those bastards take their time. "Yes, I will send the money this week!" Sure you will... Of course, it's my own damn fault - I blew $200 last payday on this shit that makes it almost impossible to shit. Well, I'll see if I get this money I'm expecting in the mail tomorrow and decide then. See, another concern I have is that I fear that this film could be banned and pulled from cinemas any day. I wanna see it as SOON as I can. And $9.00!! I'm having problems over $9.00! What a poor bastard I am!

Wednesday, August 07, 2002

Crash: Part One

I had a wicked bad crash recently, which is why I haven't written anything much here lately. I came down hard from these damn drugs I've been pumping into my body, and it was ugly. What follows is the lead up to this carnage direct from my journal. I offer it to my readers that they may get some benefit from this tale of foolishness and misery, even if it is just as entertainment; to be amused by another's suffering or idiocy. That's OK, that has been some of the most enjoyable writing to me, too (Bukowski, Celine, Hamsun). The 'action' starts middle of July 2002 and wraps up August 4, 2002:

Sunday, July 14, 2002 -- The goddamn little flight steward fag came down, rapping at my door, again tonight, while Mikel was here. We were only watching TV and he said the BASS was too loud. I said: "fer Crying out loud, I've just got the damn TV on!" Then he mentioned something about my noise at 5:00am the other day, and that really did it. I told him I am NEVER even awake at 5:00am any goddamn morning; it must have been the asshole downstairs. He pulled this SUPREMELY irritating face, with the stupid little smiling, shaking his fool head, like, of COURSE he knows I'm lying, but HE understands. That really burnt me up, so to speak, so I let him have it. Just to make him go away I said I would turn the goddamn bass down, and he went. Then I realised that it's HIM who must be the one upstairs who is always dropping friggin MARBLES or whatever the hell on his polished wood floor, there upstairs. So next time I hear ONE MARBLE hit his damn floor, I'm gonna go right up and tell him how much his marble-dropping drives me BANANAS.
(First, I should make sure that HE is the one who lives upstairs.)

Monday, July 15, 2002 10:46pm -- Wrote a report on Saturday night, working on the goddamn glostix stall at Utopia. I'm happy with it; I think I nailed the acute disgust I felt with the worst of these little rave jerks and jerkettes. Saturday was a new low. As I wrote in the report, after this last one, i really had to ask myself if going through all that is worth the money. I guess a week later it is. And I just concentrate on the fact that $100 of it is going on my Tivoli Audio Model One. The other $100 of course going on a brown bottle [morphine].

Tuesday, July 16, 2002 10:34pm -- An uneventful day. The only things I can think of writing about are comix-related business: Paul at PolyEster requested more copies of SP#13 (plus back issues, but he won't get those anytime soon because it's such a massive, daunting operation). The J Man and Steve Rehberger both wrote with praise for my Glostix story. Of course that made me proud indeed!

Wednesday, July 17, 2002 11:00pm -- Today somebody else told me how much they enjoyed my Glostix story. This person was Adam Ford - another writer. So along with The J Man praising my story, it means a lot to me. The problem now is that I want to produce something else, that is at least as good. WAAAAA! How do I do it? How the HELL do i do it, huh? What do I write about? Well, that's the main thing (or at least one of the real important things) on my mind right now.
In other HUGE news I got a call at work from Hi-Fi Junction and my Model One radio is in already - I'm picking it up tomorrow. I am so damn excited about this!

Sunday, July 21, 2002 11:45pm -- See! I knew it wouldn't be too long until I missed a day or two in this bastard. Well, I have something to say in my defense! I have also been writing stuff for my new website! Not good enough! No excuse is good enough. Excuses are pathetic. I lack discipline and that's all that can be said. And I shouldn't even beat myself up about it like this - I'm writing this shit, and WHAT have i written about?! I've written about how I haven't written about anything - how completely retarded and useless is that?
Man, I'm tired, and just wanna go to bed. I hope I will write something interesting tomorrow.

Monday, July 22, 2002 10:51pm -- King Brown Bottle is gonna be away for three weeks. Before he left I got two bottles off him (that was Thursday last) and already one is almost gone.
I am the King of justifying this and that.
Today at work it was just me and E. - M. is on 2 week holiday in New Zealand. Needless to say I got a lot done at work, on My GREAT WORK. Also, some high pressure occurred with my friend from way back Steve, over my comments on children (the little brats in my neighbourhood) - he fired back, I took it too seriously (apparently) and he got all defensive about his role as a parent; going on and on about how it doesn't cramp his style. I guess I touched a nerve. I think HE was the one who took things too seriously.