Friday, 14 February 2014


Hello, and thanks for dropping by.  As you may know, the first 22 posts of this blog (Jan to April 2013) are the text of my ebook, 'How To Become A Crack Addict', which you can read here or buy on amazon, if you do that sort of thing.  Nowadays, the blog is the fairly frequent musings of myself, Benjamin of Turnham Green.  And here are today's thoughts...


Good question.  I was bewildered in the thick of that horrid addiction, but now that I'm not, I'm equally vexed.  At the nadir of it, overdraft large, skin reptilian, fridge'n'cupboard empty, I couldn't understand how I'd become so hardwired to do it, regardless of the consequences.  Maybe it was because I was at the bottom, so what did it matter if I continued digging?  Maybe I was an ill thing, an addict, diseased by that threefold malady, in body, mind, and spirit.  Or perhaps I was just choosing to do it, all those times, regardless of the aftermath.  I don't know.  I just know that I did.  And that's perhaps enough, because, at the time, I disowned it.  I may not have called it a disease, and disowned it that way, but I certainly didn't allow for the fact that, bottom-line, I was choosing to use.  But when does a choice become a compulsion, and so forgivable?

Fact is I was thinking all this even then, month in, month out, year after year.  I could say 'the addict' enjoyed it, the toing and froing of an intellectual joust, the linguistic intricacies of a subtle debate, because it meant I was more concerned with writing a manifesto than putting my pledges into practice.  And so, falcon and falconer, on I arced, self-enticed.

I had no moment of clarity to make me change, although maybe I'm having a slow epiphany, which is perhaps safer than those Damascene revelations that those in a hurry require.  One year, I was using at every possible opportunity, week in week out, and then, somehow, I don't even remember when, I got a few weeks clean, of everything, not just crack.  Then I waded back into the mire, stayed there for a good eight months or so, and then, whispering to self that something needed doing, I referred back to previous successes and slotted in couple of months clean, and then, a bit more determination here, a well-timed phone-call there, and a few little things bought for the flat, mostly on ebay, I began to physically see and feel the results around me.  My mind was just healthy enough to register the gain, and it was palpable enough to cling to, nurture, albeit pretty bitterly.  Now, somehow, after over six months clean of crack, with another six months before that, I seem to have a choice, and I seem to be choosing not to bother.  And here is a list of some of the things I've gained:

a denim armchair, with side-pockets, from Tesco Direct
a shaggy blue and light blue rug, with tufty crescents in tasteful aquamarine
a new keyboard, to play tunes on
a little stack of Doctor Who DVDs
a cupboard bulging with Heinz Big Soups, and other long-term bankers
and, with an additional antidepressant in the mix, some days I almost feel like my old self, from twenty years ago, and beyond, and sometimes this is dizzying...

...but I don't think anyone ever died of dizziness.

So here's a link to one of my songs, if you fancy listening...
Revenge Of The Sirens

And that's all I have to say today.  Thanks for dropping by.

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