I want so much to lose myself in distractions. I want that so much my whole body aches. It just feels so good, even thinking about distracting myself feels good! Even the thought of it gives me that warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. A soft kick of nausea. A pleasant kind of nausea. When I lose myself in distractions that feel so so good. It feels fabulously good, sumptuously good. So good, so good, so good! Can’t you just taste it? Doesn’t it give you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach just hearing about it? Oh yummy, yummy, yummy. What a feast. What a rich rich delight. You know how good that shit it…
That shit is the best. There’s no better shit than that shit. What I especially like about it is that you can just keep on having more and more and more of it. There’s no limit. You can just pig right out on it. You can totally binge on it. ‘Binging’ is hardly an adequate word for what I’m talking about here – it doesn’t do justice to the way in which you can just WHALE OUT like a total bastard on distracting yourself and then go straight ahead and WHALE OUT again without having to take any break, without having to pause even to go to the toilet. There’s no satiation limit, none at all – you don’t have to crawl off to your bed to sleep it off. You don’t have to piss yourself or vomit all over yourself; you don’t have to wake up feeling like some bastard is kicking you over and over again in the head. None of that. You don’t have to go to A & E and get your stomach pumped – you can just keep on going and going and going. Gorging yourself like the filthy disgusting pig you are on more and more and more of it…
You can stretch this shit out forever. You can make a little last a very long time. How long is ‘a little’; what exactly constitutes ‘a long time’ when you’re binging on distraction? The laws of space and time don’t hold when you’re deep in ‘distraction territory’. You know they don’t. No way my friend – you’ve escaped all that stuff. Distraction territory is yours and yours alone and it obeys your laws. You’re the boss here my friend and you don’t need me to tell you how good that feels….
It feels so very good to distract myself. It feels so very very good. Heroin never felt this good! Or maybe it did. Probably it did. Probably its the same thing. It’s all heroin of one sort or another isn’t it boys and girls? Don’t lets kid ourselves. It’s that good old smack hit. That’s what it is. That old friend. Henry the horse. In the pit of your stomach. That soft soft punch in your solar plexus. So sweet. So gorgeous. So sumptuous. That moment like no other… All the cells in my body are rubbing their hands together. Gloating over it. The sweet sweet relief of it. So don’t let those morally superior people, the ones who like to look down on you, those fine upstanding members of society fool you kids – they love the old H just as much as any street junkie does. By god they do!
Why do I feel so very good when I distract myself, you might ask? Why does it taste so very, very sweet? Why do I want to binge out on trashy distractions like a total bastard the whole time? That’s easy. That’s such an easy question to answer I’m not even going to bother with it! Just think about it a bit, for God’s sake. If the escape feels so incredibly good then what does that tell us about what we are escaping? Tells us a lot really, doesn’t it? Yeah you bet it does…
