Stable Habits & Sexless Sheets

If death would float me into your arms
I’d jump from a building
From the 91st floor
Just to be certain
Just to be sure

A fictitious poem to a fictitious lover
* * * * *

Sometimes I wish I didn’t love, I didn’t feel and I didn’t hurt.. sometimes I wish I didn’t live in such extremes, enjoying freezing winters just to take pleasure from hurrying into the warmth. That is what I do, I hang around in the cold and then seek refuge in a warm room, shuddering with pleasure as the first waves of heat hit me. Sometimes I wish my muscles didn’t contract and that my heart would stop beating excessive amounts of blood around my body. Sometimes I wish I lived in a securely mortgaged house and drove a Grey Ford Fiesta. Sometimes I wish I had a dog and two dustbins. Sometimes I wish my name was Chris.

Chris is 47 years old. Of those 47 years he has been married for 29. He has never strayed, nor cheated nor done an around turn and followed the echoes of a strangers high-heeled shoes. He neither loves nor hates, cries or laughs, lives or dies. He is in the middle of all that, living a life of unbroken and regular habit. But not dangerous habits... not habits that gamble with the fate of ones day, no... safe habits... routines. Practices that secure the fate of one’s day. In a life of mystery and surprise, of low blows and axe chops, Chris wanders through oblivious to all and everyday brings the same, and the same comes everyday.

At 6.30am one can find Chris walking his dog around the block and down the old brewery alley. On his way back home he will pass the the newsagents and pick up the paper. Dog lead hung on the coat stand he’ll sit down to an already made up and perfumed wife. He will slurp his way through two cups of tea, butter some toast and smoke a cigarette. At he rolls up his newspaper and puts it in his back pocket. He winks goodbye to the wife, kisses the dog and leaves for work.. For 8 hours everyday Chris unloads lorries and then makes sure people like me don’t steal the stock.He has done this since leaving school at 17. His evenings are homecooked meals, quick stop family visits and cable TV. At 10.30 he badly dries the dishes that his wife has washed and together they climb the wooden hills to Bedfordshire. Chris removes his shirt and slips out of his trousers and into the bed before anyone has time to even see his kneecaps. He turns his head so as his wife can change in peace. 30 years of marriage divides the kingsize bed in two. The sheets are clean and freshly pressed and never smell of sex. At 11 o’clock they turn back to back, each pointing in the direction of their half of the room. They sleep without dreaming, although the wife occasionally dreams she is living a nightmare. At 5.45am, the alarm rings and it all starts again.

For a while I was one of the many co-conspirators in Chris’s life. I became a little part of his routine, another little event that added to the surety of his day. There I’d be, every morning outside Allied Carpets, waiting to be collected and driven in to work. There he’d come, pulling into the bus lane whilst simultaneously stretching across the passenger seat and pushing open the door. Car still in a slow roll, I’d hop in and he’d accelerate away as the door swung shut. “Time?” He’d ask nodding towards the cheap unstealable radio “7.23,” I’d say “You’re bang on time.” And he was bang on time... always. In two years of early morning meets not once did that clock read any other minute past seven. I came to thinking that he must arrive early, park up down a side road and pull out at the exact minute. Sadly, I am probably wrong about that. He probably is the only man in the world who can manoeuvre through London’s traffic to the exact second. In fact, I do not doubt it. But if it was easy for Chris to pull up at the exact second I was the polar opposite of that. I’m not sure if he ever realised the hell I had to assault through to get there.. to be standing there calmly in a freshly pressed shirt. Whilst his life was a monotonous journey through tried and tested avenues mine was a life of mayhem and last minute fixes... always chasing that which had already left. If Chris knew what would happen next, I was still in shock at what had happened before... and it was with a certain envy that I strapped myself in and looked across at Chris in his one and only state of being: not quite happy, but almost.

Chris became a fascination to me. I would feel good just to be in his company... just to have his calmness rub off on me and know that besides this man the perverse was not going to happen. Life did not bluster unannounced into this man’s life... it gave him a smooth flat stoneless ride. I would catch myself observing him, admiring all his little mannerisms and laughing along as he whispered a clean obscene joke into the ear of the young female receptionist. I’d watch him preparing his sandwiches, devouring them in delightful measured mouthfuls, then wiping and patting his lips free from any sauce or grease. I observed as he took a million tiny pleasures from a world I had no excitement for and didn’t really want to be a part of. He even seemed to enjoy paying his taxes... filling out the forms and posting them off to the Revenue. Chris had found his slot in life. And no matter how awful his routines seem, or what a waste I knew it was to live like that, I could not help envying him... At one time, I could not help myself from desperately wishing for what he had.

Sometimes I would sit in the car beside him on the drive home and stare at him as he damned without swearing, as he looked up and around at the new buildings that were being put up. He’d be tapping away to some old rock beat or another, nothing intense, bland love songs of coming home. Once we had a little bump in the car and he seemed to take a sick pleasure in reckoning up the insurance costs. There he was, counting out on thick fingers garage repairs and labour costs. Nodding away knowingly at just how costly a little bump could be. When his mum died, he cried for a lunch break in his car and that was it... That was the nearest he ever got to tragedy. He returned after an hour his same old consistent self, just one parent less. He celebrated her but never grieved. One night I met him and his wife for drinks. He wore a denim jacket and a thick shapeless bright pink top. I think it was the first time he had been out since the early 80’s and that was his old pulling shirt.They both left after one drink as the dog needed it’s nighttime walk and the bins needed emptying. I was completely shitfaced and had only been there for an hour. They had to drive me to my door and walk me up the garden path. But they enjoyed that... it was a little story for hem, just as it is for me.

Once I asked Chris if he loved his wife. His reply talked of the kids, the mortgage and the joint possessions. “But do you love her Chris?” I repeated “Do you love her?”

“Well,” he replied “we’re thinking of starting up a little market stall on Saturdays so as we can spend a little more time together... there’s not many couples who after twenty odd years want to spend MORE time together. That said, we could also do with the extra cash as the roof needs fixing and we had the plumber in last week.”

“Yeah, that sounds like love.” I said, thinking of sex in parks, golden showers and planes out the country. And he winked at me as if he held all the secrets to the world.

One evening whilst stuck in traffic I told Chris of my heroin addiction. He sat there staring ahead in silence, a thinking middle finger drumming out a rhythm on the side of the steering wheel. I waited in gritted discomfort as my words hung thick with the smoke in the car, but nothing came – not a squeak, not a sidewards glance, nothing... Chris just inched forward in the traffic and never mentioned it at all . It was like telling someone you love them and not getting so much as a blink of acknowledgement back in return. Seven eigth’s of my existence was left two feet back in London’s rush hour traffic... under the wheels of a vibrating diesel powered double-decker bus.

And what else should I have expected? What other response could I have possibly received from a man welded so securely into a life of routine? He could hardly have pulled over and took me off for an unplanned talk and drink... Oh no, the wind from the wings of that little butterfly would have had far too many repercussions in his own life to be a possibility. No, Chris done exactly as I would have expected of him: he saved my revelation for the dinner table... a five minute conversation with the missus spat out through mouthfuls of chewed up sausage, cabbage and potato’s.

The remainder of the ride to my drop off point was a sombre one. I sat there with my head turned staring dismally out as West London passed by the smeared and rain speckled window. I had given up hope of receiving any kind of response from Chris and it was with relief that he finally swung in and slowed to a stop at my bus stop. As I clambered from the car that evening, Chris leaned across , and with his chin almost on the passenger seat and peering up at me under the door, he said: “Hey Shane, why don’t you come over to ours for dinner one evening? My wife knocks up a great steak and chips.” And with that comment, and the way in which it was delivered, London collapsed... it was the saddest thing I had ever heard, from anybody’s lips. That Chris imagined that the answers to the unanswerable could come through a hearty home cooked meal, carving up cheap meat whilst laughing away to evening sitcoms was sad. It was sad because I wished it were true... it was sad because I wished I had that to go home to. I gave Chris a light smile and a pair of tragic eyes “That’d be nice,” I said quietly “I’d like that.”

In a way I was touched that someone, anyone could think so simply about life and her problems. That someone was so stable and so secure that they imagined a good family dinner could heal all woes. And I desired that... I envied that in him. That stability, the knowing... the surety. He knew when he arrived home his wife would be there. OK, there was no passion but there was a bizarre kind of historic love and dependence. I would settle for that... I wanted that. In this mans head there were no dreams... no wants or desires. “I wish I was like that.” I’d think. He enjoyed simple things, things that I cannot even understand. Walking the dog at nine o’clock in the evening... greeting a neighbour or two and swapping the days gossip. I dream of that, of that kind of a life.Everything in Chris was stable and secure and I wanted it, and I envied him for that. But at the same time I knew it was not for me... it was not possible. One cannot learn to be like Chris... that kind of regimented and ordered life cannot come through discipline. One has to be born like that... or as good as. I was not... I was born dodging cricket bats and bouncing to the blows of life... all i’ve ever known is extremes. To live without question and to enjoy all the little hardships of life, one must be a very certain person. Of course, I would never want to be that... my head tells me that. But somewhere in me, somewhere buried below all the fancy thoughts, I do want it... to be less complex, to be just an average Joe.

Wouldn’t it be heaven to be guided and led by social norms, to have one’s ethics and morals laid out already dressed on the plate? To know what is right and what is wrong... what is clean and what is dirty? Wouldn’t it be good to have a built in sensor that stopped you going too far in either direction, that stopped you from falling madly in love or making suicide pacts? Wouldn’t it be fantastic to feel the cold and the warmth for what they are and not for what you will escape. To watch film for entertainment and not in search of yourself. Wouldn’t it be good to put your money in a fruit machine, not for the gamble but because that’s what you do.And whether you win or lose, well, so what! Nothing is going to change. Wouldn’t it be good to never be tempted, to be imprisoned by invisible and weightless chains... wouldn’t that be heaven? At one time in my life I wanted all of this... I needed it, and I went to bed dreaming of it. But even having that behaviour, that desire for something else told me I could never have it. No, my envy of Chris and his position was just a healthy response to my own life which had spiralled out of control and had left me on the edge trying to claw my way back in. And it helped... it helped because looking at all these things and thinking them over I decided that no, I do not want to be Chris... and I would not choose to be him even if I had the choice. I would much rather be me... I would much rather have obsessions and violently passionate relationships than calm waters and sexless sheet. I would much rather be able to write this than read it and not understand it. But for a while... Oh, for a while, I wanted nothing more than to just be someone else. Someone stable.

My relationship with Chris, like so many others, petered out and died. Rides home in his car became tense affairs after I had revealed myself. I’d unburdened my condition upon him and now I didn’t hold back. I sat in the passenger seat with my head almost slumped in my lap... coming to every now and again to see how much further we had crept through the traffic. As we arrived at my drop off point Chris would now lean over me, open the door and bundle me out into the street. I would scramble to my feet and before having the chance to turn around he would be gone. He stopped acting like a father towards me, probably realising and thanking his lucky stars that no son of his was anything like me. He stopped sharing his sandwiches with me in the canteen and would look grumpy as I came from the toilet with my bag and rubbing my arm. Eventually he stopped giving me a lift home, petrified that I had drugs in my bag and that my passenger seat antic would bring the police to us. I didn’t mind... he wasn’t a friend, just someone I once aspired to be... just someone I needed to see and be with for a short time in my life.

It’s now nearly ten years that I haven’t had word from Chris, but whenever things aren’t going great in my life or whenever I am riding high, I still think of him. I think of his life of routine and his measured, calculated way of doing everything. I wonder can anyone really be like that? Is anyone really able to be that stable and satisfied with their lot? Is the leaking roof really an enjoyable cost? Then I start to wonder what goes on behind closed doors... what happens when the family has left and the light goes out in the bedroom. Is it all as cosy and as clean cut as he’d have me believe? Does he really never dream? Is it only the occasional nightmare his wife has, or are they recurring and omnipresent? Does his sexless frustration never turn into something a little more sinister?I don’t know... that’s just me thinking and maybe more a reflection of me than of him. But then I remember something... a snippet of a conversation we once had. We were discussing films and Chris told me that his favourite film was A ClockWork Orange and his favourite scene was the gang rape one... and for some reason those words hang heavy in my ears and disturbs me. Butit’snot the fantasy that disturbs me, it’sthe repression of the fantasy, the denial of it... and when i think of that my envy turns to fear. Fear of what such a person is capable of. Far from being attracted to or in awe of such a person, the Chris’s of this world scare me... They scare me more than my shadow scares myself.

Take care Readers... and keep the fires burning, Shane. x


Unknown said...

Hey Shane I too felt to be a "normal" average Joe and I envied that life, I even faked it for almost a year. Then I realized that I'm holding myself back and my happiness...and who the hell I am.

As always a good read
Thank you

Brilliant Sulk said...

I think some people who make a point of living their lives in a very "vanilla" sort of way (and make it known to everyone around them ) are the ones that are usually hiding something.

Who knows what Chris was up to. Especially after revealing how the gang rape scene was his favorite....

There are better friends to be had, vanilla or not.

Mantramine said...

Umm, that was a good read. I kinda felt like I was riding in the back seat, with you and Chris, as a bit of a shy observer (but, oh - I do hate it when the addict goes on the nod. I would have pushed you awake at that point).


Flit said...

I am terribly envious of people who can relax with out chemicals.
Good stuff.

Greta said...

Hey Shane,

this read was very, very, very fantastic. You're an admirable writer.

Chris reminds me exactly of my parents' landlord. When he goes to his garden patch to sow seeds he takes a ruler with him. I'm not kidding! I've seen him past lawnmowing, crawling on all fours with scissors. He's obsessed with symmetry. And boredom. And repetition. I think that can become an obsession, too.
He and his wife were all the Chris people in the world when I grew up. As a teenager, when I slept in on Sundays, it was the 12 o'clock scent of cooked meat that would bring the wake to my nose. Or the sound of the hand mixer going through the batter of the Sunday cake that would bring wake to my ears. Point 1.30. EVERY SUNDAY.
The wife died a few years ago. He had to adapt to new habits, but they're there. Only when you mention her he breaks out in tears. But I can't tell, is it tears for her or for a lost routine.

Chris also reminds me of my grandparents, especially my grandmother. All her life she kept a diary, and in it was nothing
but records of what she ate, what she bought, who phoned and what the weather was like. Her whole life was that diary.
My grandfather kept records of everything, too. I thought... maybe some people must be very desperate to put themselves into the afterworld. Children isn't enough. It must be every boring little detail of you. Record every single shitty detail to remind you and the afterworld of the pedant you are. You get the picture. But when we had to send her into a retirement home and went through the boxes in the attic, we found love letters.
Love letters she and my Grandpa had exchanged during WW II. And I tell you, they were vibrant and romantic, and full of fuel and passion. And that made me very, very sad.

So yeah... I think I met Chris?

Sorry this was so long... I hope you don't mind.

You're a brilliant one, Shane.
xo Greta

Boston Joe said...

Hey Shane,
that was a great post and totally nailed what I feel like my life has become and I CAN'T STAND IT. I have no passion, no fun, no nothing, i feel like a fucking rock sometimes, just there and just being not DOING anything. I remember one time talking to a drug counselor and him asking if I ever thought about suicide, I was like no way, I don't want to die, I want to live.. I guess that sums it up pretty well.. as for now, I have no choice, at the moment, but to go on with my monotnous(sp?) existence hoping I don't snap and go postal before I make my move... keep writing man, you are great

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Hello Dear Shane.

My mom and my best friend from childhood are personality types like Chris. I call them happy go lucky.

I am convinced they really are that way. No deep dark secrets.

Believe me, there are times that I have wished I were like them, but I am not. They do sort of fascinate me, too.

I am nothing like my parents--think Doris Day and Jimmy Stewart--seriously. They marvel that they ever produced such a child, but despite that, they love me, and for that, I am very grateful.

All my love,


Unknown said...

Hi Shane (once again hahah).
well..I don't believe that Chris is all he seemed to be. Actually, I'm kinda scared of people like him. it's like he's dead or something...
I think no one is capable of living such an emotionless and dull life like that!

Just like you said: I wonder what happens when nobody is watching him nor his wife.

Anyway, I gt the idea, you're life was everything but emotionless, and all you wanted was a lil' peace and quiet once in a while. But that you can have. It'll never be like Chris', but you can those moments. I believe you can and have it once in a while.

take care
stay strong
kiss kiss

Brother Frankie said...

(i am writing this comment in the start of a super flu, i have decided to stop. be kind)

ahh, this man chris, i see chris in the box people go to on sunday mornings. i see chris walking his dog at exactly the same time every evening. i see him at community meetings and festivals about town.

i often wonder about the secret closet they keep. ya know, the one with out the sketchers and nikes all in a row. the closet that does not have a light in it and is guarded with a padlock only to be opened when no one is watching.

whats in that deep dark place? they cant be "happy go lucky" can they?

if they are i am envious, if they are not i am sad. we need folks like chris, or else we would not get rides, have the trash picked up, or have pharmacists to count out those lil pills that take the pain away.

keep the padlock on the closet chris.

Thanks Shane
Be Blessed
Brother Frankie
A Biker for Christ

Bar L. said...

I know quite a few like Chris. I sometimes envy people that live on the surface and don't feel deeply or thing too much. Life just hurts, it would be nice to have a break. But then not feel is to be dead, rigth?

Anonymous said...

Shitfire Shane! You said it exactly! I remember my Mama always telling me that I needed to learn to not be so black and white about things, but I don't think it's something you can learn. Perhaps to those who do not live in extremes, an extreme life can seem wrong, but for those of us who do it's just life. To walk the middle path I'd have to be a monk on a mountain, and that in itself is an extreme. Ah, but to love! To touch someone and have your skin catch fire, to kiss and hang limp because an ocean is crashing through your mind... I can get used to an occaisonal despair because there is the promise of flying again.
Once again you've put it down so well. Extremists are less apt to repress. Addicts are horrible liars but I think we are more honest in our actions and our emotions, our monsters are sitting on our front stoops- we don't have to fear the basement.
thanks again.
Much love,

Syd said...

There are uncomplicated people in this world who are content with their life--walking the dog, going to work day in day out, watching TV, etc. They are okay in their reality. And they don't want to alter that. I have always looked for more and been largely discontented about the mundane. But thankfully I didn't alter my reality with alcohol or drugs. I easily could have with the genes being what they are and my desire to push the envelope of life. For some reason known only to God, I didn't. And I'm grateful for that.
Great writing Shane.

Patrycja said...

Hi Shane.

Dont you think that 'society' shapes you that way it shaped Chris and makes sure it stays that way... Work, so you dont have time to think too much about the worlds structure, contribute your bit to make caoitalism work, not question anything because you're busy with your routine..
I personally believe that one shouldnt fall for it and fight against the 'normality' that we are supposed to live. I feel sorry for Chris that he fell into that trap - happy or not. I believe not.

Thank you Shane. Beautiful.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Heather,

People like Chris becomes attractive when one is greatly suffering as a result of an extrreme emotion. At that time in my life my marriage had collapsed, my bestfriend had died andI was trying to get to gripswith heroin addiction. Chris's life was an answer to my pain... to be like him would not ahve alloved me such hurt. In a way I saw his behaviours as a prevention againt geting hurt... and when your in pain, any relief iswelcome.

Thanks as always for your input... you was first here again -I'll have to pay you back one of these days.

BestWishes, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Amanda,

Yep, you're right.... there's much better people in this world.

Hope you and the family's all well... things wonderful here.

My very best wishes, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Mantramine... thank youonce again for venturing across.

Yes, i think what you say about nodding is true of most drug effects.

fr e.g, Sober people don't like to be around drûnks... straight people can't bear those all coked up. I'm the same, so I understand that also.

take care M... and thanks for your time, Shane. x

Longy said...

Great read once again Shane. I've worked with a few "Chris's" but fortunately I don't have any Chris-like friends and more importantly to me,I never turned out like a Chris. If I did,I think I would of topped myself years ago!

I suppose its a lifestyle choice really but I like to do things on a whim and take risks sometimes. Life needs a bit of excitement occasionally or I for one would go madder than I already am!

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


As I'm on line as you comment youy go straight to the front of the queue!!! (Has that everhappened at the bridge???)

Yeah, I've met so many Chris's in the workplace... they seem to congregate there. They're not bad people... I just wouldn't like to be anything like them. Glad to hear your not eithr... but somehow I already knew that. Thanks for the comment, as ever cheered me up! ;)

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Flit... yeah I hear you. Once you start using drugs to do certain things, well... there's really no going back.

I started using to go out on a saturday. Then a wednesday. Then Monday and fridays crept in. Then it was to play my guitar... then not to play myguitar. Then i started using to go to work... then to go to sleep. Finally I started using to get up. Once you learn something under the influence, you can never enjoy that sraight. Sometimes I envy that ignorance as well.. th not knowing.

My BW... Shane. x

Jennifer Chronicles ( said...

You're a brilliant writer. There was a special last week on This American Life (National Public Radio). I think you would like it. It was about sleep - the things that keep us from sleeping at night. One of the essays talked about what goes on in other peoples' houses behind closed doors.

Blessings on you Shane. You are so the brilliant writer, dear one, with a Muse the size of Texas.

JoeM said...

I don't mind the Chris's - it's just that they mind me - and you. I mean the 'norms' are always trying to get the - what? Ab-Norms? - to be like them. You reveal that you are an H addict and, no matter how much the person knew and liked you before, you are now an 'Other'.

It's funny the parallels - if you had substituted 'gay' for 'H addict' it would be the exact same thing. I've had that slow tension/distancing/slow curtain/the end. (Though I haven't yet had "But we were in the shower together!") I bet if Chris told his wife about you she would have said "But he's an addict! He could OD in front of the children!" You immediately had the Scarlett letter H branded on your forehead.

That's what gets me, addicts/homos really don't 'recruit'. (Maybe dealers recruit to get more money...) Most 'outsiders' just want to do their own thing and are quite happy to let the 'norms' do their own thing.

But it doesn't work the other way:deviants from the norm are made illegal/mentally ill/damned if they don't conform to the ridiculous norm of Family/Mortgage/Church on Sunday - which we all know was cooked up by Capitalism anyway to keep the proles in their place.

Anyway, I didn't expect to go off on a rant. And a bit of a 4th form one at that.What I really meant to say was that I most of all like your great poetical/philosophical style -

He has never strayed, nor cheated nor done an around turn and followed the echoes of a strangers high-heeled shoes

The wind from the wings of that little butterfly would have had far too many repercussions in his own life to be a possibility.

That's all! Plus, get it published in book form!

Changedit said...

Your writing is just so amazing. The way you observed this man is art, they way you describe him poignant, the way you relate to him soulful... and actually, you described my housemate (minus the wife, but as regimented and empty as your Chris). Stay you! K xx

Changedit said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


You can write as much or as little as you like here...I enjoy it.
I think we've talked before of those people you've mentioned...there are little pieces of Chris in so many people. Whether they all have secret bats, I'm not sure...
maybe some really have lost all passion for life.

Ayway, thanks for the comment... it means a lot. My Love & Thoughts, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Boston Joe,

Thanks for stopping by and for the words and the truth.

You know what, even if you may recognize some common traits wth Chris, you are two very different beasts. Chris hasn't tamed into what he is.. he is that. In a way he is completely unaware of what he is. He has no dreams (so no regrets), he has no past (so nothing to compare his present to), he's never made a death pact with a lover (except marriage, lol) - so hasn't experienced anything other than the occassional backscrub and sex once a week. He only know life at one pace and that has never changed. Wht you identify with is his position, but not his character. That's nothing unusual, we all tame down... life cannot always be exhilarating. Hang in there Joe, life willcome along very shortly and blow the door off its hinges, and when it does, well... you'll probably be let wishing for exactly what you have right now.

Take care of yourself, my friend... My very best wishes, Shane.

Courage Required said...

Again, you are a fucking genius.

I have so wanted to be Chris many times in my life. I also have secretly admired religous folk as it falls into the same category for me. I was baptized in my 20's for that very reason. Knowing full well I didn't buy a second of it. I just wanted that simplicity, that black and white, cause and effect type of life. I wanted to be able to pick up a book to find answers or go to the minister to be told what to do. It didn't work and it didn't even last more than a few months.

Honestly I think admiring Chris has fucked up my life more than just embracing the dark side. :) I am getting older and much more comfortable with being tortured. My life is complicated and messy, my past is unbelievable to the Chris' out there. However it is mine and it is so full of passion, energy, love, hate, drama, and so much laughter I wouldn't trade Chris for a second.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya SB,

Oh you're correct. In the main the Chris's don't hve deep dark secrets... that was just me hoping against hope!!;)

Doris Day and Jimmy Stewart!!! That's not too bad! I love Jimmy Stewarts voice... wonderful. Who my parentscould be related to I'm still thinking: My father, Wiley Coyote from the Roadrunner cartoons, and my mother?? Maybe Nico, only twice as bad!

Anyway, thanks as ever for your time and words... I'll mail you soon as I've somenews to share. All my thoughts and Love, Shane.x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Ya Vanessa Z!!!

In that tiume in my lifeI had fallen victim to all oflifes horrible tricks. Broken love, drugs and detah all in the same week. It just wasn't enjoyable anymore... when real tragedy comes, it's not nice and it's not inspiring. I just wanted out of that... in any way, and i neverwanted to experience it again. To be Chris would have been the answer. Of course, time makes things easier and slowly things got btter, but for a while I wanted out (not of life, but of ME). Do you understand that?

Thanks for your words... they mean as much as ever. You read and reply whenever you can... you're always welcome here. Love & thoughts, Shane.x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Brother Frankie,

Yes we need Chris's, and even if we didn't, well... hard luck - they exist!!!

Many people have made the comparison between people like Chris and religious people. I understand that,but there is a big difference: many followwers of religion have passion... they have passion in their God and way of life. Worship is an extreme... it is not neutral or safe. So there's an important difference. Chris doesn't have religion... OK, he wears a golden ST Christopher around his neck, but he doesn't have any passion for the church or the book. He could never be a Biker for Christ!

Take Care Brother Frankie... & I hope all goes well wherever you may be... Thoughts... wishes... Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


yep, to not feel is to be dead... you're absolutely right. And when you are dead, there is no hope. So lets be thankful for the good things... lets use the not so good to learn. When the rollercoaster 'loops the loop' it hurts, I know... but hang on in there and keep hope, because nothing goes on forever.

Hope your well B...Hows the tearaway? Let me know!!!All my love, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Mayday... & thanks for all you say!

You're right, it's just life and we come to expect nothing less. Through extremes we cn really feel...from the transition from hot to cold, love to hate, calmness to's in the impact of the hit that we are the most sensitive. It'snot always nice, it's not always wanted, but in a life of extremes we feel it all.I wouldn't swap that. At one time in my life i wanted something else, but not know... I seen and experienced too many fantastic things to ever crave anything else. To die like Chris is not to have been born... to die without any battle scars is not to have partaken in the fight... and who can resist a good ol' bar brawl??? (especially with polystyrene chairs!!!) ;) lol

Once again, thanks for your time and words... take some love as well, I chuck it around cheaply here... BW, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Syd,

I never criticize... I accept people as they are. In many ways I'd have liked to have found what you have... an enjoyment from life minus drugs or alcohol. Though it's not to enjoy life that I take drugs, it's to accept the unenjoyable that comes with it. It's not ideal... I know, but it's where I am today.And with everything poured into the balance, I think I'm happy with my lot. I wouldnt wish my life on a Chris type, but I wuldn't want what they've got either.

Take care Syd & thanks as ever for your visit and input. BW, Shane.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Patrycja... Welcome to Memoires... wonderful to see you here!!

Yes, society shapes us (all of us), but all societies will do that, it is their function. The only real freedom is the intellect - freedom of thought and observation.
And this is the biggest tragedy for the chris's of this world: they've lost the ability to think and to judge and to rebel. In a way, Chris is the Robot that scientists have been tryig to build all these years.

But it's not jut the Chris'sthat have fallen into social traps... we all ahve in some way or another. My drug addiction keeps me trapped, it closes my mouth and keeps me in some kind of line. Mortages and debt do the same. The desire to have possesions another trap. Wecannot really escape this or not be a part of it... we are born into it and to get on at all one has to take part in many of the things that one opposes. It's very difficult and is full of contradictions. But if one is aware, if they have observed well, we can fight society with intellect and on a personal level. We can at least tred the mill without contradiction... in the knowledge that though we walk in the same footsteps as the rest, we push against the grain. It'sall we can do for now... capitalism has become too strong to fight with revolt. Personally I think the only thing that can undo the monster is the monster itself. Because before any kind of revolution, capitalism still has a heck of a way to go... it is still in it's very early stages (many ignore this fact.) It will end in sponsored cities... sponsored houses, branded children. We will be bought and sold to brands and financial institutions. Our lives will become enwrapped in advertising and our freedoms eventually curtailed. In the final years of Capitalism we will ahve no choice... and no choice will exist. We will be ruled by invisible powers that are not approachable or even accountable. With nowhere else to go, the monster will begin to terrorize itself, devour itself internally. It will die on it's own greed. Revolt will pull it down, but not until it is already falling. At this time, even Chris will be on our side... of course he will, he always goes with the crowd.

Anyway, I think this is all a little outside of the scope of Memoires (maybe not?), so I leve with a final thanks an hope we'll speak mor very soon.

My thoughts and wishes, Shane.x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Jen X!!!! You're too kind... what am I to do with such compliments!!! lol It's naughty to be so flattering! I can only thank you and if the day ever comes put that thanks in print at the end ofa book.

Nice to hear from you Jen... sorry I don't get across to your blog as much as I'd like, but I'm there in spirit and will make the occassional guest appearance.

Love, wishes & thoughts, Shane. x

sKILLz said...

Every addict wants that part of them I think. Well 9 out of 10 maybe you have that one who doesn't give a fuck and never will.
I think that's what keeps us from being total animals.
I think that's what we want in the back of our heads.
I think that is what we are taught growing up, and then drugs get us, we lose sight but not feeling.

I'm going to try to keep this on ME right now.
I myself have tried very hard to keep up with "normal life". Then I saw that my life is what I want it, and what I MAKE IT.
I have dogs, I do that 6am walk.
I get breakfast, not every morning, but some.
I kiss my wife good bye when we part.
I love my wife, and my mother, those are the ladies in my life, always will be.
I don't have a "normal job" but fuck who cares as long as I'm not behind bars, bills are paid and money is coming in?
I don't have a normal routine and really don't want one. I like having a somewhat abrupt lifestyle.
I like that one day I'm doing this, then the next I'm getting high, the next I'm helping my mom go food shopping, and the next I'm fucking around with people on the street.

I think once you tell people your an addict they TOTALLY look at you different no matter who they are or what they do.
It sucks but thats fucking people.
That's just another reason why I hate them.
I hope I covered everything, this was a long post from you and me.
Stay up homie!

Brother Frankie said...


thats why i dont preach in the box "church" once they hear addict... well lets just say i will never be prez of the baptist convention...

only thing, i love them all anyway.. go figure..

be blessed.
Brother Frankie
A Biker for Christ

i am mai said...

Hey Shane,

I absolutely love this post and the way you write, it makes me cry. I too, once wondered why I can't live like a "Chris", being so ignorant, doing the same old things, packed in groups, obeying whatever that is given to them and all that, yet, at the same time, be happy. My psychiatrist hsaid that he can't seem to understand why I can't be happy like all the other 18 year olds.
I want to, but I do know, that I can't.

But I was sorta born in a normal kinda life, not freakish the slightest bit, so I can't understand the reason for my depression. Shit just happens.

But then again, I do rather have an eventful turbulent life even though how crazy it makes me feel than being absolutely insignificant, without being sad about it. A case of existentialism, I'd say.

Oh and I love it when you wrote "To watch film for entertainment and not in search of yourself". It's sad, isn't it?


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Fishwhiskers,

Oh, thank you for what you say!! It's nice to be told such things & I'm not embarrassed to admit it.

I hope all's well your side...if you ever want to talk outside of comments you can always mail me... for anything.

All my Love, Shane.x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Courage Required,

My apologies for the delay in response... especially after embarrassingmeagain with the word 'genius'!!;)

When we are going through a personal hell Chris or religion can seem to offer us all the answers, but you're correct, especially in the fact that it would fuck us up more than ever. No, such things are never the is the only answer... living through the pain or hurt.

Take care CR...keep reading and keep responding and keep flattering me!!! Secretly,I enjoy it! lol

Love & wishes, Shane.x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya SkillZ,

It wasn’t so much the drugs that I wanted to escape,but the life and the events that were unfolding around me at the time. If anythin the drugs helped... they made everything acceptable.

Your routines arelike mine...we don’t know wherethey will lead. Friomone day to the next, depending on circumstance,we could be in jail, hospital or dead. OK,we all have our little habits:walking the first thing in the morning, etcbut whatgoes on between them iswherewe differ from the Chris’s of this world.

About the prejudice attached to drug addicts, read JoeM’s comment.It should interest you, as he makes a comparison between homosexuality and drug addiction.and the problems that the two face within society. Itwould be interesting if you’d agree with that... ifyou find it similar the way society reacts towards you as a gay person and as an addict.

Anyway, you take care sKILLz... all my love to You & Yours & kisses for the Brooklyn dogs. Take care my Homie... Shane. xxx

Quicksilver said...

as always, another masterpiece from u shane. :)
i have wished to be someone like chris too. to treat everything with a sort of measured distance. i tire myself out way too often with my delirious spells of sadness, happiness, boredom, anger, love ..and all that.
But, as u said, some ppl are just born that way. And,such ppl i think, are not human. i cant stand the way their lives are so uneventful or atleast they make it appear that way. whts the point in living like that?
Wish i had written this :) Great work!

'Stoopid Slapped Puppies' said...

What if all the worlds inside of your head
Just creations of your own
All the living and the dead
And you’re really all alone
You can live in this illusion
You can choose to believe
Keep on looking but you cant find the woods
When you’re hiding in the trees
But if everything around you
isn’t quite as it seems
What if all the world you used to know
Is an elaborate dream
And if you look at your own reflection
Is that all you want to be
But if you could look right through the cracks
Would you find yourself afraid to see.

Anonymous :) said...

This is the first time I read your blog. You seem to be a very high functioning, talented addict, committed to being an addict for life. Just don't drive, please. I love your writing. I'm glad this planet is made up of all kinds of people and there's room for all. Diversity is a good thing. Take care of yourself.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


Cinnamon Girl said...

I have to say I don't know if I should envy Chris or feel pity for him. I think your revelation was so out of the scope of his world view that he dealt with it the only way he could.

And being Greek I have to say were we to meet, I'd probably think you were too skinny want to feed you too. It's genetic =)

Cathy said...

Although certain parts felt like over-extending, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the character of Chris flesh-out. Words=images. Also I have to say (begging pardon?) that IMHO a world where you have a directional guide for what is moral and what is not sounds rather dull, especially artistically, where it would stifle the instinct to be completely IMmoral in one's art, if that were called for. Easy yes, to have it all written down to follow but I think humans would lose too much if they knew how to act based solely on someone's instructions. Once again, your talent is provocative, welcome.

Gledwood said...

your friend has been married a long bloody time that's all i can say

you know EVERY kid in my class at school in Wales came from a broken home bar about 2 or 3 ~ how ridiculous

Gledwood said...

ps have you any idea why the computer kept stalling every time I came here for the last few weeks? that's why I logged out of my a/c first I can't handle it being stuck like that for hours on end

OK not hours but minutes. Still rather inconvenient

Laura said...

put your pin down Shane, readers are well over due a post xxx

joshua said...

this was the best thing i have read online in 2 and a half years of my boring stable job. thank you.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya i am mai, Quicksilver, Nick, Madison, Starrlight, Cathy, Gledwood, Laura & joshua,

thank you for your words! I apologize for not having replied to your comments properly yet, I will do so at a later point. My life is changing, and at the moment I don't have as much access to the internet as I'd like to. I will get back to reply to each of you as soon as possiple.

Love & Thoughts, Shane. x

Cinnamon Girl said...

Thanks for letting us know, Shane =) I am hoping your changes are good ones and we will have you back writing for us soon!

JoeM said...

Well finally!

You're such a great prose writer. I've been having withdrawels.

It's 00.30 and I'm wearing sun glasses. Don't ask...

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


Yes, my changes are good ones... very good ones. No doubt it will be posted very shortly!!! lol

Hope you're well Starrlight and thank you for supporting my words and blog... you're one of the oldest regulars, did you know that? ;) x

Cinnamon Girl said...

What can I say, I love quality writing, and you are blessed with a gift for it =)

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


Thank you very much... What you say touches me as ever.

There have been changes in my life, a £500 phone bill, and a suicide attempt by my recently separated partner of 5 years. So, my life is as hectic and as wonderful as ever... I'd have ity no other way!

A new post will arrive soon, though maybe not the one I promised at the bottom of my last entry.

Thanks & Wishes, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


Oh, that means so much!!!! Thank You!!

I hope you're well and my very best thoughts and wishes, Shane.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


Many, many thanks for your comment, I just apologise for the lengthy delay in replying.

No I won't drive.. I can't,; I've never learnt. I did once drive a moped and crashed it into a wall... I was too scared to turn! lol

Anyway, I hope you continue reading and commenting, and once again tahnk you for you time and words. My Best wishes, Shane. x

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Gledwood,

Thanks as ever for your response. No, I'm not sure why you kept freezing, but I know you're not the only one who has experienced problems. I think maybe it was something to do with the playlist and so I've removed it... let's see if that helps at all.

Hope you're well, mate... all good upon my slowly sinking ship!!! ;)

BW, Shane.

Dusty Rose said...

that was without a doubt one of the most intense
and fragile
and breathtaking things i've ever experienced.

it reminded me of a time in my life
when i worked at a coffee shop
and i was a junkie
and they all knew there was something about me
because some days i would come to work and be off
and they thought those were the days i was f-ed off
but i never went to work like that
those days there the days that i was sober
and coming off
and it was hard for me to function.

but there was a kind lady
who was much, much older
and the little trust fund infants in adult bodies
that i worked with
talked shit about her all the time and i hated it
and she would take me home when no one else would.

thanks shane for your depth.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Dusty Rose,

Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment.

God, mornings into work dopesick... just torture. It was due to that that I first got onto the needle - it was an economic decision. If I injected instead of smoked I could make it until the end of the month (pay day) and that's the road I took. I'e no regrets there... I've said before: Heroin helpe me as it killed me. It was an exchange of sorts.

My personal favourite post here is: The Man Who Looks Like Life

If you're ever completely bored and stuck for something to do, you can have a little look at that.


Thanks once again... My Best Thoughts & Wishes, Shane.

Anonymous said...

i love your writing. but this one stood out above the rest. taking the turn into territory we all know is there but everyone tries to not see...

Aoife said...

I'm just new to this but love reading your stuff so far. It's so wonderfully written, and chris sounds like he is Defo hiding something! Just wanted to show my appreciation for your talent :)

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