skid row journal reeelapse death pool champ
Posted: Tue Mar 19, 2013 11:39 pm
This is gratuitous live journal jimmy buffet shit but some of you maybe mildly mused. I guarantee I'm number one in the reeeelapse death pool
I sleep from 6am to 9:30am. Don't matter with no job. I walk to one of my regular homeless free food line called the hippy kitchen. It happens to be by the infamous Gladys park ( dope spot where lookouts yell clear when the cops are gone and its safe to deal. This happens all night every night) To walk there you walk past the Midnight Mission. The streets smell like piss and there are hundreds of homeless out. am asked "cavi" 5 times on the way there. I stand in line for 10 minutes and get served lentils with ham, fresh salad, a buttered bagel and buttered French bread piece. I eat and go to the hippy kitchen clinic where they give me a multivitamin, antacids, and condoms. On the way back walking home there are Christians giving out free heroin cookers and splitters to promote not sharing the same cooked to avoid hepc/ aids. I grab a cooker cos you never know when you might need one. As I pass the Midnight Mission I see a white crack head begging a crack dealer for 2 bucks worth of crack and being obnoxious so the dealers homie punched him I'm the stomach hard and dropped him. Them he kicked his face fucking soccer style. The guys fave splattered with blood. He managed to pop the dudes eyeball and break his nose. They yelled at him to get the fuck away and he was crying bloody saying he couldn't see. He wandered in front of traffic and around the block. Dude left a trail of blood and the ambulance came by. I hear sirens every fucking night. Only ended up smoking weed and taking a xanax today along with my psych medsaxil and buspar. This is not quite as bad as the crack and heroin I did last week. Or the crystal method I did the week before that.
I am nu,Ber 1 in the reeelpse death pool. Ever since the. Nervous breakdown this is what I've devolved into. True insanity is not just hearing voices, but being able to have coherent conversations with the voices. Or hallucinating shadow people floating in your room. I'm on section 8 and food stamps. I will sign up for bash welfare benefits on Apr 1st. I will get $200 bucks in monetary methadone a month. $70 extra for a bus pass I probably won't buy. Food is free everywhere. All that money can go to rent $62 bucks a month ( lol, no joke). Then $50 for a phone bill. That leaves me with $158 in cash and 200 in food stamps. I then sell 100 in stamps for $50 bucks. So that's $258 to play with with no job. I reached my childhood dream of having no responsibilities. My major problem in life is "don't have too much fun". For me too much fun could mean me being Jason Molina or my close friend Erik who overdosed the day before the super bowl. No job, plenty of food and shelter. I do whatever I want whenever I want with the few bucks I have. I sleep whenever for how ever long I want. I play videogames and play on the net and read great books and hang with great friends every day.
I went to a recovery meeting on xanax and realized that even though this bottom feeding freedom is fucking amazingly great in ways, if I didn't get high I would get bored and get a job and move on to bigger better things or at least get a good job and be a productive person in the hood. But let's face it, chances are the drugs will probably win or I'll get killed in random violence or robbing. Or bad karma for being a college graduated waste of space on welfare.
Death pool champ. I challenge someone to die sooner.
I sleep from 6am to 9:30am. Don't matter with no job. I walk to one of my regular homeless free food line called the hippy kitchen. It happens to be by the infamous Gladys park ( dope spot where lookouts yell clear when the cops are gone and its safe to deal. This happens all night every night) To walk there you walk past the Midnight Mission. The streets smell like piss and there are hundreds of homeless out. am asked "cavi" 5 times on the way there. I stand in line for 10 minutes and get served lentils with ham, fresh salad, a buttered bagel and buttered French bread piece. I eat and go to the hippy kitchen clinic where they give me a multivitamin, antacids, and condoms. On the way back walking home there are Christians giving out free heroin cookers and splitters to promote not sharing the same cooked to avoid hepc/ aids. I grab a cooker cos you never know when you might need one. As I pass the Midnight Mission I see a white crack head begging a crack dealer for 2 bucks worth of crack and being obnoxious so the dealers homie punched him I'm the stomach hard and dropped him. Them he kicked his face fucking soccer style. The guys fave splattered with blood. He managed to pop the dudes eyeball and break his nose. They yelled at him to get the fuck away and he was crying bloody saying he couldn't see. He wandered in front of traffic and around the block. Dude left a trail of blood and the ambulance came by. I hear sirens every fucking night. Only ended up smoking weed and taking a xanax today along with my psych medsaxil and buspar. This is not quite as bad as the crack and heroin I did last week. Or the crystal method I did the week before that.
I am nu,Ber 1 in the reeelpse death pool. Ever since the. Nervous breakdown this is what I've devolved into. True insanity is not just hearing voices, but being able to have coherent conversations with the voices. Or hallucinating shadow people floating in your room. I'm on section 8 and food stamps. I will sign up for bash welfare benefits on Apr 1st. I will get $200 bucks in monetary methadone a month. $70 extra for a bus pass I probably won't buy. Food is free everywhere. All that money can go to rent $62 bucks a month ( lol, no joke). Then $50 for a phone bill. That leaves me with $158 in cash and 200 in food stamps. I then sell 100 in stamps for $50 bucks. So that's $258 to play with with no job. I reached my childhood dream of having no responsibilities. My major problem in life is "don't have too much fun". For me too much fun could mean me being Jason Molina or my close friend Erik who overdosed the day before the super bowl. No job, plenty of food and shelter. I do whatever I want whenever I want with the few bucks I have. I sleep whenever for how ever long I want. I play videogames and play on the net and read great books and hang with great friends every day.
I went to a recovery meeting on xanax and realized that even though this bottom feeding freedom is fucking amazingly great in ways, if I didn't get high I would get bored and get a job and move on to bigger better things or at least get a good job and be a productive person in the hood. But let's face it, chances are the drugs will probably win or I'll get killed in random violence or robbing. Or bad karma for being a college graduated waste of space on welfare.
Death pool champ. I challenge someone to die sooner.