Love Me Tender in the Ghetto - part 1

“No twos, no threes, no lugs!” That's what we used to say when sparking up a cigarette and not wanting to share it. Thirteen years old and preparing our lungs for coughing up tar. Billy with his wonky eye, looking off-centre and smiling at things which didn't exist. Beautiful, sad days... sun soaked west London with hopelessness spread out to the horizon. An eternity of orange tiled rooftops and the occasional spluttering chimney.

In the forecourt there'd be grubby gypsies stripped to the waist, banging and bashing away to give some worth to the worthless. Someone suddenly taking up an old fashioned boxing stance, sweat glistening off his chest as he jabbed and hooked away at unknown forces. The sun cooking pale Irish skin red, engine oil bubbling with the tarmac, the heat rising and the world wavering through it the other side.

A face over the balcony on the fourth floor. Darren Brown, eyes all pupil and jittery as hell, keeping dog of the non-existent police teams creeping up the stairs to bust him for his last remaining crumbs of crack. Two months later entering the only successful rehab clinic there is: the morgue. Flattened on the Westway. Splattered to death trying to get back home to his pipe quicker than humanly possibly.

I saw the blood. A dark shadow of scarlet which went nowhere in all directions. There were flowers too. A single bunch. “How Romantic the poor are,” I thought, “or maybe somebody got married?” I Laughed. The end of Darren Brown! That evil cunt who had taken me at knifepoint and forced me to commit robberies to fund his habit, sending me into a wild Africans home while he was still there. Me chucking half defrosted fish  at him as he lunged towards me like a huge bear with yellow teeth. I made my escape: a 20ft drop from the back window,  landing on Daniel Kinsella who was sucking the entrails out of a roach he had picked up from somewhere. A pair of Adidas Samba's catching him in the bristle of his adolescence. An horrendous  tough jaw, twisting out of shape and his fists instinctively clenching because something had hit him. A dull thud in my ear, the side of my head red, throbbing sounds from bust eardrums: “God, I'll never hear the sea again!” I thought, as we legged it back to the relative safety of the Estate, pursued by a clucking, screaming, knife wielding crack head.

“Did you get the camera!” Darren  hurled, collaring me in the underpass, the sharp end of his blade pushing to pop my eyeball. Oh, I was so glad he got splattered. No one deserved it more. I hope it was a Skoda that hit him. They were so uncool back then. For a moment I did believe in karma, then I thought about myself, blowing up frogs in the Greyhound Park, and hoped not.

Sometimes, as the sun went down, we'd sit around in the cool shade of the back, listening to insects and the sound of wind rustling through wild trees. We'd hand joints around and burn the dried grass down to stub. After a while we'd lay back and stare up at the slowly changing sky. Sometimes it'd be shot through with pink clouds, warning us that tomorrow may not be so great. Someone would always talk. A slow, stoned, drawl  of hope and mystery. Some of us had dreams, but others were too clever for such things. I had no dreams. I wanted nothing but the very moment.

At around eight, or whenever dusk was, the dogs would come out. Thin, scabby things that looked like they'd been vacuum packed in their skin. Sniffing and pissing on dandelions, or crouched down and snarling amongst broken bin bags. As the day disappeared completely behind the flats the grass would tone dark and then go black. Faint breezes would start up and the grass would push out and ripple like thousands of little legs. The city smelled like magic and would make us cry. With the right light and sounds behind it, life seemed so worth living. Just after that the illusion would be broken. Lightbulbs would flick on in the apartments showing up silhouettes of the despicable things living inside them. Thin straggly women with knives or bottles or both... beer bellied men raining punches down on unknown things. For many of us they were the shapes of things to come. It was bad, and those were the good years.

“What are you looking at, Billy?” I asked
“Time,” he said
“Can you see time?” I asked
“I can feel it,” he said, “time to go home.”
“Do you want to go home, Billy?” I asked
His wonky eye now settled on me and a feint, tragic smile spread across his lips.
“Do you?” he said, as a question to the question.

It was now just the two of us. Laying out in the dark of the back, the night bringing in a chill, and the milky summer grass then damp and cold beneath us. I emptied the last cigarette out the box. “No twos no threes no lugs!” I blurted, as my only answer to the long forgotten question. Then I struck a match and lit up the hell around us. Billy smiled anew, it was just something we said. The night was down upon us. Soon the bars would spill out and our lives would be ruined again. Love me tender in the Ghetto. Billy would get his 'twos'. I could taste the sulphur in my mouth. The sweet end of the match


A little one for the archives, or maybe just something  to proove I'm not also in the only successful rehab. Take Care All... Life about as mocking as ever, but sweet with it. Love and Thoughts, Shane. X


Anonymous said...

you remain the best author I have ever read!Awesome Shane

Etelvina Mermeo said...

you have an interesting mind.Great blog

Stacy said...

i love

Absolut Ruiness said...

keep the good shit love with ur words....

FreeFox said...

Aye, and stay out of that rehab. ^_^

Say, do you know, do you write this (brilliant) stuff, to say good-bye to the past or to keep it alive?

And what is it about past hell that makes us stay there in our minds? Is it just that the future hadn't been written then, that there at least remained the possibility of brightness, or that past hell is safer than the present, because that we at least survived? Or what...?

denver dopehead said...

I've been following your writing for quite a while, and just wanted to say, I'm glad you aren't 6 feet under, and that you are a great writer.

Dan said...

Aww....good to see you are back in the swing of it...great posting

Dug_Glass Diamonds said...

shane, you remain a brilliant inspirational but frustrating writer. frustrating as you should be in print and in bestsellers lists and yet it seems even with such a talent as yours you are satisfied with writing online for free and not really making the effort to get yourself noticed and into print proper. I wonder is that intentional or is it because of your drug addiction? I suspect the latter.
in any case, the poetry seems to just fall out of you as always and i'm proud to be one of the few hundred readers to have discovered you before the world. what i say is not a criticism (at all) just really that i know you could write yourself into history with your words - others have done it without having half the brilliance of you.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Chrissy,

If I'm not the ONLY author you've ever read, it's a compliment! haha

Hope you're well and thanks very much for all you say. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Etelvina.... I think it's a first, so WELCOME and thank you for reading and taking the timle to comment.

An interesting mind? I suppose t(hat all depends on who's reading or listening to me. My my close friends say i'm a "fucking idiot!"

Thanks for your visit and words, Shane.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Stacy, I knew you would... you can have it if you like? The rights to this post belong to you. (I think that's legally binding!)


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Absolut Ruiness, another first-time commenter and another beautiful Indian, a people who's always had a huge presence and influence throughout my life.

Just for you I'll try and keep it rolling... X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya FreeFox!

Say goodbye to the past or keep it alive?

Neither really. It's more a hats off to where I've come from and been, and showing that even in the midst of that ugliness, beautiful and worthwhile t-hings can come from it. That makes it all worthwhile. And so these odes to the past are just that... it's a "thank you" to history, because my words are generated and come out the way they do because of such things.

I think past hell is kinda romantic once you've survived it, but not always. Some hells leave a permanent mark and they cannot be written away. I do not have one shred of regret about any of the hells I've visited... the burning flames opened my eyes and made me who I am today. I'm content with who I am, and so like the past I pay homage to the hellish things in the same way.

Many Thanks again.... Thoughts and Wishes, Shane. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Denver Dopehead...

It's a day for newbies here. Thanks for reading, thats hours of time you've given me. Hope to see you around again, all my thoughts, Shane. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Dan!

Yeah, a short one this time. I actually started writing a much longer, very different piece under the samùe title and that will now make up Part2.

I hope you're well... all my Thoughts, Shane. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Dug_Glass, hiya and welcome! I don't quite have the time to answer your comment as I'd like and so I will come back to it this evening.

Until then.... X

Stacy said...

definitely one of the best presents i've ever received!


Wildernesschic said...

Shane so wonderful to see a post from you .. its like nectar for my mind ..
A wonderful post, and as Free Fox say.. stay out of that Rehab. I was worried about you as you have been quiet for so long.
Lots of love Ruth xx

Wildernesschic said...

Ps.. I have done some recitals on the blog.. thanks for the encouragement pistol xx

Anonymous said...

Nope..Im a voracious reader.. I always put aside an half hour to read in the evening..Currently picked up "Sherlock Holmes" and actually a enjoying it!! In what you write,I almost feel like an 'empath',if that makes sense..Your writing is so vivid,its like I am part of it..I always wished I could write like that!!For me,when I write,I always hold a part back,I probably question what I am writing a thousand times,and want to make sure it is perfect..Therein,it never gets out the way I want it!!But you nail it,each and every time!! Hugs! Chrissy

Maureen said...

Shane, You know I am subscribed twice, so I am getting 2 of the same posts. Doesn't bother me, I LOVE to read what you write, you are so gifted! PLEASE, let us not ever forget where we came from,either, right?
Yes, I will agree with everyone, YOU remain one of the best author's I've had the pleasure of reading. So much b.s. everywhere, it is nice to hear from you Shane.

Tonyoneill said...

hiya shane

great post today, quick and effective like a punch to the kidneys. i loved the line about wishing it was a skoda that hit darren - that was beautiful.

thanks so much for the nice comment over at the fix, by the way. i couldnt respond there, as i dont wanna get bogged down in answering other people too (you know how it is with religious zealots - there's not arguing with them) but i did want to say thanks to you for writing one of the only sensible comments over there!

keep swinging-


mikimbizii said...

Hi Shane..

I had been away from blogging and following blogs for a while. But now I'm back and yours was one of the first I revisited after a long time. Your posts are stunning, delightfully shocking and beautifully melancholic as usual. This last one is especially brilliant and the details are so sharp that it lingers like heavy smoke in my mind for a long time.

Good luck.
From your big fan,


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...


What you say is flattering, but I think most classic writers have something to offer... even if it's for someone else.

Of course the drugs don't stop me trying to get into print, if any my addiction motivates me more to do so, to get some money to maintain it. But it's nothing to do with that... it's just hard getting into print, and I'm not motivated in that way. Sure, I will do it if it's easy, but right now I'mù more concerned with writing than having someone fund the paper I write on. I have a publisher here, online, and i get many readers as it is... i'm just not paid for it. Thats a shame, but i really don't care... i have my integrity and I write because i want to and i feel i've something to say and not because i'm obliged to. But one day I will make a proper effort to heve stuff publishged (or it will come my way), but for now it's fine as it is and I certainly don't feel anonymous writing here - my name has gotten around a fair bit.

Anyway, thanks for all you say... keep well and come back again. All My Thoughts, Shane. X

shane, you remain a brilliant inspirational but frustrating writer. frustrating as you should be in print and in bestsellers lists and yet it seems even with such a talent as yours you are satisfied with writing online for free and not really making the effort to get yourself noticed and into print proper. I wonder is that intentional or is it because of your drug addiction? I suspect the latter.
in any case, the poetry seems to just fall out of you as always and i'm proud to be one of the few hundred readers to have discovered you before the world. what i say is not a criticism (at all) just really that i know you could write yourself into history with your words - others have done it without having half the brilliance of you.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Ya Ruth and thanks as ever. Oh, I'll come across and see your recitals! Excuse my delay in replying to your mail.... I'm back on the train tracks now! XXX

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hi again Chrissy,

yeah Conan Doyle's great. Thats the thing people don't realize: it's never subject matter that is good or bad; it's the writer. So if you're reading a great writer it doesn't matter if he/she is writing mystery/thriller/crime/horror etc, it's the way it's put down which is great. A great writer will always transcend his subject.

I question my writing too... a lot. But only ever with my own questions and not with someone else's. I question whether I nailed the atmosphere I was trying for... the style.. the flow. I never unduly worry about grammar and will deliberately write incorrect sentences if they say what I need better than a grammatically correct one. If you can't express what you want within the rules, then express it outside of them. If you've achieved what you set out to achieve, there is no-one in this world who can pick fault with that. I never try to write pêrfectly, I only ever try to express myself perfectly. Thats impossible, of course, but is always the goal.


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya Maureen.... thats very kind what you say and I'm glad my words make you feel like that. It's one of the reasons I don't damn the past. We lose things and we find things. For me, experience (good or bad, horrific or beautiful) is always a positive thing... and we always gain (or should always) gain from it. So the past is a treasure and where we come from is the past and should also be treasured - that is if we enjoy the person we've become.


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Tony, pretty much we covered all in mails, so just a quick thanks for passing by and I'll stick links up somewhere to your articles over there.

Skodas! Hahah... they really were a big joke back then.

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey ya Mikimbizi!!! Well wonderful to have you back... this doors always open for people like like you, no matter how many years you spend out in the wilderness.

Love and THoughts, Shane. X

JoeM said...

This is one of those that has me endlessly cutting and pasting great lines:

Billy with his wonky eye, looking off-centre and smiling at things which didn't exist.

(I smile at things which don’t exist all the time)

The only successful rehab clinic there is: the morgue

“God, I'll never hear the sea again!”

(That was the funny line for me this time. I hope it was meant to be!)

I hope it was a Skoda that hit him

It was bad, and those were the good years.

“What are you looking at, Billy?” I asked
“Time,” he said

Re: getting published. I know I’m always nagging you to get published - you keep starting these new projects and I think, my God, just stop for five minutes and use the energy to get the ones you’ve done out there…

But guess what, I think you’re right now. The main thing is to get the writing done. And you have, as you say, quite a wide readership now anyway. And here’s the most important thing: if you do get caught up in the whole publishing world you might find them asking for all sorts of changes and you might find, subconsciously, your writing changing to accommodate that. So why not keep on keeping on the way you are doing. It will all be published someday anyway - I’ll make sure of that! (That’s saying I outlive you…)

(Oh and as a half way house, you could always do an eBook, where you don’t need publishers, but you still get money).

I hope the next post is called:

Don’t be Cruel - Let me be your Teddy Bear

Sailor said...

Keep it coming Shane. All these beautiful shards of heaven.. like a broken mirror in the dirt, reflecting the sky..

I'm glad you have such a good memory, mine is shot to shit from all the abuse. You describe so eloquently the moments that keep us going, through all the filth and pain..

S xx

Cadan Henry said...

awesome site. wild journey.


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hi Joe,

Sorry it took so long to leave a reply... I've been mighty busy.

Oh, I enjoy you pushing for me to do something... I'm very lazy in that way. I think that has something to do with integrity more than anything else, at least that being published and earning money isn't my motivation and I'll write on no matter what. I also really think I should continue projects while I'm really motivated (and still alive) and with the amount of people who do read me, at some stage an offer will be made without me having to chase it. It's already happened on three occasions... ok, two have fallen through and one is on hold, but thats not bad, I don't think there are many writers who have the luxury of agents approaching them. So if I'm read enough to have that happen then I'm satisfied and each day still brings hope of having a wonderful mail come through or something.

I also like the idea of being an online writer, because its something quite different from writing for the page. That isn't always apparent, but it really comes to show when you try and take online work and put it into book form. The structure is a completely different one, and the way you must fight to keep people reading is very different too. I also think that soon writers will take a hold of the net and instead of using it as a stepping stone to get into print, they'll say "Hang on... this is my print... my publishing house! and it's bigger and less restrictive and more available than any other there is." I think writers will incorporate the net properly into their work and it will become an integral part of it. Getting paid... well, that will happen, but with all new ways of doing things there will always be the forerunners who kicked things off and didn't get the rewards for their efforts - just because there was no structure in place at the time for that to happen. I have many ideas how net writers can get paid and how it can fund itself, but unfortunately it does take an initial investment from someone, and that person will have to be a bit of a maverick, a visionary, and probably three quarters insane! But it can work.

Last year I made a point of nominating Paul Curren as writer of the year on Dennis Coopers blog. I did that for a very specific reason: In all the lists, everyones, not one internet writer was held up.. even mentionned. So even people on DC's blog, people you'd maybe expect to see past the book deals etc and have discovered something new, they all went for published writers and ignored those who are tapping away online and doing some remarkable stuff. It seems that people need some kind of third party confirmation that a writer is indeed worthwhile (e.g: a book deal and amazon reviews) and they will only seriously consider them as artists once the industry has given the nod first. So I want to change that and maybe become one of the first celebrated/respected online writers we have. I wouldn't mind that spot in history, even if it went unpaid to the grave.

I've forgotten the rest of your comment now!!! Haha.. So I'll post thios and catch up on any other points in a further comment.


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Ya Sailor,

It's coming and I've a feeling it always will. It's never about memory, it's about recording atmosphere.... if you capture that, you capture time. My memory of time isn't great, but the things that happened in that time... the small events in the background which distinguished it, thats what I have an eye and ear for. My life has been very atmospheric, and you cannot help but remember such stuff. It's like being raped: you may not remember what year, what time, but all those little things you saw and heard through trauma places it at the scene of the crime.

The grass is always the same, but the wind that blows through it is different.


JoeM said...

I think you're right that the ideal would be for all writers to be able to write what they wanted, unmediated (unless they wanted edited). It's like what punk was supposed to do for music. But what happened was that all the best artists got swallowed up by the big companies. However, will there BE any big publishing companies soon?

One part of me wants a big commercial/media success for Memoirs/John, the other knows that that would change things. Maybe you subconsciously know that and that's why you're not pushing it.

I mean when you get a publisher you get contracts/edits/schedules etc. They'd definitely tell you not to give the next one away for free on the net. They'd want you to write it all in private and sell it as a completed text. Which is totally different from the way you do things and would totally affect what you're writing.

Then you get reviews and a totally different audience. Again that could be a good or bad thing.

But it IS inevitable that someone will snap up what you've done and see it through. In the meantime,as you say, you should ride the wave of creativity you're on. It can be a very temperamental wave...

Brother said...

Aye. Real honest writing. I've been reading here since the entry concerning the differences between a junkie and an addict or whatever exactly, but you know.

Where I live, heroin is pronounced hereonin, because you are hooked from here on in. I've never been an addict. However, my little sister was gravely addicted to heroin. Her body was one of the girls found in the west Mesa killings. A serial killer they believe ( he has yet to be caught ) who preyed on young prostitutes, the body count is now up to 8, I believe. My heart aches for the suffering of its entirety.

Ah anyway, I realize addicts do come from all walks I'm quite impressed you're able to use heroin and still "maintain". I don't like heroin, well I don't like where it took my sister, but for some reason I read your blog.

Cadan Henry said...

bring it. time for another post. your brain must flow like lighting and your blood like curdled rain and the air in your pipes hum steadily like a tight line in the wind.


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

cadan, excuse me your first comment got lost in amongst the others... I wasn't ignoring you.

Yeah, another post will come soon... haha. I've got three on the go and not really sure which, if any, will make the blog. I only post when I feel its worth posting... if when I've finished I think what I said was worth the effort saying.

'And your blood like curdled pain'

Now you shoulda wrote that!!! haha


Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Brother, haven't forgotten you, just there's a bit to reply to and I'm a little pushed for time to give it the answer it deserves. Give it another day and I'lll be with you. Thanks.

Mister Normal said...

I just swallowed my own sick, and I wasn't even hungry

Mister Normal said...

Sorry about that last post, it was a lie. I was a little bit hungry

Cadan Henry said...

right on. i look forward to it. and 'curdled pain' is officially yours.

John said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
John said...

Just dropping in to say hello, and that the post was far too short.

I've devoured the blog; every page has been read, re-read and then read again, more closely. Hidden posts uncovered, comments enjoyed and admired.

I'm keen to avoid familiarity breeding contempt though, and keen to sustain the excitement I feel as I access a new post, just as I try to prolong the pleasure when I open a bag and begin to cook up, when I sink the pin into the vein, when I depress the plunger, savouring each atom of liquid as it turns my body into something less visceral.

This means you need to produce many more posts, and more length to each of them, purely to satisfy me and give me something to read. I know it's ureasonable, but that's the kinda guy I am, focussed just on the self.

I've gone through Down & Out, have Sick City on order, but I need more of your writing; it's wormed it's way into my soul, and there's part of me that's now corrupted and forever Shepherd's Bush, despite my never having set foot there.

id said...

i've been working my way through your posts, i am certainly drawn to your writing and story. A lot of people have had shitty times growing up, but the things you've had to go through just seem especially cruel and i'm kind of in awe of how you are able to present it in such achingly beautiful prose. I know you receive tons of compliments on your work, but i figure it can't hurt to hear one more and to know that there is one more person out there hoping for your best.

also, i read your david lynch post (he's one of my favorites) and thought you might like to know that before i read it, i had checked out your artwork and thoughts of david lynch came to mind. i can't quite say exactly why except maybe they share a darkish slightly confusing uncomfortableness, but yet you really want to experience it somehow. haha, not sure if that made any sense...

take care!

Gledwood said...

Hey did you know you got quoted in the Independent newspaper re this drugs drought (that still hasn't finished no matter what anyone says the quality of the "good" gear is DIRE, those junkies are just too easily impressed)

here's the link:

not sure whether it got into print, but its certainly in that there blog

Gledwood said...

Also my pet hate du jour: people who smoke heroin on the crack pipe then claim to have a raging habit. Yeah a ragingly EXPENSIVE habit, because they're incinerating the shit before it ever has a chance to kiss those lovely receptor sites!

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Brother, thanks for your comment and sorry for the delay in getting back to ya.

You know, it's much harder for family members and loved ones to watch someone go through addiction than it is going through it. It also puts you in a different relationship to the drug and the person, and it's easy to hate the drug and not the consequences of what maybe took pêople to it. It's kinda a normal reaction... same as how I despised alcohol growing up, blamed the bottle (not life) for my mothers behaviour. It's something physical we can at least focus on.

Yeah, heroin and the need for it does often lead to dangerous side activities, and many of the girls I know have flirted with prostitution to get cash... I'd almost certainly do the same if I were them. But more than heroin it's crack cocaine that drives girls to the street (especially full time.. night after night). The lifestyle is very hard to maintain.

Anway, thanks for reading, after what you've been through that's a real honour you visit here and not in a negative light. You take care and you're of course welcome back anytime. Shane. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey ya John,

Great to see you back around and in good form. Yeah I need to get my finger out! I actually write three times as much as what is on the blog but am very fussy as to what I post. If I don't feel it says much, or the post gets fuzzy and unclear, then I archive it away and maybe nick bits from it for other posts. I also like writing here just now and again... it now becomes an event when I post, and when I do it'll be something a bit special and something I'm proud to give people.

I do have a few posts in the pipeline, much longer than this one, so bare with me and you may be one of those unlucky people who just get what it is they wish for...

Until then, you look after yourself and I'll do the same... Shane. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hiya id and welcome home!

Oh, the words are written for achingly beautiful people and if nothing else I am respectful... er, maybe... sometimes.

But really, I think any writer has to write to turn themselves on, and then just hope that their taste and sense of rhythm appeals to others. I think great writers don't even have to hope that, because they are so in tune with their times and surroundings that they cannot help but deliver stuff that will also touch others. It was that, being so tuned-in, which gave them the words in the first place. Rhythm is knowing the time... your time. We can all write like Conan Doyle now that era is over... we can all be a beat poet because we have a wealth of words to already go on, but to be yourself in your time, with no name and no predefined style or rhythm is something else... and it can only ever be natural. We can only write the words we have, in the rhythm we've picked up from our lives. If that works, I guess you're just a lucky bastard.

Thanks for all you say, and no, one more compliment won't kill me. X

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

Hey Ya Gleds,

Yeah I knew about the article, it was a reader from here who wrote it.

Yeah, I have my means to get UK gear and you're right, the quality is still dire, but is improving. Four months ago, if you bought blind you ahd a 9 outta ten chance of getting bash. Today, if you but blind you've one in three chance of getting something half decent, and i've not recently come across any gear that was total bash. yeah, it was very weak, but still done the trick. So it's picking up, but still nowhere near what it was, and even the best gear at the moment was only average pre-drought gear.

You know what, I started smoking heroin on crack pipes!!! Thats how i first started, well, that and rolling it in cigarettes! At that early stage it did do the trick, but very soon it was hellishly expensive and so I went to chasing it down foil and then economized even further by injecting it. Yeah, you're totally correct, to much goes in the air, and now, i could never get a gouch using in any other way than injecting. I'm not saying thats a good thing, haha, but it is a fact!

You take care Gleds.

ps: are you back using again? You was clean last time we spoke.. well, clean of anything 'illicit'.

Karen said...

ponders successful rehab.

Gina said...

Easy Shane. My internet has been off for over a week, I paid it yesterday and when it came back on today, one of the first things I did was check your blog. Needless to say I was disappointed that there weren't any new posts. Ur last post was 'part 1', when do we get to enjoy part 2, or anything written by you? Looking forward to ur nxt post. Lotsa luv, Gina.xx

Gledwood said...

what the hell does lugs mean?

i bet french television is better than british. i know they have a thing on called les debats y'know gitaine-smoking intellectuals sounding off yet not sounding as pompous as will self because they're french

shane shane shane where was the drugs in that writing come on more drugs please

i know you probably told me and i do remember your saying french gear was so crap you had to filter it twice, but this fucking drought that has REALLY FUCKED EVERYTHING UP EVEN NOW that fucking thing is still going on

was there a drought chez toi and if so how bad

i know you probably told me before but i was off my head. off my head on nothing as well.

and that (me being off my head on nothing) just proves that heroin is an excellent self-medication. because i wasn't in withdrawal (and that's clinically significant) i was just holding myself physically perfectly well on methadone but methadone which had never ever helped me when i was depressed, which is why methadone days always felt like hell on earth; methadone fucked me up and i went full blown bipolar schiz yes i have bipolar and schiz, schizoaffective. well that's what they told me. i don't know whether i am as i'm just in a bad mood at the moment i haven't had any psychotic phenomena for more than a month and they were fun. well they were when i had an elevated mood now i'm no longer elevated so i'm back on gear except the gear is crap

yeah it's got better but it's still really really crap you can score several days in a row and it'll be ok then suddenly its true dogshite

i got reduced to asking someone else to get it for me my own dealers were so crap. i've known them for years suddenly they're no longer serving up the goods and these particularly yucky kids have the good b

very depressing

Angelo said...

Just came off a horrible run and now drinking methadone at the clinic. Had to catch up on your blog since I missed months of it. Your words are incredible. You should be making money with your talent. You will.

Sarcastic Bastard said...

I am so glad you are not in the only successful rehab. You are dear to me.

Tatiana said...

My Darling Shane,

I remain in awe of your talent. The poetry of your words, the urgency of your vision, the way it all effortlessly blends together and seems to bleed onto the page..

- From a Girl who loves You dearly. Xxxxxxxxx

Memoirs of a Heroinhead said...

My Beautiful Girl Tatiana... It's all for You now... all the words that were, that are and will be. Each one will carry your beauty like hope within it and like that my soul will be eternally yours. I want you all over me My Darling... to be covered in your scent always.

I Love You here as I do in private... utterly... completely... Shane. X

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