“I don’t do drugs. I am drugs.”
― Salvador Dalí
From zolpidem to alcohol, from acid and amphetamine to the zoo, I’ve been places.
I just realized I’ve often in life been quite the junkie.
And that, junkie for junkie… I was never, ever, ever, a junkie for drugs.
What a refreshment? Depends on the tongue of the taster!
I say I’ve been junkie because I’m quite the hoarder. I’ve even been known to hoarde drugs occasionally. So aside from whatever fair hustle I might be up to, I’m not selling mine or anyone’s anything for drugs. What a blessing, that I never got to that point. Might have felt close here or there? Well, when you kick yourself out or run away from your income source, for example, less-wise (in the sense of longer-term) decisions are made. I’ve witnessed it in myself. I vouch on its truth on behalf of others, if of that I’m by you allowed… or not allowed. Eat it, or sleep by the side of it.
Nietsche, Nietsche… The man had some tough words about some people I’ve quite known closely. How deliciously interesting, so soothing, that there’s this thing called duality to keep us entertained ad eternum… With whatever…!
I’m with Einstein: The whole thing is a miracle… the miracle.
And my story is my story.
And generally I am perfectionist to oblivion or close, but I wish to evolve further into someone willing to accept typos left behind. I mean, if life itself is a written story, we all make typos… oh, so, so many.
Maybe I’ll search for a plugin to allow you to suggest corrections to my posts and pages.
Maybe I’ll offer a version of my posts and pages in PDF, so that everyone can print anything, propose edits with fluorescent markers, and send me back by post.
I like drugs. And they like me.
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