Comments Cleared, Back To Work

I finally cleared through almost 400 comments, and yes, 98% of them were spam. Thanks to those of you who did comment. If you don’t see yours posted, it might have looked like spam to me. Some of them were pretty convincing but if there was no clear reference to the topic, it’s still in spam limbo. I need to figure out how control the spam coming in.

I also need to figure out how to do an RSS feed, whatever the hell that is, or some way that people can get updates when I post something. If you know how to do this on wordpress, let me know. I used to make my own little websites in the early 90s on platforms like geocities and tripod, using straight up HTML. It seems these skills didn’t translate well over the years, to running a modern blog.

I don’t think anything I learned 20+ years ago has aged well.

I’m going to be featuring a couple reader contributions here in the near future. If you have a story you want to share, or some advice, an article or random piece of writing; email it to me. I’ll post it up anonymously or with full credit, whatever you like. I know some of you have some great stories. I really want to introduce a positive element to the blog, and enlisting some help might be the easiest way to get me on the right track. If you’ve got something dark though, by all means, this will always be the place.

I’d also like recommendations on blogs to read. Yours or a favourite of yours. I don’t read, and I need to. I stopped reading books decades ago. I enjoyed them immensely, but now reading brings on panic and anxiety, the inescapable terror of knowing I should be doing something productive. It may come as a surprise, but I want to write a book, and until I start reading and seeing what that’s supposed to look like, I’m stumbling in the dark.

I’ve given up on my dream of racing, or even being around cars. I’m not just low-key bitter about that, it’s made me miserable most of my life. The ship has sailed though, and I need to move on. The only other thing I can do competently, and can afford, is writing. If I can’t make something out of words, I’ve got nothing left to give this world, except my kidney. Yes, I’m working on donating my kidney, I’ll get you up to speed on that later.

I never had any intent to write, but people, perhaps well meaning, have encouraged me over the years to do more of it. I don’t fully trust all the people that told me, but I have nothing left to lean on. My body doesn’t have many years of hard labour in it, and I managed to get this far with no skills or education. I know that doesn’t lend well to being a good author, there’s 10,000,000 better writers out there languishing in obscurity. Why do I think I can beat those odds? I don’t really.

With that said, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been able to picture myself doing and being reasonably happy. Even with racing, there were parts of it I don’t think I’m well suited to.

Driving fast, having a nice car, going to the track… sure. But I’m not competitive or dedicated enough. I don’t have the determination, the grit or the money. The biggest revelation came relatively recently, when I realized how futile and pointless life is, and that applies doubly to motor racing. Nihilism killed my dream. I feel like writing something meaningful is one of the last remaining acts of significance that I can offer.

And V, hit me up when you get your new email.

How Do I Get Back To That Place?

I’m not quite as miserable as my blog would let you believe. I think part of what’s happening is that this where I come when I’m feeling the worst. When I’m feeling OK, I try to be normal and accomplish living. Similarly to how I used social media when things were good, I come to my blog to hide. When things are really bad, I don’t even come here.

While I was away from blogging, I started spending time on twitter. I used to be on facebook, but found I was putting all my creative energy into interacting with people that didn’t matter. I wasn’t furthering any cause or point of view. I was exhausting myself by making great responses to stupid comments that nobody was going to value. I’m betting you can relate.

I thought that twitter would be different, in that you’re limited to 280 characters, and the format seemed more conducive to reaching people in short bites. It was a mistake, and I fell into the same trap. I have so little time and energy together, that I want to make some sort of meaningful content with the resources I have.

I still read twitter to see what’s going on, but don’t spend time posting much. If you’re on twitter, follow me. It’s an easy way to interact and see what’s happening in my everyday life. @FathomsSix.

My work hours have been cut drastically for the winter, which I have mixed feelings about. I need money, but even with full hours I can’t afford an apartment in this market. It’s been taken over by short term rentals/ Airbnb. It’s killing me. Anything reasonably close to work is going to be over 50% of my income, which is bad.

I’m down to 5mg suboxone. I’m doing OK, but I’m only able to go down 1mg at a time. The next step is going to be a 20% drop. Going from 6 -5mg hurt for almost a full week. It’s manageable, but it saps the life out of you and makes it really hard to get out of bed and go to work. I don’t know what I’m going to do next. Most pharmacies don’t like splitting pills (they are for me currently), but I may have to look at alternating days or something.

There is a time in my life that I miss so much that it scares me. I know there’s no going back. It wasn’t that long ago, I can still taste and smell it. I don’t know what to look forward to, and I feel like I’m at the end of the line. I can’t put it back in the bottle, and I feel like I’ve opened pandora’s box. My time came out of nowhere, and left almost as abruptly. I so much want to feel those things again, but I know they are gone. I don’t know how to go forward.

Trigger Warnings. Don’t Got ‘Em.

I’d started another post last night, something of an update to cover where I’ve been over the past few months. There really isn’t much to tell, but it seemed like a good place to start in getting back into regular posting. I’m going a different direction.

I had nightmares last night, most of the night; more than usual. That was the start of my day, in essence, and it didn’t improve. I’m trying hard to do everything right. Having lost most of my independence, status and material worth, I’m under increasing scrutiny to be responsible and work hard.

There are people who care for me a great deal. As alone as I feel, and as much as I’ve had enough of this madness, there are some people that care for me and are invested in my longevity. I do question the motives of those that want to see someone exist in perpetual suffering, but I also understand that that’s not how they see my life. They are conditioned to believe that everything and everyone can be made better. Eventually.

I get it, I really do. Nobody wants to give up on someone. I’m not immune to the feeling.

My nightmares are often driven by memories of my boys. Dogs, for those of you just joining me, but as close to offspring as I will have. I don’t want to name them here, but need to distinguish that they both lived, and died, very differently. One lived intensely, and his death came suddenly and unexpectedly. I had to choose the time, and I feel like I did the right thing. I did as right as anyone could.

The other, my first, withered and died slowly, before my eyes. I also had to choose his time, but I fear I waited too long. I loved him so much that I couldn’t let go. I can’t talk about it any further. I just can’t.

My point being, I know what it’s like to love someone or something, to a miserable end. I have the autonomy to control my own end, unlike my boys. It seems the decision is always mine. What do you do when you know that you, and them, would be better served by your end? They would surely protest bitterly, and mourn, but at least there would be healing. I’m not considering my own misery, just that which I cause others. Is it better to drain them slowly, or a punch to the throat?

I need to be clear, I’m not at risk of suicide. It’s not going to happen, I’ve made promises to keep me alive for several more years. I still think about it though, and I don’t have an answer. I’m sorry for such a dark return. I had so many other things in mind to celebrate my return here, but this day got the better of me. I’m still going to be several days clearing comments, email is the best place to find me for now, or leave an “easter egg” comment for me to find later. Or, don’t comment. Just read.


I’ve been gone a while. It took a little nudge to get me back. I’m as alive as ever. No, coming back has nothing to do with the date. It’s not anything to do with a new year’s resolution.

It will probably take me the rest of the year to clean out the spam comments, with typically make up 99% of them. If you have commented, I will be going through them all though. Some of the spam is actually pretty good and it’s hard to resist clearing them. If I didn’t get mostly spam comments, I wouldn’t filter them at all.

Not much has changed in my life since I last posted, but I have some new ideas to make this place a little more interesting for 2020. I don’t have much time online for the next few days; I’m still homeless. I need to be back here though, so I promise that when I say I need a few more days, it will be 3 days this time. Keep safe out there.

Not Dead Yet, No Luck

I’ve been working on a computer that was given to me by someone who meant well, because my last laptop really defies description. It was two halves, not really connected, no battery, and the power wires were soldered directly to the power supply because the connectors both failed. Getting a rebuilt laptop was a gift, until it turned into a nightmare. Windows didn’t update properly, it wouldn’t restore to previous backed up versions, and in spite of my best efforts, all that remains of my work is this blog.

It took weeks to recover what I did, and I’m not a n00b around computers either. Just careless, I suppose. I’m in a bad place. Work is killing me and I’m ready to quit. Everything. I’m only a few months away from being eligible for the health plan though. It’s ridiculously expensive, but there’s someone I think I can add as a partner that would make them eligible for dental coverage. They have a beautiful smile, but it’s failing quickly and they suffer a lot of pain from it.

Ironically, my teeth are mostly gone due to a genetic defect, nothing that can be saved. But I feel like if I can endure a few more months to get their coverage in place, maybe I can help. I have no will to continue, but they’ve been there for me, so maybe I can pay it back. I just have nothing left in the tank. I’m done. everything hurts, all the time. I have no means to medicate. I don’t want to fail though. I just want it all to be over so I can be with my boys.

Anyway, that’s where I’ve been. Not dead, no such luck.

I’m Sorry For All The Whining. I’ll Get To The Good Stuff.

I don’t know why it’s so important to me that I constantly tell you all how much my life sucks, or at least how much I hate it. I’m sure you get that by now, I need to let that go. Nobody wants to spend time with that person. I think the point of the blog, to begin with, was to tell some of my stories before I killed myself. Yeah, just had to throw that in there. Since it’s not imminent (I have 8 years left), I’ve been focusing mostly on my own misery instead of the unusual and interesting side of my life.

Immediately I’m feeling some resistance to going there. While I often think back fleetingly to the past, it’s a painful place for me to visit for long, even the good times. I suppose that’s why I’ve been avoiding sharing. Memories fade too, and it hurts that I am losing these parts of my past. Even writing them out won’t really save them. The magic gets lost over time, somehow.

Some of my greatest adventures started off with me behind a keyboard, not really intending to find anything other than some cathartic release. I can only hope that this is the beginning of something. Granted, not all of it turned out happily ever after. At this stage in my life, I’m willing to risk more tragedy on the chance for something good.

The Experience Project, I Live In A Sexless Marriage, ILIASM. TheWendigo, The Wendigo.

I might have mentioned this before, I’m hoping to flag some traffic from people searching for Is there anyone out there who was active on the Experience Project website while it was up? In particular, the “I live in a sexless marriage” section, or ILIASM?

I was quite active on there for several years and made a lot of friends. I made a lot of enemies, as well. Many of us met up in person. The website shut down, and a lot of memories were wiped from the archives. I was The Wendigo, TheWendigo, TW.

I know that people still search for the website, I hope this post grabs the attention of those looking. There are some people I’d like to hear from, there’s one in particular that I won’t reach out to, out of respect, but think about often. I did save as much of my own content from there that I could, maybe I’ll share some here later.

I hope you’re all doing well.

Don’t Bother. I Don’t Even Know Why.

It’s a bit demoralizing to look at the traffic stats for my blog. At first, I was depressed that there was no traffic whatsoever. Be careful what you wish for, and hold my beer. As I’ve already lamented, better than 90% of my traffic is driven to a single post, here:

I’m happy that it worked, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not entirely sure it’s what I wanted to be famous for. Giving indiscriminate blowjobs will make you popular in a hurry, but it’s important to consider the long term consequences. It’s not that I have any regrets about sharing my cocaine love, but I really wanted to connect with people on a deeper level. I’m going to keep working on it.

I actually got my hands on some shitty cocaine a couple of weeks back. I’m in such a state that I didn’t bother washing it, I just shot it. I know it was less than 50%, it was obviously stomped without much care. I’ve been depressed enough that I don’t care either, even though I know that nothing good comes from shitty drugs. Instead of a couple of good hits, I got several crappy come-ups, followed by even crappier come-downs. Sometimes I just like shooting, even with marginal returns.

I’m trying to find a place to live in the middle of an “affordable housing crisis”. Right now, it takes something like 80 hours per week at minimum wage to afford the average cost of a 2 bedroom apartment in this market. While I’m getting about 15% over minimum wage, and I don’t need a 2 bedroom, or even something considered average, I’m still unable to find a place that is any more than a room to rent or other shared accommodation. Forget parking, forget laundry, forget location.

All of my life’s mistakes are kicking my ass right now. Not so much the aforementioned affinity for drugs, more like thinking I’d be able to get by OK on my own smarts. No education to speak of, no training, no useful experience. I was just going to make my own way.

The tragedy is that it worked for a while. Twenty years. I’ve never known anything else, I never learned about the real world. It’s a harsh lesson to learn in your 40s. I wish I had failed immediately, like most businesses that “they” talk about failing in the first year or two. I watched a lot of businesses come and go, as neighbours, clients, and occasionally suppliers. Each passing year buttressed the false confidence I had in my ability, as I weathered the test of time.

Even beyond the point that I realized I wasn’t cut out for business, I still somehow clung to the idea that I was going to pull something out of the fire. I laughably believed that my “experience” would be worth something on the job market. I thought that I had some inside track on the rest of the world.

It wasn’t for a lack of opportunity, it was that everything I touched, turned to dust. I had a business, I had real estate, I had assets, I invested money. As I started to come undone though, I couldn’t get ahead of cutting my losses as I divested from everything. Everything.

I hung on too long, and things came apart quickly. My desperation increased with each decision. I wasn’t hard enough. I didn’t know how to fight for myself, I gave away too much, too easily. That hasn’t changed and isn’t likely to. I never believed that a person should have to fight for their fair share. If you have to fight for it, it isn’t a fair share, is it?

This all ties in neatly to my disdain for capitalism, being that I am a direct casualty of it. I’m not going to train myself or learn how to exploit others, so I’m destined to be exploited. I have to ask myself, why, though? I don’t want to be here, I feel unwell most of the time, I work at a job that is destroying my body and doesn’t afford me a place to live. I’m not palatable as a romantic companion. My dogs are gone. There’s no reason for me to be here.

I’m getting off this train now. Not that train, just the train of this particular post. It’s not going where I want it to, it’s just taken me back to where I started. I need to get back in the habit of writing, but without some guidelines, I just keep whining about the same shit, and that’s not going to compete with how to wash cocaine.

Suboxone Taper Setback. Non-Generic, Generic, And The New Generic. Different? Really?

I went about 4 weeks on 8mg of suboxone I felt like I was doing ok. My pharmacy was no longer able to obtain the generic I was on, and they switched me to the non-generic at no extra cost. That was fine, I’ve been on the non-generic before and the only difference I noticed was the taste.

After a few days of the non-generic, the pharmacy switched me to a different generic. This was a generic that I hadn’t encountered before, the only visible indicator was a stylized “V” on one side. Of course, the taste was different, but it didn’t occur to me that there should be any other meaningful difference.

Three days on the new generic, I started to feel sick. I didn’t immediately make any connection to the switch, but I pretty quickly figured out that it was withdrawal setting in. It’s not a feeling that you get anywhere else. If you have experienced it, I’m sorry you understand. If you haven’t, even in its a mild presentation, it can be debilitating. The physical symptoms aren’t unmanageable, but the psychological component is overwhelming. This is especially true when you have to function.

Once I identified I was in withdrawal, I started going in early for my dose. I wasn’t able to correlate the withdrawal with any other variable. Even going first thing in the morning to get the medication, it would peak noticeably in the early afternoon, to the point where I was feeling a little high. I started to get really stressed knowing I was going to be waking up in mild withdrawal, and still having to get to work and be productive.

I asked the pharmacy to switch me back to the non-generic, and I’m paying the difference out of pocket. I’ve been on the non-generic for 5 days now, and although I feel like I’ve stabilized compared to where I was on the new generic, I haven’t bounced back. I went in on my way to work this morning to get my suboxone, and now I’m afraid I’ve set myself back. Unless something changes tonight, I can expect spotty sleep and to wake up feeling shitty.

Yes, I could pretty quickly get myself put back up to 10mg and see if that helps. I really don’t want to give in to it though. I’m going to have to feel shitty to get through this, sooner or later. It’s so incredibly hard to push through withdrawal, it’s unlike any other illness I’ve experienced. Work has been extremely demanding lately, and I’m not sure if I can keep up without adjusting my medication.

It’s not something I’m comfortable discussing with anyone at work, although I can’t know that they wouldn’t be sympathetic. I don’t feel like it’s worth the risk to lay all my cards out, but it is going to become apparent that there’s something wrong with me.

I’m considering supplementing the suboxone with another opiate to get me through the short term, but odds are that will only defer the problem, if not aggravate it. I feel like I’ve taken a beating over the last couple of weeks. It could be part of the mild withdrawal symptoms contributing to the hopelessness and depression I’m sinking into, or it could just be an accurate assessment of my situation. I can’t even trust my own mind right now.

Even the people who know what’s going on tend to forget what I’m going through, they assume that if I’m on medication, I must be 100%. I don’t feel well enough to do anything beyond the bare minimum and I feel like I’m letting people down. I am determined to get away from dependence on suboxone or other opiates, but I’m unsure that I have the resources to make it a reality.

Has anyone else encountered problems switching between non-generic and a particular generic? I find it hard to believe that there could be this significant difference between manufacturers, but my body says there is. I’d love to hear from anyone else who has encountered this situation.