Well, I could be turning into some sort of N.A freak after all. Day 15. I remembered. Without counting on fingers, toes or old dental floss fragments (of which there are many at hand). Vision is still blurry. Forgot to take my opiate constipation causing Loperamide so was in and out of toilets all over Newtown. Took pills (four 2mg loperamide) and now eating. Thank fuck. Got to remember to take my “non opiate” opiate. Did I tell you I worked out that you can get wasted off these little shitters – Powerful too – Something to mix up with a quinine like extract so the opiate not only breaches the blood / brain barrier but STICKS TO THOSE LITTLE RECEPTORS THAT MAKE YOU GO OOOOOOOooooooooo, but don’t tell anyone. Cheers.
I feel sanity coming back. Sleep (even if drug induced) and food are good for that. You can tell I am sane again. All the cut marks are old, there is no new blood stains anywhere.
Now I have emailed Sam McBride with this link and he might even pop in for a look I guess I should quickly explain I went quite raving mad at around the twelve day mark. When you count the amount of sleep you have had on one hand over weeks and no food stays inside you and etc etc etc etc. Fucken just give me some soboxone you limp penis. Just coz the DHB took away your mental health care pet project and you ended up cutting up addicts self esteems so they fit into the methadone box….. What a way to earn a living. Better you than me dickwad. How do you sleep at night?
Oh that’s right, you’re fine. I’m the one not sleeping. Ass. Slap it.
I am beginning to sense that N.A model of recovery is all about keeping people addicted and is more about spreading the word than actual real, quantifiable, addiction recovery.
A bit like the door knocking Jehovas Witnesses or the Mormons (but, funnily enough, no where near as bad or long term ignorant to the effect on society as methadone maintenance is)….
This is actually quite rude of me to say. I am sure that most, if not all, of the N.A people are totally unaware of what their “consumer lead” recovery is doing. It is possible self fulfilling its need for more members. This is not as silly as it sounds.
The anti-market (forget the word anti and it will make more sense) of the drug addiction problem is huge and a great thing to be in right now. Forget stocks. Forget power company floats.
The service provider, the rehab centres, or (as mentioned on previous pages) the ever increasing number of publishers that have run out of “self help for guys by guys”, “men are from mars women fucken aren’t” or “how to win friends and prod them heartily in the bottom for dollars” books and have turned to the art of recovery writing.
You see, writing for recovery is a huge growth industry.
It’s not that more people are on drugs than ever before. It’s just that it is now okay to be seen to be recovering!
BRING BACK THE STIGMA.
I long for the days of having three week old jeans sticking to my pimply backside hiding in the flax bushes with Laressa shooting me up so I could draw some rethink of Dionysus for a wine bottle label. Traffic driving past, me and Res hidden in a flax bush shooting up heroin one minute and then out on the street looking like every other semi punk couple in the world on our way to do some art or something.
Those days were halcion. For Laressa those days were Lorazapam. So much so we started calling her Laressapam. Horrid. She turned out okay in the end. Much better than most by all accounts.
There was a stigma about shooting drugs, doing a mornings hard graft and shooting some more. It put people off. I would be calling useless junky fucks “useless junky fucks” and then taking all their benefit money off them every dole day. We knew we were useless junky fucks. Some functioned, some didn’t. But we were proud junky fucks.
But in no way did any of us ever, once, not once, did we ever CONTRIBUTE TO THE ANTI-MARKET OF DRUG CULTURE (until most went insane or jail come to think of it. Oooopppsss, forget I said anything)
Other than being resuss’d or saved from OD’s, but you have to let us off with a few of those. There would be no one left to winge and complain about the state of the nation otherwise.
So, now there is a huge market for the book writers, the film crews, and even the live in care and detox centres.
I wanted to detox myself, at home, comfortably.
In order to do this I looked into being sociable during this time and started coming up with some floor plans for sociable housing projects that would actually minimise and reduce the amount of addictive or mental health issues for its inhabitants. By forcing some minimal communal living and offering chances of more via open space and shared gardens I think this is not too much of a dream.
All of that is beyond me both in time and scale.
DONT BURN BRIDGES. Blow them up. Then build a power station.
So off I went to the local market leader in addiction recovery, the Wellington (Capital Coast) District Health Boards Community Alcohol and Drug (CCDHBCAD f.f.s!) and made an appointment expecting to be able to plead my case.
At the appointment time I spent fourty five minutes wanking my own penis in the reception area whilst the esteemed god, Sam McBride, (http://nz.linkedin.com/pub/sam-mcbride/24/661/896) presumably did the same in front of his internet porn collection out back.
Once he had finished, or was it me who finished first, hard to say, but we had both finished, there was no mutual wank fest happening here…. he came out and told me he only had 15 minutes so we had to be quick.
He denied me any access to suboxone or any other harm reduction drug. His reason was one sentence long “you will fail“.
I asked what “fail” meant to him and got no answer. I suggested he meant that I would pick up drugs again in two years? Nod. One year? Slight head movement. The answer, according to the leading provider of recovery services in New Zealand was to put me on the waiting list for methadone maintenance. But he would do me a big personal favour… He would back date my “resquest” to go on the methadone to the date I first presented. Yay. Cool. Idiot.
This is a FAIL for me, NZFiend. I am here to reduce my drug dependency, not fucken add to it you stupid twat. Twats are actually nice. Strike that from the record your honour. I apologise and recline.
Oh my god (Sam McBride is god today, tomorrow it will be something else, maybe he can take alternating turns at being god with my diarrhea – its godlike in its own unobtrusive context) you can write all the letters you want saying things like “it was ascertained NZFiend did not have any community structure to support.………… blah blah”…. How can you say that from a fifteen minute meeting where you did not once ask me about any support? Do I have parents Sam? Do I have neighbours? What are their names? Do I have a sister? Is she dead? Am I human, or a number? Quick Sam, answer quick, time is almost up…… bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I’m sorry Sam, your answer is wrong. Your chance for a million dollars and a lifetime subscription to “I failed at my profession so now I am a drug psych'” magazine is over. Thanks for playing. We will be back after the break with another interesting contestant……
In other words, he had me in a box.
Like walking in to buy some computer software. I want to do word processing…. You need this box here, sir. It comes with a 20 day detox and a lump of radioactive crap that will prevent you from looking at porn for more than three minutes in every fifteen…
SO, what comes first, the community or the problem?
After many minutes of exhaustive thought and some time to put on a different LP, I am figuring the community is established by people with common goals in the first instance.
As individuals we strive. As a group we begin to achieve. How did you build that high rise building? With many men and machines I would guess. I am quite handy with a hammer, and I have not built a high rise. No one has. It is a group, or in this instance, a community.
Just as hippy communities spread their evil LSD laced doctrines over the landscapes, the recovering addict could be the lead of his own spore like (I would love to add the words algorithm and fractal into this paragraph just to be cool, but cannot think of a suitable line…) recovery spread. Hopefully without the same prevalence of foul smelling, hairy armpitted, faux lesbians…..
N.A (A.A) are good like this. Slightly too indoctrinated for the entire addicted modern day masses, but vastly superior in effect and substance for continued recovery than the capitalist model of health care. Another point, for another day – WHY THE FUCK DO PUBLIC SERVICES HAVE TO MAKE MONEY OR BE INVOLVED IN A GLOBAL ECONOMY? Jeeezus F’ Christ. I tell you. I like Jesus, he was a good man. He would come and open a can of whip ass on the governments of today on this one point alone. Forget the fact that they are privatising the justice system too (I made that up, but it makes sense- you heard it here first…!)
I have found great help and friendship over the internet for decades. Back when modems were modems and girls were things that watched TV whilst you typed…. Quick diversion here – I used to type QUICKER than the modem could keep up. So I wrote a program to act as a buffer that would slow my keystrokes down to 300/75 baud. Really it wasn’t the speed of my typing (well, certain words maybe) but the fact of the refresh rates between the processors of the………………………… FUCK UP. Okay, sorry. Did I tell you this story about this kid. And this other kid. And they were the same kid. Literary genius me.
I have found great help and friendship over the internet for decades. Some of these people are my best friends today. Meeting them first online.
This is where I see the world of first stage recovery going.
Home based detox should be encouraged (why bother supporting the whole hospital bed mentality and industry anyway).
I know god (Sam McBride, not the sloppy brown crap) hasn’t heard of it. But the internet is not just for porn. You have Skype, which allows many users to see, share, talk and (strike me down with a ADSL card) participate in a consumer lead recovery of their own volition.
You know what – This could work. I could run off the rails and start shooting smack, but I couldn’t take down the whole operation. Like a splinter cell, I would fail but could not take those down around me. Is hard to share smack via Skype. I have tried.
Sam could even tune in once a week, between sessions of putting his cock in his lime green Dyson, and see all the addicts recovering.
But then he wouldn’t be successful.
The methadone company would lose sales. The pharmacist would lose income. The lovely little innocent girl who gives you a little plastic cup with methadone each morning will have to go work at Starbucks. But once you have given up the methadone, and managed to survive the two week mark where you will, without doubt, go entirely insane due to not sleeping and losing human function, you will see more of her.
You will be drinking four cups of coffee before 9am every morning.
She will smile warmly, you will grin toothlessly back.
ARE WE REALLY CONSUMERS?
….. Why are mental health and drug addicts labelled consumers? Consumer lead recovery, my ass.
….. How about we try participant, community member, or make up something. Like BLUGHTHRED
A consumer is a person or group of people who are the final users of products and or services generated within a social system. A consumer may be a person or group, such as a household. The concept of a consumer may vary significantly by context, although a common definition is an individual who buys products or services for personal use and not for manufacture or resale.
In a real consumer lead recovery process, there is no consumer.
Stick that in your smack pipe and smoke it.
COPIES TO – Sam McBride, CCDHB. (yes, really. Although the lawyers I spent three thousand words giving shit to last week never replied either….)