I got a case of the crispy crumblies today.

 How often does it happen, that a pookie bowl of crystal meth ends up producing salt? Today, I encountered that reality. Now, I'd been set on not smoking, any more, and, to be honest, there's a definite limit to how stimulated I'd been feeling, under any circumstances, while using, lately, but, to discover that the stuff is literally salt makes it feel like I got done with a ruse as old as the hills. It wasn't all salt, but I tasted some of the stuff that started popping and crackling in the bowl, and, soon afterwards, fell out, as solid crystal chunks - of salt, none other than. It just doesn't feel that special, knowing that it was salty, of a calculated sort, and that there wasn't any set aside, for me, that wasn't salty. I've been having an inkling that this sort of thing has been going on. 

A set of mouse traps that I recently received, from Amazon: figuratively, an appropriate symbol for having gotten done.

What's the explanation? Some of the conjectural topics that have been brought up were stuff of the sort, of that, as far as stimulation goes, there are primary and many competing agencies for the stuff, but the question is: what is the stuff, anyways? I peed out what could have passed for vitamin-consumption urine, directly after smoking, today (some other stuff), being that it was deeply yellow. Are we now receiving our nutrition from this crystalline product? Sure, it comes in crystals, but there's various qualitative factors that ought to come in to play, such as the delicate nature of pure crystal meth - it's supposed to crumble apart, easily, in the best cases, more or less, and the burn, in the nostrils, ought be fairly severe, not all that tolerable. The crystal structure ought to be complex. In any case, I verified, on this day, that one of my sources is a salt-ish one, and I'll be forced to reconsider my position on going back to that one, for some time, I suppose. Something's changed about that one, recently, moreover. It's just rough, out there, I know, but there was no special reserve set aside for me. How am I to remain loyal when I received salt in the mix? 

These alterations are baffling and upsetting, to say the least, because I end up feeling "normal," I suppose, since perhaps I didn't get done completely, but, then I wonder, "what if i do just feel normal?" That's alright... I guess, in some cases, but there's other cases where it just doesn't make the cut - my normal, of how I had been feeling, thus, prompting me to use drugs in the first place. On one hand, there's something to be said for the underdog - the guy, hustling, out on the street, and his time ought be worth something, on one hand. It begs the questions of so many challenging issues, as far as a discussion would go: banal and sensitive sorts of topics, at times, I'm certain, so those types of things aren't typically brought up, except in the most secretive and intimate settings; I don't get that way with anyone, currently, so I'm just imagining situations, for myself.

 At least I have my beetle. These beetles have been showing up at my window - lots of them, sometimes there'll be two in the room, and I introduce them to each other, and show them where the dirt is, in the pots. This one is a snuggly nuzzly one: she likes to come find me, from out of the dirt, while I'm sleeping, and start clawing at me, to wake up and play with her. 

I pulled my house Japanese Beetle from out of its moist dirt bed for a photo, where she tunneled down, a bit - just like the days of being a grub, eh? These beetles like to play. I think that it's the perfume and fragrances that attract them to my room, through the window.

Some of the consolation that I've been hearing is that the guy used to get a lot of salt in his dope, back in his day. In essence, I'd be sharing his burden with him. The authority figure, in my mind, cautioned him, that he could get done, for loitering around the place. Some parts of town have been clamping down harder on lesser crimes, such as in the instance of the North Hollywood Metro Station's exits being police, now, for evidence of a paid TAP fare. The guy who did me was portrayed as saying, "as adults, we don't get stimulated like that (any more)."