August 2012
choose life. choose a job. choose a career. choose a family. choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tins openers. choose good health, low c
relinquishing junk. stage one, preparation: for this you will need one room which you will not leave. soothing music. tomato soup, ten tins of. mushroom soup, eight tins of, for consumption cold. ice
this was to be my final hit, but let's be clear about this. there's final hits and final hits. what kind was this to be?
personality, i mean that's what counts, right? that's what keeps a relashionship going through the years. like heroin, i mean heroin's got a great fucking personality.
heroin had robbed renton of his sex drive, but now it returned with a vengeance. and as the impotence of those days faded into memory, grim desperation took hold of his sex-crazed mind. his post-junk
two kilos. what''s that, about ten years? mikey forrester, russian sailors, what the fuck are you boys on, eh?
we took morphine, diamorphine, cyclizine, codeine, temazepam, nitrazepam, phenobartione, sodium amytal, dextropropo xyphene, methadone, nalbuphine, pethidine, pentazocine, buprenorphine, dextromoramid
swanney taught us to adore and respect the national health service. for it was the source of much of our gear. we stole drugs. we stole prescriptions or bought them, sold them, swapped them, forged th