From: an61337@anon.penet.fi (Captain Contemptable) Subject: Speedlore & Methology - UK version Date: 1995/06/30 newsgroups: alt.drugs.hard My days as a speedfreak didn't last that long -- a couple of years at most? Started out as a pill-head, doing dexies, brown and clears, green and clears, brown and black bombers and bluies. (Dexadrine, Dexadrine spansules, Duraphet and Drinamyl for the uininitiated.) The doctors had long stopped prescribing them, but there were always plenty left in the cabinets of the chemist stores we used to rob. Initially, it was just Friday and Saturday night, get dressed up in the old single breasted Tonik suit, and then off to Wigan Casino for 12 hours of dancing to the old four to the floor R&B classics. Even the most trite pop songs were transformed into dance anthems - 1500 wired speedfreaks dancing from 2.00am to 8.00am in some god- forsaken Northern mill town -- with factory girls who talked funny to stuff like Johnny Jones and the King Casuals R&B version of 'Purple Haze', or the bootlegger Simon Soussaint's synth covers of things like 'Paint it Black' billed as 'Super Electronic Love Sitars. Stuff like Reperata and the Delrons 'Panic' would send shivers down your spine as the whip cracked to a hysterical female focalist wailing "I'm in a PANIC!" -- a sentiment that perfectly matched the sweating, heart racing fear of overdose that I continually felt. We weren't the only chemist breakers who would show up there. The first time I went, a van drew up and these guys were selling right out of the Dangerous Drugs Act cabinet that they held in the back. It wasn't long before we discovered we shared a taste for Diconal and cocaine cocktails -- pink snowballs, they called them. Rattle your skull with a rush that remains unmatched to this day. It wasn't long before my paranoia got the better of me, and the chemist breaking had to stop. Probably prompted by the time that Chas and I got caught in the back of a chemist shop with a crowbar -- and carted off to Grizzly Risley cause we couldn't make bail. The screws didn't like us from the start. Too effeminate for their tastes -- they were taunting us for having a shared address. Chas had a wife, but they weren't buying that. Because it was a cold night for burgling, he'd put a pair of her panty-hose on underneath his jeans. When it came to the strip search, we were fucked. Oh, it was OK for him -- he made bail that night. I got locked up with some retard from Oldham, who's idea of a good night out was an evening down the working mans club with Mam and Dad, where he'd sink a few pints. He'd been locked up for breaking into a caravan for the night ================================================================ From: (Dani Beee) Subject: Re: Crystal Meth - serious, hardcore stuff? Date: 1995/08/24 newsgroups: alt.drugs.hard I discovered meth when I moved back to LA for school. I fell in love with the drug and became extremely psychollogically addicted. I lost a lot of weight, but even more importantly as a writer, had a way of attaining an instant muse--no more writer's block. Everything was interesting, nothing was dull. People that were usually annoying and pesty became tolerable. I became confident rather than my usual shy, insecure self. And writing was so great. I'd write poems, letters, auto-biographies. But...... after a couple days, you have NO CHOICE but to come down cause after awhile it does nothing but keep you up. The rush is gone and you feel like shit. It's similar to coke, but the come down is way worse. I'd cry forever and contemplate suicide. Plus, all of a sudden, everyting became dull. Nothing could impress me off of crystal. Everyone got on my nerves or intimidated me. I became ultra paranoid (even thinking that my neighbors could hear me talk on phone and were listening when I had snorted lines, etc...--it got really bad). The worst was that I felt like shit from hell physically, but worse, mentally, and I hated dealing with the assholes and losers in the crystal meth community cause most speed dealers seem to be (I used to buy from a 15 year old and her poor white trash mom in San Fernando Valley, anyone know 'em?). I tried NA but found it way too cultish and for me, just sort of annoying and pointless. I ended up going on and off until I got caught with the last of an eighth at a Milwaukee night club. That was about 3 months ago and the last time. Sure, I miss writing poetry like that and driving around with a friend listening to how great music sounded and smoking cigarettes and drinking sodas and losing 7 pounds in like 2 days, but no where near how much I'm glad I don't have to deal with the mental come down anymore, yellowish skin and always feeling dirty, ear clogging, and being afraid of the world. I trip occasionaly, but am going to also try to cut out acid and all synthetics. Shrooms are better trips anyway. I feel a lot better. ==================================================================== From: (Durtro666) Subject: to CAPT MEAT/east coast ancient METH history PER REQUEST. Date: 1997/03/18 Newsgroups: alt.drugs.hard hey there meat.. sos' you want to pick my brains, huh? better wear rubber gloves. lessee, yah, the first time i did cris was in 75. i went to a big ass high schol in eastern PA of suburban Philadelphia, it was North Penn High School. I hung out with my two mains, one was a guy named Foster and the other was a girl named Patti. we were all very bad for each other, but very good at the same time. you know how it is. anywhoo, yeah, the first (well, honestly it was the 2nd time i did tweak-the first time i did suppposedly cris and drank it and went immediately to sleep. the seller told me i might not get off on it, as it was old...(!@) (pardon the typing but i am heavy crashing and am pissed off and drank a shitload of 100 proof SoCo on top of a mg of klonopin) time 2 i did cris was IV and i felt like so very good, walking down Oakland Place in this shitass town (north wales pennsylvania-not a good place to die much less live) floating, telepathing with god, numb, connected and higher than i had ever been in my life. i dug it. purity? lesseee, the only thing i have to compare it two was, get this, pharmaceutical methmaphetamine powder. i had a connect for a coupla weeks in 1978 who was able to score this tan, oil-based powder. it was "matchhead material". no cotton required...if you did a matchhead sized pile of the shit you were so incredibly hyped that you couldn't hear (high blood pressure), and after two days of mainlining my teeth started feeling soft, my hair started to come out in clumps, and i ran 6 miles roundtrip down an asphalt road in the rain and got home with bloody feet, just in time to crash. and it was a gentle crash, compared to the high. didn't feel a thing. dude supposedly stole it from the chem factory he worked in, very carefully, easily traceable product, "don't say its [pharmaceutical]". that was pure meth. have you ever taken a desoxyn? it is similar, but desoxyn is hard to boot. i took one by mouth once and had a similar experience, but without the rush. purity back in the seventies ranged from, i would guess by effect, 25 percent to about 70 percent for the good P2P base which was commonly cooked by the local bikers (Warlocks...dunnoif they're still around-#1 in Bucks County), to the best ether base you could get...a lot of folks call ether base "peanut butter crank" these days, 'cause it is so wet and lumpy. we called it "shooting crank" 'cuz it was already wet. i mean, what else are you gonna do with it? people made orange crank by cutting it with Kool-aid. IV Kool aid?!?!?! we didn't care, we were thrill seeking kids with a death wish. life sucked most of the time...the only way to escape that suburban bubble of drone was to get ripped to the fuckintits. how does it compare to todays glass/ice? well, the glass/ice stuff looks to be about 70 percent. like i said, i did pure, and if some chemist wants to say my ice is 100% cris i'll say send me a g and we'll let you know, (bigass grin intended) 'cause there was nothing like the pharm. the choices in the late seventies were ether/P2P base at about $60-80/g. much like today's prices. similar in quality, altho i have had some of that newer greydust shit a bro talked about and i had a similar experience as he did, it may be a slightly twisted analogue or from a PPL source, cause the euphoria was minimalized compared to the physical aspect of violent tweeking, man, i mean revved, and i began to freek (and i know how v. crucial it is to eat/drink/sleep everyday...) sketching was rough on that after a week or two, thought i was losing my mind. what mind? he mumbled softly to himself. at the time- late seventies-(i did dabble in coke, iv styl-ee, of course, and purity ranged from an average of 50-60 percent to some shit called "mother of pearl" which was 86% on the meltpoint, it was white rock yellow shiny center, and was some of the best i was able to get then. bottomed out on coke when i was 19 (1978), it was too much, the hook was too deep and when i tried suicide to avoid the comedown at one point i actually swore it off. to this day i find the drug cocaine makes me sick to my stomach (the idea of doing it) and that it is overrated, and that for every foot you rise while on it you comedown a mile. just not worth it. no plateau, just a rush for a few mins and then boom time to doitagaindoitagaindoitagain....we'll leave that to youngsters. i have no desire to do that. it was usually $80.00-100/g, the latter for the pearl. did some "pink coke" for a little while, it was da bomb. matchhead coke was what it was. just a little tiny bit, and you could snort it and get the same deal as if you ran it. weird. that was $120/g but well worth the memory. that was the best purest coke i did it was all euphoria, until the comedown. hated that part. cocaine-it is a piece of shit drug, if you ask me. well, like i says i am not in the best of moods, i need an attitude adjustment real bad and don't even have the tiniest toke of reef or the littlest dot. sucko. and i don't give a royal fuck if i am on amerikaonline, let em cancel me for profanity, there's other fish in da sea, y'know? isp's are like crank dealers here in the Valley of the Tweek (phoenix, azzirona). i got more coming to ya tiger, but that's all ya can get out of my brain tonite. sorry about the snotty attitude in my post where i said you were in diapers when i was running the shit (like that makes me "superior") it was a bullshit response but if there is anything i do know, it is graphic arts and popular music/media (first) and the history of illicit substances for the past two and a half decades (second). or maybe it is the other way around, screw quantifying this crap. oh yeah, i did sobriety after the needles were through, for seven years. i am proud of that. but it didn't work well enough...it is another extreme for someone like me prone to getting hooked into shit. but i still don't mess wif no spikes, 'cause it's easy enough to get screwed up without the holes in the arm. haven't done a needle since 1984. it is merely a too-efficient way to go straight to hell, doesn't matter what you put in it. screw anonymity, be who you are, and besides, i ain't holding and i'm on a buddies computer and his account as well... ninnnee niinnee pooo pooo. after all, the destroya is paranoia...if yer paranoid they already own your balls. see ya. hey! i'm still alive! how did that ever happen???? durtman