give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore

Hi there.

I have a hard time writing most of the time. This is why I post monthly-ish and not more often.

Yes, yes, I know: so do you so does everyone who writes get over it and write you just have to do it suck it up yadda yadda YADDA!

But I had an idea.

You know, when I started this blog, it was before heroin. Now, it's mostly about heroin or rehab or whatever, and the more I talk with people, the more I realize how many questions y'all have. And here I am - white, male, upper-middle-class, lover of Jesus since I was eight, great family, ex-junkie. (That is to say, NOT minority, male, poverty-level, no father, projects, ex-junkie.) I come from where you come from (which is perhaps why there are so many questions).

So. Help me. Help me help you. You have questions? I have answers. (And I want prompts.)

I should qualify that. I'll have experiential answers about particular drugs. Everything but peyote, anyway. I probably won't have answers about why people do what they do - alternatively, I'll have answers you won't like - but it might make you feel better to have asked and to have been answered by someone who was there, even if what you receive is subjective and inconclusive.

Maybe someone you know is going through it. (Me, circa 1998.) Maybe you're toying with some taboos with which you never thought you'd be toying. (Me, circa 2002.) Maybe you're in the middle of it, up to your neck in it, can't stop it, scared shitless. (Me, circa 2007.)  Maybe you're a wet-behind-the-ears homeschooler who just has no clue and you'd like to. (Well...)

Ask.

Oh, and that's the great thing about the intranets and about Blogger in particular: you can ask anonymously! Or not, which would be even sweeter.

SEND THESE, THE HOMELESS, TEMPEST-TOST TO ME,
I LIFT MY LAMP BESIDE THE GOLDEN DOOR!