@ Raasclart! inpc
2025-02-07 17:20:27
Mental health is a funny old bag. As someone who’s been on various prescribed drugs for anxiety and depression for many years and is slowly weaning myself off (I’ve reduced my Venlafaxine dose by 1/6th. Next is the Pregabalin. One step at a time eh…) I’m not sure I fully understand normailty.
Yesterday I finally got my hands on a record I absolutely love. I had it on cassette for 34 years but never knew the title, I recorded it from Friends FM (London pirate radio station) back in 1991. I chanced upon the title after some random YouTube clicks. I was so happy to find out, it was the only song on the tape that had eluded me after all these years. I’d been watching it on Discogs for a while and finally found one at a nice price. Yay!
I’ve been lost in nostalgia all day. Lost friends have been on my mind.
My best friend as a kid was an interesting character, a fantastic artist. He was by far the best at drawing in my class at primary school, heavily influenced by M.C. Escher and artists I’d never heard of, he’d grown up in a more culturally expansive house than I. He was into fashion and design but we weren’t clever kids at school. We had a lot in common musically and I always thought he’d be my MC back when I was starting out as a DJ. He was a very creative person but also a total fantasist. As a duo he was the extraverted, outspoken one, I barely spoke a word and relied on him a lot socially. He was sectioned under the Mental Health Act at 20 years old. We lost touch.
Our birthday’s were within 1 day of each other and a third friend had his the day after mine. Our 16th birthdays fell on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. This was quite exciting. By midday on the Friday, he was permanently expelled from school. He’d taken acid in the morning and essentially enjoyed himself, running around and laughing a lot. The school didn’t approve, oh then his mother kicked him out of home. An eventful start to a messy weekend…
We took a lot of acid as kids and I’m not shitting you when I say he, in particular, took a LOT. When we were 16 he told the local gypsies that he score them some acid, 100 tabs to be exact, about £200 worth. Not a lot of money but acid has always been very good value for money. He secured the goods easily, his brother was in the business so to speak but he chose not to pass the goods on… Over the course of a month, with the exception of the ones he gave to his friends he took the whole lot. (Side note, it also meant the local gypsies were after us. That’s another story). None of us could keep up as far as acid was concerned.
Even as I’m writing I’m thinking of more funny incidents, like the time we were in a shop with umbrellas for sale. He picked one up, opened it and danced out the shop, stealing it in the most obnoxious, obvious way even and no one batted an eyelid. Funny as fuck at the time but not ideal behaviour… He was like that all the time. In today’s world he would have letters after his name for sure. Maybe not PhD or BSC but definitely ADHD and ASD.
This ties in with the period where I became pretty much non-verbal. I’ve written about my uncertainty of my autism diagnosis before and it’s hard to say if this period of not speaking was due to that or extreme anxiety growing up with an absent, alcoholic, father and being bullied etc. It’s certainly safe to say taking loads of acid probably didn’t help!
After many adventures, going to illegal raves, hustling to get DJ spots, trips in the woods, trips in bedrooms, trips pretty much everywhere, my friend became less and less stable. We fell out after he gave a bunch of my possessions to some random stranger at a rave. As kids we’d often swap clothes, jackets, shoes etc. It was one way of feeling like you had fresh clothes on a budget but giving my stuff away was the final straw. We fell out big time over that. The last time I saw him was in my early 20s. He looked like a ghost, a total shadow of a human. There was nothing there. Tragic. I seriously hope he’s well now. I’m long away from the people I grew up with, I might never find out. Thinking about you man.
Since then, I’ve had another 2 friends sectioned under the Mental Health Act, drugs, petty crime and an unstable home life does does fuckry to a young brain. I’ve also lost a couple of friends to crack and heroin. Not fun. Drugs are bad m’kay.
I’ve struggled with mental health my entire life, before drugs were an issue. Probably going back to 10 years old, at least as far as I can recall. Not that I want sympathy, far from it, I own my mistakes. I’m typing this shit on the internet because I want to and I want to honour lost friends. I own every single mistake. Maybe writing shit helps? Making music certainly does. It’s given me a sense of identity and I’m very lucky in what I do. Ironically I now work for a record label who’s motto is “Comforting the disturbed, disturbing the comfortable”. Very apt.
The drummer in my current band took his own life in 2014. That was fucking shit. He was a totally straight edge guy. Very talented musician. Suicide is fucking vile, I don’t have the words to describe what that does to those left behind. Just a couple of weeks earlier we’d been offered a record deal with an advance to make an album, we were also working with another very respected artist in his live band. Like wtf man. I still don’t get it. I don’t even want to say more out of respect for his family. RIP brother.
Nostr is a funny place, so many people I have very little in common with other than a dislike of banks (I hold the banksters responsible for the 2008 crash directly responsible for the death of my friend btw. I still say fuck each and every one of you. Cunts).
I often see folks refer to others as ‘normies’. From what I gather a normie is someone who didn’t grow up posting on 4Chan. The funny thing is these people are often the one’s saying work hard, raise a family etc. I mean come on, you go on about working hard, raising families and eating healthily. Fucking hell!!! Like that’s sort of normal, you know?
Tell me about sitting in a slum in south London with prostitutes, smoking crack thinking of ways you can get some money to score and then talk to me about ‘normies’. LMAO. For clarity, I didn’t have sex with them. I just wanted drugs and so did they. Nothing about this is glamorous by the way, it’s tragic and grim. I’m glad it’s not the norm.
If you’re that healthy, hardworking guy with a family calling people normies, respect to you, in all honestly I’m envious. I wish I’d grown up in a stable home with two parents and a dad who hooked me up working for a fund straight out of school. Normies! Fuck I’m still laughing about that one. The other one that cracks me up is plebs, again you worked at a fund and you talk about being a pleb. Funny fucker. Respect for your sense of humour though.
I’m not bitter (well not fully). I read the posts with interest and I’m always trying to learn new stuff, I’m happiest when learning. Learning is good for you. Fact.
It’s a thoroughly miserable day here as write this, icey cold, grey and very windy, this is still the happiest I’ve been in life. I now have a wonderful, beautiful wife. No kids but with my background, I’ve decided these genes are best left here. There’s some sadness about that too but it could be worse, I might be the type to think Peter Thiel is cool.
This probably reads like a right whinney thread but it isn’t. I’m excited about the future. I know some very talented people and I think we can do amazing things. Each day is a new opportunity. Being part of the underground internet is cool. We need free and open tools more than ever. The world is possibly the most fucked up it’s been in many years but also maybe that’s an illusion. I’m the last person you should ask about reality tbh.
Anyway, that’s it for today. This probably reads like a confused mess and a nightmare for anyone who digs grammar but that’s cool, I’m writing without using AI or a filter, it’s not a work email. I’m typing as the words appear in my head, this is who I am.
I’m a normie…