Chapter 8 - Recovery for the Final Battle

Chapter 8 - Recovery for the Final Battle
My crack intake balanced by diazepam and alcohol was taking its toll. Lipton was addicted to heroin, valium and alcohol and I was unsure he would survive. In undertaking our mission to liberate mankind and raise jesse to be rightful king we had severely augmented our minds. I was not to see or hear from Lipton for two years. After a night ketamine fishing expedition where he had seen the lake as solid silver, tried to lift its edge to investigate beneath the vast polished metal casting. Our fishing had come to nought so I took to spinning. The platform a stood on was rotten and I was plunged in to the lake.
From here Lipton drove to greener climes. I have witnessed Lipton butcher a road kill deer in half an hour from scratch. I have eaten crayfish he has caught. Watched him pull trout after trout from the river. He had also met a beautiful young woman who said if he could beat his addictions she was in. So he went feral. No Ray mears or bear grills can match Lipton. He is the only man I know you could drop anywhere and feel secure he would eat. So alone in the hills, hunting and feeding on wild game, sleeping in caves and shelters. Moaning to no one. Taking no help from doctors, he cured himself of all addictions. Bar a little beer and the odd joint he has successfully recovered. Once well he settled at mortimers cross amongst traveller freinds where he lives to this day. There was always more to him than other junkies. He always was doing something, making something, fixing something or planning some journey. His network is spread throughout these isles. He is something of an elder statesman amongst New Age travellers. Never the four walls of a house for him but the eternal outdoors. He is still strong. He pulled it round. I wasn't to see him again till he was well.
For my part the crack investment left me wanting to blow my brains out by the end of every night. I'd drive john to score and enjoy our first pipe but grew to hate the subsequent psychosis that grew from prolonged use. Walking round one night to collect a boy racer clipped me with his car, not having indicated. I flew in to a psychotic rage, dented his car door and dragged him out where upon a full on fight ensued. Not since school had i fought like this. Though twice his age I was able to match him but neither of us could properly knock out the other. I was late fourties, he early twenties. As crowds gathered I knew I better get away. The local police are connected to higher police who seek the death of me and Lipton. So I walked away, the youth followed, abandoning his still running car. At johns I shaved my head and borrowed new clothes to evade police.
Things were going too far. Down on site where I collected my other substances, they had fallen on bad times. Withdrawing from heroin but drinking and taking valium, Larry had gone on a rampage putting a machete through peters caravan. Billy, mill walls wife, had aced him causing serious damage. Millwall finished him off before he and peter drove to a nearby field to bury his body. Still alive he was strangled, doused in petrol to burn off DNA then shallow buried.
Early next morning a farm worker found larrys body and the site was swarming with filth. Blood everywhere. Traveller code meant little talk so the police did all three on joint enterprise. Only one should be in jail but they all remain there four years on. I speak with Peter regularly, he calls me from jail, but appeals take forever.
I drove to my brothers where I came off crack and reduced valium. At this time I had never undergone a benzo withdrawall. Returning to work I took my last on a Monday. My system must have been saturated as it wasn't till Friday it kicked in. I couldn't hold a conversation as hallucinations and terror grew. I tried to drive but my car had swelled up to twice normal size. Taking the streets on foot I was in psychotic terror. This increased for a month, levelled off then took six months before I could work. I would sleep for two hours then wake screaming in guilt. I darent approach a doctor for three months but had a counsellor. Through Internet forum discussion with others withdrawing from benzos i gradually learned what I was undergoing and what to expect. Depersonalisation, Derealisation, some suffer seizures, some ptsd, some die. It is that bad. Far worse than heroin withdrawall. Further deeper descriptions can be found on Skreeworld blogspot.
It would be six weeks before I could work again. I had stopped smoking, drinking, crack, and valium. For these two years I read ferociously. Everything I could find on addiction, psychology, psychiatry and neuroscience. These previously walled gardens are opening up revealing new perceptions of what constitutes the self. Consiousness has become scientists are focused on and whilst still miles from understanding are certainly in the foothills of the mountain range. It is clear addiction has little to do with choice. For sure some people just don't like the disorientation of other headstates. Others love experimenting with their own mind. I fall in to this category. Others are so scarred by life they seek oblivion. But a love of drugs, and mine had been a thirty odd year love affair, usually leads to addiction. One must retrain. The animal urges will never leave but one can learn to over ride it.
My work became my pride again. I overcame my pride in making designs I only partly liked and refound the zen state I initially heald whilst making. I could enter hyper focus, free of morality for the bigger picture.
During this time my dog died. A severe blow to lose my closest freind. Beneath it all, however lingered a guilt. I was fortunate to have the best client imaginable for most makers. An endless flow of work of a very high standard. I furnished three houses throughout for him. Every piece of furniture. These houses are my legacy. But it is the private world of a super rich family. He was a good man yet I could never reconcile the fact no one I knew could afford what I made. My girlfreind once said she would be eternally satisfied if I made her one of the vanity units I had just made eight of. I could no longer find an ethical loophole. My final two pieces were my best. An office in Chelsea and a six legged elliptical desk. Every detail was researched and considered. Experimental techniques. Work easily able to out shine Cheltenham. But I wasn't happy. No one would ever see the work. My socialist leanings left me no option. I abandoned all this, upsetting people as I did. But I could find no other escape.
Finally, after two years of sobriety, these issues pushed me off the wagon. A freind owed me some money from way back and innocently and generously posted me two big bags of high quality heroin and two rocks of good crack. That morning I was heading for london to do some finishing but I gave in.
I returned through winter storms to a house where drugs were being smoked. I fell back in to habit. For a month or six weeks this lasted till I realised it was destroying my finances.
Around this time I discovered research chemicals. Legal, online and very pure. Roughly one new psychoactive substance was being synthesised a month. With further legislation criminalising new substances this has doubled. Largely untested some are horribly dangerous. Curious to test out the new dissociative halucinogens I tried diphenindine. This was weird but not too bad. The people around me were all racing round for crack but I thought I could get better, cheaper drugs. Shortly after diphenindine a similar drug methoxphenidine came out.
One evening, seeing my life turn to shit, everyone I loved engrossed in crack I decided to take my own life. The beginners dose for MXP is 20mg. I took a gramme and a half. 75 times the correct dose. I didn't expect to wake up.
For four days a could not walk. For a month I was psychotic. For the first time in my life I had to ask for help from freinds and family. We're it not for my girlfreind I would undoubtedly have been sectioned. Firstly I travelled at the speed of light deep in to the future, some thousand or more years. We had evolved to mind mold with computers and our consiousness was spread as such. This rendered consiousness free of biological shackles so as fast as I travelled I felt no fear as a mind has no physical properties, to crash would not cause harm. I learnt things here. Things that may prove invaluable for our work. I am not at liberty to divulge future details. This would disrupt the space time continuum, however, I know how things pan out . There are no comparisons. Any kind of speed you have experienced could not begin to deliver any incite. Meanwhile, in the earthly domain, my body was falling around. I broke i pads, phones, left blood all over my house walls. On day four I tried to leave the house but CB talked me out of it. I still could barely walk and had no clue where I was.
For a long period I was in a derelict garage in not so distant america. It was a landfill sea of broken multi coloured hoovers, sex toys, all kinds of defunct material goods as far as the eye could see. No green. No life. Just broken plastics. In the box garage one leg would stretch out to seventy feet in length whilst the other would reduce to action man proportions. My limbs continual size shifting wasn't helped by the corners of the room sliding from a foot in height to twenty, thirty feet, each wall an ever changing parallelogram, horrific.
Once the worst hallucinations abated and I could walk again I took to the streets, a crazed man with his dog. Together these weeks bonded us more than any other. The townsfolk were out in a mob hunting me down as a witch for lynching. Dodging down ginnels and secret paths I could evade them were it not for the crows. Some years back I had shot a crow as it was feeding entirely from the chicken feed. Yet this crow didn't deserve to die. I sold both my guns after this. Never need i kill again. I still hear the crows mate, calling out, Young to raise alone. I carry this guilt. Now the crows were after revenge and wherever they spotted me would mob me, calling loud my name, 'Skree, Skree,' directing the village lynchmob towards me.
I asked for help at the drug services but none was forth coming. Due to government cuts a staff of experts had been offered new contracts at half pay. They all left to be replaced by college graduates. Having studied drugs both from within and without in great depth for thirty years I couldn't begin to discuss the issues with. At one point I told my new keywoeker that IT was like talking to a child. In tears she ran to her boss who got angry with me until I explained. I wasn't exaggerating but it was a little rude, I guess. As the months psychosis levelled off I asked for help from my brother who wouldn't give money thinking I might spend it on crack. Such was his misunderstanding. I tried to explain but it wasn't within his sphere. He leant me £200, sent to my partner for safe keeping, for which I did five days building him a porch to repay whilst still pretty ill. If I'd worked the same time at home on furniture I woud have earned £750. This lack of trust has placed a barrier between us. I had figured, lying to others is akin to lying to oneself, so I 'came out.' This is my biggest regret. Thinking on addiction is like it was for homosexuality in the 1960s.
As the hallucinations subsided I became a world war 1 veteran. I sat watching spitfires return and felt guilty at being invalided out and unable to fight this new war.
Finally I was given some sedation, a month late.
But there were other research chemicals to explore. The spectrum of benzos was broad and I succame to these to sooth my mind. Later I developed a habit for ethylphenidate, a powerful but corrosive stimulant. This nearly killed me but fuelled my momentum for change.
Finally I discovered the advanced lysergics. If the bottom of the research chemical spectrum was bathtub stimulants and replicants for MDMa, ketamine and mephedrone. At the very top, sophisticated chemists were creating LSZ, AL-LAD. Synthesised from LSD the loss or reduction is four fifths. If it had been ilegal who would throw away four fifths profit on a name drug to create one few knew of. There are other new lysergics, ETH-LAD, PRO-LAD. These chemicals deserve Nobel prizes for the makers. So far advanced are they from mushrooms dark corridors and acids heaven and hell status.
First time I took one I looked for LSD. It felt ok, nowt special. But it takes time to learn any drug. From smoking cigarettes, repulsive at first, enjoyable once practiced. Heroin makes none users very ill. It takes perseverance to overcome this. Even cannabis, first time smoked people often say they feel nothing. You need to learn where to look.
The discovery of AL-LAD desrves its own chapter. It saved my life in so many ways. This is very special stuff. Capable of causing a paradigm shift in human consiousness.
There are those who don't get it. Lipton had the most boring trip with me on it. He wanted mushroom chaos, not smooth, controlled transcendence.


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