Happy New Year.

There is an old saying that reads "Hindsight is a beautiful thing" but I am beginning to question it. I have recently had someone ripped from my life, and all that it has left in it's wake is a endless series of questions, to which I have become aware I will never recieve answers to. Not about the events that transpired, but about the foundations upon which our friendship were built.

Friendship or business? Ego boost or reality?

Happy new year Griffin.

The last writing of the twisted generation.

"Shit! Sorry, we fucked up, there is nothing else I can say. How the leak happened I don't know, but its too widespread for us to contain. We are just going to have to ride this generation out and hope they bump each other off. Fuck! We need to put some upstanding citizens on ice to repopulate this place when its gone. Ring Nixon, see what he is up too. And Barbara Bush. We will need to bring some moral fibre back into this world!" - Scientist number 235.

Thats right boys and girls our generation was one big contained social experiment that broke free. Whilst the aim of the original experiment was unknown, I have it on good authority that we were bread in the dying moments of the free world. If one was to take a guess at the aim, one might assume "How to rid the world of the undesirables in the quietest way possible." I know what you are thinking, but here me out.

We are far to technologically advanced for "shadow operations" removing the people we don't like any more, I mean we have Hi-Def Cell phone camera's for fucks sake. The most efficient way would be for us to remove each other, slowly but surely over a period of time. I assume the way the original meeting went down was, "Ok, here is what we can do, lets give them something to be angry about, and loads of pharmaceuticals. Then, over one or two generations, they will become mush, so we can control them, or (this being the preferable outcome), they will bump themselves off over their trumped up causes! Its foolproof!"

The kids of tomorrow raised by the kids of today, instilling the values that you're only 50 bucks away from recovery, (assuming of course that not all of your veins have collapsed.) In my travels I met a child. He looked no older than twelve and acted no older than seven. His real age was unknown, however he had claimed to have tried nearly all of the mind bending drugs known to man. At first I was doubtful, but the descriptions he gave of each experience were so deeply personal and intricate that they could only have come from first hand experience. I got the vibe of accomplishment from him, which to this day I can't comprehend why, out of all the feelings he had, that was the one he held dear. The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

But fuck it, they've got the kids now, it won't be long before this drivel your writing will be in the textbooks, an example of the writings of the twisted generation for all the little Nixon's to read. What a wonderful thought.

Writers Block.

Fucking hell. I can't do it, I can't write. I am suffering from an acute case of writers block. I have had a lot to say, but little means to express it. As to why I am not sure. I believe it may have something to do with the amount of change in my life. Since my last real post I have done a great many things, but chief among them I have moved out of home.

Welcome to independence old chap! It is a wonderful feeling. I have the freedom to be who I want to be, In my own space on my own terms. I have not experienced a greater feeling than this ever. Grand as it may be however, it does come with its own set of, (not entirely unforeseeable) problems. Chief among them being money. Until you have to make it on your own, you don't actually realise how expensive things are. Sure, rent is cheap enough, but its the things that you don't factor in that make life difficult. How much do you think you would spend on food per week? OK, double that and now your in the right ballpark.

So shits expensive, but at least I am working right? Wrong. Due to circumstances beyond my control, my employment was ceased, leaving me stranded, with little to no savings, in a bit of a pickle. Suddenly unemployed, with mounting debt and rent to pay leaves you feeling pretty scared let me tell you.

I believe its these things that have lead to having a lobotomy on the creative part of my brain. Hopefully fixing these problems will allow it to rejuvenate naturally. Or else I am really fucked ey?

-Switch

Better Left Unsaid.

Filthy illusionists and deadly devices,

I can see through your many disguises,

Get out of my head and into my veins,

I know you can sooth the pains.

If you can't take life no more,

Don't come a-knocking at my door,

For I could really give to shits,

You should really call it quits.

If you think the last lines were cold,

Get into the ground with dust and mould,

Cause you can't handle the real mankind,

This is the truth you need to find.

In this place I call me home,

Beside my bed and cellular phone,

You'll never be more truly alone,

Then spending three minuets with me.

The Bitter End of a Life Wasted

I think, as I mature and move from one failed relationship to the next, that the thing that scares me most is dying alone. At the moment I am replacing loneliness with a cubic fuck-ton of Amphetamines of various description, but seeing as they are so god damn expensive I can't see this being a sustainable long term option.

I have always had this mental image of myself sitting on a porch in an old wooden rocking chair brandishing a shotgun waiting for a youth to come on onto my property so I can exercise my right to protect my home. This used to absolutely terrify me.

But is this really a bad thing? I look around at my peers on a constant basis and think, "what the fuck am I doing in this generation?" Obviously there are exceptions within this group for the special people who have this same intense hatred of said generation, but these people are few and far between. My point however is that I don't want to grow old and be surrounded by the imbeciles that will populate (and even more terrifyingly) run this world. Loneliness seems like a much more preferable option when that is taken into account.

But that could be bullshit, I am not entirely sure. I've eaten enough Dexamphetamine to produce intricate hallucinations, so I am not sure I am in the best state to be pondering such morbid topics. But I am sitting at a crossroads, riding the line between the old me and the person I need to be. I need to hit a balance between the old me, the partier, the asshole, the heavy narcotics abuser to what is becoming the new me, the self sufficient, responsible, reasonable, productive and functioning member of society.

That guy sounds like a fucking bore.

I don't get your allure, but I don't want to be without you...

Its 2:16 am. I am awake and I have work in about 6 hours. I won't sleep, the amphetamines I have been smoking will see to that. Yet I am not the least bit worried, I am completely contented, nothing can bring me down at the moment. I am sitting all alone in my room with a desk lamp on, a laptop on my lap, a loaded crack pipe and lighter to the left, along with more baggies containing shard. To me, right now, this is utopia.

Which worries me slightly. I usually just smoke ice in social situations, where me and friends would sit, talk, laugh and get to know each other better than ever. That is what Ice is the best for, sharing pipes with friends in exchange for stories and anecdotes. Yet here I am, sitting all alone, typing, smoking and listening to drum and bass, and I love it. When i felt i was developing a problem, (refer to previous posts) if i knew this kind of "alone high" was achievable i would have been in DEEP trouble.

Actually scrap that, i don't think i would of. In that dark and horrible part of my part I smoked and smoked to socialise with people out of a fear of being...alone i guess. I am still quite conflicted to why that happened, but i feel that that is the most likely option.

I think the real questions come down to amphetamines, and i still can't work them out. I know exactly what there like, feelings and how they make you think, and I fucking love them. But when pressed I for the life of me can't explain why. The best I can come up with is that Amphetamines turn you into the person you wish you were, and make you feel good about it. Which is true to an extent, but that can't be the only reason, for that is far to shallow to justify the enormous expense.

Well, whatever the answer, its now 3.30am lots of conversations, pips and downloading has occurred during the writing of this.

And i still feel as good as I did at the beginning. Can a hear a Hip-Hip-Horay for amphets????

-Switch

Extended leave due to my life imploding.

Well, I haven't updated this fucker in a while. Well, actually that is a lie, I did update it a couple of times, but they were drunken and whiny and I deleted them after I (rather painfully) forced myself to read through them again. So, "what's been going on with you and why the whiny semi-emo title?" I hear no one asking. A few things.

A few months back I lost my shit. There really is no other way to describe it. It was an amphetamine induced series of idiotic moves, and something that I shall NEVER allow myself to repeat.

And it was also the best thing that has ever happened to me. It got me out of coasting through life in a menial but low paying job, and forced me to find something better. As such I now have a menial but potentially high paying job. That is for the better.

I would also like to take the opportunity to point out that I have not stopped using amphetamines. I did for a month or so, and have gone back to it. I never once claimed that I would permanently stop using them, and I doubt that I will. But I am not going to let myself jeopardise my job and income due to me being a drug fiend. It wont happen.

I have come out of the last few months more mature and ready to face the world. A lot of my immature perspectives and ideals have died along with the part of me that is ready and willing to accept me being a second rate person. It just took me some time to realise that I don't have to be one.

I am once again getting on with my family, who (well, at least some of them) showed never ending support in helping me get my life back on track and combat my drug problem. You sometimes take for granted the people who love you most, and that is rather sad.

Friend wise my relationship people that I fucked up with is getting back on track, which is going a long way to improving my happiness. My love life is still fucked, and I am not sure how to broach the subject of talking about a relationship with the people that I am interested in. But that is something I have a long time to work on, and is not an immediate need (just an immediate want).

Musically I have been a bit slack, I haven't really grabbed any new tunes or practised my mixing over the last few months, but I am going to start getting that back on track very soon (namely when my internet is no longer shaped).

This is me, moving on with my life, improving it and changing it, in a direction that will hopefully be beneficial for me.

But there is one question, one question that really needs to be asked, that is possibly the most important part of this whole self absorbed post. That question is: Did you miss me fuckbags?

-Switch-

Exodus.

Journal Entry for 26/04/2016

The military issued a state of emergency today. I gathered what I could and started to head out, but the roadblocks were already in place. It was wishful thinking trying to slip by unnoticed, blend in with a crowd, but it was worth a shot.

I returned to tell the rest of the resistance the bad news.

"We are taking the tunnels. Its the only way I can see. No doubt they will be monitored, and it will one hell of a fight, but if we move fast enough we might just make it too the other side of the river. The plans I am in possession of are old, but by what I can gather we have a 1 mile run. The maps have been uploaded to your HUD's. Any better ideas?"

I got the silence that I was expecting. I had gained a certain amount of respect after voicing my objections to the last mission that ended in us loosing a leader and half our numbers. But it was the blind leading the blind, he couldn't see past his own raging ego to lead properly, and cared little for a human life. Apparently I was the only one to see that. I hate to say it, but he is better off dead.

"We move at 3.35am. The next shift change is at 3.40am, I am hoping to get at least half way before being interrupted. But that's us hoping, be SURE to expect the worst. Everyone carry as much ammo as you can. Whilst we are down their loot what you can, but don't lag behind the group, we WILL leave you behind."

"God help us everyone."

By 3.30am people were so nervous they couldn't even load their rifle without dropping half the clip on the ground.

I don't like the army I've amassed, but all the best civilians are now working for the mercenary outfits, thank fuck for a privatised army hey?

At least if we die today we can relish in the fact that the undoing of the world was not aided by ourselves.

That's something, right?

Scattered sounds of a life lost.

Journal Entry for 4/09/2012

It arrived yesterday, in a small grey envelope. I had a certain apprehension about opening it, but for a reason that I can't be sure of.

Inside I found a card, not unlike a birthday card, a 9mm shell casing and a damaged USB drive. The front of the card had a disturbing picture of a modern city on fire, along with its patrons. The inside of the card was covered in what appeared to be blood, with only one word appearing to be written, all in capital letters; RESIST.

I took the USB drive to my laptop, and spent hours piecing together the disjointed fragments of the file. I ended up with a damaged MP3, with static and skipping erasing most of the recording. It was a panicked man, the only discernible words being:

"Future....in your time......Resistance crushed by......weapons beyond your wildest.....can't understand because your mind.....The only warning........Just too much.......unbearable pain......shall live on......hearts and minds.......no honour, no......fucking psychopaths......pills, chemicals in the water.......find it, or it will.......god help us all."

I am onto something, I just don't know what.

Take me out of here....

It has been an interesting week. Well, giving an exact time frame is rather pointless, I am not sure how long it has been actually, days fading in and out of each other, situations compressed and expanded with each of my brain cells returning to function at reduced capacity. It was all kicked off by a conversation I had with someone I consider a friend (even more so now), and his interpretations and predictions of me, some correct, some not, (and some being correct way too fast).

This person was the first person to ever be as upfront and brutally honest as I needed, without being completely judgmental. With anyone else or within any other context I would have gotten defensive and angry, but the set and setting here was 100 percent perfect for this topic.

But lets get some things straight.

1. My passion for electronic music was influenced by one man specifically, J. Nitrous. From the first moment I heard his eery sub bass and mind fucking wobble in that bush I knew what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be. While it may not be all about the dubstep anymore don't EVER assume my passions in this area are born out of something else, or are false. I can assure you they are not, in fact most people who I am extremely close too can attest to that beyond all shadow of a doubt.

2. The concept of love came about, mainly about one person. The person whom this part of the conversation was about must know I have/have had feelings for him, because I have been as obvious as I can without directly telling the person. I said during this topic that these feelings "come and go" and they do. My initial thoughts were that I was tricking my brain into believing that these feelings were false or misguided, as I believe for a while it did. Its not that, as I have worked out what it is, beyond a shadow of a doubt: when we spend time alone the beauty of our friendship shines. We talk about everything, actually talk, and even when this talk is trivial, we actually listen to each other, not just waiting for a turn to talk. When we are with company however, I am constantly belittled, made to feel as if my opinions are less valid for some reason, my idea's constantly shot down (sometimes mid sentence) and my input invalid. I can't be sure if he is doing it consiously, and I don't believe he harbours Ill will, however its grating and honestly, sometimes it is way to fucking hard to deal with. If he wanted something to come of it, he would let me know in ways, even if they were subtle and I would actively pursue it. But for now I will be happy with the fact that I have a fantastic friendship, which even with its downsides, I have no intentions of loosing.

Moving on, I yesterday admitted that I have a methamphetamine problem. Notice I said "problem" not "addiction" as I don't want to make a mockery of peoples real addictions. I just cannot help myself, I just want to be happy and spangled again. Constantly broke, unhappy unless high and emotionally fucked are not good things for me right now. I am not saying that I will never have another pipe, however what I am saying is that until I get my shit sorted out I am keeping that pipe far, far away from these lips. I will be leaving behind the psycho-stimulants for my old love, psychedelics. I was a much better person with them, they made me much happier, and I was never developing a problem. They are the safer narcotics for me.

You were right about another thing, the scene did swallow me. I am glad that it did.

Out with the new and in with the old, Switch is back baby with a FUCKING vengance.

Its good to be home.

A new view on my chemical love affair...

This last night I have been pondering if my exuberant drug use can be attributed to the fact that I am so goddamn lonely once again? I was fine for a while, floating along, but I once again feel that I need that something extra in my life, something a friend cant give.

Problem seems to be that men don't like me. Or if they do, they don't say so. But then again why would someone, there is nothing redeemable here. Just the crushed spirit of another lonely gay man who wants something a little more meaningful and much less trivial.

But when do things ever go my way?

A Misconseption of Existance

I trudged along this newly found path of depravity, with no clear goal in mind. I put my masochistic traits in full view of the crowd, we cheered, applauded and beat me with equal enthusiasm. As the show got old, the crowd started to dissipate. Only those with a personal reason to completely destroy me remained.

They did not need physical instruments, for they were too smart for that. They slowly but surely picked apart my fragile mental state, the only true way to cripple a person. I could feel them beginning to take over, yet I kept coming back for more.

As I picked up my beaten and broken body off the dirty wet ground I wondered when my next session would be, but knew it wouldn't belong. Despite a slight gap it was an almost weekly endeavor (sometimes more often, but I cant always be that lucky).

As I trudged back along the dark path again, I smiled to myself, because that was still less detrimental then spending even one second alone with my thoughts.

My glass is half skewed....

Its been a strange time. Things have been gettung good again...but prior experience says this is followed by the crash. FUCK THAT I DONT DESERVE ANOTHER ONE!

The more time I spend sober...

The more I realise the point of my chemical love affair. The cycle is repeating it self once again, point A to point B then back to point A, (with an occasional stop of at point C or D, but they dont hold the same status.)

Stuck in a "rut" doesn't begin to describe it.

( As I blog this i am returning to point A)

A Real Experience

i want someone knowledgeable and intelligent to join me on a massive LSD experience. One dose (800mics) to help me assertain the spirit in the spirit molecule

Mid-life Crisis?

Can it be possible that my body as aclimitised to the fact that with, my current lifestyle, this could well be my mid life? This would seem apparent with my scattered metal state, though I am not feeling the pull to buy a sports car.

Then again.....

....

...

..

.

This is a stupid idea, the universe is way to cruel to let me die too young.

My Chemical Princess

She appeared in a burst of firey passion, and everyone rejoiced.She moved with grace and poise, but something seemed off. She loved everyone for a nominal charge, but left you hanging for more. The masses tried to resist, but it was no use. When she was gone it just wasnt the same they crawled back for more. no one saw it coming, but she dissapeared as quickly as she came, leaving only despair and the faint memory of the chemical princess.

Huh. Guess I am human.

In the last few days I have found something i'd lost. its quite a scary prospect. I have lived for a while with no emotional part of in my brain. well i doubt that's true, it was proberly just buried underneath something seemingly more important.

Fuck this it was way better for me to live in my numb state, i much perfered it. I was used to it, and it made situations a hell of a lot easier. Dont assume that the things that i have said in the past, good or bad, were false, as i did mean them. Its quite difficult to expain what i am feeling. maybe its just my brain working on a human level for once.

But starting from now I am making a few changes. I am going to be cutting a lot of people out of my life completely, and for the smaller number of you that are left i am going to work to improve the friendship that we have. Along with cleaning house I am also going to (attempt) to fix aspects of myself that i (and I'm sure that my friends) dont like too much.

Alot of why i blather on and do some annoying things sometimes i believe has to do with my younger, primary school years. I never talked to anyone or socialised until i hit highschool. thats not an exaggeration. So once high school came along i all of a sudden developed a new outgoing personality almost instantly and without provocation. all good, except that i had missed about 9 years of developing skills and learning how to interact with humans instead of literature, my only aquantance till that point.

I guess that actually explains my choice is men. I like people here and there but i have only ever been infatuated with the strange, socially awkward guys. I think i see the person i used to be, and in a way i miss that.

But i am trying to improve that aspect of myself.I can identify the things that i do that I dont like, but i cant seem to stop myself doing them. Add into the fact that i am constantly stressing around certain people, worrying that what i say or do is annoying them and inadvertantly pushing them away.

But i digress, self improvement time must start now. See you all on the flipside.

I am a god amongst men.

And when the world colapses it will be because I willed so. I will rain down more fire and brimstone to put "God" to shame. I am the alpha and the omega, the beggining and the end.

Peasants and kings both cower to my might. I am more frightning than Lucifer on a 3 month crack binge.

Anyone I deem unworthy will be struck down to a place more horrible than this rotting sespool

Is this honestly how you think i see myself?


(That said I am pretty fucking awesome)

Petty high school shit. Yet I'm not in high school.....

I had some words written to me today. These words, which I did not take kindly to, got my brain in action. These words, which included such choice phrases as;

"What gives you the right to have such a superior attitude to everyone else"

"You walk around like everyone aspires to be you or something" and

"My god you are ignorant!! I'm having a go at you cause your a rude arrogant bastard."

I do have a superior attitude, but that is part of who I am. Its not like its a newly developed thing, when the original friendship was developed it was there. I have been called many names, which I can just brush off, that doesn't bother me. The thing that drives me to becoming a massive cunt to people is being judged for what I do. It happened the other day with my best friend, who (in jest) said, and I am paraphrasing here "Yeah, like the way you have to sell your shit a lot cause you get into drug debts." That didn't fuck me off, but it hurt more than I could explain.

The person who started this argument, whom I also care for deeply, judged me for my apparent lack of direction and my shitty job (fast food). I know I can do better than this, but I am quite comfortable in my mediocrity. But I guess now that's not true, as if a comment about it has hurt me even a little, I may be more insecure about it than I care to admit to myself.

"The only thing I hate more than myself is everyone else" A wise Doctor said that once, and I have never agreed with a statement more. I am getting my license soon, early next year I am planning an aimless pilgrimage. All I need is 2 close friends and a fuck-load of dangerous and experimental psychoactive chemicals and ill be set.

See you on the road fuckbags.

Meth

You cannot beat the system
But there are those of us who try,
And in the world of drugs and guns,
We all deserve to die.

"We're all here to live and learn"
But with the life we lead in hell we'll burn,
Its divine selection
masquerading as expensive perfection
until the funds run dry.

To your life you say goodbye,
For every hit you have to buy,
And in the end
You'll kill a friend
To ensure you dont run dry.

Its all a bit sad and depressing,
But not really an issue worth pressing,
Its population controll
(With a fucking great roll)
But to no higher power will you be confessing.

The Most Beautiful Form of Brain Damage.

I suffer from the most beautiful form of brain damage. I don't see the world as you do. Behind my eyes a world of colour lives and breathes, swells and falls in my mind. In front of my eyes things that don't move move, sway and stagger. Pattens form in distant emptiness, blank walls buzz with an eclectic hum. I believe i see more beauty in the world, and for that i am greatful.

But how did this brain damage come to be? Through my own reality escaping endeavours, namely LSD. The drug has given me this, beautiful curse, over years of abuse. The main question I believe I should be held accountable for is, "Why did you let it come to this?" Well sir the signs were there, I knew what was coming. But how could I not abuse something so beautiful, so magical?

I couldn't. The funny thing in this whole situation is that in seeking a strong temporary escape from reality, I have attained a lesser permanent one.

And I wouldn't swap it for anything.

Look Both Ways After Crossing The Street

Spiralling out of control is a pointless term. Never has someone spiralled out of control, as they at some point must seem to be "better" or else why would no one notice the rapid decline? I believe people meander out of control, different directions both good and bad before hitting rock bottom. But the point people seem to miss is that rock bottom is never the bottom, as there is a foundation that keeps the rock in place.

"YAY!!!" I hear you scream. "Once again a self absorbed diatribic post!" Yet that is not the case. For me, I feel better, somewhat contented. I still have no purpose, no ambition and apathy in buckets, but I have this odd sensation. I think I am finally OK. This was helped along by an evening I spent with a wise Doctor.

This doctor medicated me, gave me potent truth telling chemicals and then we proceeded to talk. About what you might ask? Of things that would be of no importance to you. But at least to me, they were extremely important topics. As those of you who know me to some degree will no doubt disagree, I keep very few close friends. Very few people will I go out of my way to spend time with, to help out, to let a thought of them cross my mind. But for those who do they know I shall be forever loyal. I believe that between the conversations me and the Doctor had, seeds of an evolving friendship were laid.

But that is not meant to be as pathetic as it sounds. Or maybe it is. I just don't know any more, but for me to have someone that I can just be myself around with no reservations, judgements or obvious signs of contempt for even one night makes me feel....happy? I doubt it could be true, but then again stranger things have happened.

The worst feeling in the world is seeing yourself fall into an abyss of your own making. The best feeling in the world is clawing, scratching and biting your way out of it. Yet I am not nearly at the top, but I am beginning to see the light, and less of the endlessness beneath me.

Its a magical experience that the vast majority of abyss-dwellers will never experience. I am glad I have.

Huh. I guess this was a self absorbed diatribic post. My bad.