Hopping the Wagon, Day 2: 13h21

Just woke up.

Someone once lovingly referred to me as the "hunchback of eternal pain" and that's what I feel like.

Swallowed  40ml of methadone. No coffee so had heavily sugared tea. Checked my emails and letter box. No death threats or court orders.

Outside still looks like winter skies. The season is definately on the turn.

Rubbish piled up near the door and fruit flies in the bathroom. I feel like I did the first time love gave me a low blow and disappeared down the road with her things: nostalgic, sad and happy. Two futures going off in different directions, and for the better or worse, things will never be the same again.

France is not a romantic place to be - it's not even a nice place to be. People say it is, but the daily details are the same and the lonliness is the same and the people are the same only they make no sense. I'd much rather be back in some West London ghetto, watching the rain extinguish burning cars and people punching phone booths because their dole cheque never arrived. That's beauty to me. Not really, but from a safe distance it is.

The last time I heard an accordian was in London. A gypsy wedding reception that spilled over into violence once the bar tab ran dry. The bride got glassed and the men stripped down to their vests and headed over to the park for some bare knuckle bonding. Gypsy weddings always end like that, it's half their fun. Divorces are even better.

I'm getting divorced, did I tell you? My wife of three days (Mythical Darts & Broken Darts), after ten years of quiet,  surprises me with an email (a divorce petition). But that's another story...



Anonymous said...

Hey mate
I feel ya, i say that because i,m listening to the pac...his poetry has pulled me through many bad situations...I know where you come from in terms of the violence in everyday life, i,m the same as you, i get comfort from rough living and violent ghettos, even though your not violent,...violence sooths your soul; some.... i hear your regret and pride both at the same time...I,m thinkin of you mate...

The Total Impostor said...

Why France Shane? It sounds so uncivilised to any self- respecting drug-lover. Why not come back to the UK where the gear is still OK at £40 a gram (with or without anthrax added)? Or go to Portugal or the Netherlands where the laws are more liberal and the drugs more flowing? Better still, head for the Republic of Liverpool where you can get a gram of 30%-pure H for £25, delivered to your door by friendly scousers within 15-30 minutes of calling, any time from 10am to 10pm? [courtesy of Liverpool Tourism Board]

Wildernesschic said...

Shane I am sorry about your wife, I know its a long time but her timing is just off right now. That is still one of my favourite posts ..keep sane xx

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

hey Kympton,

Not much pulls me through smack thoughts, certainmly not other peoples art... if anything it makes me want to use more - usually because it is so depressingly bad!

No, i'm not a violent person, but I've come from a violent place and it has always made up a part of my life. It's a weird thing when you live around it, and that is the reaction of everyone to everything. Also, and it's only since moving away, Britain is an extremely violent society. Not always physically, but just the way we command our personal space on the pâvement, the way we walk and even eye one another up. It's a very aggresive place. I understand that, but won't go into here. Like most things it's an essay.


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


France, it's a long story. basically I was dragged here by my partner who thought it would get me away from smack. It was an ultimatum: me or london. I choose her. As soon as I could speak enough I was out scoring. To deal with my use she started using, soon she was sticking more needles into herself than me. Then I set the apartment on firer, had an affair and the place imploded.

Alongside that, a year into my stay hear some legal issues arose in the UK which makes going back a risky proposition. Nothing too serious, but could possibly end in some jail time... I'd have to speak to a lawyer. So I'm trapped a little here.

You can find out about those things in the posts "methadone maintenance & continental socks" and the legal issues "Modern day pen pusher".

For a while I was having heroin sent over in the post but the amounts got bigger and bigger and when I found out I could get three years in prison for the amounts I was receiving each week I stopped. Now I get the occassional few bags posted across. (If the police are reading - as someone mailed me saying they are - CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!)


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hi Ruth,

Oh, that's over and done with and it needs to be settled so it's nothing. She's actually been very sweet and we've become friends again. So it's all fine.

Timings never good... life don't care for such things.


Sarcastic Bastard said...

A divorce? I didn't know you were married. Jesus. You think you know someone. Laugh.