Freegan smoking--the problem of papers

It can be a problem.

If you're like me, you hold onto each left-over pack of papers from your favorite handroll.

but say you don't. Or say you ran out (like I did today). Or say you want a totally free smoke.

Bible pages.

I'm totally serious. One, the pages are really thin. And the ink is likely non-toxic. And you look like a bad ass with paul's epistol to the romans hanging out the corner of your mouth.

And bibles are free. Just call the gideons.

Any other thin paper is good too. Right now, i'm smoking the collected works of plato. But shakespear works as well.

Cut the pages into 1" * 2.5". 3hen roll with quite a bit of saliva. Like you're rolling a blunt.

And you'll feel like a cowboy.

Fear of menus

This is an odd one that I forgot about the depression: paranoia.

Sometimes, when the depression's at it's worst... Well, all to frequently, paranoia rears its ugly head.

I grow fearful of everything but one world government and black helecopters.

I guess I don't wear tinfoil hats, but I do begin to think about strong crypto, which is similar.

What can I say. It's my own agression I see as persecution.

And it sucks.

depression

I'm sure we all have our own ways of being depressed. Here are a few of mine:

lethargy

numbness

doubt

isolation

insulation

procrastination

playing stupid video games

melancholia

And here are my ways of getting out of it:

medication

movement

seeing friends

cleaning

getting angry at things

The therapist is always saying that depression is anger turned inward. And I believe it. That's one of the things I have to do, stop doing that.

But anger sure can be scary--my own and other peoples.

Blogs blogs blogs

I now see this has turned into a diary, sort of.

It wasn't really my intention to do so.

I'm not sure everyone wants to read every detail of my rather boring life.

There were a few things I wanted to share--my experiences with gtd (which i hope to get back on, today or tomorrow--expect a post about that, or maybe not), drinking and other drugs, and bipolar.

I suppose, in some ways, the journal tracks the ups and (mostly) the downs, but maybe it's better to be specific about them than to trace events.

Anyway, at the doctor's recommendation, I've been looking at some blogs and sites that talk about abilify.

It's a little scary-- akasthenia (i.e. shaking, tightness of muscles, affects about 25% of people), possible death, hallucinations. Good stuff.

I sometimes wonder if reading about side effects makes you feel them

Some good, some bad

Been spending money like I have it. But I honestly don't.

if you don't count that sack of tobacco I bought on keith's dime, it's been all family obligations.

And been getting shit for it.

Shit for borrowing money I don't want to do things for others.

On a positive note, getting some poems published.

first ones I ever sent out.

Well, I know the editor.

Sometimes therapy sucks

So. I was frustrated. Brought in all this stuff I wanted help with.

And he's always offering to help me with little stupid things.

and I thought if I brought them he'd help me.

And we could't even get through the list. He wanted to talk about what they mean.

And he hammered at me.

Everyone wants to remind me what my role in creating these things is.

Which, if unsympathetic is probably more important than what I want--hand holding.

well. Everything else is going my way today. Even the trains.

Total luck

found 7 smokes in box on street. And with plenty of time to get to therapy.

On top of that, was able to get up at a reasonable hour after good sleep with odd dreams. Must be stressed ones.

Wonder what freud would make of them.

On top of all this, found my train ticket (7 rides left), a penny, and my MTA card still works.

Small things, to be sure, but i'm greatful. Maybe things are beginning to break both ways.

Maybe i'm making better decisions.

May my good luck continue and rub off on you.

not much doing

went out with cousins for my cousin's batchlor party. very tame, which was fine with me.

actually, a lot of fun. spoke with this little kid, son of my cousin--i know this means something like second cousin, or removed cousin or something, but i've never been good at this sort of thing.

and had lots of brazillian meat.

and today, kind of wasted it. for some reason, stayed up till five last night/morning. i could do it tonight, but that's always easier with five liters of beer. had some last night. first in a week.

hope things get better, but not holding my breath. ten cents short of a pound of flower. maybe one package of pasta. not much else.

see therapist tomorrow.

mom emailed me. apparently, it's over--in a good way. news to me.

wants me to go on vacation. feel pressure. hate taking things, but who am i.

already borrowed money from him. which is odd, but whatever.

took my seroquel and drinking coffee, so should be asleep soon.

Further hints on freegan smoking

So, I've layed out the basics and thought about the variety of butts I've found in my neighborhood.

But here are some other hints:

If you don't want to directly bum a cigarette, pick-up your butts in a conspicuous space. Smokers will feel sorry for you and bum one, almost always.

Have a couple of routs. I've got two or three.

Manhattan, much to my supprise, hasn't panned out for me. Maybe it's the neighborhoods I've been in: mostly midtown. Perhaps the villages are better. But they're mostly conspicuous, and I get embarrased when too many people see what I'm doing. Perhaps the side streets would be better.

Find places where you're likely to find butts. The obvious ones are bars and outside apartment buildings. But there are less obvious ones. For me, the laundromat was a real find. I suppose that someone there smokes alot, but gets called in before he (I assume it's a he) can finish. Perhaps bodegas or Korean groceries work the same way.

Another important thing to consider is timing. It's probably best if scrownging in front of establishments to wait until they close. The exception may be bars, since here in nyc, some bars don't close until 4 am. And with any establishment, they may clean up. Say you hit a bar, perhaps they've emptied the ashtray--you're sol.

I like to hit bars before happy hour (unless you live in `billyburg, when happy hour can go from 11 to 7. It beats the rush, and the alcoholics who've been drinking all afternoon have left plenty of buts.

Another problem is rain. Rain-soaked butts will not yield smokable tobacco. Atleast not at first. I find that microwaving loose tobacdco for 30 seconds seems to dry them out. Another advantage to this is that the tobacco becomes puffier (for lack of a better word), meaning you can roll bigger smokes with less tobacco.

Anyway, I'll share more hints as I find them.

Good luck with your tobacco hunting, and may you find the tobacco of your dreams

food

of all things i think of out in the world that it would be nice to buy. anything, everything.

even at home, food never leaves me:

beer

whiskey

cheese

eggs

steak

chicken

pork

something new

something old

linguine with clam sauce

dark chocolate

i guess i just get sick of the same things: salad and a loaf of bread a day.

this is no way to live.

tired and low

i'm real low right now.

nothing, i mean nothing, seems sweet. either tired of it, or just don't want to do it because it seems worthless. no joy, barely even tolerable.

melancholy.

i don't want to go to therapy. i don't want to read. i don't want to computer. i certainly don't want to go out and pickup cigarette butts, but i do want to smoke.

nothing's working. there seems to be no point in doing anything; i'm fooling myself. about everything.

i do want to run, and not just for the exercise.

i want to run away.

start again.

because nothing seems to be working out for me.

suppose i'm lucky to be alive--i was a mistake. mom told me if i hadn't been born, she'd still be married to my father. well, i guess no longer. he's dead.

try living with that. but i'm sure you've got your own cross to bear and far be it for me to go and compare scars with anyone. we all have them.

and if you're like me or if you suffer depression, than you know what i mean.

looking for good news

but aren't we all.

cut my finger, hell on typing.

no cash, no bank, no loan.

bills from everywhere.

shit, i could be going to court for back rent.

loan check's almost spent before it's come in.

and i said to myself the last time was last time.

am i really that much of an asshole?

what is it with girls breaking up with me--through technology.

first the cousin with the text message (that was worse) but the recent one over the telephone.

at least when i did it to the psycho-girl-i-was-dating, i did it in person. not to brag or anything. i didn't act my best, though the best i felt i could in that situation. looking back on it, i wouldn't have brought the chicken wings.

anyway, this one hurts (don't they all).

and, of course, i have no money to drink.

endless summer

time.

so much of it.

too much. lost my way, i have.

going to meditation would be good, but i'm sure i'll find a reason not to. for instance, i could kid myself into thinking about doing homework.

there's a laugh.

well, atleast i've been cooking and cleaning. and doing a little writing for myself.

now i'm going to nap. hey, gotta be some benefit to being broke and unemployed

A Few

Gazing Upon the Mountain, Contemplating God's Work

Ridge at the mountain's edge:

a filet of rock. I

gaze like Argus from ledge

to ledge and thank, sigh,

and worry clasped to Hetty.

Huck and I

Huck and I used to

cheat corpses--their animal dread

in the gloom right through

the vacant plot, as threads

a needle in the psyche.

The Idle Student

Daises turning in the wind

across Malta. There gazes the

world-worn pupil in sin,

idleness, specifically. And sun be

the world, shining in situ.

Wolf Cub

Calm, they say, before the

blessed break. G-d above sent

a worf cub striking a

raw tendon, a freak accident

and the wound will scar.

Chloroform

But world half broke open,

after fifty-six huffs of chloroform.

And the scion of Hoboken,

stoned on the metro platform,

waiting, the train comes? No.

it's just nice not to have to pick up cigarette butts off the street.

not that i'll stop, just it's nice not to have to.

depression

didn't even know that's what's been happening.

just feel listless. melancholy, they used to call it.

there just ain't no pleasure in this life, and i'm too lazy to go to the other one.

and i'm not really that into pain. not that it has to be painful, but it's got to be at least a little uncomfortable.

feel like watching tv and drinking. but no tv and no beer here.

no tv and no beer make coward go crazy.

speaking of strong crypto

hate long and intricate passwords? after all, the best passwords aren't passwords at all, but random key combinations.

i hate 'em. one way around it, if the length of your password is arbitrarily long, is to use passphrases. you can achieve as many bits of protection as you may want. and a good solution to generating these phrases is diceware (for non-u.s., try this list--it's been internationalized).

i've used it myself, and while i don't know how successful an attacker would be (suppose i keep a low profile, but now that i've mentioned it, murphy's out to get me), but it makes me feel secure.

so, i'm paranoid

clinically so. confirmed by therapist. he's seen me go through it. talked me down some.

i check for the emergency exits. i don't like to sit with my back to the door. i believe in strong crypto, and for the most part, i know how to use it.

i believe in security through obscurity.

i've used tor, though i don't have it configured at the moment.

and lately, i've been working on a project: what would i want with me if i had to go, immediately.

the go bag, i call it.

it comes in two parts: the small and the large.

the small is between a toiletry bag and a tote bag. it contains the essentials that are hard/impossible to replace on the fly.

the large? all i need for urban camping.

here's an incomplete list of things i want. unfortunately, it's not yet separated into small and large.

gobag:

drugs

pens

alcohol

tobacco

coffee

water

cup

food

calling card

$100 cash

$100 visa card

mta card

passport

phone

voice recorder

keys--my own and other peoples

maps

compass

umbrella

clothes

toiletries

sowing kit

small tent

small sleeping bag

train schedules

notebooks

books to read

small, legal knife

medical supplies

shoes and boots

USB drive

GTD stuff

small toolkit

tape

work gloves

mace

winter stuff (hat, gloves, socks, etc)

dice

cards

cards keyed to a secret deck

usb w/ os for strong crypto

mres

gold

water

toughbook

so, what do you think? i know i'm missing things, would like to hear what else you think i may need.

What I got for 18 bucks

Letus, romain.
Tobacco, amsterdam shag, peter stokkebye.
A green pepper.
Yeast, 3 pack.
5 pork chops.
beans 1 lb.
Coffee 10 oz.

City's a harsh mistress.

how much protein can 59 cents buy you

not much. at least, not in this city.

thought i could get some beans or something. got to have something like ninety cents.

guess it's just a rich man's world.

at least i have enough to make some bread tomorrow.

Broken

It's tough, having no cash. You can't replace things.

Out without your tissues, your drugs, clean clothes, food, tobacco, your book... Well, that's too damn bad.