Polaroids in the Darkness

Up to Speed

2010-05-31T16:16:00.000-04:00

It's been a while between updates and for that, gentle reader, I apologize.
I apologize also to my self, because I had wanted to increase my output and it's gone south instead.
Things in my real life have continued in much the same fashion as for the last couple of months - a few things have changed though , the most significant one being that I'm no longer living in a cold basement. This a positive thing in the long run, but the way it all went down is anything but.

My sis's boyfriend kicked me out.

It happened two weeks ago.My dear friend Anne was here in the Gspot visiting from Toronto where she lives. She and her boyfriend, who's a sweetie by the way, took me out to the magical woods in the south end of town and got we got mildly lost.I never would have gone if not for them, and I had a lot of fun.
Then I arrived home to Terra and her BF arguing. I sat out on the back porch enjoying the sun and trying to ignore them and work on my computer when out he comes,all aquiver with pent up emotion and he sputters out through his clenched jaw
"you can go" trying too hard to sound tough
I say "what?" taken by surprise
and he repeats "you can go. Get out I can't take this shit anymore"
"what shit" I ask - a legitimate question I thoughgt since I have no way of knowing why he's got a bee in his bonnet
"your sister" he responds, still literally shaking with his barely contained anger - he then turns and goes back in the house while I power down the puter and think of finding a friendlier port to set anchor in for awhile - as I'm doing this he comes out again still all bugged eyed and seething
"why are you still here?" he says "get going"
and my patience, which for asshats like this guy is in short supply at the best of times, now is wearing thin and I laugh in his face and say "don't stroke out, buddy"
I proceed then tozip my bag and go to pack my gear from the basement dungeon.
I left and then some stuff happened that I'm not comfortable going into great detail about here - not that i care about nmy own privacy - But there are other people involved and I have no right to be as open with their lives as I am with my own - but the end result is he's no longer under the same roof and won't be for the forseeable future.

so on to other stuff.
This past sunday the weather gods relented in the prolonged insult that was the start of May and it became warm and now these last few days it has been hot and sunny as though we skipped spring altogether and gone straigt through into summer. This is great for me since there are few things in life I loathe as much as the cold - also as an added incentive to be thankful for the heat wave - it's much easier to be homeless - or at least underhoused when its warm than it is when it's cold.

I've been continuing to smoke pot - as I've mentioned earlier, but am still clean and sober as far as everything else goes - next week will be 3 months with no alcohol. This is doing a world of good both for my own sanity and in how people around me view me.All in all it's a good thing, and every day without a drink makes it that much more unlikely that I'll find myself backsliding.

I still don't have a place however and so I'm still couch surfing for the time being and this means just finding the sort of mental place where I can relax and think and get any creative work done is somewhat difficult. But there's no excuse for not getting anything done, and if I really mean it when I say I want to turn my pain into art, I'll find some way to do it.

With regards to my legal woes that I left off the second from most recent post with all drags along in the slow and slothful way of the Canadian (in)justice system. But I managed to get the warrant rescinded and am not a fugitive or in jail , both of which were my main fears, and real possibilities after missing that court date last month.
I'm on the bus to Toronto right now, as I type this, for my return engagement at Old City Hall, where, hopefully, I will get my disclosure from the Crown. That's not likely since the complainant and "witness" are making the whole thing up and avoiding the police for that very reason, but we shall soon see what other little twists and turns theyt have in store.
They should be duly warned, however, I'm pissing fire and in full blown "streetwalking cheetah" mode, so if they want a showdown they are going to need a bigger boat.
(and if that isn't a confused series of references and mixed metaphors, then I don't know what is,).
In other news, I went out this past weekend with a lovely old friend named Niki - she's stunning, beautiful, smart, sophisticated and funny, and I knew her years ago when her and her friend Doreen were the ultimate party girls in this sleepy little town.
We went to the park and sat by the river and smoked some dewbs and talked and laughed and I tried not to be as blatant as I wanted to be about checking her out and picturing her naked and pressed underneath me.
She's sexy and funny and smart - so I don't know why Im scared to make that first move- I feel on some level that she wouldn't be interested because of my past - which of course she knows aboput if not in full details she's at least got a reasonable hand drawn facsimilie, or the Cliff notes version.
I had a wonderful, fun time. The weather and the beauty of the river plus my lusty joy over her, were only tempered by my thoughts (again) of how disappointing it was that I no longer had a camera.
My sister has a smart phone, and I thought I could use that in the meantime, until I manage to acquire a camera of my own, but after only a few hours of messing around with it I somehow managed to brick the damnable thing, and so now there's one more gadget lying around that doesn't work.
I can't get it to start no matter what I do and I just hope it's still covered under the warranty.

Things are peaceful here in the Gspot.
Peaceful, and there's time to think. I have far less of anger and stress and pain in my day to day life, but I'm bored to the point of sobbing.
Sometimes - like on Saturday with Nikki, going out and catching up with an old friend are great - and I enjoy the freedom from the hell that life with Lisa had become, but I'm bored and lonely far too often.

So now the plan is to find a place to live. That's the first priority - like Virginia Woolf, I need a "room of one's own". I also need to find some gainful employment and if at all possible find some way of making money or at very least get free stuff with this blog.
Speaking of the blog, despite the fact that it's been some time between updates, it isn't as though I haven't been writing - I have.
I've currently got three blog posts that I'm working on and they are all of them promising to be good ones. Like the ones "Meeting Cory" and "The Needle has Landed", they all take place in the past - about 7 or 8 years ago.
The working titles offer a hint as to what they're about; Fred victor, My OverDose and Found Money.
Fred Victor is about me moving into a a rent geared to income shared housing building in the heart of Toronto's historic Cracktown district where I lived and worked and played for the next more than four years. it was there that things became exclusively about the drugs with no other distractions able to get through to me in the crack palace which turned into a nightmare mirrored stairway in no time at all.
My Overdose ( as the title suggests,) is the story of the events leading up to my overdose
And the one on Found money also is pretty much self explanatory.

I started this blog just over a year ago and it began as something I needed to do to achieve some catharsis - a need to just get something out. There was a smaller portion of it that was simply boredom and then a drop of learning what's up with web technology since last timei poked around. But mostly it was a way to safely release some of the feelings I was having and to give myself a voice.Despite it being publicly available, I truly doubted anyone but 1 or 2 people might read my lame rambling thoughts.
As it turns out though a whole bunch of people started reading and talking to me through email and tweeting me encouragement and as a result of writing it I've met a lot of very interesting and great people. plus it's given me a very valuable release and I daresay my writing has even improved, if only incrementally.
My way of looking at this blog and at what I write has changed dramatically in this time and not necessarily in the ways you might think.

I'm certainly much more conscious of people reading this and that I have an audience, however small that audience may be. But this hasn't affected my willingness to be open and honest in what I write , nor am I inclined to hush ove r things that may be embarrassing to mehonesty about real things that may be embarrassing.
But an awareness that there are actually people reading, that I have an audience has made me want to give the blog more "value" (much as I hate these biznobby terms and the world view they represent.)
I don't feel right anymore about just slapping together the first few thoughts I can dash off on a paticular subject and then posting it - instead I actually want to make it something I'd be interested in reading.
There's nothing happening with my non-existant sex life either these days, which is beginning to become a source of discomfort at the very least.
But I have to remember to not let it get me down to not let it stop me from feeling sexy and desirable.I've become so used to using sex and other people to make me feel good about myself and worthwhile and its hard to get the same sort of thing just on my own.

And that's the state of Sadie these days, and now, gentle reader, you are officially up to speed.

Slayer Sleeps

2010-05-20T00:58:00.027-04:00

I was browsing around on Flickr the other day and I did a search for "Toronto" and "homeless" and came across a picture of a girl I knew named Slayer. or at least Slayer is what she was called by everybody. I can't remember for sure what her real name was - and it doesn't matter anyway. She was always just Slayer.
We first met when I lived at the Fred Victor and she would panhandle and squeegee nearby. Lisa was always trying to turn her out, telling her she could get a lot more money for a lot less work, but Slayer never did hit the corner.
Lisa knew her because they were both in Vanier - the womens jail - at the same time.
Later she moved in just down the hall from Lisa and I at the Woodgreen building. And by then she had a dog named Shiloh. I remember her sharing pizza with us, and one time while Lisa and I were fighting she came by and we shared some Jack Daniels.
That wasn't a good place for Slayer to be I don't think, with all the drugs and craziness in that building, so I hope she's found something better. Lisa would sometimes talk about the three of us hooking up sexually, but it never happened. Which is a shame because she always had such a gorgeous ass.
But seeing this picture on Flicr got me to thinking about the idea of photographing disadvantaged and disenfranchised people. Especially without permission.
The morality or ethics of it being too complex for me right now.
But it's nice to see someone I know in any event, and I hope she's doing well.
Photo :Pink Hair Blue Ink
Originally uploaded by The Taste of Rain

A Disastrous Day

2010-05-12T23:41:00.002-04:00

Wednesday May 12th of 2010 will go down as a trial. not a trial in a court of law - oh no, we missed that party, but a trial and a test of my will.

Today I was supposed to appear in court, at two o clock.

Not for anything big, but simply to show up, make an appearance, and get disclosure from the Crown. This all stems from the events that also wound me up having to leave the Roach Motel as you may remember from here.

There was a misunderstanding though today in regards to the the schedule and we wound up not even leaving until a quarter after two. Fifteen minutes after I was supposed to be there.

My stomach sank. It felt as though it were acually "sinking" I'd never realized how literal the expression could really be , I was panicing and furious at the same time and so I sat and turned on my laptop, and pounded out vitriolic smokeshow rant that condemned everyone and everytyhing without mercy.

It was entitled This is Such Fucking Bullshit

here's an excerpt (typing left as is,)

This is such fucking bullshit!
i got to the bus station all ready to make the trip to Toronto for my court appearance
only to find that we'd missed the bus and now at the best I'll be 1 and a half hours late.
So, hopefully they'll still be in session when I gewt there, because othedrwise, I'll have a
warrent for my arrest and have to go wait in jail for a month or so.
This whole day turns into a shitstorm of massive proportions - just under an hour to wait
now for thwe bus, and I'm supppsed yto be in court in 40 minutes. Fuck!
I've got that horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when things are spinning
hopelessly out of control, and there is absolutely noithing that can be done about it -
Liike a slow motion train wreck

I hope and pray that this works out and I'm there in time to salvage this. I just can't go
to jail again - not even for a day. I can't do it
I'm so pissed off right now - pissedoff that I missed the bus,
poissed off thaty I'm in this bullshit city, pissed off about everything and very,
very pissed off at Lisa for ruining my life and being the root cazuse of all this bullshit

I knew even then that I wouldn't make it, but I had to go and deal with clearing it up - plus there wa sat least a chance that I could still make it in time to catch the session.

But of course my gut was right as it oftebn is, and I had missed it. So I got a "request to recind" form from the Duty council office ( for my American friends, this is like the public defender, in your court, and the Crown is the equivalent to your District Attorney)

I then had to spend the next hour racing from office to office and then finally getting the Crown attorney to sign off on it then returning it to the court clerk and after all of this I still have to be back tomorrow morning at 10.

As you can see I was pissed off. But I also wasn't in a very positive state, so you can imagine that by the time I actually got to Court at Old City Hall I was practically spewing steam from my nostrils.

On top of all this stressors and my generally agitated state, I was inundated with a flood of sense memories from my past.

The streeets of Toronto are crowded with ghosts.

Walking along, no matter how involved I am in whatever else I have going on and then Bang! I round a corner and suddenly I'm somewhere else - back in time and back in space and back most of all in spirit, and there is the liquor store, the one with the punks sitting begging in front - but that hardly narrows it down - the one where I was arrested that time. I had money, but I was drunk and I pocketed a mickey of Jack Daniels while buying wine.

Security saw the whole thing

It was where Lisa and I once got given change from a 50 for our 10.

and then later once the booze toolk hold, she insisted that it was her money - because she'd somehow distracted the clerk, her beauty making his mind slip up and lose count of the money

Hogwash.

But we bought wine with it anyway

And it was thnat liquor store we would go to in the morning to buy our cheap twist top wine while I was at Womens res. Especially if it was early because it opened an hour earlier than the beloved Wine Rack

Always a twist top, because we lacked a corkscrew and surely didn't want to wind up in the unenviable position of having wine and being unable to drink it.

(Analogous to but in no way as severe in severity as having crack, and a pipe without a light I've seen people light fires on their stove tops in search of a flame for that one last toke.

I make it past the EllCee, and past more ghosts at the tea shop above which used to be a asian crack dealer who woiuld sell 10 doller stones each wrapped in a little individual ten dollar tinfoil envelopes - it was there that Lisa spent the night sucking cock and smokikng crack and left me waiting the day of what we always called the Waverly Incident.

Once after the long after the Waverly Incident there was a time I went there one night to this guy with the tinfoil - and the stairs were covered in fresh blood, someone had been stabbed a mere hour or so before we arrived. Freaky.

I heard he got busted shortly thereafter.

And there's the park behind the (still) new Art Gallery. In cold weather they open the community center for homeless people to sleep not an full time shelter, but part of an initiativce called Out of the Coldthey have a space for men and for women and for couples - which was so great for us - and I rememer Lisa's excitement when they asked our name, and Lisa said shmoo, so our bag of bedding and on any forms we were filled in as the shmoos. this delighted her to no end.

Ghosts crowd every corner and every laneway and every park we pass. At times I am afraid they will suffocate me, the ghosts.

But also someplaces are so full of them - the court being an example , and Chinatown and Kensington being two more, the streets and laneways and parks where ghosts choke my light off and I feel I can't breathe

When I got the news at the bus station nthat I was going to be late I sunk into a pit that by the time we got to the court I was frothing and mad with grief and anger and sorrow. I had turned near feral - it wasn't until much later on - even now calm down and see this as it really is and that is as an inconvenience and a pain in the ass perhaps, sure. But not the calamatious event -the horrible final dagger that I was imagining it to be earlier on.

It's a scary thing this anger that can rise up like that but the beautiful thing is there are a few poisitive lessons I can take from this - for example I knew going in that it was going to be a strugl too not drink anything while there and then missing the bus upped the odds a bit and then on finding out Id have to be back in the morning I almost caved in.

I went round the bend and as we walked towards Yehuahs I still can't believe I didn't buy any booze.

It was all I could do not to.

And now I must go to sleep and try not to dream of ghosts.

Not a Drop

2010-05-08T15:49:00.001-04:00

This past Wednesday (May the Fifth,) marked the 2 month point since I have had any alcohol.

Not a single drop.

As long time readers will know, at the time of my arrest - which precipitated this latest move and life changeup - I was drinking a lot.

But for newer readers lets quantify this and say that since October of 2009, Not a single day has gone by that I didn't personally consume a bare minimum of a litre of wine a day. In the final weeks at the roach motel it wasn't unusual for Lisa and I to drink 8 liters in a 24 hour period between the two of us.

Now, that's a lot of drinking. For months on end, we would drink and drink, and on waking would feel sick and sweaty, and horrible, until the Wine Rack opened at 11 AM and we'd start drinking again.

I don't miss that at all.

And this might be as good a time as any to address and assess the whole subject of my recovery and how that's going.

It was exactly a year ago this week that I went in to detox after having to flee what had become a nightmarish and dangerous crack fuelled carnival at the Woodgreen building in the East End of Toronto

That was a minor miracle - going to detox and then thru a addiction program when I did. If things had continued the way they were going, there is no doubt I surely would have been dead.

My treatment ended and I found myself out and about in the city once again, with money in my purse and time on my hands.

And I started to drink.

I knew that alcohol was a drug as much as anything else is, but it seemed to me that it was better than smoking crack or shooting heroin and so I drank.

When I first agreed to go into treatment I had never inended for alcohol to be part of the deal. Sure, I wanted to quit drugs, but I would (this was the plan,) continue to use alcohol in moderation.

Well, in retrospect, that probably wasn't a great idea, and very quickly that drinking became as obsesive and excessive as any crack run.

And then I wound up in jail, and had a couple of slip ups with crack

I was really just substituting one drug for another and when Lisa and I reconciled and she too began to replace her crack habit with booze she took to it with the same fatal enthusism she always took to any new drug, and we simply stayed drunk all the time.

So now I've realized I'm just not able to drink in moderation, not at this time. I'm just glad I realized this and have been able to stop. As I learned back at the U of T, nothing will cloud your thinking and rob your spirit quicker than drinking will.

So how does pot fit into this?

My own personal lowdown on the green is this:

I figure pot is okay. For several years I abused my body with every drug I could but mostly crack and heroin. With crack I would smoke and smoke and be up for days on end - my record is 10 days with no sleep and almost no food. That night I blacked out while out working the corner and the next memory I have is waking up on my dealers couch with a 40 stone clutched untouched in my hand. Who knows what might have happened. The only way I know I broke - that is to say turned a trick - is because I had the money to buy crack. And so I must have.

No matter how much pot you smoke, that sort of thing just isn't going to happen.

People who follow the 12 steps and the Narcotics Anonymous dogma will say that any drug is as bad as any other, and that by continuing to smoke pot I'm setting myself up for a fall. And maybe they're right. But I don't think so.

I think the pot makes me feel good, and it's not a compulsion or an addiction the way that crack or booze is - at least not for me.

So, 12 Steppers be damned, I'm keeping the pot.

In other news, it's now over 10 days I've been on my antidepressants (more drugs,) and thankfully most of the crazy side -effects have subsided. But the good news is in that ten days I've yet to have a despairing, down and dirty, full on episode of those feelings of self-loathing and depression that have plagued me.

Is this solely because of the anti-depressants, or are there other factors involved?

Sure being out of that vicious cycle of addiction and poverty has helped and being away from Lisa is probably doing me a world of good (although I confess there are times I still miss her,) - but there is no denying the Pristiq has helped. And so I continue to take them.

Pills Are Painless

2010-05-03T14:16:00.025-04:00

365 day 48
Originally uploaded by tiram13

"As I was lying in a hospital bed /
a rock and roll nurse came to my head /
she said hold out your arm / stick out your tongue/
I got some pills I'm gonna give you some"
"Pills" Bo Diddley

Finally managed to see a doctor on Thursday. And his first name is actually Gaylord.
Poor kid, I'll bet high school was rough.
He asked a lot about medical history and the like, since this was my first time seeing him. my depression came up, and was then the main subject of discussion, and when I left he'd prescibed me a round of anti-depressants - specifically, a drug called Pristiq.
The first two days had me feeling very fidgety and squirmy from them - the best way to descibe it is they made me feel llike I'd been dosed with a teeeny, tiny, micro dose of Acid or of Ecstacy - not enough to be high, but just enough to feel slightly twisted.
On the plus side, I'm also not in as terrible of a headspace as I have been.
It makes me squirmy, as I say, and also causes some jaw clenching which is a problem for two reasons.
One it's just painful, plain and simple ;and two - the whole jaw clenching, teeth grinding thing is all part and parcel of the crack experience and so doing it is bringing on body memories which because of that association become a trigger.
My brain is fuzzy a bit too, and I'm having a bit of a problem concentrating, so I was worried that I wouldn't be be able to focus enough to write or get anything done but my head seems to be making a comeback today.
Prestiq is what is called a serotonin norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor
As with most of these SNRIs, "weird" side effects are supposed to go away in a week or two.
I'll post an update if anything more happens with them.

Phantom Jones

2010-04-28T02:41:00.001-04:00

I used to have a pretty clear idea of who I was - and it doesn't fit who I've become now.

I need to focus more on staying clean. I need direction, I need something to believe in - and that could be a as a good thing to focus on as any. I need to pat myself on the back a little too, because it is a fucking hard thing to do.

For the past couple of days wanting to get high in the worst way I can remember in a very long time. Just not being ready to go another second without something. Something. Anything.

Feeling an unshakeable sadness about everything the last little while - not a depression, just a sadness - a feeling that my youth is gone, my looks are gone there's nothing really to look forward to. The loss of who I am.

A dozen or so times this past week I'll just suddenly and for no apparent reason have a strong and unmistakable taste of crack in my mouth. And not just a hint of it, but a full mouthful like I'd just had a hit.This leads to a full out jonesing that is indescribable to someone who hasn't lived it and unforgettable to anyone who has.

But I guess the way to look at it positively is that I didn't get any dope. And I didn't drink - and that's been a hard pull on the wheel for a week or so now as well.

I think the worst part is over.

On a totally unrelated note, I was very dissatisfied with the last two blog entries. The twitterversary one and the one before it that was so forgettable I can't even remember what it was.

They need to be fixed also the blog needs to be gone through from top to bottom with links added and/or fixed and spelling corrected and I'm thinking of going back and rewriting certain whole sections of it but I'm reluctant to do this for a few reasons not the least of which is the desire to just leave it as it stands because that was sort of the idea.

It's supposed to have a sort of spontaneity thing going for it I thought, non?

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Trying To Reboot

2010-04-27T17:30:00.002-04:00

I had to reinstall Windows again the other night for the second time in under 2 weeks. This computer has definitely been a struggle to keep up and running these last 5 or so months.

And so the next morning, after the reinstall (and coincidentally the morning after the most recent post on this very blog,) - I spent hours finding all the files and software and getting everything set up on the machine all over again, installing all the familiar and indispensable programs and assessing how much was lost - in terms of data.

Always a right pain in the ass that.

Because that's going to be the real kicker just how many files, pictures, songs, memories, ideas, have gone forever.Oh sure I'm familiar with the idea of backing up. I just don't do it as regularly as I should. When a computer crashes it's not that big a deal, and even if you need to reformat and start with a clean slate as it were, you're still aren't really in the shit unless you lose data such as your pictures and your contacts a login info, etc etc

For this reason, my eventual migration to the cloud is not just seeming sensible, but inevitable.

"Cloud" computing is one of the latest buzzwords in a tech community that loves buzzwords.the idea is that essentially you store all your data online (the "cloud") and access your work from anywhere on any machine. Your documents, pics ultimately the apps themselves aren't stored locally on some harddrive, and (for our purposes,) don't get lost when the system gets nuked.

Naturally there are people who charge money for this, but there are some free alternatives.

I'm trying out Google Docs, since it's free, and using this combined with their email, and their browser and even this blog is on their blogging site

All your base are belong to Google

The document creation features in Google Docs are getting their first test in the typing and editing this post right now because when this rusty old rickety and shaky old machine finally goes down for the count, I don't want to lose all this typing.

All the features a gal could want but without the distraction of losing everything if it crashes or of twitchy software mangling and corrupting files, or of a crowded hard drive

Nope this is my own budget version of cloud computing.

It fits really well with the new me in terms of possessions - the yogis certainly had that right. the less you have the better off you are.

I don't know if that's true or not, but I do know that since I have nothing - nothing at all, it may just be the most empowering way to look at my life right now.

I think of everything I've lost over the years - all my worldly possessions - a few times over.

The first time it happened was when I got kicked out of Fred victor, and it was probably the biggest blow - maybe because it was the first time, but also maybe because that was when I still had something to lose.

And I had so much cool stuf - there were the big things like my stereo and my CD's and movies, the TV, the old desktop computer. All of it gone in an instant. I had gotten evicted and when the day finally came for the Sherrif's office to show up and remove me, I took all that I could carry oin my back. there was nothing else to do, nowhere to store the stuff, and no way to know how long it would be before I hasd somewhere else in any case even if I could have found somewhere to put it all. And so it was abandoned. As so many things have been.

I started rebuilding a collection of things again the next time I was housed - this time at the Woodgreen building near Queen and Carlaw and that was a complete and total disaster. A bottom that I hit so hard I wound up fleeing and again abandoning everything, but I got sober out of the deal I guess. Again I losot every thing - but there was less to lose, and so when it came time now, in my present, to leave the roach motel I barely gave a thought to packing what instantly sprang to mind in a gym bag and my backpack and then heading away never to return. never to burn out in that particular ring of hell.

And here comes the obvious metaphor that we've all been waiting for - My life is a bit like that my computer, in that it's became unfuctioning and now I need to reformat, and wipe everything clean to reinstall a working OS and get rid of the all the accumulated clutter.

Much like the computer too, some of the changes will be simply cosmetic, but most of them - the ones that really matter will be mostly under the hood.

Yesterday I wrote "I'm motivated to get on with it today. No more hacking about at things. I'm ready to write and to start creating all that art that I was talking about creating last year. I need to get a spring back in my step, a tiger in my tank, and a cock in my pocket"

and I did genuinely feel that way. Motivated, full of vim and vigour - inspired even.

Had my meeting with Ronia - my Employment Facilitator through the OW program and that put me in a pretty upbeat mood - she's good for that. If you can look past the inspirational aphorisms and platitudes - she's got a good energy and it's hard to be negative around her. She also made me feel - for the first time in a really long while - longer even than I can remember - that I could possibly get a job - and not just some shit job to make ends meet but something I actually enjoy.

Instead of accomplishing anything all day though, I spent it smoking massive amounts of weed all day - and that - although pleasureable - prevented me from actually getting anything worthwhile done. And I'm smoking all day for what reason? well, first there's boredom - I bore easily at the best of times and being stuck in this One Starbucks Town with no friends and no money and no sex is really pretty desolate and empty, another reason is that it was there. And whether it's weed, or crack, or prescription pain pills if it's there, I'm going to use it. But the number one reason has to be my inexplicable and overpowering jonesing for crack for going on 4 or 5 days now/. last night was especially bad. I had the taste of it in my mouth all night long and no amount of teethbrushing, smoking or eating could get rid of it. It's a horrible wretched feelimng - wanting something so irrationally and strongly and at the same time loathing even the idea of it. I suppose a parrallel could be drawn with the relationship with Lisa and the whole thing was making me melancholy and bitchy, and a little bit lost in my own world

I was detrmined, yesterday to update the blog - even with just a small post - so I could feel I'd managed to accomplish something, but by the time 11:30 finally crept up on me and I still hadn't gotten anything done I was too stoned to do anything about it and instead watched Fringe and then finally drifted off to sleep at abpout 6 in the morning

I also wrote last night "Tomorrow I need to get it in gear tomorrow I can do this tomorrow I'm going to shine out."

Soi much for that little plan - but I guess there's stil a few hours left to turn everything around

I've been thinking about Lisa and all those dreams that have died, and hopes that will never be realized, just a little bit less every day now, and that is probably a really good thing, although at the same time it makes me sad.

I had really believed we were different, that we were special - I really believed in us.

Yesterday for a while - the briefest of whiles - I really thought I could see some light at the end of the tunnel. That one day things could be good again, but that feeling is gone today and I'm struggling to get it back.

So now I must become like a tiger stalking its prey. Now silent in the grass, unmoving - now swift and savage and beautiful as death.

I don't know what that means, but it's as good a way to wrap this up as any

Twitterversary

2010-04-23T19:15:00.001-04:00

Based on a simple google search, I think it's safe to say I'm not the only person curious - "how long have I been on twitter?"
There are several services that will tell you just this, and so I went to whendidyoujointwitter.com and as it happens the virtual "twitter-me"is one year old today.
I have followed and been followed back in the the Twitterverse for a whole year now. A place that exists - like the Twilight Zone - just outside your reality.

And what has Twitter brought me in this past year? - and maybe more importantly what have I brought it?
What has my contribution to this hive mind amounted to in that time?
Now I'm going to do a quick recap of some of the highlight's of my "life" on twitter. And then parallel those with events from my life in last year. Because that's how you do this.
So how does it feel to be a year old on Twitter?
It's changed the way I use the internet, and given me a lot of great links to things - it's been an early warning system on all things news or media related. I remember too, the whole thing with the Iranian election and how for a time everyone was sporting the green avatars.
I've gotten a lot of laughs, and learned a lot about some pretty diverse things, and I think I've even made a couple of real friendships.
I've learned a lot about myself, too and I was surprised at just how quickly I sink to the level of a vicious 2nd grade hooligan.
Towards the end of the summer I seldom tweeted at all. Life just wasn't set up for it. I had no consistant wifi access and there was the whole debacle of the computers -thieved and smashed - and trying to keep one, in working order while living on the streets.
But I tried to keep my hand in, although the intermittent times I'd log in to my account I was piss drunk and my typing in those tweets was even worse than my normal unintelligible peckings on the keyboard. i flounderd and dashed off as much as I could manage while hopping from shelter to shelter.
Since joining twitter I've been to jail. That was not a good experience.
And oh there are so many stories in there if I could ever just get them all out
What have I given back this year?
I guess my main contribution (other than being a whiny know it all bitch who sits in the back eating all the hummous and correcting peoples grammar.) is the blog. This very one you, gentle reader, are now perusing.
Twitter and this blog kind of go hand in hand -they were both started at the same time - and just like my twitter acount has changed so has my blog
It started out as just a kind of a release - a journal of stuff that I needed to vent as I went into recovery. Since then it's almost as though there is a pretension to art here on the lame blog.
It's been a pretty wild ride of a year in spots.
Now it loks as though I'l be on here for another one, an my hope is that my life is decidedly less interesting and both my twitter timeline and this blog are far more so.

Just a Wee Update

2010-04-20T17:30:00.000-04:00

Another week has come and gone and nothing much has changed.
I'm pissed off and disappointed with myself for my lack of writing, and for not even managing
to update this lame blog.
Still no job, and still no place to really call home - as I remain camped out with my sister
and her family in the scenic and frightening wilds of Redneck City, Ontario.
Last week my general sour mood and dissatisfaction with life turned into a full blown
depression, and by the weekend I was having uncontrollable suicidal urges.
Luckily I've weathered that particular storm and am much better now.
This is in part due to there finally being some - however small- movement on the welfare front
and I the promise that I may be able to get my rotten, embarrassing teeth fixed.
I also may be able to get a place to live by the end of this month which would do wonders for
my emotional state, I'm sure.
I also learned today - through my initial meeting with a counsellor at the Canadian Mental
Health Association that there is a GLBT Resource Center here in Redneck City, and on Thursday
I'm going to check them out to see what they have to offer in terms of both volunteer
opportunities and community support.
I've been doing really well with no drugs or drinking but it has become increasingly difficult,
and this past weekend it was all I could do to not buy a bottle of bourbon and drink until I
couldn't see.
So I've just been doing what I do when I'm not fit for human consumption - watching TV shows on
the beloved (and hated) lappie. Recently it's been "Parenthood", "Rome" and "Glee".
On top of all the rest of this, I've started to despair of ever having sex again. It's really
not helping my general mood.

Tomorrow I have to go to Toronto for my first court date over this alleged "assault", and I'm
looking forward to it. Not the court so much, but the chance to get out of this town for a few
hours will be nice.
While there I plan on stopping by my dear friend Yehudah's place and maybe even getting a
little pot.
Then maybe when I get back I can pick up the story of how I got into this mess from where I
left off, which I believe was just when it was about to get really interesting.
So if you were hoping for a good read and an exciting blog update this time out, sorry to
disappoint - but check back in a couple of days and there may be something worth reading.

Super Ho

2010-04-12T16:26:00.001-04:00

Before Cory had lost her place at the Hotel Heartbreak and before I had lost mine and moved
to Toronto to join her at the Roach Motel, was like a wonderful honeymoon period where we
became something less than lovers and something more than friends.
We bonded instantly and as the weeks went by we grew closer and closer.
That first night would have been enough.
What with New Years Eve, my bad trick, the introduction to the world of crack, and Patti
Smith, but over the next couple of weeks we became a virtually inseparable rock and roll
tag-team of terror who - so I imagined - could only continue to move upwards and onwards as time went on.
One night Cory scored big time - she was out working between Strachan and Parkdale and she
managed to land a date who had just gotten off the plane from Vancouver.He was ready to
spend and she'd gotten from him - before doing anything and independent of what he was
going to pay for a her to come back to his hotel room - 200 dollars worth of drugs- 140 in
heroin, most if which was for her, and a 60 piece of crack, which she came back to the
apartment with - him waiting in a cab downstairs on Queen Street, no less - just to give me
some crack to smoke before she got back.
Later when she returned for the night, she had hauled in even more and when she passed out
after a few hours and many drugs later, there was 400 dollars in cash, and about an equal
amount in drugs on the table.
She awoke a few hours later and was amazed to find it all still there.
This was when we started calling one another "sister", and Cory concluded I was the most trustworthy person on the planet.
To the average person, this may not seem like as big a thing as it is to an addict.
Because in a square's life, why would I have touched it? Neither the money nor the dope was
mine, but a junkie just doesn't live in that world.
A junkie knows that another junkie - even your best friend or your Mother will steal a five dollar bill from you while you're sleeping - even if they have money of their own and it's the last of yours. That's just how it is. And so I went up on that day in her estimation a thousandfold.

Cory's room, as I've said before, was a disgusting and cluttered mess. There was literally
2 feet deep of mixed clothing and papers and garbage and drug paraphernalia all mixed in a
jumble on the every square inch of the floor and covering the mattress that lay in the
center of the room.
Her fridge didn't work, and didn't close properly and still had rotten food in it from back when it had. The bathroom was so foul that we would usually try our best to avoid using it, and instead used the public washrooms in restaurants and coffee shops along the Queen West strip. This was mostly because of her cat, who having run out of fresh litter ages ago, now used the bathroom as one giant litter box. Which made the thought of several local girls occasionally bringing tricks up to use the bathroom for quick blowjobs or to hit up that much more unsettling.
Like most junkies, Cory had managed to lose control over pretty much every aspect of her
life that straight society said mattered - from family , to ID, to adequate cleanliness.
One area though she'd become a master of and that was in keeping the habit fed.
To that end, she would always make sure - as I was soon to learn all too painfully well, most junkies did, - to have something in the morning so as not to get sick.
And this isn't the "cravings" or "bitchiness" or irritability that non-addicts seem to think it is.
No, junk sickness is worse than anything a non-junkie could possibly imagine. It's like the worst flu you've ever had, complete with cold sweats, nausea, diarheah - the works - to the power of 20.
Once you feel the sickness coming on you'll do anything - even risk losing friends, family, your freedom or your life to avoid.
But like I say, Cory was a pro at this, and so it was surprising, both to me and her when one day she wasn't able to have her "pick me-up" in the morning and found herself in the unenviable position of having this sickness coming on far faster than she could do anything about. Soon she was much too sick to go out and work, and then soon after too sick to even get out of bed.
It was my first experience with someone in the throes of serious withdrawal and I felt powerless to help out my new "sister".
It was more too, than simply feeling shitty - someone in this stage of opioid addiction can very easily have a seizure or even stroke when in this acute withdrawal. that's why there are medical detox centres.
So by the time the sun had set, she was sweating and puking and had shit herself and I was trying to keep her comfortable and clean up, but it was clearly not getting any better before it got much, much worse.
So I started to put on make-up and get dressed, in the hopes that if I made the near hour walk up to the Tranny track i might be able to get enough money to get her out of this.
I wasn't hopeful. Even if I got enough to be of any help,and that was a big if at this point - it was still long before peak hours and I was still new at whoring, my biggest single trick being for 75 dollars a couple of weeks earlier. So off I set , walking in my sexiest outfit through the now thinning rush hour crowds to the corner of Homewood and Maitland to wait for who knew how long for a date.
But fate was in my favour and I wasn't on the stroll for more than 15 minutes when a cab pulled alongside me and the guy in the back said
"I've got 160 dollars, do you want to come back to my condo?"
and I practically leapt into the cab.
Much to my pleasant surprise, his condo was only one block south of the Hotel Heartbreak where I could in my mind picture Cory shivering and crying amidst the filth.
We went to his place, and he started jerking himself off.
"strip" he said curtly,
and as I did so, he started doing toke after toke in rapid fire succession on a popcan turned pipe.
By the time I'd gotten out of my dress, and started to go to work on his cock - he was seeming distant and more than a little sad.
"what the matter?" I asked,
hoping he wouldn't start freaking out -as I'd seen people do before when they were smoking
"nothing,"
he said unconvincingly as he melted then smoked another stone
"I'm not going to be able to get it up," he continued -crack often had that effect
"you can just go if you want,"
And in 2 seconds flat I was dressed and out the door, and running - as close to running as I could manage in 5" heels - up the street and back to Cory.
I came in to find her curled in a ball and shaking so hard I thought she was seizuring.
"did you get any money?" she asked weakly and desperately.
I threw the 160 onto the grey, stained pillow beside her and said "get your dealer on the phone"
Within an hour we were melting onto the floor of the Felafel Queen, picking at food we no longer seemed hungry for.
And for the next week I was to be introduced to Cory's friends simply as "Super Ho"

Donate Button

2010-04-09T11:00:00.000-04:00

Hiya folks.
Well, I added a a "donate" button to the blog. You can see it over to the right there.
Now essentially what this amounts to is high tech begging. I'm the first to admit that.
As a lot of people who regularly read this thing are aware, I am screwed, lewd and tattooed financially right now.
I'm looking for work, and I have an appointment with Ontario Works next week, but I've
essentially had to abandon my home and leave all my stuff behind, and I've got nothing. Literally.
This last month I've been doing the Blanche Dubois thing and living off the "kindness of
strangers" but that kindness is wearing a little thin - I've exhausted all my options and
the simple fact is that I need money.
That's the unvarnished truth of the matter.
I'm doing great at trying to get myself straightened out - I haven't drank alcohol in over a month, but cash is in short supply.
Every little bit helps, and (just to give you an idea,) if every person I'm "friends" with
on Facebook gave just 5 bucks, I 'd be able to get myself a place to live.
If half of those people donated I could afford some food and maybe some much needed clothes
(currently I have two pairs of pants and 5 tshirts - and thats the extent of my wardrobe)
Anyway, I'm not expecting much out of this, but at the same time I have the faint hope that maybe, just maybe this might help me out of this mess.
So if you've read and enjoyed the blog and you can spare anything at all. It would do me a world of good, and you could feel good about helping somebody who really needs it.
And if you don't want to or aren't in a position to donate anything , well I hope this doesn't scare you off as being crass or money grubbing or desperate and shallow, and I hope you continue to read the blog and support me that way.
Thank you all for reading and I now return you to your regularly scheduled story of drugs and depravity and madness and hope and loss and love.
See ya in the funny pages.
xoxoxoxox
Sadie

Fuck You

2010-04-08T21:17:00.000-04:00

Fuck You
Fuck you, gentle reader. That's right fuck you. I hope you had a shitty day. I hope your life sucks. I hope someone you care about is screaming in pain. In agonizing guts spewing, barfing blood, pain.
I hate everything and I'm sick of pretending I don't.
I'm sick of pretending to smile and pretending to like these shitty people, and shitty websites, and shitty songs, and shitty TV shows
I wish everything were burnt and smoking and gone. That everything I've ever known, or ever will know was gone.
I just want right now to be in Lisa's arms again and I don't care if that's bad. And I don't care if your pale ass says that she's no good for me. Right now I wish that the world were blotted out, erased, annihilated, and all that remained was us. That we could be the way we were then for all time - frozen in eternity - like flies in amber- when she would holler "SHMOO!" up at the Fred Victor window, and we'd smoke crack and hold one another and everything seemed okay.
Fuck you.
I want to rip my chest open and find this thing, this "love" inside me.
I would tear it out and stomp on it, I would do a little dance and then I would shit on it.
Shit on this fucking waste, this worthless thing you call love.
Fuck you

The distillers - Sick of it all

The Needle Has Landed

2010-03-31T11:40:00.002-04:00

I returned to my sleepy little town after New Years feeling refreshed and renewed.
The bad date -which I guess was a rape- didn't matter , getting kicked out of a party didn't matter.
What mattered was that I had -against all odds - found someone I could relate to, a real friend and someone who seemed to be doing what i wanted to do. Cory was like the epitome of the sort of rock n roll junkie I had dreamed of for so long. She was like Keith Ricjhards with a needle in his arm and a bottle of Jack in his hand - only blonde and prettier.
So when I next bought cocaine in Guelph, I didn't bother doing lines in the bathroom at the Scummy Spazz, our local watering hole, anymore, and instead rushed home with it and cooked it up into crack, The recipe for which I'd gotten off the internet.
I was in the process of transitioning from male to female at the time, and that was still new and I was really reinventing myself in many ways.I felt Toronto was a bigger and more challenging blank canvas to work with. I wasn’t just reinventing myself as a woman, but rather reinventing a whole new persona that was all wrapped up in this rock n roll junkie heroin-chic thing.

I even managed to turn a couple of tricks in quiet little Guelph - one completely by accident.
I was hungry late one night and the only place serving food was the pizza place downtown that had slices so, drunk as all hell, out I went to get pizza - on the way a trick stopped and when I approached the car where he'd stopped and rolled down his window I got the shocked and offended "you're a guy" that I was to hear many times over the next few years and he drove off.
In the few minutes it took for me to have gotten my slice he was back. Whether to do me harm a la the crying game I didnt know - so he rolled his window down again and again I approached only this time he was nicer "so how much for a blow job then" and I hopped in the car we drove top the church parking lot right near my house and I did him for 50 bucks.-
that was added to the kitty so that when I went to to Toronto at the end of the week I'd be able to buy drugs - not only did I want it for myself but I wanted to make my new best friend Cory happy.

The week went by in a rush and a haze and I talked non-stopto my friends and to my coworkers at the cafe about my new friend. At weeks end, I finally got a couple of days off in a row and headed by bus to the city and there made a beeline straight to Cory's. When I showed her the crack pipe I'd made to smoke my homemade rock she laughed and said "Oh no I'vcreated a monster" she had no idea how true that was.
We got some crack and in a rush to smoke it right then and there, did a couple of quick tokes in a streetcar shelter since it was raining. While we were smoking, a business woman - or at least a woman who appeared to have a life - came by and was too disgusted or scared once she saw us that she chose to stand in the rain rather than in the shelter - as Cory was melting the final stone she smiled and said to the woman
"don't worry about us - just a couple crackheads doing a toke -you can have the shelter bacjk in a minute"
Cory had this way about her - she made friends easily and when she flashed that smile few could resist.
We made it back to Cory's and she went out to work - she had a heroin habit to feed after all.
I waited amongst the carnage that was her room, and when she returned this time she had a packet of junk with her.I asked if I could shoot it instead of snorting it, because if I was going to do something i might as well do it all the way, and so Cory gave me my first shot of junk, I still remember it like the first time falling in love. It was beautiful.
I thought "this is it! this is what Ive been looking for!" and I wondered why I'd ever bothered with all the drinking and smoking pot. This, this junk is what I'd been looking for all along
We bought another 40 piece of crack and continued to rampage for three days until I had to return home to my University town again to go to work.
My boss at work, a wonderful woman, who'd been like a mentor to me in life as well as the kitchen, commented to me one Day
"I think it's so good you aren't drinking as much these days . Good for you"
one of my coworkers - Janelle - muttered under her breath
"yeah now you're a junkie, good for you"
I wasn't a junkie yet - but I was well on my way..
Cory left or rather lost her place and moved to the Roach Motel (yes, gentle reader, the selfsame one that Lisa and I were to stay at years later,) I started missing shifts now, which I'd never done, and doing more and more drugs. Finally I lost both my job and my apartment and on my birthday I ran into my old friend Nancy, who was visiting her hometown from Montreal and we sat in my empty apartment with no hydro and shot cocaine.
Once the apartment and the job were gone there was nothing keeping me in Guelph and I packed up what little I had and joined Cory at the Roach Motel.

Meeting Cory

2010-03-28T00:59:00.006-04:00

When I first met Cory I was still making my initial, tentative forays out onto the stroll. I was getting on the job training - learning how to turn tricks and how to act,what tricks liked and what they didn't and learning most of all how to get more money. I'd sucked a couple of dicks before, but I learned so much in such a short time. Then there was meeting the other girls out on the stroll a cast of characters "Star Actress Charlene would say - and some of those girls were tough! Usually the hottest looking ones. Don't fuck with a tranny.- most of them were at least outwardly friendly to me, a few giving advice and a couple trying to bum cigarettes. I was at this point in my life relatively new to hard drugs - I'd done acid in high school and Ecstasy a few times, I'd explored my own
consciousness on mushrooms and buzzed around or wasted a day or three with valium or other benzo's. I had smoked pot since I was young and been drinking a lot by the time I hit high school. But I'd so far managed to avoid getting a cocaine habit or worse becoming a junkie. More through lack of easy access, than anything against it. In fact it was the opposite.They say "Nobody wants to be an addict," and it's not true. I really did - and so did at least two of my friends growing up. We admired a lot of early punk bands and no wave bands just asmuch for thier legendary excesses as for their music I was working as a prep cook at aresaurant I had worked at before after work I'd added the habit of buying cocaine to my habits. Only once in a while at first do cocaine so by this time it had gotten to a point over the course of a few months that it was no longer enough for me to use cocaine on the weekends as I had been. I was now needing to do coke every day. I was also drinking like mad. My working in the kitchen was not paying for my ever increasing appetite and so I was shuttling between Toronto and Guelph for a while - whoring on the Tranny Stroll on days I didn't do my day job.
It was easy money. And money is what it was about. or at least the biggest part of it was money initially - but there's also a part somewhere inside of me was getting off on the excitement and drama and my romanticized ideas about being a junkie street hooker - which I probably picked up from too many hollywood movies as a child. And thats how it felt-at first like I was the star in some great film
It was very soon to become all about the drugs.
It was New Years Eve and naturally I was in Toronto for it - the cool surprise was to me at least was that I'd befriended some cool "alternative" people from Toronto one day and they'd invited me to party at their house.
I got crazily drunk and was doing cocaine like mad and was asked at one point, politely, to leave.
I was turned away from the Bovine which was my next stop - and I wound up at Lee's Palace. I spent my time hugging people and stealing beers from those who left theirs unattended to dance or use the loo. I managed between this and people buying me drinks all around to have at least one drink on the go at all times. And its no wonder lot of people were willing to buy me drinks ;I had on a slinky slip, stayups and some killer ankle boots. I was seriously hot. And I have low self esteem so I don't say that a lot, believe me .I looked good.
So when the bar stopped serving booze at 4 or whatever I staggered with the crowd down towards Queen. I was piss drunk and as I teetered on my 5 inch stiletto boots a trick pulled up beside me and I knew he was a trick instantly the same way he knew I was working.
You just know
So I got in the car and we agreed on 40 for a blowjob.
The thing was he didn't want to do it in the car, but why argue? Wwe parked and went to an alley just off Queen. I got on my knees and started sucking. His dick smelt of soap - but not overly - he'd probably just recently showered. It was big though, I couldn't deep throat it all
He began really pushing my head and pulling my hair which you expect a little of and can normally shake away- but he was a little more forceful than that
He cracked my head against the wall and spun me around calling me slut and pig the whole time
(he was quite a bit bigger and stronger than me) and pulled my thong aside and with no lube, no condom just off Queen st stuck it in my ass. He must have spit on it I would rhink but I dont know
As he's fucking me I kicked backwards and swung around and was able to
push him back .
I then did something stupid and to this day I don't believe I did it.
I reached into his pocket. where I knew the money was.
I grabbed and pulled the first thing I touched and ran. It was a twenty. I booked it onto the street and ran into the middle of a crowd on Queen and when I looked back he was leaving in his car.
In a bit of shock and not so stumbling drunk now all of a sudden I was hungry Absolutely famished. I needed to eat immediately and so I grabbed a sub and then went to sit on the front step of Yehudahs building to wait for his eventual return.
My sub long since finished I just sat on the stoop for an eternity and then a cab pulls up and two rock and roll looking people fall out..
By rock n roll I mean the guy had sunglasses at night and spiky hair and a fuck you swagger the girl even more so she had bleached white hair and bright blue eyes i could see from 15 feet away with a little leapord skirt,a cutout Ramones t and a little leather cap. They spill out of the cab and slink my way they need to get past me to get into the building. As they're going in the girl says to me "Do ya

wanna come party?" She s got a killer smile and even better looks to me like some Canadian bred version of Courtney Love - in that instant I'm lost - I'll do anything for this girl, go anywhere. She's beautiful to me.
She's obviously a mess - obviously a junkie. She's beautiful to me.
And so I follow up the steps.
We get upstairs and her and the guy start emptying plastic wrapped little packages onto the table - I'd seen enough anti drug ads to know that it was crack.
"Do you have a pipe?" Cory, the girl, asks
"uh,no"
"you can use my ginny then,"
so she hands me a broken little bottle that used to contain ginseng infused liquid.You see them in stores but no one I know uses them. There was a piece of steel wire - brillo pad - stuffed in the top, unbroken end. Cory put a small crumb of the white soapy looking rock on the brillo end of the "pipe" and melted it. It melted like wax too except for the distinct snap crackle and pop that give its name
then the jagged end was stuck in my mouth and I inhaled. The smoke is thick and tastes like burning tires. I hold it in and inhale again.
Corey points out a 12 pack - her and her friend have no interest in it - a trick left it she tells me as I crack open a beer.
Her place was a fucking disaster two feet of clothes and candy bar wrappers and orange syringe caps, pieces of brillo, shoes, broken crack pipes, several tiaras, a mattress was buried under a half a foot of this mess and that was where we sat. The guy eventually left and I got myself more comfortable. At 9 AM Corey ran out to make a phone call and in 15 minutes came back with 2 200 mg morphine's and I was given half one two snort while Cory shot a whole one into a vein in her hand while I looked on in rapt fascination. Her veins were a mess from 13 years of IV heroin abuse. The ones in her arms were all nothing but scar tissue and completely collapsed so she was using her hands - she explained all this as she poked around and poked around trying to find a vein. And then at last there was that urgent red explosion in the needle and she pushed the warm soothing softness inside her.
We talked then for hours of how we got here of our childhoods and music music music - we were singing Patti Smith songs together before it was over - she told me of her days as a stripper and of all the rock stars she's met and partied with including, if she was to be believed Nirvana and the Meat Puppets and then there she was unbelievably with photos of her indeed with the meat puppets along wit h Dave Grohl (no Kurt tho)
We found we even knew a few people in common.
We are like soul sisters some sort of cosmic twins and so we begin plotting world
domination and debating which one is Pinky, til we both nod off and blend in with the debris.

Life Serial

2010-03-28T00:02:00.000-04:00

It hasn't been said outright but it looks as if I'll be able to stay where I'm at a little while longer.I apologized to him and he apologized to me, and now it's water under the bridge it seems.
My sister had her boobs done, so she's sore, but happy with the results.
She and I went to Toronto yesterday so we could pick up my cheque and also to go to her follow up appointment.
I wasn't looking forward to the trip at all.The bus ride and then the TTC the dealing with the welfare office and the walking to yehudahs then on the subway all the way up to Finch station no less where her clinic is located.- I would have much rather just stay home on Twitter all day.
But we went and it was fun - we watched a Kitchen nightmares I had downloaded each of us with one side of the earphones stuck into a single ear.
Once there Yehudahs was fun didn't even have to wait inline at welfare and the ride up to the clinic we had a great talk so that wasn't even that bad - the only downside was the ride back we were both tired and grumpy and eager to be home and relax.
This morning I went out for coffee and then to the park to smoke a joint and continue talking over old time and intervening years with my old dear friend Niki.

Some people may notice some changes on the blog like the title and whatnot, - there's going to be more and more change coming soon, and all to serve you better gentle reader. All to serve you.

Status Update Fail

2010-03-23T00:10:00.006-04:00

"My sister's boy friend is a total douchebag."
This was my Facebook status the other day, and it's one I'm coming to regret

Two nights ago - or rather early that morning I was in the basement asleep - as I assumed everyone else was as well- it being after 4 O clock in the morning.
Suddenly the door flies open and its my sisters boyfriend - he flips on the light and yells, waking me up
"Did you snort heroin with your sister today?"
I was freaked and a little taken aback,since, of course, I hadn't
"no"

"You've got a week! One fucking week!" This with the finger pointing, and a drunken snarl
"okay"
and just to show his pique or as an exclamation point, he slammed the door.
So I'm once again on the move it seems.

On Friday we went to Toronto to go to my sisters consultation to get her boobs did. She's wanted this for a while and she doesn't wan to look like Pamela Anderson - but she's had 3 kids, and there's a saggage issue I guess
nthe way here we walked from the bus station to Kensington Mkt where we paid my dear friend Yehuda a visit. I had phoned ahead and let him know that we were coming. Also I let him know that we were going to want him to help us by connecting us with some weedthere was also a guy with braids, who was never introduced and the third person was Turbo Jay.
Turbo Jay I have known for over ten years, and he's quite a memorable character. The problem is though most of the memories are unpleasant.
He's loud and pushy and a know it all who knows very little and what he does know is usually wrong.
This day he was fixing a chair at Yehudahs . This was like high farce to watch as Jay struggled with the chair.
After struggling and not really taking exactly the right route on the subway we arrived at the at the cosmetic surgery place. The office is beautiful the receptionists are beautiful the nurses are beautiful - the whole place is beautiful.
The real gem of beauty in the crown that is the office is the washrooms.Utterly gorgeous -You could serve a 4 course dinner in there - a little candlelight and you'd be all set
So the next night, he'd drank some 12 or so beers, I'd been at my friend's and I'd come back around 11:30 and by 2AM or so fell asleep watching a movie.
That was when he came in.
I could have left it at that , but I didn't and instead passive-aggressively called him the aforementioned "douchebag" on Social Networking site Facebook on awaking again 2 hours later.
So I don't know if I was expecting an apology -he was drunk after all - or I should start packing my bags.
Apparently when the next morning he saw what I'd written he lost it again.
I've been living with this -like the sword of Damocles - over my head for 2 days now, not knowing if by Sunday I may have nowhere warm to stay.

Miss Misery

2010-03-17T23:20:00.002-04:00

Watching TV episodes on the computer.
That is the one sentence that best describes my life here, since leaving Lisa and leaving Toronto.
That's essentially all I've really done.
Fringe, Battlestar Galactica, Caprica, Dexter, and Nurse Jackie.
Nurse Jackie is the best of the bunch. It stars the brilliantly talented Edie Falco as a no-nonsense, opioid addicted nurse, and is far and away one of the most intelligent things I've seen on TV. It's just so densely packed. There's so much going on there.
I have no ambition, no drive and I'm feeling pretty miserable for the most part.
I feel like I've lost something, like I should miss Lisa, but when I think about her, about what we had together, about all she put me through I just get angry and I don't miss her at all.
This wallowing in self pity isn't doing me any good though, and so instead I need to start writing and more importantly thinking of things from a point of view that's more empowering.
Maybe tomorrow.
One positive development is that for the first time in a bout 6 months, I'mk actually enjoying music. I've loved music all my life., and then towards the end of last summer I just stopped. It all sounded like noise. The last few days though, I'm actually enjoying it again - and that is the one positive thing I can think of right now.
And on top of everything else Alex Chilton died today.
So there you are.

R n R

2010-03-14T19:35:00.003-04:00

It's been about a week and a half since all this crap with Lisa and the police went down.
It's been the same length of time since I've touched any alcohol.
It feels as though it's been considerably longer than that. I know that's a cliche, but it's true. In some ways the uneventfulness, the peace and relative tranquility of the past several days has been like a tonic to me, and the world - the life - I left behind is lost in a distant shadowy past.
It's been a sleepy , slow paced week, although in a lot of ways I've been more fulfilled and more active - at least mentally active - than I was in Toronto.
I feel healthier - in mind, body and spirit now that Im away from that awful life, than I'd thought it possible to feel again. There's another cliche for you, but that one is also true. At the same time, it's not untrue to also say I've been lonely and sad, with feelings of loss and regret.
I've been online more consistently than in about a year, and watching more TV episodes and movies than in a very, very long time.
Despite all these positive feelings, I'm also adrift.
I'm a bit directionless right now, a little lost. But I'm hoping I'll wind up the better for it.
I have to hold on to that hope, or I can't go on.
I want to try writing some fiction, I just don't have any good ideas.
Or,rather, I have to many ideas - I'm bursting with them, but it's winnowing them down that's the problem.
But why should it be? Why leave any thing out?
What? Am I saving it to use later in something else? That's no way to write, I should throw everything in and then the kitchen sink besides.
Throw everything at it. Why hold anything back when tomorrow you may die. I've heard that before and I'd even thought I'd try to live it once in awhile, but I think I understand it now more than ever. And I'm not getting any younger.
So I need to hold nothing back.
This isn't just about this lame blog or writing, or any one thing, but in all aspects of my life - I should be giving everything I've got all the time.

I've reconected with an old friend here in Guelph, one who I'd not gotten along with the last few times we'd seen one another.We've been getting along better than at any time in the last few years. That's a good thing.
The other day he paid me 50 bucks giving him a tutorial on how to use his fancy new laptop.
He has a level of knowledge in using PC's that allows him to use email and the web at work, but anything beyond that - even something simple as copying and pasting files is a mystery to him. I hadn't actually asked anything for doing it, but he gave me the 50, probably thinking I could use the money. Which is true.

The past few days though, I've been having the hardest time getting anything done and for lack of a better fall guy, I'm blaming it on the internets.
I've got unlimited high speed here at my sisters, and so unlike back in the city, I can actually be online all the time. I'm hoping the thrill will die off sometime soon and I'll be able to get some writing done, not to mention getting a job. And a place to live and all of that messy real life stuff.

I was craving a drink all day yesterday, from the moment I first woke up in the cluttered and chilly basement. It's an awful conflicted feeling because I know I don't really want one, and I know if I did I'd not only be disappointed in myself, but I'd also not enjoy the feeling.
I'm over my withdrawal, so I don't need one, per se, but I'm just bored and feeling a little low and this is how I've conditioned myself to deal with that.
duh.
Today is a little bit better - at least I'm not wanting a drink - but the depression and feelings of loneliness and shame and failure persist.
I'm holding on.

Abort? Retry? Fail?

2010-03-10T01:20:00.002-05:00

I've been trying to write, unsuccessfully, about my most recent upheavals, for close to a week.
I just can't do it.
So here's instead is the Cliff Notes version.
As you may recall from our last installment, Lisa was released from the slams and was with her father, Matti the Molester.
She arrived back at the Roach Motel, as predicted, after Matti had tried to touch her inappropriately. This while she was on the nod from the heroin and booze he'd given her. She tells me he's selling heroin, so he was feeding it to her from the moment they arrived. She was naturally, freaking out and couldn't stay with this creep, so she hopped a bus back to Toronto.
So we immediately picked up drinking constantly, as if we hadn't stopped.
From Tuesday morning til Thursday morning, we drank every waking moment.
For Lisa that was pretty much the whole time, because while I'd squeezed in a few naps, she had been going on no sleep, and no food, and so her grip on reality was pretty much gone.
Around 5:30 Thursday morning she stumbled in and was in one of the worst states I've ever seen her in. She was delusional and out of control, completely incoherent, or accusatory and angry.
This was a horrible couple of hours with her while she spewed some of the most vile hateful things to me, and then in the blink of an eye, she be loving and hold me swearing her undying love, and then she would - in a flash again- be sobbing. Huge heaving sobs and moans of deep agony.
At 9am the booze ran out and Lisa worked the phone, waking 3 regulars and finally finding one (with a liquor cabinet no less,) who'd come and get her.
So I had a shower and tried to sleep, but I couldn't instead getting cozy and watching some Dexter episodes on my computer.
At a little after noon there was a knock on the door. I opened it and to my great surprise there were two police officers at the door.
The y said I was to come with them and after getting my coat and shoes they cuffed me and arrested me for assault.
Just like that.
I was shocked, and surprised and in disbelief. But I knew what had happened.
Just like my mother and a half a dozen other people had warned me she would, Lisa was "getting revenge,". That's the only thing I could think of.
Luckily I didn't have to go to jail, and after about 4 hours of sitting in a holding cell I was released.
There were conditions though; No contact, directly or indirectly with Lisa Shmoo, No going within 100 metres of the Roach Motel (also known as home,) and no alcohol. Also to show up in court in about a month.
I had no money (I'd used the last of it to pay my share of the rent two days earlier,), and nowhere to sleep.
Bloody brilliant.
I wound up on a Greyhound bus back to my old hometown and the sanctuary of my sisters basement.
And that's what happened last week.

I apologize for the sparse, deadpan delivery of this one, but I just can't do any soul searching and thinking and analyzing of this right now. It's still to close, and I just wanted to get it down for the record.
Things will be back to speed soon.

Courting Disaster

2010-02-24T08:03:00.002-05:00

Today (Tuesday) was the long awaited and much anticipated big day for Lisa's appearance in plea court. Which is to say today she was set to plead guilty and accept the judgement of the court. So there would finally be some resolution and I would know when she would be released, and could finally make some plans. I was hoping that with the help of my phone call, they might even let her go with time served, but there was no way to be sure. So it was with a combination of anticipation and apprehension that I trudged through the early morning slush the 45 minute walk to the courthouse.
I arrived at just after 8:30, only to discover that court didn't get underway until 10:00. I had anticipated at least some waiting and so I'd had the foresight to bring along the Leah Mclaren book I was reading. "The Continuity Girl" it's called, and so I sat down, pulled out the paperback and settled in to wait.
It was maybe a half an hour later I was shocked,horrified and saddened to see Lisa's dad, Matty the Molester, show up, and begin asking in his gravelly, pilled out voice to ask random strangers if they were Lisa's lawyer. Once the lawyer (who happens to be my lawyer as well,) arrived Matty was all over him, harrassing and harangueing him, calling me a pimp and outlining his plan.
Eavesdropping I was able to glean the gist of what Matty the Molester was saying.
The upshot was that he wanted Lisa to come live in his hotel in Niagara falls, where he's supposedly lined up a job for her at a place serving protein shakes. He also has plans to send her to a community college with the unlikely name of Maid of the Mist College.I told the lawyer that there was no way in hell she'd go home with him.So we waited around and waited around and then waited some more while the court took a lunch break.
So it finally came time for Lisa to appear in front of the judge and she shoked me beyond belief. I never in a million years would have dreamed of imagining she would go with this vile man who fucked her when she was 5 years old. But she did. I was gobsmacked. One of the conditions of her release is that she has a years probation and she must reside somewhere approved of by her probation officer and the Molester. So the court put her in the care of a child molesting drug addict. Good move.I ran into her in the hallway after she was released, where she hugged me and I couldn't bring myself to hug her back. I said "have fun, I can't believe you chose a child molester over me," she looked confused, and shocked and then began to cry, looking back and forth between me and her lawyer, and saying she wanted to be with me - her lawyer said to her "I explained this to you,"
The only thing that makes sense is that she thought that agreeing to go with her abuser would mean she'd get out of jail today (which she did,) but what she apparently didn't realize was that this would essentially mean the end of us.Not to mention if she had said she didn't want to go with the Molester, she'd still have been released today, and she'd be home right now. She also seemed unaware that her dad would have some say in where she lives and that for all intents and purposes she chose her father over me - over us.I'm still in shock I guess - I'll need some time to fully digest what this means for me and for my future.I just can't believe it though - she's gone on and on for close to four years about how loathsome this man is, how vile, and how he's fucked up her life, been the cause of her mental and emotional problems and yet here she is going to live in a hotel with him - when just a week before her arrest she was actively trying to find out how she could go about pressing charges against him for the years of abuse.
I give up. She dug this hole for herself and I'm through with trying to rescue her.
So now what?
I guess once I'm over the surprise and shock, this could turn out to be a blessing in disguise. I've been waiting and waiting for my decisions to be made for me - to see when Lisa was getting out, when my cheque was coming, always waiting, and taking a passive approach - letting life happen to me rather than me happening to it.
So now my destiny is in no one's hands but my own.I no longer have to constantly debate whether or not to stay with Lisa or not - I'm always torn between my love for her and my thinking that she's holding me back. Now that decision has been made for me. The very idea that she would choose to go with Matty the Molester rather than come home with me - well, that decides things pretty definitively for me. My biggest hurdle right now id finding a place to live - I've got just under two weeks to find a solution - to find somewhere I can call home. I'll ask about getting a single room here, but I don't think I'll be able to afford that. The other option involves seeing if I can stay at my sisters for a month but that presents a whole handful of new problems and is at best just buying me a little time.
I won't go back to a shelter, I'm just not ready for that hell again.
So tomorrow I go to a resume workshop, which hopefully will be the first step on the road to my getting a job, and with any luck at all I'll also have my cheque. that'll be nice because I really want this fucking computer fixed and I don't mind saying I really need to get wasted. Pot, Oxy's, or plain old wine - whichever I'm able to get at first. I'm hoping for the Oxy's really - I realy want to just be numb. But pot and my old faithful wine would do just fine. I'm reminded of a Rolling Stones lyric from the song"Dead Flowers" off their Sticky Fingers album
"I'll be in my basement room/with a needle and a spoon / and another girl to take my pain away"
and that makes me think that what I'd really like more than anything would be to find somebody to fuck on cheque day. I can't see that it'd be all that difficult.
I can only wonder how long it'll be before I either get a message from Lisa or she shows up here at the hotel. Because I know she will - but that said I also "knew" she wouldn't go with that child molesting freak, so clearly I don't know what's going on as much as I claim to.
But now I don't have any excuses anymore, if I can't get my shit together, there's nobody left to blame but me.
So what to do now?
What do I want to be? I want to create something. There was a time when I made music and I wrote and even made movies for Christ's sake. Now I do nothing.
I'm starting to realise that Lisa and I are wrong for one another- I know I've said it before, but now I'm not going on feelings or just doing lip service to the idea but I really think this seals the deal, or puts the final nail in the coffin, or whatever cliche you prefer.
But no matter what, it's now a whole new ballgame.
Nowhere left to go but up.

Yer Birthday

2010-02-22T11:44:00.002-05:00

This past Tuesday was my long awaited birthday, and it got off to quite a disappointing start. Of course there are the "normal" underlying and everyday miseries, like poverty, and boredom, and isolation and Lisa's currently being in the slams...but I just wanted to forget about all of that, for just 24 hours, and have one day free from that mess and just to enjoy life.
I never should have got out of bed.
I've been having a hard time getting to sleep - what with the stress and worry, not to mention the withdrawal from the booze and so at 7 AM on the big day I had been awake for around 24 hours or so and I was famished having barely eaten enough to keep a small dog alive over the precedeing couple of days. This being the case, I walked up to St.Stephens, a drop-in in Kensington Market, for a rather depressing a not too tasty a breakfast. While there I phoned the court and found out that Lisa was going to be in plea court the next day. My initial thought was simply "good - finally there will be a resolution of some sort"
At least I'd be able to make some decisions. For the last week and a half I've been unable to figure out what to do for the simple reasoon that I just didn't know if Lisa would be getting out in two days or two months. Without knowing this it's difficult to know what my next move should be.
But it was my birthday and so I tried not to worry about it - I could worry about it the next day, when I was at the court.So I left the Drop-In and headed to the Second Cup to enjoy some online time and to hopefully finish downloding the next episode of Dexter. There are a few hotspots in the area, places where I can get online for free, but it is winter (a mild one, to be sure, - but still,) and besides, my download speeds at the Second Cup are significantly higher than sitting in the laneway.To this end I'd saved 5 dollars, gone without cigarettes and food, so that - as a treat to myself for my birthday - I could go to the coffee shop, and surf in comfort at least twice during the day.It didn't turn out that way though. I paid my money, got my coffee, and no sooner had I sat down and plugged in than the damnable, accursed thing crashed and wouldn't start again. I sat there trying again and again, and with increasing frustration, to get the thing to start and it simply wouldn't.I left there, and once I got home it took me about an hour and a half to finally get it running. It was acting a bit funny, but it was working at least, so I went and blew the last of my money at Second Cup, and now found that I couldn't access the internet, and despite being on and seeming to work, the computer was basicly buggered.I left there in frustration, my mood getting worse by the second, and phoned Yehudah from the Queen Street Health Center and it was planned that I'd go over there a little later.It's become a bit of a tradition to see Yehudah on my birthday. He's my oldest and best friend and I really value his friendship. And what's more he seems to believe in me, which is something I really need right now. And besides I thought the best thing I could do mentally would be to simply be in the company of people rather than sitting alone and wallowing in my despair.
I made an ill advised call to my Mum, partly to see if she was home from the hospital, and equally part to try to booost my spirits by having someone say "happy Birthday" to me. The call, as I say , was ill advised. I was overtired and still broiling with frustration over the computer, and so I moaned and whined and sounded desperate and hopeless. This to a woman who had just had surgery and was just released from the hospital hours before. It wasn't fair to her and it made me feel even worse to think of how selfish and needy I've become.I came back to the hotel feeling exhausted and spent, since I hadn't slept since the day before, and was evenv considering not going, but I knew if I didn't I'd regret it.I have a tendency to isolate myself, and when depressed, or stressed this tendency grows exponentially. I really needed some social interaction. So I walked up to Yehudah's and when I got there he had a full house as usual-Werner, Dave and Adam. Adam was wasted and out of control, being a complete jerk, and as always, insisting on calling me by my old boy-name.
Yehudah's friend Fahdi came by and wanted to get something to eat. Yehudah had already offered me a birthday dinner, and so we three made our way up to College street for an Ethiopian restaurant that Yehudah had his heart set on. The food was good, although nothing special, and I was so exhausted that I didn't appreciate it or the company as much as I could have. When we went to leave, Fahdi was going his own way and said to me "you're a little short on cash, eh?" I sort of sheepshly said yes and he gave me 20 bucks.This was our first time meeting!I was stunned by his kindness. So Yehudah and I went back to his place and got to talk a bit which was fun, but I was sooo exhausted, and around ten or so I headed home. I got here, turned on the TV and passed out asleep for close to 14 hours.That means I missed Lisa's court date the next morning.I'd really meant to go to this one. But as I was to find out later, nothing really happened.The next day, I got a call from Lisas lawyer, and so I finally have a better idea of what's going on with Lisa - the crown was asking for 70 days and a do not contact order - So I phoned the Victim/witness services and told them I didn't want the do not contact order and wanted her released as soon as possible, information which they then pass along to the crown. Her next date is tomorrow and hopefully there'll be a more realistic offer from the crown, and we can get this thing wrapped up before rent is due.

A Recap ; or How Did it Come To This?

2010-02-12T19:15:00.004-05:00

No poetry and not a lot of detail, but here's the thumbnail sketch...

When last we left our hapless heroes, the Shmoos, they were both staying at the Flo Bo shelter, and drinking every day.
So Lisa and I were kicked out- and I might add for completely bogus reasons.
In the case of Lisa it was supposedly because she had gotten hair dye on the bathroom wall, and in my case it was for complaining about the food. Raw chicken and mushy vegetables to be precise. These reasons, most would agree, were a sham and the truth was our constant drunkenness and the simple fact that we were in a relationship. In any event we were out on
the street.
So for a couple of days we slept in what we dubbed the "aparkment" - a semi-secluded spot
in the park where we had laid out some cardboard and stashed a blanket. It was getting
increasingly chilly at night though and when it began to pour down rain one night we made
the decision to seek shelter - in my case at a different shelter and in Lisa's at a friend/tricks place.
So for about a month this was the arrangement, and every day Lisa would show up in the
morning , we'd get wine, and then find a place to drink it.
Then we discovered the bridge.
Under the Bathurst street bridge is where a lot of homeless people set up camp and compared to sitting in a park it's relatively non-heatscore, which is to say we were much safer - from the cops at least- there than in the park. Plus we had gotten a good warm blanket and had stashed it down there and so it was much warmer than shivering on a park bench.We were out of the rain at least and so it was a bit better than trying to not get busted while shivering and soaking in a park.I'd gotten Lisa interested in Hell's Kitchen and Little Britain,epiodes of which I'd download, and we'd watch these under the bridge wrapped in our warm blanket.

One night though things really got out of hand and almost drove us apart for good.
This was the night that Lisa smashed my computer.
Anyone who follows this blog (and why you would I can only wonder at,) will remember that I had my beautiful modern up to date and cool computer stolen. It was devastating and
depressing for me.I sobbed and despaired, and in some ways the incident helped trigger this
non-stop drunk I've been on. You'll also recall I was given an old IBM to tide me over and in some small way replace that loss.
One night we were drinking heavily, and by heavily I mean extremely beyond heavily to the
point of being delusionally drunk.So we were sitting in the laneway behind the old shelter
where I could get a free wi-fi connection.and Lisa freaked out, lost it, called me a child molester(?), started screaming and making delusional accusations, grabbed my computer and
smashed it on the ground. Literally threw it down on the pavement in the alley.
I just snatched it up from the ground and ran - praying it wasn't ruined.
Of course it was.
I was shocked and stunned and angry and hurt.
So the next day she showed up as normal and I was furious. She had a whole whack of money and so I thought "OK I'll go with her and at least get drunk". so we drank and drank and she apologized repeatedly and I said "you didn't just break it,you broke us!" again and again and again.
She was destraught and sobbing and apolagetic and swore and vowed she'd make it right. How
she planned on doing this wasn't clear. Finally once we were quite pissed she went out on a date with a regular.
I was passed out waiting when she came back and in her hands she had a shiny new Dell laptop.
I was so happy. It turns out she'd stolen it from her date for me.
So we made up (not as easy as that, but more or less,) and then two days later we got the bad news; Lisa was on tape stealing the thing and the date had phoned the police. He said he didn't want to get her in any trouble, he just wanted his computer back. If he didn't get it back he was going to have to follow it up with the police.
So we lied and said it had been sold to a drug dealer and he wouldn't give it back until we gave him his 200 bucks back. So to make a long story short, he came up with the money and we used it to get me a used computer that wasn't as good as the Dell, but a little better than the smashed IBM.
So she'd lived up to her word, and we were once again together.
We then discovered another bridge that was even more isolated and was just ours - in the sense that homeless street punks didn't use it as well. There was a futon there and
eventually I managed to get us a second sleeping bag so we were relatively warm. This mind you was still October and early November and I knew full well that come December and January this just wasn't going to work. But for now we'd go daily and huddle under the bridge drinking wine and watching Hell's Kitchen and Music videos.
And then we got a plan.
The plan was this; we'd get our cheques, rent a room for a week at the Roach Motel, and then get the manager to give us proof of address forms, which would mean welfare would give us a months rent on the place. So we'd have a hotel room to live in. Less than ideal, but after shelters and sleeping under bridges and braving the elements it was like a dream - the first step on the ladder out of this insane life.
So on cheque day we went to the Roach Motel and within four days welfare came through, we paid our rent for the month of December, and for the first time in almost a year the Shmoos had a home.
We were so happy, and so full of hope. This was the start of us getting our lives together.
And for a little while everything was beautiful and loving, and had food and money, and went shopping for things like a mirror, and toiletries, and groceries and even enjoyed going to do our wash at the laundromat. It was like our dreams were finally coming true. We were so in love.
It was too good to last.
By the time Christmas arrived everything turned sour. There were recriminations and accusations, contempt and outright hostility on both sides. Our love nest had quickly turned into a dreary, cluttered, roach infested prison. All of this fueled by morning til night wine drinking - we'd now graduated from buying bottles to 4L boxes. As my depression and lethargy grew, so did her anger and psychotic breaks. Things were as bad as they had ever been. The arguments and insults grew and grew, finally culminating, this last Sunday in Lisa's arrest.
And so now I don't know where we go from here. And in my hunger and depression and despair,
I'm feeling ready to abandon all hope.

Today Lisa had a court appearance, and I didn't go. So I have no way of knowing what
happened. I don't know if she made bail, or is still in jail, or what. And there's no way to find out until Monday.
But like people keep telling me, I need to think of myself, and so that's what I'm trying to do, but it isn't easy, and I feel lost, hungry and alone.

What A Fine Mess

2010-02-11T17:33:00.003-05:00

I am full of feelings of frustration and shame. mostly shame.
When I got out of rehab I was on top of the world - everything seemed so great, the world was waiting for me to take it.
Now I'm drinking - massively - every day, and the whole world has gone to shit.
On January 1st I wrote
"I need to make a new start in the new year. Staying with Lisa is obviously an impossible dream. Or possibly the death of me"
So obviously the New Year was not a happy one.
A month later I wrote "I have simply no ambition or energy these days- largely as a result of drinking so much. I know it's killing me and yet I feel powerless to stop it."
And now Lisa is in jail.
On this past Sunday after 4 days of continuous drinking, during which she had been behaving pretty badly, she snapped completely and had what I guess was a psychotic episode. This culminated in her smashing me with a glass picture off the wall and throwing glasses and boxes at me, and finally leaping on top of me pulling my hair punching and kicking my head and even using her teeth to bite a clump of hair out of my scalp. I couldn't get away, and besides I was concerned if she was left alone in the room she'd trash it or hurt herself. So I - in desperation - picked up the phone and called 911.
After placing the call I managed to escape the room and as I fled I could hear her doing one of her favourite stunts from back in th Woodgreen days which involes her screeching like a banshee at the top of her lungs - a high pitched and frighteningly loud horror film scream puctuated by cries of "help me help me" - which naturally to anyone who hears it sounds as though she's being murdered.
Naturally over the years this has been a source of grief and terror for me and my usual reaction is to run away until it's subsided, but this time it was only a matter of a minute before the police arrived and I waited on the street while they went up to get Lisa. Before they brought her down, there was one more surprise in store as one cop came down and put me in cuffs and into the back of second cruiser. I couldn't believe it - here I was being arrested, and I had done nothing wrong.
I had to phone the police that night.There was nothing else to do because Lisa was beating on me. Beating me and kicking me and smashing things and trashing the room. I didn't know what else to do. And so I phoned the cops. and they arrested the both of us.

As I sat cuffed in the back of the cruiser I saw them bring Lisa down and put her in the other cruiser.
So I was arrested for domestic assault, and so was Lisa - after taking both our stories the detectives realized what the story really was, and so I wasn't charged and she was. Then after giving a statement to the cops, they drove me back and two officers came up to take photos of the carnage the room had been left in.

It's all a friggin mess really. I mean on the one hand I needed a break after being beaten and insulted and dealing with this madness for four days straight, but I genuinely miss her right now. Not to mention the fact that because I love her so much and because I am acutely aware of how utterly shitty and dehumanizing the whole legal system and jail can be, I hate the thought of her going through that.
Plus, I know that for the past two daYs my own alcohol withdrawal has been intolerable. I feel weak and lethragic - I have the shakes and feel horrible. My stomach hurts and I'm alternating betwen hot sweaty fever and shivering cold
So I have really mixed feelings right now. I miss Lisa soo much and I feel so shitty that she's in jail. i feel guilty too, like I'm the reason she's there, but I keep reminding myself of what the detective said, "you didn't do this,, she did" and it's true really. I was left with no other choice - I couldn't allow her to continue to hurt me physically and mentally and to jeapordize my having a place to live. And on top of that both our drinking has completely gotten out of control. Taking abreak from the booze might - no definitely - will do the both of us aworld of good.
I'm not in a position right now to help anyone else - not until I can help myself.
My Mum sent me Birthday money today since she is going into surgery on Friday and will still be in the hospital by the time my birthday arrives next week.
Phoned the court clerk at Old City Hall and found out Lisa has her next court appearance on Friday. I'm torn between wanting to go and wanting to just avoid the whole thing. I'm not sure if it is bail court or not - but I sort of think it might be. That would be bad because that would probably mean her Mother or Father or Duncan or someone undesireable would be there.
Whatever.
We'll see if I'm up and how I feel about it that day.
If she's pissed off at me that's just too bad. She's got to control her behaviour and "I was drunk" is not an excuse
I feel so lost right now and I don't know what direction to take - I feel completely messed up. Despite my better judgement I bought a bottle of wine - I just wanted to be numb -.
I want to go to see Lisa at court on Friday but part but I know that's totally the wrong thing to do. If only I knew which way to turn.
If her family is there it'll just suck - and if they aren't it'll suck as well.
I guess I feel I should be there to let Lisa know I haven't abandoned her - but in a way I want - no. Need - to do just that. It's just like when I went into rehab and I needed to keep reminding myself that I needed to put myself first
Look.
She obviously needs help, andd I can't give that to her. And the only way she's going to be able to get that help is if we're apart. Do I think she will get help?
No.
Do I hope she does?
Yes
But it's just not up to me and so I have to let go
Writing this at the Second Cup across from the Roach Motel, and I would rather be anywhere else, but I can't just sit there in that room staring at those walls and thinking of all that's gone on and all that could have been because there lies the path of madness.
Tomorrow she has a court appearance, and I don't know whether she'll be getting bail or what, and not knowing is making me nuts.
My Mother is having surgery tomorrow as well, so all in all it is going to be a stressful day
So that's where we are, and next up I'll have a recap of just how we got here.

Been a Long Time

2010-02-10T15:19:00.002-05:00

I can't believe it's been since September since I wrote anything on here. When I read over that last post it seems a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then.
Well I've been writing again and plan on a couple of new posts to sort of get myself up to speed very soon.
There's been moves and drama galore, and more justice system dealings, a sea of wine and drunkenness, and "more of madness and much of sin with horror the soul of the plot,".
So stay tuned...

A Change of Scenery

2009-09-27T22:20:00.001-04:00

Got booted out of my shelter. And for the dumbest of reasons. Such a flimsy excuse to discharge me that I can still hardly believe it. Here's what happened; Lisa and I were drinking wine as per usual, and she revealed that when she was out earlier with Richard, he'd given her an Ativan. This explained her behaviour, which was worse than usual, as she staggered around flashing strangers insulting and hurting me, and talking in a ridiculous fake Australian accent that she affect only when really messed up. I couldn't figure out why she was so far gone after drinking no more than I had, but the pill explained it. So anyway - we were walking back to the house of Booth and as she grew more and more insulting, I walked faster leaving her behind. So I arrived at the shelter fully expecting her to be along in a few minutes.I came in and all I wanted to do was read a bit of an e-book I've been reading. Normally I'd go in to the back room they have at the shelter which is where I can not only plug in to the AC but also get an unsecured (albeit slow) wifi connection. On my arrival though I was told the back room was off limits at the time, because they were having a meeting.So I went upstairs to the dorms and lie down with my headphones on and my laptop open. Once there I changed my mind and decided to watch Angels and Demons instead. But in any event, the one staff member came up because of a dispute between two residents over a stuffed bear. Really (you couldn't make this up,). I couldn't hear, of course because of the earphones, and when I noticed her standing beside my bed with her mouth moving, looking at me i figured she was speaking to me and so as I took the earphones out of my ears I said "I can't hear a word you're saying." To which she responded "I'm discharging you - I've told you before not to have the laptop in the dorms and you're being disrespectful to staff" -and indeed she had told me before not to use the laptop in the dorms, this was true although where the disrespect part came in I wasn't sure. But I don't understand this "rule" of hers (I say of hers because nowhere in the shelter guidelines or rules or anywhere else is this mentioned,) It's not as though there was anything offensive on the screen except,obviously, Dan Browns insipid storyline, and Tom Hanks's hammy acting, and it wasn't after lights out so the glow of the screen wouldn't be troubling anyone - I just couldn't - and still can't quite wrap my head around the problem. It's still a bit of a mystery.But it was done and so no point moaning or causing a fuss. I packed my stuff into garbage bags and by the time I'd emptied my locker I went to her to ask if she could phone the Fred Victor Hostel to see if I could get a bed there to which she answered officiously "I have secured you a bed at Women's res" yes, folks, she actually said "I have secured you" - and again I say you can't make this stuff up. I decided it was actually a blessing to be away from Patty and that whole poisoned atmosphere of this place, and so in an unintentionally classy style I was polite and well spoken and all smiles as I made my way to my new shelter. I got her to give me a TTC token as well, although I had every intention of walking the short distance to the new shelter. So this was shitty, but at least a different brand of shitty. And a change is as good as a rest they say.
So with my backpack and my shoulderbag and two garbage bags full of my stuff I humped it up the street to Womens res. It's a city run shelter, and so it's cleaner and and things are on time and they aren't stingy with tokens, and the housing worker may actually be able to help, but it's always awkward settling in to a new place, and I know from being there last year that they're quite strict about the rules, and especially about curfew.
That night as I was sitting in a robe doing my laundry (new arrivals have to shower and wash all their clothes before being given a bed - an effort to keep free of bedbugs and such,)Lisa arrived in tears. I went and sat with her on the sidewalk and she wanted me to come with her for more wine seeing as how in the time it took me to get discharged, pack and get up to the new place she'd turned a forty dollar trick. I told her it would have to wait until I at least had clothes to wear. She didn't want to wait, and had a shirt in her bag, and I found a pair of shorts in the donations and with a word to the staff to let them know I'd be back we were off. We got more wine and sat in a nearby park. She was apologetic, but still ridiculously hammered, and still insulting despite herself. Eventually I walked her back to her shelter and then returned to mine and finished my laundry and crashed out.
The next morning Lisa arrived early in the morning, already - amazingly- with money and we waited until the Wine Rack opened at 11 and repeated our daily routine.
two days later I was out of Women's Res and back at the Florence Booth. I missed curfew - was in fact a full 18 minutes late and on arriving at the House of Booth with Lisa, i phoned to let Womens Res know I'd be a bit late. I was in quite a spot or so it seemed but the good staff were on and gave me a bed - the same bed - and so after my two day holiday, I was right back where I'd left off.

The Patty Incident

2009-09-20T20:53:00.002-04:00

There's a tranny here at the shelter named Patty, and Lisa's been openly flirting with her since she got here. Not just flirting,even, but going on at length and publicly about how she wants to fuck her and suck her cock, etc, etc, ad nauseum. Well she got her wish.
Today I come back from wine with Winnie and walk in to hear her and Patty talking about how much fun they had last night, and how fun fucking was and they don't care if Sadie knows.
Fuck her. Fuck that dumb little disease ridden slut and everything she meant to me. Fuck her absolutely.
And what's worse is that Patty and i have a long history - and not a good one for the most part.
I told Lisa that I wasn't mad, but of course i was, but that she was free - and this part was true - as far as I was concerned she had made an informed decision to end the relationship.
What had happened was this;Lisa went out to work - at 9:30 as mentioned in the previous Blog post, and patty was on the same bus. Patty called up a trick and set up a cookie date for the two of them. A cookie date is a trick where you don't actually get paid or get paid very little, but get fed drugs the whole time. In a way they're a rip-off, but if you're in the grip of an active and overwhelming addiction they can seem like a deal and a steal.
So I've given this some thought now, (leaving Lisa) and I know it's going to be hard, but if I stay strong it'll be worth it.
Just having a hard time dealing with the pain and hurt and anger right now. I keep telling myself it's for the best but it just seems so much hurt to go through to get there. I guess there is going to be pain no matter what in this relationship and so at least this way I wind up free of it instead of destined for more down the road. I mean obviously I will experience pain again - but at least not from this relationship.
So she goes out with someone else fucks them they fuck her ass more than once -with no condom no less and she expects me to be glad she's happy. What an insane twisted selfish little goon.
So it's the next day and i'm still resolved. I may even be feeling a little less torn up and hurt. I'm still viewing this as pretty much a positive thing. But I'm also still hurting really bad. What makes it worse is having to listen to them constantly badmouthing me and talking about what a shitty person I am.How she can do so much better and how I'm using her. Gimmee a fucking break.
Lisa is now pestering me with questions like "do you still love me?" Sheesh. if only I could go away from here for awhile. I'm going tomorrow to Guelph for a couple of days, but then I'm back here, so that's a whole world of suck.
Now today comes the true test. With Lisa following me around and giving me the "I'm sorry" routine. I'm so resolved to end this thing. She causes me all this pain and misery an hardship she shows no desire to make anything better of her life - but she "loves me". I'm not sure if the sarcasm of that "loves me" came through, but it was there in spades.
She's been going through this same routine for so long now, and has gotten her way. I cave in every time. I just have to keep telling myself how much this is worth it. It is going to be so frigging hard.
The next night.
So tonight Lisa had to go to the hospital and we got stopped by the cops in the park.
The cops thing wasn't that much of a surprise although it was a drag because they felt the need to dump out our wine. I'd been leading Lisa naked through the park and was getting strangers to touch her - one crackhead in particular was pretty enthusiastic about it, but I guess we were just to far gone and somebody must have phoned the police because they came up - driving the car right into the park and they dumped out our wine. They were actually quite cool about it and we didn't get a ticket or anything but it was still not a cool scene. Just drunken stupidity really - which explains a lot of stuff that happens in my life. After that we were fucking behind the bank, just off Queen st and Lisa went to turn around and stick her ass out, but because of drunkenness neglected to involve her hands in the manouvre and so did a full on face plant, cutting herself under her eye and badly bruising her her cheek.
At first I thought she was being a dick, but then I saw the blood - there was so much of it. So I wrapped a blanket around her- she was naked at the time - and rushed her the block or so to the shelter. Once there i realized she'd need to go to the hospital, and so an ambulance was called and off to Toronto general we went.
The next morning was a nightmare, with her new tranny friends calling me a woman beater - their thinking being I'd smacked Lisa around because of the Patty incident. Her protestations that this wasn't the case were just considered as covering for me, and so on top of everything else I have to deal with this now. Christ It's hard to believe things could get any worse, but if i've learned anything these last three years it's that things can always get worse.
The whole week has been a drunken miserable mess, and I'm so confused about the whole situation with Lisa. A part of me wants to stay with her, but most of me is screaming out that I need to get away if I want to have any chance of saving myself.My visit home was a disaster as well, all because of me and my drinking. I took some Benzos and was gulping down gin and was an asshole and an embarrassment to my Mum and sister. How the two of them put up with me is a mystery. So on Sunday morning my Mum drove me back and I was dreading returning so much. but what am I going to do?

Wine With Winnie

2009-09-17T14:39:00.003-04:00

The following was written about a week ago - so it's a bit out of date and kinda patchy but I wanted to update and so here it is;

depressed as fuck these last few days and I'm sure the constant drinking isn't helping this.
Lisa went out to whore at 9:30 last night and was in good spirits, but it's now five to one the next
day and there's been neither hide nor hair of her. So I can only assume the worst. Most likely she's on a crack run - but the other worse possiblities always loom large in my mind - like she's dead or in the hospital or in jail.
The good news today came courtesy of Facebook - Winnie, an old friend from Guelph, messaged me that she's coming to Toronto and wants to meet up for coffee. Her bus arrives at 2:15 and so shortly, I'll be leaving to go meet with her and in the process I'm going to see if I can hit her up for ten bucks so I can get a litre of wine. That may sound shallow or sleazy, but i desperately need it. Especially today with my stress over Lisa being MIA.
I still have no prospects for finding a place to live, and I grow more and more hopeless everyday.
I sometimes really love Lisa - love her more than I can even understand, and she's the only thing
romantically or sexually I've got going on in my life. But at other times I look at the situation and
I just think it's hopeless, that she'll never change, and the incessant babbling about nothing, her
resentment of anything intellectual I attempt, will eventually be the death of me. Plus, I can't see
her ever not being a complete pig about cleanliness and hygiene and such - I just know if we do get a place together it's only a matter of time before we get kicked out for trashing it.
Sometimes I don't feel so pessimistic about the situation but these last few days all I see is bleakness and despair.
I really need to write about life here at the shelter. It's such a vital part of what's wrong in my
life right now and I need to give that sorrow words. Plus there are so many characters - some .good, mostly bad
Haven't seen Yehudah in about a week, and that's a shame, so maybe I'll make a trip over there today as well. I'll see how I feel about it after hanging with Winnie.
I feel like shit for focussing on this, but I really hope I can get 10 bucks off of her. I so want
to have a drink. I've come to rely on those "vacations in a bottle" so much.
I'm heading out any minute now - just waiting for the puter to be 50% charged and then I'll go.
I grow increasingly frustrated and worried about Lisa as I sit here.
But eventually she'll show up I guess. She always does. But how much more damaged will she be when she does? How much worse can things get? I just know it'll suck either way, and I also know I can't continue like this. Life is too short and I'm too old to wait around for her much longer.
And on that cheery note, I'm off.Off to meet my friend Winnie. Winnie was a friend in high school and we have reconnected through the miracle that is Facebook, and through the mutual friendship of Sara. I'm genuinely looking forward to seeing her.
I haven't written anything for a while and don't know where to begin.
Playing catchup is no fun at all, so I won't even bother trying to detail all the hardships and
misery that has gone on since my last post. Suffice to say that Lisa and I are staying at the same
shelter now. On cheque day we got a room at the Waverley for two days and had a great time.
Especially great was that on our first night there, Lisa was on her 17th day of not eating. She had
decided to "go anorexic" and her behaviour was becoming increasingly manic and erratic. An obvious result of not eating. We had a big blow out, during which I gave her an ultimatum - either eat or you lose me. and so I was able to get her to eat a burger and some fries. The change was almost instantaneous and later she ate a pizza slice as well. In the two weeks since she's continued to eat fairly regularly and generally has been pretty well behaved.
Our daily routine these days though is sadly reminiscent of the days in cracktown only instead of
crack it's alcohol that we've been using pretty much constantly.
The pattern goes something like this; Lisa goes out and whores, gets 40 bucks or so, and we spend it on booze, getting drunk in the park. If we're still sober enough and she's not tired yet, she goes out again and we repeat the process.
As a result of this and my continued and increasing depression, I've been neglecting the computer - by which I mean more specifically neglecting Twitter and my writing. And just when everything was sinking into a rhythm - a sad and empty rhythm but a rhythm nonetheless, another fucking spanner was tossed into the works. In this case my computer crashed and decided it wouldn't boot. I'd try to start it and it would just hang once it got to the windows boot screen. This was most depressing and although I had a Windows XP disc, I couldn't get the damn thing to install, and so I once again found myself without a computer. Despite having not been as enthusiastically using the computer since my fancy machine was stolen and this replacement IBM was acquired, it was still just another devastating blow. It's my only connection to anything real and sane. My only escape (other than wine) from the misery of life in the shelter.
So I had an idea. I'd take the damn thing to a shop and get them to re-install Windows on it. To my surprise and delight the guy at Roger's Computers was able to reinstall Windows and get it done before four on the same day I brought it in and for only 40 dollars. It was 40 dollars I didn't have though and so I made a desperate plea to Mum to see if I could get it, and she borrowed 50 from Nan, and so at 445 that afternoon, I once again had a working machine and what's more I had 10 extra dollars and so could get the much needed booze. That was yesterday.
So I met Winnie at the bus station and we went out for wine rather than coffee. Which I really
needed. I really like her, she's really easy to talk to, and after the babbling of Lisa about life in
Cracktown and the idiot chatter of the fellow residents at the shelter, her intelligence and humour is a welcome relief. We chatted about all sorts of things and I realize how pathetic my carrying on about Lisa must have sounded. But that's my life, so what else am I going to talk about? She was sweet enough to spring for a 10 dollar bottle of Italian red for me, and we drank some of that and continued to talk in the park. She then had to go meet her boyfriend and I finished up th.e wine and trundled back to The Florence Booth House.
Back to the house of pain

The Laptop Thief (Part the Second)

2009-09-03T15:50:00.001-04:00

So something needed to be done and the sooner the better. Here I was depressed, demoralized and lower than I’d been in ages.

My abusive stalker/trick had assaulted me on the street, thus drying up the only reliable source of income I had, and now my beloved lappie had been stole. Through my own negligence and stupidity, but still it was gone. I had not only began to despair but had leapt in , headfirst into a huge mucky pool of it. So a solution was offered in the form of my dear old friend Jo-ella. She is a terrificic woman who I’ve known since I was about 17. She messaged me on Facebook to say she was coming to Toronto and wanted to get together and what’s more, she was going to Guelph after if I wanted a ride. So I talked to my Mum and she told me to come on down and , provided the cost wasn’t prohibitive, (she doesn’t have a lot of money herself,) We would get the computer a wifi card. So Joella came down and finally got to meet Lisa, who she has both heard
and read so much about, she treated us to wine, and then we drove back to the “street of my early sorrows” . She needed to go to Guelph for her own reasons, namely the finalizing of the details of her recently deceased Father’s estate.
I got to my Mum’s and was so relieved to finally be back online that I sat up one her computer most of the night, catching up on Twitter, Facebook and some of my favorite blogs. I only slept about an hour and a half, and the next day, after she tended to her own business we were off to get wifi for the notebook. While she was doing her own thing the phone rang and it was my sister calling to tell me that Lisa had phoned her place and said it was urgent I call her and provided a number for me to do so. On calling Lisa I was told she had “fucked up” smoking crack all night, which came as no surprise whatsoever.
We went out (Mum and I) and for almost no cost and for absolutely no muss or fuss we got the IBM a wireless card. And so all was right as rain. So Joella phoned and we were soon en route, and so I phoned the shelter to tell them that I was on my way and if Lisa called or showed up to tell her I'd be there by four.
As was probably to be expected Joella was late, and then we got stuck in parking lot style traffic gridlock and it wasn't until just6 after six that we finally arrived at the shelter. So by this time Lisa had lost it, and what's worse she had hooked up with Richard. Faithful readers will know that Richard is my stalker/trick/abuser - and so when I heard that she'd gone off with him I just about lost it. Mostly, I was worried he would harm her in some way - whether through physicsal abuse or poisoning her head or through simply filling her up with crack. And so my mind was racing, of course, expecting the worst and after trying to figure out where she was and phoning Richards a few times with no answer I got a litre and a half of wine and Joella and I headed to Trinity Bellwoods Park so I could drink my wine. I had left a message at the shelter that if Lisa called or stopped by to tell her where I was because despite my anger and fear I still love her and missed her and wanted mostly to know that she was okay. She finally showed up and to my great relief hadn't een smoking crack or anything and hadn't fucked the abusive asshole limp dicked fucker.
I was angry with her - obviously- and so we fought and saw Joella off - and fought more and since I had money left I took off and left her at the shelter and headed for my friend Yehudah's place.
So the whole thing turned into a mess but the good news is that the main mission was accomplished and I now once again have wifi access.Lisa and I made up too, the next day, although again I thought "why do I need so much damn drama in my life"?

The Laptop Thief (Part the First)

2009-08-31T12:58:00.000-04:00

I guess it was inevietable really.

My beloved laptop got stolen. Pinched. Nicked

Lisa and I were having sex in the park and in the ten minutes or less that I left it alone, it was gone.

Normally I wouldn’t have even left it alone for that long, but we had it on and were listening to music and one thing led to another. We were right out in the open, and so, we moved about 15 or so feet over by some bushes – I could still see it 0- and while we were distracted someone must have ran and scooped it. I suspect someone must have been watching – waiting for the opportunity.

So it's gone. I'm still in shock about it and sad beyond belief. It's not just the physical thing being gone, like it is with a TV or a stereo, I had all the images of Lisa and I on there, and my journal -

and I had my daily and increasingly enriching Twitter and Facebook friends - and now all of its gone.

I feel so sad. At the risk of sounding maudlin and melodramatic, I feel like I've lost a loved one. And then on top of this, there's my guilt. My mum got me the lappie, and it was a gift as sort of a reward for me

going through rehab. And so losing it this way just makes me feel like shit. Its like a slap in the face.

Going dark.

So the theft set me on a bit of a tailspin. For about 6 days or maybe even a bit more than a week, Lisa and I were on what amounted to an uninterrupted drunk.

Finally there was some relief as my Mum (again, Goddess bless her) bought an old used IBM, for me, and my sister brought it with her when she was making a trip to the city. So, it wasn’t as fancy –shmancy as mine was, and had only half the memory and a little less than half the storage space, but still I was grateful and thankful and happy for the first time in a week. I had really slipped into the deepest and darkest of depressions once the lappie got stole. I was, in a word, devastated. So this was a glimmer of light that I desperately needed.

Once I got the new notebook back to the shelter though came a huge overwhelming roadblock on the rocky road to happiness; the thing didn’t have a wireless networking card. So no more wifi. Goodbye Twitter, goodbye Facebook, so long Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square.

I Give Up

2009-08-14T22:21:00.001-04:00

I just now got assaulted. Really. Just minutes ago.
I was going to say beat up, but I don't think it rises to that level.
I was walking up the street, feeeling shitty on account of fighting with Lisa, and my generally shitty life, when out of the blue, up comes my Limp dicked trick/stalker Richard, -obviously out of it - and he says "hey bigmouth. You wanna call me a goof?" and kicks me in the balls.
But let's start at the beginning.
This morning I slept late - which was nice because I didn't feel hungover or even the usual morning fog.
Lisa, though, has been growing increasingly erratic and manic as she continues to "go anorexic" - That's what she calls it. She hasn't eaten anything for 4 days now, and insists she won't since she's not smoking crack and "needs something". The toll this is taking on her mood, not to mention her health is indescribable. Also no further developments on getting her medical form filled out, which she needs to get done to get into treatment. No developments on anything for that matter. I'm no closer to having a place to live than I was a month ago. Lisa just eats up so much time. here's an example from this morning; I wake up at quarter to eleven - to clarify, they lock us out of the main common area at 11 and we have to be back up in the dorms for an hour until lunch. This is supposedly so they can clean the common area before lunch. I was thinking of going to Yehudahs to see what it was Dick dropped off or maybe going to Starfucks to get a coffee. I had an hour before lunch, so I figure lots of time to get things done. Lisa, though, is frantically, manically begging i walk with her to Evangel Hall where they have a clothing bank so she can get clothes. Its 2 blocks away. I say I have things to do so why cant she just go by herself. That's no goood though, she wants me to walk her there and wait while she gets clothes and then walk her back -I say I'd like to do something productive in the hour before lunch - this sets her off again into another diatribe about how i don't want to be with her and why cant i do something for her because thats what it really comes down to is somebody doing something for her.
She is constantly in NEED.
So I lost her - I don't know where - if she was up in the dorms or gone to Evangel or hopped a streetcar to Cracktown. But in any event I realized there isn't enough time now to make it to Yehudahs and then back and so instead I figured I'd just use the free wi-fi in the air outside the shelter and wait for lunch. I'm so hungry all the time that its important to not miss a meal.
With this thing of hers about not eating it's like banging your head against the wall. or more like watching a loved one bang theirs. Its frustrating and as each day goes by she gets more freaked out, less able to concentrate or hold an idea for two minutes and bitchierand more demanding.
So after eating I got a phone message from Yehudah and it seems Richard is over there and has "a generous offer"
And so over to Yehudahs I trot. I get there and there's Richard - which is weird enough. The two of them don't know one another at all and it's like "when worlds collide" seeing the two of them in the same room. It's also like some kind of a violation seeing this asshole pervert sitting in my friends living room.
Anyway he starts in on his usual rant that I've been hearing now for 4 years about how he wants to help me get a place, and he has a doctor lined up to get me on disability, et cetera, ad nauseum. I've been hearing this for years and know it's all just bullshit, and that when called on any of it he's just talking out his ass. yehudah is a bit freaked out, but I think is actually believing him. When he starts getting insulting and bossing me around, and insulting my friend I say "sorry" to Yehudah and leave Dick standing on the street.
So I get back here and Lisa continues to run around like a chicken with its head cut off.
I'd gotten a message on facebook from my sister, suggesting I come visit this weekend. That is so tempting and it would be so nice just to get out of this looney bin - even for a couple of days- but of course, I'm sure you, gentle reader, can guess how Lisa took this news. She whined and moaned and said she'd do anything if I'd just stay here with her. She said "I'll go whore and get us some booze, just please don't go,"
I told her how it wasn't a rejection of her, and how the time apart would actually do us both some good. And how I missed my family and wanted to see them.
And in the back of my mind I also have 3 years worth of empirical evidence to suggest that if she hits her stroll - especially in her current frazzled state - and breaks, she won't be coming back here to buy booze, but instead will be starting multi-day crack run. As I write this its 5 hours later and there's no sign of her, so at least she's remaining true to form.
So with this all in the first 6 hours of my day I just layed my head down and had a nap. Either that or sit and stew. So on awaking to a tranny named Phoebe, who's built like a linebacker, singing and yelling I camme downstairs got a sandwich and went out on the street to look for some butts. Since despite being poor I still need nicotine.
I was doiung this when I had the run in with Richard.
It was completely unprovoked and after kicking me in the balls and bitch slapping me a few times (he's twice my size,) I ran out into traffic to escape. There was a cop at the Beer Store, and so I headed for him thinking that would provide some protection. Why I thought this given my history with the asshole thugs who make up the police force in this town is a mystery, but I did. On getting to the beer store the cop let Dick walk away and started in on ME to "move along". Figures. Dick as he's leaving says "I'm going to pay this guy 50 bucks to beat the shit out of you" and yet still the pig ignores him and tells me to get moving. So I went and sat down at the shelter while the ache in my crotch and stomach subsided and then went out to get some butts, which I didn't manage the first time out - this time looking over my shoulder the whole time. And then I came back here to write this, and now I'm just praying for sleep to please come soon.

A Brief and Mostly Pointless Update

2009-08-10T11:25:00.001-04:00

So I'm sitting at the old Starfucks I used to go to all the time when I was in treatment, waiting for Lisa. She's doing her Assessment to get into CAMH and do a treatment program and hopefully get her life back so the two of us can get something resembling a life together. Notice I don't say a "normal life" - because I'm pretty sure I don't want one of those anyway and I don't think it's likely to happen even if I did, but a *life* - because they way we've been getting by for so long just plain isn't one. I just hope we can make it back to the shelter in time for lunch because otherwise she is going to be intolerable to be around. As it is she's driving me nuts. This clinginess, and the inability to accept that we don't need to be together all the time. That if I want to do something without her it doesn't mean I don't want to be with her, or I find her repulsive or that the relationship is over, it just means I'd like an hour or so to myself.
I know she's coming off of drugs, and I'm proud of her for that, but her mood swings and neediness is driving me right round the bend.
That said, now that she's staying in the sam shelter as me, we have been getting along a lot better, and she's been clean since she got there some 5 days ago.
Today, I might be able to put the touch on good old Dick, for a bit of cash, which could be translated into wine, which would be a nice finish for today. We'll just have to wait and see how that plays out.
Anyway - not much of interest this time out, but I wanted to post something just because I had a few minutes to myself.

Shmoosday and Beyond

2009-08-06T14:42:00.001-04:00

I haven't updated in over a week, and one of the reasons for this is I've been struggling with writing a post about what lisa and I did when we got our cheques. I've been struggling with it, like I say, for a couple of reasons. The first of these is that in the past 5 days or so, things with Lisa have been out of hand. Her drug use has been out of contol, and she expects me to clean up the mess. Also she gets ridiculously jealous of the time I spend on the computer, and so when she's around if I try to write or do anything else she gets all pouty. The other reason this particular post has been such a stumbling block is that I really wanted ot do a good job of it. That 24 hour period, when we got our cheques and rented a hotel room felt so magical and special- it was the way I wish we could be all the time. And I wante dthe blog post to capture some of this. But I'm getting bogged down. I can't express anything of how it felt or why it was so great - and with my feelings about Lisa and my life being so negative this last week I can't get myself in the right mindframe to write about it.
So, fuck it. In the interest of moving forward I've decided to just upload the sketchy little outline I've got written, and then maybe - hopefully I can actually get some work done.
So here it is in all its lameness.
Some days it's just good to be alive. This past Tuesday was one of those.
Lisa showed up at the shelter just a little past ten as we'd agreed and after we'd parted on such good terms we were both glad to see one another, plus we were both pretty hopeful that we'd have cheques waiting for us at the welfare office. I had money on my Starfucks card, so we had coffee to fortify us for the walk to welfare and I used the free wi-fi at the Starfucks to do my daily morning checking of email and facebook and twitter. Lisa had stolen a pair of sorta imitation crocs the day before as well, so for the first time in a long time we could walk at a decent pace without her bitching about how much her feet hurt.
We got to the welfare office without much interesting happening, but we managed to take a couple of flashing pictures on the way. On arriving though things started to go awry. There was no cheque for me there although there was one for Lisa - I was given a slip of paper and told to go wait in line upstairs - an expected 2 to 3 hour wait. I hadn't eaten and so we decided the wait would be less ardous with some food inside us and went to cash Lisa s cheque first and then come back for the 3 hour wait for mine. As usual choosing what and where to eat was a huge public scene -Lisa has food issues. The whole thing - as it usually is when we go out for food was embarrassing and humiliating and discouraging. We went back to the office after Quiznos, and Lisa sprawled out with her pussy hanging out and proceeded to fall asleep leaving me to stand alone in line . Never have I seen so many baseball caps and Tupac shirts in one place before. It took all of 2 and a half hours to get up to the counter, but once there it was only another ten minutes before my name was called and then all I had to do was sign a form and I had my cheque in hand. We walked a bit - stopping to cash my cheque and get booze and then after drinking two Vex's we grabbed a cab to the Waverly hotel at College and Spadina.
I love the Waverly. It's so old and you can feel the history in the walls -plus it has high cielings with moulded edges the way an old cheap hotel should.

We got our room and spent a bit having some great sex - thankfully not a quickie in a bush or an alley, before taking off to Yehudah's . When we got there he had a full house - about five or so people sitting around, watching the jukebox of YouTube, and smoking pot. One of the people was a girl named Sophia (or The Soph,) There we made another run to the LCBO, and put a call in for some ketamine. I've been kidding myself that ketamine doesn't count as fucking up, in terms of not doing drugs, since it's not crack -and in a way that's true. As long as I'm not smoking crack or shooting opiates, I feel I'm doing pretty good.
Lisa did too much K (for that matter so did I) so when we had to leave, we could barely walk and took little baby steps back to the hotel.
Back at the Waverly we both dyed our hair "Deepest indigo" and got dye all over the shower curtain and walls and sheets. I took some pictures while we were doing it, and I think they capture a bit of the craziness and fun of the moment.

We were slipping and sliding on the floor and laughing unconrollably, the K and the booze making us crazy and silly. It was pure Sid and Nancy we were so in love, right down to the way we talked, all childlike with one another. We hung out all night making a brief abortive trip to the 7-11 for cigarettes and juice. Lisa fell asleep and I watched the Devils Rejects on the puter. i found it disjointed and a bit confusing but maybe that was the drugs. We went out at about 11 to a fancy seafood place where we overpaid for soup. The soup was good at least. We went back to the hotel and Lisa slept more awaking at around 2 feeling hungry and so we went and had pizza slices and came back to the hotel falling asleep for the first time in maybe 5 months in one anothers arms. waking up together felt so good, and right and it was so sad to leave. I had to go check i a t the shelter to keep my bed, and the plan was for Lisa to see if she could get another overnight and if so to get the room for on emore night. They wouldn't let her have 2 nights in a row, and so we had to give up the room. We parted ways with the plan that we'd meet up again the next day.
Dick had phoned and so, once the boredom kicked in, I called him back and wound up over there.
I wasn't the only one succumbing to boredom though. After leaving me Lisa had phoned and spent her remaining money on crack, and spent the next few days on a crack run.
I didn't hear from her again until Sunday when she phoned in tears crying that her friend Martin was beating her up and would't let her leave.
So it was great and wonderful, but as usual, and just like with drugs, the high was followed by the worst and deepest of lows.

So there it is, and like I say, this one post has been bogging me down for a week. I've got two more on the go right now, so hopefully it won't be as long until the next update

Whatta Dick!

2009-08-02T01:13:00.004-04:00

Dick is such a dick. He invites me up there, and then from the moment I arrive all he does is berate me yell at me lecture me and rant and rave like some kind of fucking lunatic. Pisses me off too, that he has no drugs no money, no nothing - and whats more he gives me TTC fare home and that's it - so in fact I'm down 2.75 since talking to him on the phone.
Whatta Dick!!!!
Dick - just as a little background is an old regular trick of mine. His name is actually Richard, but when he's an annoying prick, I call him Dick. He first picked me up on the Tranny stroll (Homewood and Maitland) about 4 years ago. I've seen him on average about twice a month since then. Sometimes he's not bad, and other times - like tonight he's a complete jerk. He also has the frustrating habit of forgetting the nature of our relationship, and getting the mistaken idea into his head that I'm his girlfriend or something. You get the point.
And another thing. I'm pissed off at him for not having drugs,thats certainly the case. But that makes me even more pissed off because I'm pissed off at myself because of how much I wanted some. A few weeks ago, I wasn't like this. I came out of the treatment committed to getting clean and even though I'm doing well (or so everyone says,) I find increasingly I'm thinking about getting high or drinking all the fucking time. And I just want to get back on track.
Now I have to shake this feeling of pissed offedness out of my system and try to get myself into something resembling a creative and positive head space in order to do what I was originally intending to do, and that is update the damn blog with the whole story of Shmoosday, and the Waverly, and everything since then. This past few day-long stretch has been nothing if not a lesson in dealing with obstacles, and frustration and stagnation - wasted time and wasted opportunities.
Christ on a bicycle, why couldn't I have been born rich instead of good looking.
So, I'm now setting back to work on the previou8sly scheduled lame blog update, but I just had to vent. Thank you for your kind indulgence.

The Week That Was

2009-08-01T13:04:00.001-04:00

Another shitty day in the life.
Was awakened today by one of the girls at the shelter telling me Lisa was there. And thus started a few hours of non-stop bitching and complaining and moaning and insults until finally I ditched her at OCAD. But that wasn't the end of it.She caught up with me again at the welfare office and then proceeded to bitch and moan and complain at me again. Welfare was a wash. Deespite being assured omn Friday that my cheque would be there for pick up after noon on Monday, on my arrival there at the appointed hour I was now told I would have to come back yet again the next day, Tuesday. No cheque for Lisa either and so we were both feeling pretty miserable. Finally I begged "could I please have 1 hour with no bitching, no demands and most of all no incessant nattering on" it was agreed and for 15 minutes or so - at Starbucks I enjoyed a bit of Facebook and checked my email. and then it started up again -worse than ever now, and so I was forced to flee and ditched her yet again - this time at the Starbucks on Yonge. I hate having to constantly feel like Im fleeing, this whole thing sucks. I want out of the relationship. I want to fully and completely end it.
I would like nothing more than to simply never see her again. It would be easy too if I had something else going on, but I don't and its the loneliness and the boredom that kills me.
So, Lisa showed up at the 519 where I was waiting for meal trans. Meal -Trans is a weekly free meal put on at the 519 Community Center for "homeless and street -affected" trans-peple. It's agood program, and one that has prevented me from going hungry on many occasions. Lisa and I managed to make up a bit and laid in the park talking and cuddling, and I took a couple of pics of her looking cute instead of scary. Then we went into the room where meal tans is held and had food and left -enjoying some semi-public sex on a carseat that someone had kindly left out in the park. I decided I didn't want to leave her after all, that I loved her and we parted ways both happy, and with plans to meet up again the next day to try the whole thing again.
The next day Tuesday turned into Shmooday right before our eyes.
and that's what the next post will be about. Sorry for this post being even lamer than most but I wanted to catch up a bit and i wanted Shmooday to have it's very own post.

cameras, and court, and welfare, oh my

2009-07-26T14:20:00.002-04:00

Welcome to the latest installment of Sadie's lame blog. And for those of you who actually enjoy reading my increasingly scatterbrained account of the daily events of my life, an apology. I'm sorry it took me so long to get a new post written and uploaded, but I just haven't felt much like writing this week. That's not entirely true, I finally got started on writing some fiction, which is something I used to do, and really enjoyed, but haven't done in years. I didn't want to just write something simply for the sake of getting something up, because then it would wind up being crappy. And I owe it to you, gentle reader, to make sure the blog remains lame, and doesn't descend into mere crappiness, because that would really be unfair to all of us. So without further ado, here is my edited version (ie; I changed the tense from present to past) of what I typed to kill time at the welfare office on Friday.
I had a pretty good morning, went to court at 9:00, and was out of there at ten after, having to be back next Friday to update them on my court ordered diversion. I am supposed to go to a counselling session at a place called Streeetlight, to find out about the evils of prostitution, and then my original charge of Communication FTP of prostitution will be dropped. It's unclear what will happen with the new charges. That was much quicker than expected, court usually being a hurry up and wait affair so after leaving the beautiful Old City Hall court, Mum and Terra and I walked around looking for a deal on digital cameras, eventually finding one for 35 bucks at a pawn shop. After that was when the worm started to turn.
I had called welfare in the morning to find out if a cheque would be available to pick up today and was told that indeed there would be. And so I went down to the welfare office after seeing my Mum and sister off at the bus station. It turns out there was no cheque for me. My assistance had been terminated. This is a result of my being in jail earlier in the month. Apparently when you go to jail your assistance is automatically cancelled. Normally I would see my worker, and re-apply and that would be the end of it, but as a result of the strike, The office was a zoo, and there were people who'd been waiting since 10:00 that morning. I had arrived at the office some time around 1.
This is a funny thing about media coverage of the strike. The union that is striking is CUPE, and although to listen to the media you'd think that it's only garbage collectors who have walked off the job.In fact the effected services are more far reaching and diverse. Librarians, and staff at all city run facilities, like shelters and needle exchanges are all not working. One group of workers under the CUPE umbrella is that of the Social Services, or to you and me, welfare.
So these lazy bozo's feel they can punish the most vulnerable segment of society in the name of their selfishness and greed. Bloody sickening.
So I had to wait - along with about a hundred others, until the skeleton staff of management morons process peoples accounts and get the cheques out. What I figured this essentially meant is I was going to sit there for the next hour, and then - since there was no possible way for them to get to me before their 3 o clock closing time - I'd have to come back and do it again on Monday.
The frustration level was pretty high, mine compounded by a lack of food. I hadn't eaten since the night before. Also adding to my frustration level is the knowledge that Lisa's cheque is there, and so she had probably picked it up and was already smoking it away. The phones there are set up so you can't make outcalls, so I couldn't call her shelter again.
After I left the office too, I faced a 45 minute walk back to my shelter to deal with the grim prospect of a weekend without money.
My writing was interrupted,at that point, by them calling my name. I met with a worker, and I got my benefits re-instated,but alas no cheque for this big city kitty that day. I would have to wait until after 12 pm on Monday. That's okay though. At least it was coming eventually
It turns out that the biggest development of the day, was the camera. I've been taking pitures of every damn thing. Go here to see what I mean.
In Now magazine this week there's a good article about how the opportunistic fathead, @mayormiller and the greedy bastards at CUPE are both more than willing to shit on the poor and disenfanchised if it helps them out, but unfortunately the incompetant shitheads over at the formerly - alternative Now, decided not to include this article in their online edition so I can't link to it.
You kids play nice, and keep this damned internet clean or I swear I will turn this blog around.
You know I will.

The Sunny Side

2009-07-20T08:49:00.014-04:00

Jails, Hospitals, Shelters. I'm seeing all the sites in my latest adventure in life in the lovely city of Toronto.
This past weekend was one for the record books though - all that's missing is a scrapbook so I could share it with my family and friends. Since I've never been much for arts and crafts, this little blog o mine will simply have to suffice.
On Saturday, the tension and pressure that Shmoo and I had been developing after a week of pretty much uninterrupted joy and bliss, finally bubbled over and we had our first full-blown fight. The immediate cause of this blow up is easy enough to diagnose. On Friday I went over to a date`s place and on the Saturday morning she did the same, and so rather than being broke, we found ourselves with a couple of hundred bucks. Well, to be more exact, I had 100, and she had 80. So off we went to our beloved park. No sex was to be had on this visit - for a couple of reasons, it was cold and icchy, and our spots weren't very secluded as luck would have it. Plus, we were already snipping at one another a bit. So we went to get some wine for me and some Vex for Lisa, but first we stopped for some food. It felt so good to eat real food -rather than a free handout. Handouts are always less satisfying, no matter the actual quality of the food.
So we got the booze and Lisa was whining - or continuing to whine, since she'd been at it all day. About how her feet hurt, and she wanted to have sex, and could she use my make-up - this one was really pissing me off. She has 80 dollars, but wants to use my make-up. She can't drop 10 bucks on getting some for herself. So it was decided we'd go by my friend Yehudah's and maybe get some ketamine. This is a drug that I don't mind doing because it couldn't be less like crack, and I figured doing a drug - any drug - might cause Lisa to stop being so bitchy.
Such was not the case. When we got there I suggested we get some "scissor legs formula" as Yehudah calls the stuff and he asked how much. I said I'd throw in 30, and when i asked Lisa what she wanted to contibute she said nothing. On further investigation it was revealed she wanted to save her 80 dollars for when we parted so she could get some crack. This was why she was so reluctant to spend earlier, why she contributed nothing to food, why she wouldn't drop the 3.99 on some eyeliner. So, I finally had enough, and when we left Yehudah's I left her in the dust and went and bought the purple hair dye, I'd been wanting for some time, plus some Super Blondissima bleach to strip my hair. I drunkenly stumbled around the shelter doing the hair colouring, and didn't do quite as good a job on the bleaching as I would have liked, so the purple is less dark than I wanted, but I do - in fact - have purple hair. So Mission accomplished on that front. Lisa didn't wind up showing up here at the shelter as I had hoped she would, and so my mood got darker and darker. And I continued to drink and drink and the two factors fed off one another until I was an angry miserable drunken mess and bitching about hating myself and wanting to die and telling anyone who'd listen that I wanted to kill myself.
It was this suicidal bit that really caused the problems though. One of the staff here at the shelter -and she meant well, God bless her - called the police, to get me some help. It's unclear how armed goons could help a person feeling suicidal, but I digress.
The cops wanted to take me to the hospital for the night and despite my protestations that I really was just speaking rhetorically that is what they were determined to do.
They got me outside and threw me over the back of the car. I was handcuffed behind my back and the, eventually thrown to the ground with a knee in my jaw and neck. I couldn't breathe and so I started panicking and screaming "help,I can't breathe," which I think came out more a s "grrrgle, grrrgle gllip, " This had the effect of getting them to call for backup and so, within minutes there were six of them. I wasn't counting but one of the other residents of the shelter videotaped it, and at this point a crowd had gathered. So I was later told about it by them.
I wound up hogtied, and hoisted into the back seat of a car. then driven to St Josephs health center - specifically their emergency/crisis ward. Where the motto is "If it isn't a crisis now, we'll make it one."
There the Rent a Cops took over where the taxpayer supported goons left off and again the knee to the throat tecnique of crisis intervention was utilized to a similar effect as last time.
Finally someone without a gun entered and I was shacled hand and foot to a bed, and administered a dose of demerol IM (in my butt cheek to be exact,). Mercifully, it didn't take long for the demorol to kick in, and I think it was a big ass dosage (pun fully intended) and so I was soon embraced in the arms of my lover, Morpheus, which is truly where I always really want to be.
I awoke the next day - I asssumed it was the next day - no clocks or windows in evidence - and was given a plate of food and had my hands released from the restraints (which for fans of such things were a shiny black plastic, with a padlock,) so I could eat. I couldn't eat however because the swelling and pain in my face and jaw made it impossible to do so.
So, the day wore on in exquisitely tedious boredom, eventually briken by the visit from a nurse, then more lunch, then the nurse again this time to ask me about my "status" regarding transgenderism, and then the nurse yet again, and then thfinally the psychiatrist who allowed me to leave and in an attempt at humour made me promise if I dyed my haier again, to promise i would use gloves. My hands were still stained a grape juice like colour from my dye - job the day before.
So I got back to the shelter just in time for dinner. I had a hard time eating without getting all down the front of me, but I was hungry so I managed.
A couple of hours later came the perfect coda for the day.
I was sitting outside the shelter on the lappie when I noticed a big menacing man looming over me. "Can I help you ? " I ask, and then there are 3 more of them. A quartet of goons if you will. They claim their sister was mugged last night and her laptop stolen. She descibed someone who looked "just like me" as having taken it. So they satart telling me all the vile thiongs they intend to do to me for stealing it, and I point out that I couldn't have stolen it since at the time I was in the hospital.
So - long story short - the police were called and as luck would have it, it was two of the cops from the other night. They confirmed my story and my alibi for the time of the incident and apparently this great likeness I shared with the suspect. Also a tranny - although taller, younger and wwith blonde hair instead of Bright purple. But then we all look alike.
So after that wa scleared up I wanted nothing so much as to sleep and that's just what I did. I slept the blissful and euphoric, restful sleep of the damned.

The Shmoos Reunion Tour

2009-07-17T09:49:00.001-04:00

What a draining, but fun and fabulous couple of days.
For two days now, I've spent the whole day with my Lisa. I wish I had the energy to actually write something insightful about it, but I'm just soooo exhausted I just want to get a post up and out of the way.
So here goes -
As anybody who knows me is well aware - and anybody who reads the blog can prolly figure out - my Shmoo and I have a passionate and often turbulent history together.
And I had thought that "history" was all there was. But after her "rescue mission" the other day, we've been virtually inseparable for most of the waking hours.
The day after, as promised, she came by the shelter in the morning, and we had another fun day of grazing in the grass at a couple of local parks, and giving thrills to more than a few passers by with our public sex escapades. On Wednesday, instead of her going out to "crackwhore" or to find a trick to stay with, we managed to get her a bed at a women's hostel. I felt better knowing she wouldn't be on the streeet and would be safe and fed and such. But the best news of all was that before we parted and she hopped the streetcar we had a big emotional talk in which she told me she really wants to get clean, and quit smoking crack. And that she means it and is comitted to doing anything it takes to get there. And the next morning she showed up here, bright eyed and bushy tailed -well rested and still resolved to quitting life as a drug addict.
So, we hit the park in the AM, and found ourselves a nice shady spot, relatively removed from the main traffic of cyclists and dog walkers, and settled in to listen to some rock n roll, and talk, and probably get up to more sexy Shmoo hijinks.
And, true to form, it wasn't long before we were fucking in the grass. We had some creepy guy lingering around for a while, but he soon split. I've been showing Shmoo some Public Disgrace videos over the past couple of days, and they're her new favourite thing, and so a little later on, when I was licking her pussy and some guy stopped his bike close by, we called him over and Shmoo asked if he wanted to finger her pussy. So he did, and had a camera with him and took some photos of her getting naked and me spanking her ass. He stuck around a little longer and smoked a joint with us. He had this big goofy grin, like he just couldn't believe his luck - and I was having the best time - on account of having my little public humiliation fantasies play out. It was a good time for all. I exchanged emails with him in the hopes of getting some of the pics, but so far haven't heard back from him. That was so much fun it made us giddy for a while and we laughed and giggled for the next hour, over having strangers just randomly finger Lisa in the park and play with us. I said to Lisa - "see life without drugs doesn't have to be boring,"
We made it back to my shelter for some food, and then wandered up to the Elsie (That'd be the liquor store, folks,) and got a bottle of wine. We drank that at the park behind the AGO, but there was no sexy fun and frolic there on account of the place crawling with kids. But it was nice and relaxing, though and as we finished the wine we leisurely made our way back for a spot of dinner.
After that it was back to our original park, we had some more sex - this time just the two of us, and before long it was time for Lisa to get the streetcar back to her shelter.
We've been having such a fun time these last few days, and I can't help thinking how lucky I am that my Shmoo is a dirty little slut. As she is always quick to point out, I'm a dirty slut too, so we're a good match.
I'd had a veritable shitload of messages during the day, from Richard, but after Shmoo left and I returned his calls, I was in no mood to make the trek alll the way up to his place, money or no money.
I was exhausted - just dead tired, and went to bed and had a wonderful sleep.
And now as I type this, I'm waiting for Shmoo - who phoned to say she'll be here at 11 - so we can go and do the whole thing over again today

Rescued

2009-07-15T04:26:00.002-04:00

Monday morning was a kick in the teeth. I was jolted awake from an unsatisfying and insufficient sleep by screaming and yelling in the "dorm". It turns out it was over five dollars. Such a weeping and wailing and a gnashing of teeth as you will ever see. And all over a measly five dollars. As soon as I woke up I knew I was in a bad mood. More specifically I felt suicidal and shitty. There was no real reason for it - there never is for the really bad ones - I just felt hopeless, and alone, and for the first time in a really long time, I thought I wanted to die. Or not sso much that as just to stop feeling altogether. When you feel that way, it starts to turn into a feedback loop, too, and your mind starts a downward spiral of progrssively worse thoughts. So I was obsessing over having nowhere to live, and nothing on the horizon on the housing sitch either. On having no money, and getting old, and my relationship with Lisa, and this upcoming court thing and on and on, and soon I was feeling hateful and empty and broken. It's horrible to feel that way and look at other people and perceive them to be so together and to have such an easy happy life in comparison with your own. But what's worse, by far, is to realize with certainty that it isn't just you - everybody is broken.Damaged.
And I can say that there was no cause for the bleakness of mood, but truth is there were lots of little ones. Death by a thousand cuts. Like, the night before there was a message at the shelter to phone Lisa at a number she'd left. I call and a trick answers
"May I speak to Lisa please?"
I hear the phone being passed. Music. Laughter. Then,
"Shmoo!!!" It's Lisa sounding very polluted "I'm gonnna put you on speakerphone, we're getting so drunk!"
I said "goodbye," and hung up.
So onthis morning there was another message from her. She hadf called early in the morning. We had a wretched, bickering spat, and I was pouty and spiteful, and blaming her for my problems. Even the ones she's not responsible for :-)
She could tell just how low I was I guess, because about an hour later she arrived here at the shelter. To "rescue me," she said, and it was no exaggeration
She bought me a pack of cigs, then a litre of wine and best of all we had public sex -very public sex. We fucked in the park, and it wasn't until I was in her and beyond the point of stopping for any reason that we reaslized the spot we'd chosen was right beside a busy pathway. So people were walking by, and some laughed and some were clearly shocked and offended, but as i say, at that point there was nothing that would have gotten me to stop. And then, naaturally, I started to reallly get off on our being watched. And not just watched, but so brazenly just fucking in public, in full view of anyone. With my being so into it, I wasn't about to waste my cum by shooting inside her, and instead I pulled it out, and dumped a quite simply massive load all over her face. She was laughing at this, and being Lisa also got right into it. As it happened, just as I started to cum a young couple-looking like newlyweds - was walking by, and they actually stoppped walking and stared, for the duration of me blowing my load. We did it twice more, in other locations - one across the street from a bar, where by the end, a couple of patrons came outside for a better view. So we had a great time, and my mood was turned around, and I feel like shit for doubting her love for me. I'll never doubt that again. I maybe question if the relationship is healthy and many other things but not her love.
So, I saw her to the streetcar. She has an old guy - a client of hers - who she was going to stay with.
I came back to the shelter, once again feeling like I wanted to live. I ate, watched an episode of True Blood and had one of the best and longest sleeps of the past few weeks.

An Addendum

2009-07-11T15:39:00.003-04:00

So, I'm in a pissy mood today. I'm kicking ass and taking names. Lisa left a message here at the shelter - claims to have no recollection of how we parted last time, nor of being an asshole. She had me call her at a tricks place, where she was sleeping. When I suggested a stint in detox might be a good idea for her, she got hostile and insulting. So I hung up on her. That kind of nonsense I do not need.
I don't think she realizes how much I care about her and how much watching her suicide mission/downward spiral is ripping me apart inside. I keep telling myself "let go'let go" but it's bloody fucking hard.
Also - I called my regular at the pre-arranged time and now he wants to reschedule for Monday. Monday? What am I supposed to do til then? Work the bloody streets? I was planning on going to a show tomorrow, and the money from tonight was going to be financing that. Things just get worse as this day progresses. I managed to convince him the least he could do would be to come down here and give me 20 or 30 bucks and he claims the earliest he can make it is 9:30. What a crock.
So the good news, I guess, is that I'll have a little cash by ten tonight, but that doesn't put me in much better a mood.
There's an "I love Sex Parties" sexparty at Goodhandy's tonight and if I can manage to work myself into something vaguely resembling a decent mood maybe I'll go to that. It's ten bucks, but only 5 if you show up in underwear, and free if you're naked. That shouldn't be a problem as anyone who knows me can attest.
Okay I'm off to Search and Destroy now. You kids be good, and I'll let you know how things unfold.

Lisa Shmoo

2009-07-11T02:27:00.003-04:00

Lisa came by the shelter yesterday morning, while I was napping. I was excited to see her. It's been 3 weeks or more since we've seen one another -unless you count that nasty brief run in down in cracktown.
I don't.

So first thing is the sight of her. She looked awful. Spots and scrapes over her whole face, a face that looks pudgy for some reason.
Contrarily to this seeming pudginess she appears to be suffering from malutrition at the very least. Her thighs and ass are covered in bright red spots she claims are from falling
asleep on red ants, but who really knows.
We walked to the Beer store her constantly pawing me and regaling me with the most sordid tales of loss and despair anyone should ever have to endure.
We got poppers at the Beer store and walked south - for some reason I wanted to be near water. And I figured we could fuck in the bushes down by the lakeshore.
Halfway down, just past King and Spadina, we stopped in a little park and I got her to put my cock in her mouth and started humping her face. Dogwalkers and 9to5'ers on lunch would look quickly the other way = some drywallers across the street, though, took a liking and watched. I got nervous though, what with being out on bail and all, and put a stop to it, and we started drinking our Poppers
She decided to go pantsless - ala Lady Ga-Ga and I encouraged her, her underwear looking far more appealing than her ugly 80's style skirt. So we continued down to habourfont, and found a spot to sit. Before getting there though she had to pee, so she drops her ginch and lets rip right there with tourists and boaters and dog walkers looking on. I had to go too and so pissed all over her ass while she was down there, she rolled over, back and hair in the pee and swallowed mine - or at least tried to most of it went in her hair or on her hoodie. we held hands I made her crawl a block or so, stopping to boot her ass when she slowed down.That was fun.
We put on a show for the construction workers, and had her on the Bathurst bridge spread eagled and was slapping her tits and face when some do goooder jumped in saying something about hitting women but Lisa attacked him and he went away We had a great time essentially. Then she just wanted to collapse on the street or turn a trick and phone Steve. She wouldn't stop asbout how much she wanted to smoke crack with me. I told her much as I love her I'm not prepared to live this life anymore She sez "you're getting old" and she's right. I am getting old. Im growing up. my body aches when I move, I hurt in the morning for no good reason.
Gooddess I loved her. Loving her costs me so much and my account at the emotion bank is damn near empty. I'm getting old.
I loved her like I've never loved anyone, and I miss the wildness of it, the craziness we shared. But she has said before she's on a suicide mission, and I'm just not. Not anymore. I want to live. and it sucks.

Shattered

2009-07-05T21:41:00.001-04:00

So where to begin? First off, Mum, if you stumbled over here again, please quit reading and go back to Facebook. This really isn't intended for you. luvya.
Anyway.
Wandering around the day before yesterday, feeling hornier than horny can be.It doesn't help that this city seems to be super-saturated with sexy looking people these days. Gawd, I want every second person I see. Plus my lover and I are no more, or at least on an indefinite hiatus (more on this later,)
It was in this state of mind that I bumped into Richard, who's an old regular that I've seen for about 4 years or so now.For a while I even thought he might become more than just a trick, but he's a controlling, bossy, disrespectful fuck, and so it has remained a strictly business relationship. He invited me back to his place, and part of me was reluctant to go, on account of his drug use - I knew there would be crack at his place, but I was feeling pretty strong about it and confident I could "just say no". Besides, I needed the cash, and he's not half bad looking, so because of my aforementioned horniness, I wanted nothing better than to suck on a big cock and maybe even get myself fucked. Did that. And despite it being "work" it felt great and was fun.
What happpened next was no good - he had an 8 ball, and was smoking and in spite of myself I asked for a toke. He didn't offer, I asked. I have nobody to blame but myself. So I smoked it. And another. And another. What a bad scene. bad on account of how it made me feel -pissed off and a failure for fucking up and plus it sketched me out like nobody's bidness. The sex was fun before the crack. Once the dope started it just wasn't fun anymore. I stayed until 5 or 6 in the morning, he wanted me to stay, and there was another 8 ball on the way, but I just had to get out. I didn't want to keep going. I got home - or back to the shelter anyway - with some pot he'd given me and 80 bucks. I started to beat up on myself, but figured what's the point? For one thing feeling shitty and wallowing in guilt will just make me want to get high, so I pushed that aside and decide to just accept that accidents happen, relapses are going to happen, and I can feel good I had the strength to stop when I did, and not stick around when there was more dope on its way.
Back at the shelter I thought about sleeping but just couldn't and decided it would be a bad idea besides, because if I did fall asleep it would be hard, if not impossible to be up in time to meet up with Yehudah to go check out King Sunny Ade at Harbourfront.
So instead I showered and dressed and wound up at Yehudah s at 10 am. Coffee was had, then a walk around the market, me wanting some shoes. Wound up buying some snazzy strappy wedges for 20 bucks, also found a store called Twylight that has wickedest clothes including some great J-style stuff
Yehudah and I drank some boubon and wandered around harbourfront, laughed much and had a great time. I was burnt out by the end of the King and headed back home, met with Yehudah at midnight to get the lappie, which I'd left at his place, and then came back to the shelter and went online to find my blog had gotten mentioned on Ickaprick and Iron Pussy, which is a wicked blog you should all check out. That made me feel elated. Not only praise for this lameass little blog, but from people I respect. Wickedcool. Also, over on Facebook, my old dear friend Joella had msg'd me. Turns out she'll be in this dirty old city on Tuesday, and wants to get together for coffee. We haven't seen one another in years, so I was delighted to have finally caught up with her, and I'm so looking forward to a face to face. In not so good news, found out Lisa,(My lover, partner in crime, soulmate) had been by the shelter. Not to look for me of course, but to try to get a bed under a fake name. She tried using an alias because much like every other shelter in town, she's barred from this one. They recognized her, and so didn't give her one and goddess only knows where she is now.The staff said she didn't seem all fucked up, so that at least is a relief.
Bummed as hell about the crack, and about how much I love to get high. Bummed about Lisa, of course, but have now accepted that it probably can just never be. Really frustrated sexually, and on the 24th I have to go to court to deal with that bullshit from last week.
And that's about where I'm at. Maybe now I can get to work writing something that isn't just a boring retelling of how I spent the last couple of days and is actually insightful and meaningful. Doubt it, but its nice to have goals.
Until the next post...Same bat time, same bat channel

A Guest of the Crown

2009-07-02T11:18:00.001-04:00

Free at last! Free at last, Thank God almighty, Im free at last!
I had the great misfortune of spending the last 5 days as a guest of our regent, Elizabeth Regina, the Queen.. To be specific, I was a resident at the lovely and venerable facility known as the Don Jail. This was an experience beyond compare, an experience I'll never forget - one that will be stained on my memory forever and ever.
It was utter stupidity. Stupidity and my own desperate perverse horniness. That compounded with being shit faced drunk.
The cops were brutal-taunting and tormenting me, breaking my nose, stomping on my hand-true sadists. And not in the good way. All of this while I was handcuffed to a bench. When they took my computer bag from me I made the mistake of asking "Could you be gentle with that, its my laptop," at which the goon proceeded to purposely drop it, accompanied by a sarcastic "oops"
I woke up freezing, in a mini kilt and tank top, in the holding cell only to be threatened with tasering for the simple offense of asking for food. I decided to show up the bastards in my own sick, perverted way - so I stuck myself in a good full view of the camera and beat off like a fiend. Not once, not twice, but 3 times. I was going for a fourth when they came to take me out of the cell. I assumed they had come to release me - that's what always happened before, but instead I was handcuffed and taken to a waiting Paddy wagon. Driven to Old City Hall, in a kilt, a tank top, no shoes, no underwear., and shoved into a bullpen with about 18 men. Meanwhile a tranny friend of mine sat in isolation just two cells down, all by herself.. - Lesson? Don't piss off the keepers, they can and will Fuck you!
So I sit around for hours, and hours only to learn I'm not being released...rather I'm going to jail. The Don Jail to be precise.
Hours more pass, and Im issued an orange jumpsuit. The "gay range" is supposedly full, and so I'm thrown in to a regular one, where from moment one there are catcalls and insults and threats.
The conditions are Dickensian - 3 people in cells designed for one - I have to lay on a wafer thin mattress on the floor. So high is the level of homophobia on this range that all the inmates are required to shower in their boxers, for fear that a stray sighting of a cock or a mans ass might turn the whole lot of them gay. They have such barely repressed faggotry within them, that even the glimpse of another mans nether regions might push them over the tipping point.
The famous, much ballyhoooed and infinitely lame "prison code" was everywhere in effect, of course. Most of it - right down to the phrases and expressions a direct throwback to Coolhand Luke.
On Sunday I thought "Fukkit" and just stayed in my cell - feeling that was a better option than braving being out on the range all day as I was Saturday. I read and slept and slept and read, tossed and turned and sweated up a storm, causing both me and my sheets to stink to high heaven. This was to become an issue later on. I was also feeling pretty down, and miserable and just generally in a funk, because for what was now the second year running I was missing Pride! Of all the shitty timing.
Monday finally arrived, my court appearance, and my much anticipated bailout. Woke up and was rushed downstairs at 6 am only to wait in a crowded little room - the bullpen - for a full 4 hours before being herded again into the wagon and off to court.
30 guys stuck in a room that could maybe comfortably hold 15. The talk again more of the same: Fags and bitches and fighting and bitches and violence and court crap and crime and violence and bitches and fags. All of them, young and old seem incapable of not preening and posturing, bragging and boasting.
After all this I find out Mum isn`t there and there is to be no release, and so Im headed back to the Don for yet another night.
Mercifully, on Tuesday, my wonderful, beautiful, fierce, and long suffering Mum showed up to bail me out and draw this nightmare to a close. Worst of all, Mum had known for some time I had a warrant out for FTA (Fail to Appear), but when she asked what the original offense was I had told her it was for stealing some perfume. When she signed my bail as my surtey, she found out what it was really for, which, of course was Communicating for the purpose of Prostitution. That made me feel about 2 inches high, and so sorry for the crap I constantly seem to put that poor woman through. I`m just blessed that I have the best Mum on the planet, and I love her more than anyone.
Later I'm going to do more of a "thought piece" on transgendered people in prison, and the whole culture of abuse and brutality that is the Canadian (in)justice system, but for now I just wanted to get the facts out of my system and up on the lame blog for all and sundry to see. So, a word of advice to everybody, but especially anyone who`s Trans or genderqueer, or whathaveyou - Dont get arrested!!!
And if you are a Toronto Police Officer. Do yourself, your loved ones and all decent people on the planet a favour - take your sidearm, put in your mouth and pull the trigger. Really.

Hogtown Here I Come

2009-06-23T15:39:00.002-04:00

"More is lost through inaction than through wrong action"
So says some old twat or other. And so say I.
It's in this spirit that I've made my mind up, and even though I have nowhere to go, and no money, and no hope, I'm headed back to my city. Good old Hogtown.
I'd rather be homeless in a place I feel comfortable, some sense of belonging than in this limbo I'm currently drifting in.
I'm in so much of a better state of mind today than I was yesterday. Just having made a decision, just the fact that action is happening, in some small way, has given me a new bounce in my step.
So I'm leaving tomorrow, and I'll present myself at a couple of my favourite shelters, and see if I can locate a bed.
I don't think I'll have that big a problem. It's not the ideal situation, but Ive done it before, I can do it again.
I woke up feeling good this morning and listened to New Day Rising by Husker Du. It's my theme song for today

Bob Mould Band - New Day Rising @ Coachella 2009
My Theme song for today

Idle Hands

2009-06-22T13:36:00.002-04:00

The last few days it has been pissing down with rain in the Royal City, where I find myself temporarily stranded. I say "stranded" because that is what I am. I have nowhere else to go to. Except to a shelter in Toronto, which is what will probably wind up happening by the end of this week. Because Pride is this week and there is no way I'm spending it stuck in Guelph.
It's been raining, as I said. And since I'm relying on the existence of unsecured wi-fi connections to access the Internet, and can only get a signal outside, the rain means I've unable to connect to the Internet consistently. So I used the time to work on some Photoshop tutorials, listen to music, and -I figure , "why not?" updating the lame ass blog.
I'm miserable and depressed and lonely and full of self-hate right now. And I don't have any idea how to snap out of it.I'm supposed to be feeling great because I finished that treatment program, and exactly the opposite is true. I miss my old life. I miss the seediness of it, and the excitement.
On top of everything I'm finding it impossible to get over Lisa.
All in all I'm feeling really hopeless right now.
And as if it weren't bad enough, what with being penniless and homeless, and loveless, I am starving to death. At least being in the city I can get something to eat a couple of times a day.
I don't know why I'm posting this, since it says nothing and reaches a new depth of lameness, even for this blog, but I don't care anymore - about pretty much anything - and so there it is.
Hopefully I'll have something real to say soon.

Internet Addict

2009-06-09T16:49:00.004-04:00

I've been replacing my drug addiction with an internet addiction lately.
I'm not sure if that's better or not.
I mean it seems obvious, right? But I'm more lost in my own world than when I was actively using drugs. I have a tendency to isolate myself anyway and the Internet allows me to do this moe fully and easily than drugs ever could.
When I was a junkie, I had to go out and turn tricks, so there was that interaction - not just with the tricks, but with the other girls working the corner, and then there was dealing with the dealers and other addicts - not great or intellectually stimulating interaction to be sure, but at least it was real human contact.
Now, on the net, I'm on Twtter, and Facebook, and a bunch of other "virtual communities",but it really isn't the same and while I tell myself I'm meeting people and "talking" with friends, it still seems pretty unsatisfying.
And lets not even mention sex, okay. Really.
I don't do "cyber" and since getting off dope, I've been hornier than I can remember being for years. And with no outlet to speak of, it all adds up to an unhappy and frustrated Sadie.
Tonight I'm going to see if I can get some cash together and go out on to the weekly "alternative" night in this "one Starbucks town" I'm temporarily stuck in. If I can't get myself fucked, I'm fucked.
The other downside to this internet addiction is the way that it saps my productivity. No writing, no art, no music - all because I'm too busy downloading music and movies, and trading (mostly) lame witticisms and comments with my Twitlets on Twitter.
So whats a gal to do?
I think going out tonight is a step in the right direction, if I can't get laid, just the simple fact of being away from the computer and seeing real people will do me some good, and the other obvious thing that springs to mind is that I need to get to work on finding a place in Toronto by the end of the month. I can't stay here in Dullsville for much longer without going quite completely insane.
In other news, I'm back on track with my recovery, and talking to the doc next week about getting back on hormones, so there IS a lot of positive stuff happening. Now all I have to do shut down Tweetdeck for a couple of hours and get out there.
Carpe Noctum!

Slipping

2009-06-07T18:40:00.000-04:00

Well, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. I slipped up.
It was as if the Universe was conspiring against me. That’s no excuse, but of all the dumb luck...
Here’s what happened.
I got up early, and went out to check my email and surf the web. Starbucks wasn’t open yet though, and because it was drizzling with rain, I walked west on Queen to try and find somewhere sheltered from the elements where I could latch on to a wi-fi signal. I found a doorway of an empty storefront and was able to hook up with a pretty fast connection there.So I hung out for a half hour or so, and then got up to head back to Starbucks for my morning coffee and wi-fi fix. As I was walking though, I saw a little baggie lying in the street – right in the middle of the sidewalk. I should have just kept walking. But of course I didn’t. What I did was pick it up, and saw that it was half full of white powder. Instead of just tossing it back on the ground, I opened it and tasted – yup, that old familiar chemically taste of cocaine.
So I stuffed it in my pocket and continued to the coffee shop. After my time on the internet was up, I came back to the centre and though I’d been debating just what to do with the baggie, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that I was going to do it. So immediately on getting back, I did the coke in two lines, the whole time screaming at myself on the inside that I really shouldn’t.
Of course the first thing to happen was I had to go to the bathroom. But that’s no surprise. And then the second it was gone, I wanted more. No surprise there either.
So there it is. I slipped up. It’s unfortunate, but it’s not the end of the world. In fact it’s probably good that it happened the way it did. And it was a little slip. I stopped right there.
And the best part is that I spent this whole day thinking it over and am now more committed than ever to staying clean and healthy.
That’s all for now.

The Black Dragon

2009-05-25T18:37:00.002-04:00

In alchemy, the wisened practitioners of that most obscure of all arts would speak of the first matter going through various phases en route to it’s final transformation into the Philosophers Stone.
The first couple of phases were simple to achieve, and anybody with even the slightest understanding would at first encounter them with ease. Out of these early successes and the ensuing confidence that the work was proceeding just duckily, would arise the Black Dragon, the Nigredo, or the Death’s Head, when the matter would become dark and foul, and progress would seem to be at a halt.
So it is with any undertaking – at first the work seems easy. One learns rapidly and advances quickly, but then a plateau is reached, and advancement seems to stall. The work becomes more difficult an dones enthusiasm lags.
I’ve reached this stage in my recovery, I think.
The good thing about it is that I’m aware of it, and so I realize it’s only a phase, and within a day or two this will probably pass and I’ll once again be bouncing around full of vim and vigour.
On a much more positive note, I got a message on Facebook from Sara yeterday.
But before I get into that, here’s the story so far – Sara and I were friends in high school, and hadn’t seen one another for the last 21 years or so. She had moved out to the west coast, and of course I was puttering around here and working on becoming a junkie and a crackhead and we`d both fallen out of one anothers worlds. Then through the miracle that is Facebook, we connected, and exchanged a couple of “hey what ya been up to?” type notes, but nothing really involved. So I was pleasantly surprised when, a day or two after moving out of detox I received a message from her saying she would be in Toronto over the long weekend, and could I have visitors.
It was exciting, just the idea of seeing someone after such a long time. Would we have anything in common? Would it be a happy reunion, or would we be simply two strangers feeling awkward and struggling to find things to talk about.
She showed up here, and all my anxiety was for nothing – we hit it off immediately, and talked for about 3 hours straight. She’s had a fascinating life, spent some time in the Vancouver music scene, and now works as a counsellor. And what’s more she’s just as cute as ever.
While we were talking, I happened to mention in passing that I wanted to go see Who’s Afraid of Kathy Acker, which was playing as part of the Inside Out film festival.
Later that night when I logged on to the ‘puter I was gobsmacked to see a message from her saying she’d gotten two tickests and could I go.
We went and had a great time (film was excellent I’ve always admired Kathy Acker,) and then after the flick we walked on Bloor and talked. It was truly great, and I felt a real connection, despite all the years. The sweetie even got me a Starbucks card, and a copy of a CD she’d made last year.
The card has been sooo useful (fast wi-fi at the Starbucks,) and her music is just plain great.
I’ve been feeling a bit isolated, and lost since all my friends from the last 7 or so years are heavy drug users, and I have yet to find a new community, and catching up with her was something I very much needed.
So, day before yesterday, she sent me a message letting me know she had a great time too, and that she’d gotten home safely, and it was when I got that message that I realized that maybe I was crushing on her just a bit. So, didn’t see that coming, but it’s a good thing.
All in all, life isn’t that bad.
I mean I have nowhere to live when I get out of here, and my Shmoo is currently among the missing, there’s all sorts of shit I could dwell on, but for some reason I feel pretty damn good.

The Wonderful World Of Detox

2009-05-17T21:26:00.005-04:00

2009-05-16
Today is Saturday and it was about two weeks ago that I entered detox,in preparation for a drug treatment program that I started on Thursday
Before the program began, however, I had to spend about ten days in what they call Medical Withdrawal. Or to schmucks like you and me, detox.
The physical withdrawal wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected it too be,or as I’ve experienced before trying to just quit on my own. They gave me meds to help with the symptoms for about 6 or so days. The two hardest things are missing my Shmoo –always the case when we’re apart, and secondly – and maybe even more of a struggle- was the crushing boredom.
It’s was okay sometimes – like when we had groups to go to, but a great majority of the time was spent doing SFA, or for those uninitiated and unfamiliar with the acronym, Sweet Fuck All.
During the week there were activities planned for us – “relapse prevention strategies” and different types of therapy – music therapy, pet therapy – even acupuncture.
And just what the bloody hell is “pet therapy” anyhow? One thing was and is for certain and that is that I’m not touching any wretched, slobbering dog. (not a fan of the whole filthy canine species,)
I’m bored. I’m the chairman of the bored. I’m sick. I’m sick of all my kicks.
In a lotta ways Iggy was my theme music for the stay, and the Ramones.
It was awful to not be able to go outside, and my sleep was bad and often plagued with the most horrible crackmares .
Not only is there the withdrawal, but we can’t even smoke cigarettes. Although, thankfully, there is NRT, or Nicotine Replacement Therapy, which consists of a nicotine patch and an inhaler. The inhaler does actually help, since it satisfies not only the oral fixation, but also gives a noticeable nicotine rush.
On a much more positive note, I found among the videos at the detox, one Sunday, a copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I put it on and that was a treat and a half. Just as good on the 30th viewing as the 1st.
Met a girl her who I hit it off and become fast friends with named “Frannie” – she’s a hot, horny thing. 21 years old and a hooker and a junkie. Not a street whore like Shmoo and me, but a real live call girl. Talk about a trigger for yours truly.
While I’m on the love/lust/sex subject I should add Shmoo was nowhere to be found through all of this. I left my number a half a dozen places for her, I knew she wasn’t at the Hostel, which is where I last saw her. No sign of her anywhere. I couldn’t stop thinking “Why hasn’t she called me? Why can’t she see how important it is that she get herself cleaned up?”
It goddamn hurt so fucking much I was ready to give up.
On he 11th, I got moved to a different floor. From the fourth to the third. Apparently they needed to free up some beds for new patients. At first I didn’t really care one way or the other about the move, but then when I found out the details I was pretty pleased. My initial reaction was one of mild disappointment –after all, I’d begun to make friends and was getting to feel comfortable – at home even. The pleased part happened once I realized just what the exact details of the move were. The third floor, in terms of size and layout is pretty much the same as the fourth, except on the fourth we had –say- sixteen or so people, in our new digs there were only going to be five of us, and that number was almost immediately reduced to four when the lovely young girl “Sheila” decided since she was only going to be here one more day anyhow, and she was missing her kids so was just going to leave.
So the four of us pretty much had the run of the place. And best of all, one of my fave people –the aforementioned Frannie was among the four. Also in the mix was a woman named “Linda”, who was sweet although I didn’t really know her all that well, and a fellow named “Donald” who was going into the same 21 day program as me at the end of the week. Once we got down there and I realized it was just the four of us, and what’s more that we had no activities planned for a few hours, I decided it was a great time to watch Control , the Anton Corbijn film based on the life (and death,) of Ian Curtis from legendary band Joy Division. Frannie wanted to watch too, so it was fun to have the company, but also cool because she was utterly unfamiliar with the band and it felt good to share something that means so much to me with someone who hadn’t yet had the pleasure of encountering it.
Despite all the writing I’d been doing, I’d been sort of ducking the big issues –specifically my real feelings, thoughts and emotions about my new life. I guess in a way my simple recounting of the diurnal surface goings on was a cheap copout for me and allowed me to feel like I was accomplishing some thing with my journal when really all I was doing was a sort of mental jerking off and avoiding tackling the tough issues.
The problem there is that the tough issues really are tough. To think about what a mess I’ve made of things to wind up here in the first place, or the one issue that’s really the pink elephant in the middle of the room; what about Lisa, or more to the point what about Lisa and me?
The day after the move, and despite the best of intentions, I managed to not get a wink of sleep. As a result I was wired for sound the next day. It was great though- at about a quarter to 6 or so, I accepted the fact that I simply wasn’t going to be getting any sleep and so I showered, gave my legs a long overdue shave, then proceeded to fix my face and hair up for the day, and so for the first time since being here I actually look halfways decent.
But it was at about seven or so that the real fun began. I took over the DVD player in the common room, and to my great delight found it played MP3s and AVI files. So for the next 2 hours we rocked out to the Clash and the Buzzcocks and a whack of other stuff, and I made a point of insisting to all the staff who entered the floor that there was a new regime in town and if you wanted on to the 3rd floor you had to dance. Surprisingly, I actually got them doing it. Word got around among the food service ladies, I guess, so when our lunch arrived the women bringing it were already dancing before I even told them to.
I also got the pissiest news since pissy news was invented. “Debbie” came by (Debbie being the therapist in charge of my treatment program,) and it turns out I’m not going to be able to bring the fancy new laptop with me into treatment. Aaarrrgghhh Fuck! Kill! So I asked Debbie if it was possible for me to leave it with the staff and then I could have access to it when I went out. I mean I’m allowed out to go wander around loose on the streets, once detox is over, and the program starts so I can’t see why that wouldn’t be possible....
The night before beginning the residential program was a rough one for me. I was really feeling bummed and demoralised. Not just about the computer, although that was certainly part of it, but just about everything. Especially Lisa. This shit is hard enough, and just the thought of losing her on top of everything else was almost too much for me to even bear
I was just so upset to have not heard from Lisa in over a week. I hope she’s getting help, but somehow I just don’t think thats what’s happening. It’d be great, but I just feel it in my gut that it simply isn’t what’s going on. She doesn’t want help, and Goddess knows I’ve tried.
Part of what sucks about this whole being straight thing is the same as what’s great about it, and that is the ability to see things a little more clearly and in focus. I mean it’s great in that maybe I’ll be able to use this newfound clarity to get some sort of hold on my life – to be something other than a waste of space crackwhore – but at the same time it makes it seem to me that I’m going to give up what is probably the most passionate, and important person in my life. On some level I think I know that, but to accept it, and the full emotional pile of shit that comes with it is just too fucking much for me to fully face and deal with right now. Just thinking of my future without her makes me hurt more than any withdrawal from any drug ever could. I can’t even find the words for it.
When I think of the reality of my situation – being homeless, the legal shit with that fucking FTA, and possibly losing Lisa, I just want to run, and run and run. If I turn and look back I’ll be like Lot’s wife.
I found myself overtired which probably wasn’t helping, and what’s worse is that I was in one of those vile downward spiralling fiery dark moods, where one bad thought leads to another and then to another. So although I could see and understand on one level that getting through this program is probably the most important thing I can do in my life right now, the mood I’d gotten in made me feel like I’m just wasting time and spinning my wheels. It’s like everything in my life is fake and superficial and I’m full of hopelessness and despair.
I went and talked to “Bobby” (one of the nurses,) about getting a sleeping pill, and thats cool and managed to get one, and luckily avoided talking about why I was so upset, which is good, because I was so fucking emotionally fragile, that Iwas just going to start bawling if I talked about how I feel. I knew things would look different tomorrow, but at the time it’s pretty hard to see past the immediate darkness.
And earlier when I was talking to Frannie though it occured to me though, that a possible reason for no contact from Lisa could be that she’s wound up in jail again. In fact, that’s what I’m hoping is the case. Which is so shitty and awful, that it’s come to that – that my one faint glimmer of hope is that the person I love is in jail and not dead or worse.
In a group session that we had earlier that day, we were talking about what our daily routine is going to ideally look like after getting out of here, and although it’s important, and it’s what I need to be thinking about, at the same time it’s sooooo scary to me to even think of the hell(s) I have yet to go through, that I can barely think of a realistic plan. Everybody keeps telling me how good I’m doing and how great my attitude is, but at that moment I just felt like a huge phony. Like it’s all just a big act. I don’t even really know how I feel anymore or who the fuck I am. And I hate that I’m such a daft cunt that I can’t even formulate how I feel into anything approaching an articulate and coherent set of words. At the time all I could feel is useless and empty, and hopeless. And that’s not good for me, and it’s not good for my recovery, but it’s honest and true and I hate what I am and what I’ve become.
And again I say what I’ve been saying over and over for a couple of months now, - “how in the fuck did it come to this?”
Tomorrow is another day.
Tomorrow is another day.
That’s the only thing that kept me here that night, the only thing holding me together and the only reason I didn’t just jump in front of a fucking bus – the faint hope that tomorrow might be even marginally better.
I guess I also think of how much I’m going to be letting everybody down – eveyone who matters, my amazing sister, Mum, Nan – they love me so much and they believe in me so much even when I can’t. I can’t fuck this up. I just can’t.
And if only I had some way to talk to Lisa, I thought, to tell her how much I love her, to get her to see that in so many ways I want this for US!!!!! She can’t see that, and she’s so scared, even more than I am maybe. I care about her so much and I just can’t bear the idea of her continuing the way she’s going – even though I know full well that I can’t do a damned thing about it. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so fucking much because I feel so powerless to help her. But much as I hate all these tired cliches, here’s one that seems appropriate for her and I - the best way I can help her is to help myself.
Tomorrow is another day.
Tomorrow is another day.
That was my mantra for the night. It had to be because if I couldn’t believe in that I might as well have just given up.
Dick called three times that night. I can’t even decide if he’s genuinely trying to help, or if he’s just being his usual manipulative fuck self. Historical evidence would tend to sugggest the latter.
That was just detox though – on the 14th I started my actual treatment program – which is a 21 day long affair and from what I’ve seen so far it’s a bit more intensive, as in way more.There’s nonstop classes and sessions from 8:30 til about 4:30. .Now the real fun starts

A Brief Hiatus

2009-05-06T01:49:00.003-04:00

Just as soon as we got started on this blog , it looks like we'll be taking at least a ten day hiatus.
I'm gonna be in detox for the next 10 days and that means no internet access.
Sadly if you like things that are lame-assed you will have to find them elsewhere for a while.

Sunday Morning

2009-05-03T06:43:00.002-04:00

Once again a day of wasted time and wasted opportunities. Thematically this a perfect fit since, barring a couple of rare and isolated times,, My life in its entirety has been ashocking and saddening waste.
And so it's on that cheery note that I begin yet another meandering and utterly pointless entry on this the lamest of the lame blog elite.
I've been getting re-acquainted with the internet these past few weeks - in fact since I'm not doing drugs, and need to occupy my time somehow, I've been spending a simply ridiculous amount of time online. Right now I'm trying my hand at being an internet DJ courtesy of a site called blip.fm. I've got - as of this particular juncture a grand total of 15 listeners. Not the start of a revolution, but it's fun knowing other people are listening.
I've also been obsessed with a social networking site called Facebook and that's been fun. Mainly it's given me a great deal of fun catching up with scads of people I haven't seen for over a decade, and in some cases longer. It's cornball, and a little pointless, but nonetheless it is genuinely fun to connect with so many people I had lost track of while developing my drug addiction.
Another one of these social networks that I've gotten involved with is called Fetlife and it's a similar concept, but is geared towards the kinkster/fetish crowd. All of this is helping to keep me from thinking about smoking crack, which is a good thing. In fact that might be the best thing about it. It's hardly a substitute but I'll take every bit of help I can get. It's Sunday morning as I type this out, and that means that I'm just over 24 hours away from getting my welfare cheque. This will be the first time in about a month that I'll have the money to get some crack if thats what I wanted to do. and it most certainly isn't. I'm grateful though and thank Goddess that my dearest sister will be with me when I cash it. So that means my chances of caving in and buying dope are virtually nil.
Speaking of my sister, she's been like a Godsend throughout this entire ordeal.Without her I know beyond the slightest hint of a doubt I wouldn't have made it this far. God! If I make it through this alive, the credit for it can largely be given straight to her.
So I continue to miss my Shmoo, and I worry about her, and think about her pretty much constantly. If I had something to pray to I would pray that she manages to save herself before it's too late. I fear it may already be.
And thats about it for now.
And as any fool can see, there's no fear of the lame ass blog getting good anytime soon - so not to worry my devoted followers (two of them at last check,)there won't be anything good coming down the pipe anytime soon.
See you all soon -same Bat time, same Bat channel.
I leave you with one of my favourite poems by the inimitable Dorothy Parker ;

Resume
Razors pain you, rivers are damp
Acids stain you, drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful, nooses give,
gas smells awful,
you might as well live.

Miss Misery

2009-05-01T21:33:00.002-04:00

Today finds me in a pissy mood. I got woken up this morning by a phone call from my Shmoo. You would think I’d be happy about this, but that isn’t the case at all.
She tells me she just got out of the hospital. Apparently, after the last time I talked to her, she went outside and proceeded to pass out in the middle of the sidewalk. Some passersby on being unable to wake her phoned EMS and she woke up in the hospital.
The worst part is that this isn’t an unusual occurrence. Last year she was hospitalized no less than 15 times. Most of those because of exactly the same thing happening.
The problem is she goes and goes, smoking and working and she simply can not, or will not, stop, and so after 8 or 9 days of not sleeping - and in most cases not eating - her body simply gives up and shuts down.
So, as I say, this wasn’t a great start to the day.
I wasn’t down yet though, and in all honestly, just to hear her voice makes me feel warm and fuzzy no matter what the circumstances.
So I phone Welfare, spoke to my worker and will be able to get my cheque on Monday. I also gave her an update on my housing status, and plans for treatment. She was good with all that, and my day was starting to shape up. The sun was even starting to tentatively make an appearance, so I could sit outside - which is the only way I can get at any of the wireless networks in the area that I can leech off of.
Next up I spoke to the director of the program that I’m going to be going into. This was a pre scheduled call, just to check in and see how I’m doing in terms of preparation on my end. It was a brief call, but all excellent news, and everything is moving just swimmingly.
Still I was in a good mood, although at this point, my sisters kids were home, and the general noise and activity of the house was getting me a little agitated.
Also by this point I’d had time to mull over the conversation with Lisa, and stewing about the whole situation with her, and us, was quickly turning my thoughts to worry, and frustration.
By the time Dick phoned I was on the verge of getting in a really pissy mood.
He was probably the last person I needed to talk to at that point in time.

Lameassedness

2009-04-29T11:56:00.008-04:00

One of the main reasons that this lame ass blog is so lame ass is that it lacks any direction or theme. The writing is disjointed at best, and the entire project serves no purpose whatsoever.

What follows perfectly illustrates exactly what I mean:

Lately, I’ve been (like most of the rest of North America,) hooked on the latest so-called “social networking” phenomenon, Twitter. Every free moment I have, it seems, is spent reading the (140 character or less) updates of complete strangers boring, and in some cases not so boring diurnal lives. This bloody thing is addictive. It is to, say, Facebook, what crack is to your good old-fashioned Mary Jane.

There’s some oddly satisfying, voyeuristic joy in hearing what some adult video store clerk in San Dimas is having for an after dinner snack. Or what a D-girl having drinks on a patio on Bloor Street thinks of some bike courier’s choice in fashion accessories.

Another aspect of the fascination is the virtual celebrity stalking one can get up to. With everyone from Ashton Kutcher to Taylor Swift, to US president Obama Tweeting their every move, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that you too are a part of a more glamourous life than your own. Not to mention the egalitarian feeling of comfort in knowing that just like you, celebrities fight with their neighbours’ and get their clothes ruined by the dry cleaner.

Whether any of this serves any significant purpose is way beyond the scope of some lame brained asshat like yours truly, but it did give me another blog subject, and what’s more, one that reinforces my original point – and a significant one I think- about this blog being utterly and completely lameass.

It's Another Day

2009-04-25T17:14:00.013-04:00

"Rain rain go away, come again another day," goes the children's rhyme. Well here it is another day, and there's the rain.
I'm soooo bored right now, but at least I'm not thinking about Lisa.
Lisa, for those who don't know me in real life, was/is my partner/lover/soulmate, who I've been with for the last two years.
Just over three weeks ago I fled our apartment with only a backpack full of stuff and haven't seen her since. Almost every day I think about her. Most times I cry.
But today I've managed to keep busy enough playing stupid games on the computer, and puttering around my sisters house that I've barely thought of her at all.
I love Lisa more than I think I've ever loved anyone - in fact once Lisa and I got together it occurred to me that maybe I'd never been in love before. We were so perfect for one another - and then there were the drugs.
When Lisa and I met I was living at the Freddie Victim Center in Toronto, which is an apartment building where the rent is subsidized and it is more or less a government supported crackhouse.
I'd been whoring for about 3 years at that point and had developed about a $300 a day drug habit. Sometimes heroin, mostly morphine, and a steady flow of crack to keep off the nod.
Lisa, when I first met her was one of the many young crackwhores who work in and around the building and work on Shuter street. Lisa was cuter than most of them and looked young for her age, so while she was probably 19 when we met she looked more like 15. And with the biggest, goofiest smile anyone had ever seen.
We'd see one another around, and say hi, but didn't really hang out.
The first time we had any interaction was on the elevator at The Freddie Victim. There were a bunch of people already on and she ran in just as the doors were shutting. I had been smoking crack for about 2 or 3 days and had just finished shooting a couple of 100mg morphines and so was in fine spirits.
"yer a cute one, aren't ya" I said
"I guess," she managed, looking a little self conscious, but covering it up by staring defiantly back at me.
"do you mind if I twist your nipple," I asked as the elevator continued to rise.
"No, go ahead," she was smiling now
"Can I make it hurt?" I continued evilly
"yes..."
As the elevator stopped some people got off and more got on, and I pinched her nipple through her shirt between my thumb and forefinger and started to twist.
I expected her to pull away at the least bit of pressure but she was determined not to show me anything and continued to stare as I proceeded to twist it a full turn.
I could tell it hurt, but she was a trooper. Then we arrived at my floor and I smiled and let go.
"see ya" she said as I got off.
The next time I hung out with Lisa, I was helping a dealer I was friends with clean her room and she went out to buy shoes, and when she returned she brought Lisa with her - I guess to sell her some dope.
Truth was Judy had brought her up because she felt protective of her and didn't want her getting taken advantage of by all the crackroaches that call the corner of Jarvis and Queen their home.
That was the first time Lisa and I spent any amount of time together, and I liked her immediately, but it was hard not to feel sorry for her, and to have an almost maternal concern. A lot of those poor kids around there have a "little girl lost" vibe about them, but none as bad as Lisa.
She was so funny though and to my relief didn't have that affected Gangsta-speech that most of these girls have.
For the next year or so things just continued as they had been and I would see Lisa out working whenever I'd be out on my way to my corner up at the Tranny Stroll at Homewood and Maitland. We continued to say hi, and exchange smiles, but still didn't hang out much.
I had a bunch of regular clients while I was living at the Freddy Victim, and one of these was a sweetie we'll call Martin. Martin had been coming over pretty much once or twice a week for about 2 years. He was a respectable looking guy, with a daughter and an ex-wife and he worked in the film industry. Mostly what Martin liked was to be dressed up in stockings and heels and then blow me or whoever else happened to drop by. Whenever he got there the first thing he'd do would be to pull out 200 dollars, and proffering that to me ask "Can you get some stuff?" Stuff being his clever euphemism for crack.
So for a while Martin had been bugging me that he wanted to watch me fuck a girl. Not just any girl, she had to be young "and dirty, a dirty little crackwhore,"
Naturally I thought of Lisa. So I ran out and after a few minutes of hunting around the Moss Park area I found her.
After the Date was gone, we had money, and still had crack left, and she was getting ready to leave. I stopped her, offered her another toke and asked "hey do ya wannna get together and do this sometime without some trick around?"
Her face lit up, and she yelled"yes!!!" and jumped into my arms.
We fucked for the next 5 days.
And thats how Lisa and I got together.

Twittering the Night Away

2009-04-25T00:32:00.002-04:00

So I finally clambered my sorry white ass aboard the latest social networking bandwagon, Twitter. I guess it takes a while to get a feel for it, and to figure out just who its worthwhile to follow. Luckily I seem to have found a bunch of hip kinksters right off the bat and so I'm already interested. Now if I could find out how to get a big rock of crack and some hot sex in this one-starbucks town I'm temporarily stuck in, everything would be both hunky and dory.