Filed under: JUNKe life
Yep, I’m still alive and kicking… well, not kicking (thank goddess), but you know what I mean. I’m still here (on Planet Person Who Uses Drugs and is a Nice Person).
Sadly, one has to confirm their continued existence as a practicing injection drug user, these days more than ever, given the new and completely disgusting Fentanyl contamination of many of our substances of choice. As someone commented yesterday, I’m not a fanatic communist, but totally unfettered capitalism is obviously not a good thing. Indeed, and in my humble opinion, they who adulterate with fentanyl should be forced to drink from the cup of molten gold.
Since my last post, more than five and a half years past, I have not missed a day (thank goddess again). Thankfully, barely even half a day. Oh of course, there have been some very stressful and fretful times, of course. Yet somehow things have managed to work out, and we (sweetie and I) have been able been able to maintain. Yes, there have been many hours passing, long desperate hours wherein we’ve begun to feel too hot or cold, and started to yawn uncontrollably, with watery eyes, with sneezing and wiping away much nasal drip, but somehow – be it luck of circumstance or far too many kilometers driven – we’ve thus far (over 15 years this run) managed to score in time and stave off the hell of full withdrawal.
And we’re still alive. Just thought I’d let you know this. In parting (this time) I wish you well. Take care.
A completely new reality to consider when one hears “oh the kids, yeah don’t worry about them, they’re okay, they’re in the basement necking”.
Indeed the times they are a changing…
The Harm Reduction Journal published an informative, well-researched article on filtration of morphine and particle contents of injections in 2009. The research was done in Australia, however the main pill studied was the MS Contin timed-release morphine sulfate pill (widely available in Canada and the U.S.).
Injection mixtures (cold extraction). Each mixture was prepared from one tablet as described in Methods. 1, unfiltered; 2, cigarette filtrate; 3, cigarette then 0.45 μm filtrate. McLean et al. Harm Reduction Journal 2009 6:37
Read the full article here
Being able to prepare your morning hit before you go to bed.
Or is it just good luck? Good management?
Bad luck is feeling quite stumped as to where I’m going to find the next usable vein. Or is that just the inevitable result of decades of daily injecting?
July 21 is being observed by drug users worldwide as a Remembrance Day for those of us who have died preventable deaths as a result of the conditions we face due to drug war policies. The German national drug users organization, JES, produces an annual report on the memorials held by drug user groups in Germany and internationally. It is a very impressive document. Download it here.
A free download of a book about the impact of the drug war on children is available.
Over the years I’ve lived some stretches on the streets. Its got its good points, but if ain’t easy in lots of ways. One of those ways its tough is in trying to keep clean; and more to the point, if you’re needing to fix a few times every day, its tough to find (or maintain) a clean place to do one’s prep and ultimately, one’s fix. We all know dirt isn’t a good mix with whatever goes into our syringe, and therefore, having a clean place to do our thing is pretty darn important if one is trying to negotiate the risks.
Having a clean and stable place to get things together is a big plus. Luckily I’m managing to maintain a roof over my head, and under that roof, we manage to keep our place pretty clean. In particular, we keep our prep area as dirt free and even sterile as realistically possible. As well, having a stable living place that serves as one’s home means one can manage their harm reduction needs in terms of having a ready supply of harm reduction supplies. I’m talking about a cupboard full of clean syringes, new needle tips, alcohol prep pads, sterile water, cottons, and any other tools of the trade. Every needle exchange these days is more than willing to pass along enough supplies that one’s home can be well stocked on an ongoing basis. As such, not only am I well prepared for my day-to-day needs, but I’ve got enough stock for that spontaneous party where suddenly there’s a bunch of folks hanging and needing a clean rig for each and every shot.
Having a sink and working tap is one of the luxuries that having housing also provides. Water to use for fixing and water to use for cleaning – cleaning before and after one’s regular fix, and even during a session that’s stretching out into the new dawn. And a counter-top to work on, something that’s easy to keep clean with a few wipes of a wash rag, followed by a good swipe down using a couple of alcohol prep pads. And those spoons. It’s great to have a drawer full of spoons for every need. Spoons that are regularly washed in the sink. Dried properly. And in my case, carefully swiped with a new alcohol pap before every use (and then wiped dry with a clean piece of toilet paper prior to adding any “substance” into it).
Besides the cleanliness (harm reduction positive) that having a home entails, its great to be able to “hide” behind one’s closed doors and walls and relax and do one’s thing in relative tranquility, away from the prying eyes of rats or the ever-present street danger of patrolling police.
I can’t remember the quote exactly, but William Burroughs wrote something to the effect that there’s no excuse for dirty junky, that there’s no reason not to practice clean routines. I guess he wasn’t thinking about homelessness at the time. But he’s got a good point. It’s ignorance and laziness which keeps us from practicing the harm reduction of cleanliness when one has the advantages of a home for their shelter.
Lately I’ve been forced to rely on some Eslon 200’s (red/opaque cap) and some hydromorph contin 12 mgs (orange cap) because I’m not quite making it to resupply of my regular morphine grays. As many have discovered, the hydromorph contin (basically dilaudid) is quite difficult to well-prepare. Unlike the Eslons (which crush up easy with each bead releasing its morphine powder), the hydromorph contin beads are very tough. Even after crushing a couple of beads there’s hardly any powder visable so I’m starting to wonder whether the bead itself is actually comprised of the dilaudid, as opposed to contains a dilaudid powder. Therefore, it is not enough simply to break the bead (since there’s nothing to release from inside it) but instead you need to powder the bead itself by completely crushing it down to a powder. I beleive the failure of people to crush of the beads completely is the reason why they are complaining about the bang from them. I spend a considerable effort of muscle power breaking down the beads and the resulting powder – when mixed with water and heated – does ultimately release its precious narcotic nectar. I’ve found that 12 mg of hydromorph is equivalent to aprox. 100 mg of morphine, so for me, two 12 mg hydromorph contins (well crushed and cooked) provides decent relief and wellness when flooded into my vein. But only in a pinch do I do either of these caps. They aren’t a healthy as good ol’ morphine contins. I’ve being doing many morphine contins per day for eons and I’m still alive and not doing too darn shabby, if I do say so myself.
HIV and Injecting Drug Use: A Global Call for Action
Sign the petition
Filed under: Stuff
Sometimes we’ve got time to kill (so to speak) while waiting to score. Since we don’t just mosey into a store to buy our stuff, waiting is a familiar routine for we who must see da man on a regular basis. Sometimes I’ve gotta stand on an windy cold street corner, freezing my feet off. Other times I’m parked in a massive parking lot outside some mall, hoping I’m waiting a the right entrance.
Occasionally the meet will take place in busy store, such as Walmart, at the magazine section. Last week that’s where I waited, and I browsed through Wired Magazine for something to do. The word “heroin” jumped off the front cover. Inside I found this very interesting little article: What’s In It
Very interesting some of the cut that has appeared in street junk over the years. So-called “junkie lore” claims that dealers practices a form of harm reduction back in the day when they added quinine as an adulterant:
Junkie lore says that dealers added this to the supply as a public service, after a malaria outbreak among needle-sharing users in the 1930s.
BTW, I’ve found quinine to be helpful with leg cramps when I’ve had the displeasure of withdrawal. It can be obtained by prescription, or by drinking real Schweppes tonic water (but you’ll need several glasses).
Filed under: Drug Politics
Bruce K. Alexander, a prof at Simon Fraser University, Vancouver, B.C., has numerous writings on drugs and crime which are well worth studying.
With his latest treatise, Rise and Fall of the Official View of Addiction, Alexander assassinates the traditional view of addiction. While never ignoring the role of the individual, “dislocation” theory places the root of addiction at the injustices and discombobulations of societies, rather than the weakness and sickness of people who develop drug dependencies.
As Alexander concludes:
Addiction is one of the windows through which we can view the widespread psychological malaise and the underlying structural problems of a tottering civilization…
While recognizing the importance of treatment and harm reduction, [Alexander] puts the greatest emphasis on … fundamental social change as the most important means of bringing addiction under control.
In other words, ’til the Revolution comes, what else can I do but keep on nodding through these end times. Makes more sense than being a sick, weak willed screw-up, doesn’t it?
Who can you trust? You’re damned lucky if you have some people in your life you can trust. Dylan sings “trust yourself”. Yeah, that’s a good one. But it’s frigging fantastic when you can trust somebody else as well.
This is a little story about how trust cost us more than a loss of faith, it cost a shitload of money. Why? Because we trusted a dealer and the bastard broke his word to us because he could get himself a few more bucks by doing so. Yeah, we were fools to trust this dealer. But then again, there was a time he wasn’t just a dealer, he was kind of a friend.
When words aren't enough
Our relationship with this dealer lasted years. We never had a problem with him. His prices were considerably less than anyone else we’d come upon. We saw him regularly for three years prior to going on methadone. Then we saw him regularly for three years after starting up again. During those times he was our primary source for morphine. And morphine was our primary drug of daily use.
To make a long story shorter (to use a common turn of phrase) the second time we started buying from this fellow he said we could run up a tab with him since, in the past, we’d always cleared our bill. Okay, that was cool. However, we’d been fucked around by this sort of relationship in the past with other dealers ending up changing the terms on us and leaving us not high and dry, so to speak. For example, suddenly stopping selling, when we owed a couple thousand, and demanding payment, which left us penniless to try and find someone else to score from. So we were fairly leery about putting all our eggs into his basket, and then having him take the basket away. Once burned, twice shy… or something like that.
We said, “okay, we’ll deal with you, but we don’t want to find ourself in a situation where we become dependent on you and then you fuck us around”. He promised that the terms of our arrangement wouldn’t change, and that he’d honour our relationship with him. We’d get a big front, and when we paid it off, we’d get another big front. The size of the front being large enough to last long enough for us to using (keep well, even high) while we took the time to get together enough bucks to go see him again. Basically we got two to four weeks worth of dope, and by the time it was about used up we’d usually always gotten enough to pay for it.
Our primary worry was we didn’t want him finding someone else who was willing to pay a couple dollars more per pill, and then switch over to selling to that person, leaving us nothing but an outstanding bill and no new front we paid it. He promised he wouldn’t do that. In fact, he said he liked our arrangement. It saved him from having to nickle and dime sell. It was worth it to him to sell to us cheap, and receive a guarentee of a few thousand on schedule, as opposed to the hassle of selling a few here and there for ultimately a bit more money. As for finding someone who was willing to have the exact same relationship, but pay more in total, he said “hey, I consider you guys friends, so I wouldn’t do that to you”.
But he did that to us. After three years (this time) of never missing a payment, never jerking him around, of basically operating with a relationship that seemed like more than just a business thing, he fucked us around. He sold us out, left us dry and not high, for a few more bucks. The fucking lying piece of shit bastard!
We should have seen it coming. Why? Because he started spending large on consumer shit. And then complaining to us about his bills. He bought a $25,000 Harley. He bought a super fancy high def 3-D tv. He bought this, he bought that. (Or should I say, we bought all that for him?) He was even running up his credit – the greedy prick. Here we’re handing him thousands and thousands of dollars, and he’s complaining to us about his money problems. We should have seen it coming.
All I want for Christmas
A telephone call. The bastard didn’t even have the jam to tell us face to face. He says “ah, I can’t really afford to do it this way anymore. I’m going to need the money up front… blah blah blah”. Basically he only floated us for a month max, but now a month was too long for him to wait for his paycheque from us. Why? Because he over-spent and then didn’t have the cash in hand when his monthly bills came due, and he was going to miss a couple payments and then start chaulking up interest.
So instead of blaming himself for getting in debt, he blames us. We who always paid. And on time. It’s just he needed some bucks that day, and we weren’t due to show up to pay him for a couple weeks. So instead of eating his shit, he decided to fuck us over, and find someone who would pay him, and pay him right then. And pay him a bit more per pill too. Ah sweet deal for him, the greedy lying asshole.
So here we were, out there doing our thing, working to get the money to take to him for the last front, expecting another, and he says “sorry, can’t front anymore”. So we gotta pay the bill, and then double it, all at once, to get the sufficient amount of dope to carry us while we get some more cash together. Now that just wasn’t gonna happen. We couldn’t get double the bucks together quick, not unless we resorted to some real heavy shit and we really didn’t want to go there.
Not that it would have mattered anyhow. It was already a done deal. He had already sold all his shit to the new guy who had cash in hand. Of course, he didn’t say that. He made it seem like it wasn’t his fault that we couldn’t make the new arrangement happen. Essentially telling us, it’s too bad we couldn’t pay our bill, and then afford to buy what we needed, but well, that’s unfortunate, but hey, shit happens, right?
Of course he knew we wouldn’t pay our outstanding bill if we weren’t also going to get something to take away (as had been the arrangement for the preceeding three years). But that didn’t matter to him. He’d already got the cash he needed to pay his bills, and furthermore, he’d gotten himself a new and slightly more prosperous arrangement then the one he’d had with us. So what if it cost him a bit of a conscience that it turns out he never had anyways.
All those times he promised he would never jack us around for a few extra bucks. All those times he said, “I know what its like and I won’t leave you hurting. Never!”. Ah, more the fools were we, eh? And more the wiser now.
JUNKe Life 