Comatose

Blog stats.  Earlier this morning I saw ten, revealing the lowest point in the number of views.  “Forced to Watch” doesn’t get up that early.  “Home Page” dominated.

“Dashboard?”  So I can see how many posts.  This is #527.

This rare of a time, what, chronologically?  Oh, yeah.  No.  This time through.  Okay.  Yes chronologically, but I am typing slow.  At least turn on the light so I can see what keys I am hitting besides in the glow of the monitor.  After all, there’s no porn.  Should I risk porn?  No, I’ll turn on.  The light.  I’ll have  coke.  A-cola.

I’m nognimina have coffee.  It was 4:47 when I came down here from watching The Station Agent past the point it grabs me.  I imagine a model train store and a guy inheriting a real caboose is preposterous.  The device is that it is the work of another guy, who drops dead.  But he’s also the protagonist’s boss.  That guy’s a midget.  Nobody’s not a smoker or a drinker, so, I don’t have anyone to identify with.

I’m living in 13.5-year stretches, and I have four.  The total’s less than my age because I may as well start it in 1955.  Before that what good was I?  After the first one I start using.  I use from 1969 to 1996.  It is the beginning of the year now, it is remarkable in that I have gratitude that the freedom of speech has permitted me a whole year of doing this.  I want the N-word to sit emblazoned up there on the right, hanging.  It’s just, as part of a crochet thing, for an AIDS quilt, you’ll be able to make out the word, if all this someday finds itself an element inside of another work of art.

Okay, fine.  I don’t appreciate the treachery of people when I am trying to do something.

I’ll unload the chemistry now.  That’s the endpoint of where I am at, and it seems to have dead-end character.  That is calcium phosphide, but aluminum phosphide is unlikely to have any greater application in ghetto synthesis.  Each counterion is, I believe, capable of causing intractable solids, i.e. you don’t so much dissolve calcium hydroxide in water as make cement.

Anyway, this is what you can get, it is rat poison, it makes a gas, phosphine, PH3, that’s poison and an incendiary, but, maybe the whole ‘hypophosphorous acid’ thing is just about this stuff.

The good news is that I have attended a class involving the complete exclusion of air from the apparatus, and exclusion from air as the same thing as retaining gases and not letting them leak. But it is absolutely out of the question to bring it inside a dwelling. “Well-ventilated” just means outside, upwind, for some procedures. This is like testing a bomb.

I started looking in response to a search term and I have gotten a somewhat better feel for what my readers want by going to a website. This blog is not the same as an actual website with a forum.

Part two of the good news is that I understand that meth cooks may become intimidated by the intricacies of synthesis.  I can thus downplay the necessity of posting all about everything chemically.  I wanted to understand this myself.  The Michael Reaction:

I had Ernest Wenkert myself, the first time, and you may exclaim how wonderful he is, but bankers and oil company executives must also be wonderful.  This guy is an actual minor chemical show star, and he was teaching a class.  He was visiting.  I remember going to him begging, since I was going to fail.  He was coming out of his office accompanied by a “type” of scientific groupie woman, with this kind of pattern on a skirt, a scratchy material, with tassels on the hem for all I know.  We didn’t even say anything.  It was lost.  He left Austria when he was 15.  It’s 2010.  We won the war.

I could get all the women I wanted.  I was 25.  I remember when Carter won the presidency, it was November, 1976.  That makes me still 24.  I was heated already, crazy, after an hour and fifteen minutes straight running.  I could barely think, and at that point I decided to run my whole run a second time.  I didn’t want to study.  I ran right past the gym and across a grass field, where some dorms faced it, and somebody was yelling, “Carter sucks donkey dicks!”  That’s how I know exactly when it was when I ran for the longest, 16 miles.

Wenkert was born in 1925, and the way he drew structures on the blackboard was mesmerizing, and his suit, and his accent.  He didn’t give a midterm, every class was a detailing of his own research (on, “podocarpic acid”), and he picked up where he had left off the day before.  It was probably Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  The final did not have just his research on it.  It was general methods of synthesis.  When I took it again, Chem 142, F. Thomas Bond, a froggy-looking bug-eyed little guy with wire-frames and begging one of those tramps to marry him at 40, taught it by the book, but it was probably Tu/Th, a year later, I had girlfriend problems, and very distractingly, he had some rectum, anus or bowel problem with an itchy behind and he’d constantly have his hand buried halfway up his ass.  There’s no way you can hide that up at the chalkboard.  Once Amos told me he had his whole hand up there.  I got a “D” that time.  His name was Fred.  I ended up between 1975 and 1978 taking ten elective upper-division or graduate chem courses.  I got there when I was 23 and was washed up at 26.  1983, which marks half of my using, if I had known I was at the top of the arc on that, …it’s funny.  I couldn’t have done anything different.  I didn’t use any more coke by then.  Coke’ll kill you in 26 years.  I mean, it matters what actual year.  The 13.5 years each period lasts, with one puberty, one lately, and two using, well, all that time the human population has been adding people.  The thirteen year period it added its fifth billion was 1974-1987.  The sixth took twelve, and we must be hitting the seventh now.  If 2.5 billion of my fellow humans are at risk of dying before their time, maybe we should be allowed to have some freedom and weirdness amid the apocalypse.

1078

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