That's the whole equation! So simple it's genius! You get the hose clamp, undo it. Lay it flat. Grind down the OC (after you dissolve off the coating in your mouth for second). Finally, you have ONE awesomely giant line (not several lines like the picture).
THEN, you take either a rolled up bill like you're PeeWee Herman or you get real and use about half a chopped down piece of a pen's cylindrical casing. LASTLY, oh at long last, you snort that beast of a line and every single problem you have ever had will disappear. You will be like the Buddha but with a swagger like James Dean. Plus, if you run, you can run forever and it feels like floating. I mean, 20 miles. Floating. It's nice.
Anyway, I'm jonesing super hard and it's the weekend and I don't know. These things happen.
My brother is in town for the festivities. In his honor:
I remember when A-trak just used to scratch. Yeah, i know! I'm fuckin' old! and so is he!
Well, let's see here now uh...I've been off dat bad ol' methadope for about 6 days! Whoa almost a week! That also means i've gone almost a week without SLEEPING! how does he do it folks?!
-twisting
-turning
-twitching
-reading
-jerking off
-stretching
-slapping own face
-saying things like "oh just fall asleep you dumb fuck."
occasionally if i take everything in the medicine cabinet that says "may cause drowsiness, especially when mixed with alcohol" and i combine it in a big punch bowl full of beer...i can get about two hours of sleep. then i reawaken, completely impervious to the boat load of cold medicines i just took.
SO WHAT DID I DO THEN!? WHAT OH WHAT?!
i went to my doctor and i told him "hey, i know we don't get a chance talk much, buddy old pal, but lemme give you a brief rundown of my 2010..."
...debriefing (in the informative sense, i swear) ensues...
doc: "oh ok, yeah, we've got a little combo that we use for inmates that have to rapid detox before going to prison."
me: "does it involve hiding stuff in my asshole?"
doc: "no. it's a blood pressure medication to help keep your heart from crawling out of your mouth and also a high-powered, non-narcotic antihistamine you can double down on before bed to get some sleep."
me: (after disappointed pause) "that sounds great! i'll take it!"
dock: "lastly, i'm really surprised to hear all of this because i generally consider myself to be really sharp at noticing addictions. i had no CLUE at ALL! hahahaha!"
me: "ahhahahaha! crazy! this is crazy! it's crazy how long i'm typing this stupid conversation!"
apparently, i make a FUCKING AWESOME drug addict! i can't wait to put my skills to use once i get my hands on some high-test smack! kidding!
anyway, the worst worst worst part about withdrawals is trying to get myself to run. after all year of hard work, it sucks to get sidelined by something stupid for which you've no one to blame but yourself! bummer!
it's 6:00am and your junky body won't sleep anymore, do you know where your favorite beer is?
trick question, it's already on my cereal! YESH!
i swear i'll have a running post up soon. i just need my magic solar cosmic sundial watch to down transmit it's data to my little white brain...the one with keys on it that i stare into way too many hours out of the day. yesh.
or in other words, it'd be like calling it "The Leadville 100 foot-path nature stroll"
listening to Don Cornelius' voice with the bass WAY up is the only relief. Saturday 12/18/10 was the big day. I'm now 36 hours-ish with methadone and MY BROTHA LEMME TELL YOU...it's super bad. ok ok ok. last video...GO!
aside from the stupid joking, all of those videos are worth watching/listening to. except for maybe methadone guy a.k.a. Mr. Obvious a.k.a. Debbie Downer a.k.a. I need to go shit again.
this is just a rehab post. i met with doctor brown (who is black) on friday. several weeks ago, after much badgering of the doctor staff at the clinic, I had put myself on a super aggressive methadone tapering schedule (2mg's down every week). which means, for those whom fractions are mysterious, i am cutting off a larger and larger percentage "chunk" of my dose each week. i was warned by both Dr. Len and Dr. Brown that this was a bad idea. and hey, guess what? they were right. for the last two weeks i've gone back to sleeping very little and having horrendous bouts of anxiety, along with muscle twitching and body pain. ...i thought i'd just tough it out but man...i can suffer through a week, i can suffer through two weeks, but...getting on to a month of feeling horrible was starting to really grind on me. so anyway, i'm sitting there in the office, across from Dr. Brown, an old black man whose skin looks so dry and papery, it's practically mummified and whose eyes are two different colors (one is watery grey/blue and the other is, i swear to god, orangish/green.) He's a great guy. Very sage-like and wise. Basically he told me "You're not going to pull this off. Stop being stupid. There isn't any need to suffer like this, be patient, be smart." so, i've now UPPED my dose from 9mg back to 10mg and will hold at this level until my body adjusts and then go down ONE mg and see how that is tolerated.
while all of this may just be boring medical blahblahblah, for me this back and forth struggle between a fast, painful taper and a longer, methodical taper has been very very difficult. i equate it to whole host of personality traits, both strengths and weaknesses being tested. Am i tough? And which is tougher? to suffer out the quick detox? or make the hard, smart decision to taper responsibly? Or am i being weak to go back to the slow taper? is it me giving in? giving up? I think about this all the time because after having made a few monumentally stupid decisions in the past year, I'd really like to start making some smart ones. so...anyway, i guess i feel good about what happened during that doctor visit on friday. not happy, but at least resolved and ready to move forward. plus, it's not like a single milligram increase suddenly has me floating on cloud 9, humming show tunes...i still can't sleep through the night. i still have anxiety and a frustratingly high resting heart rate (for someone who's in as good as shape as i am, i should be LOWERING my resting HR...not waking up with it beating wildly in my chest. on that note, i can't wait to see how my body finally settles down after all of this methadone bullshit. i have a feeling that come january or so, when the detox is finally complete, i may be in for a pleasant surprise and that all of this hard training will rapidly reveal itself in my running. anyway, this is a long post about stuff that no one wants to read...but i needed to flesh it out in text so as to get a better sense of where i'm at on this stuff.
i still harbor this sense that, despite the extremely high accolades DJ Shadow's albums have accrued over the last decade of internet circle-jerking, on a serious note i think that future generations will look back at "preemptive strike" and "endtroducing" as two of the more remarkable moments in modern music history. no more music talk for me.
this week had such a bad start. part of that seeped over into the previous post (which was written in the thick of a very bad "down" swing despite ostensibly being a recap of the previous week). anyway, this week improved. i got back on a good schedule with life, work, running, methadone, etc. and by thursday things felt like they were improving. my students and i put on a great altar for Dia de Los Muertos on saturday. Gabbo and I went all gussied up and looking gorgeous, but we're such bums lately that we came home early, watched a movie and went to sleep before 10pm i think. i'm really so ok with this sort of lifestyle. the good lord knows i've had my share of late nights, loose women and too much booze and drugs. being healthy and sleeping adequately is actually my new big thrill. i'm an adult now i guess. sort of.
64 miles this week. i want to hit 75 for some reason. just to hit that number. this week though, i did a bunch of cross training at the gym. core body classes at the YMCA, elliptical stuff and weights. honestly, it was a really solid week of training. i got the lead out, as they say.
Ava's big race is this saturday! i can barely contain my excitement. the Dirty Dog 5K is basically ours for the taking assuming two things 1) Ava doesn't have a freak out issue with one of the other dogs i.e. fighting and hackles up aggression and 2) she feels like running fast. That isn't something i can totally control. i can cajole and beg her to run faster, but some days she just doesn't really feel like it. other days, i literally struggle to match her pace on certain sections of the run. no doubt our race will have a very fluctuating pace, but my hope is that by giving in to her pace variations (anywhere from 8:30 to 5:3o /mile) we can average out a pretty bangin' 5k. anything under 24:00 is reasonable and i think something sub-21:00 is not out of the question. depending on the depth of the canine field, i think this could be a serious debut for her. hahaha, i love taking this silly-ass race seriously because i love the fuck out of that little dog! woo!
