The Moon Had Risen Behind Him, The Color Of A Shark's Underbelly. It Lit The Ruined Walls, And The Skin

I never could think of prostitutes as human beings or even as women. They seemed more like imbeciles or lunatics. But in their arms I felt absolute security. I could sleep soundly. It was pathetic how utterly devoid of greed they really were. And perhaps because they felt for me something like an affinity for their kind, these prostitutes always showed me a natural friendliness which never became oppressive. Friendliness with no ulterior motive, friendliness stripped of high pressure salesmanship, for someone who might never come again. Some nights I saw these imbecile, lunatic prostitutes with the halo of Mary. I went to them to escape from my dread of human beings, to seek a mere night of repose, but in the process of diverting myself with these 'kindred' prostitutes, I seem to have acquired before I was aware of it a certain offensive atmosphere which clung inseparably to me... I had, quite objectively speaking, passed through an apprenticeship in women at the hands of prostitutes, and I had of late become quite adept. The odor of ' lady killer ' had come to permeate me...I remembered now clumsily written letters from bar girls...with all of them I had been extremely negative and it had gone no further. But it was an undeniable fact, and not just some foolish delusion on my part, that there lingered about me an atmosphere which could send women into sentimental reveries. It caused me a bitterness akin to shame to have this pointed out by someone like Horiki; at the same time, I lost all interest in prostitutes

Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

Here’s a realistic song about Junkies, I say realistic because it doesn’t glorify it or belittle said people, it’s written from first hand observation and is well, a damn decent song in general...

Fun fact, English bands sound best when trying to sound American.

She lay down beside me, towards dawn she pronounced for the first time the word “death.” She too seemed to be weary beyond endurance of the task of being a human being; and when I reflected on my dread of the world and its bothersomeness, on money, the movement, women, my studies, it seemed impossible that I could go on living. I consented easily to her proposal.

Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

I notice lots of people hate on junkies, they’re easy to hate.  most people that hate on them though have never been in a situation anything like that, and their opinion is a witch hunt and bullshit.  I dont hate on junkies to be in some in club of junkie haters, i hate on them because i basically was one, and still have my own demons, but know god and 12 step bullshit is just that, its bullshit.

I hate on junkies because i grew up with them, i lived with them, I fucked them, I dont call them spoiled children with victim complexes because i read that somewhere, its based on first hand observations.  I say alot of offensive things, thats my charm, but this subject i dont feel bad about, you’re not some martyr, you’re not something special, I also hate the whole be like me thing, when people find jesus, everyone better also be into jesus, or else, so you go from being some junkie hooker to some fascist for jesus, oh yeah, you’re SUCH a better person now.

Man up, own it, take responsibility, and have some fucking willpower without being an annoying twat, if i quit smoking cigarettes tomorrow i wont demand the whole world does it with me, i wont stop loving the people i do because they smoke and now when they smoke i NEED to smoke, im not a weak fuckin person like that, and you shouldnt be either, we have the same biology.

Mystics and schizophrenics find themselves in the same ocean, but the mystics swim whereas the schizophrenics drown.

R.D. Lang

(via

entheognosis

)

Here’s me drunkenly playing” Cheap Day Return “ by Jethro Tull, I have terrible audio equipment and suggest headphones to even hear me....