Right now, trying to think of something to write about is making me feel like a junkie tapping himself in various places trying to find a usable vein.

Dammit, there has to one tiny bit of vein that hasn’t collapsed!

Maybe if I inject it into my eye….

Here’s something I don’t get about heroin addiction.

Not the addiction itself – addiction has always made perfect sense to me. For some of us, life really fucking hurts, and we will therefore lunge for anything that can make that hurt go away for a while like a starving dog lunging for a steak.

I’m an addict like every other depressive. The only difference between me and a junkie is that my addiction is video games and it is killing me far, far slower than junk would.

I don’t consider myself superior. Just lucky.

I could easily have become a substance abuser. All it would have taken was the wrong group of friends.

My luck was and is the fact that I don’t know those sorts of people. The kind that party with substances on a regular basis.

I don’t even know anybody who drinks.

Basically, I am not cool enough to become a substance abuser.

No, what I don’t get is why the market hasn’t produced a more convenient form of heroin than a powder you have to cook on a spoon then inject.

At the very least, they could sell it already cooked. Saves a big step of the process and you would think junkies eager for a fix would go for that.

You could even sell it in pre-filled needles for the ultimate in convenience. Just take off the air tight wrapper and inject.

Another idea of mine – substance abuse clinics. Not clinics to get you off your addictions of choice, rather ones that support it in a medically supervised and controlled environment. Monitored dosages of guaranteed purity, immediate medical intervention in case of complications, safe comfortable clean rooms in which to trip, the whole nine yards. It would be the ultimate safe injection site.

But it would have to operate deep underground because society is too addicted to morally shitting on addicts to allow such a thing to operate in public, even if it was a totally private business with no government funding whatsoever.

Society is so two faced about addiction. Out of one side of its mouth it nod solemnly when it say alcoholism is a disease, not a moral failing, but out of the other side it condemns all the other, less respectable addictions.

And why? Because addicts are low status, and thus, safe targets. Nobody is going to publicly stick up for their rights so everyone is free to use them like a toddler on a sugar bender treats a pinata that looks like its bogeyman.

Kind of like pedophiles, really.

The kicker is that all the abuse of addicts by society and the legal system is supposed to be for their benefit.

Because, you know, addictions ruin lives and so we must punish it because something something death penalty for crackheads.

What a load of crap. Nobody even pretends that the war on drugs saves lives any more. It’s just another way to kick people when they are down.

It’s the same old story. Keep people down and justify it by how down there are. Typical.

I’d legalize everything, myself. Prohibition doesn’t work. Demand creates supply. Against that basic force of capitalism, government is helpless.

Legalize, regulate, and tax it all, just like with liquor.

But first, we will have to give up our hate.

More after the break.

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How now. hausfrau?

You know, on a deep level, I’d really like to be a housewife.

Not a house-husband, although that would also be awesome. A housewife.

Frumpy dress, apron, soap operas, the whole nine yards. Maintaining a household for the man I love. Cooking and cleaning and doing every last little thing to make it a warm and pleasant place for him. Greeting him with his robe, pipe, and slippers when he comes home after a long day at work. Listening attentively and intelligently and above all sympathetically as he tells me about his day. Tucking him in at night and sleeping next to him, adoring him. Being the best darn homemaker I could be because I love him and want him to be happy.

That all sounds simply marvelous to me. But why?

For one thing, it would resolve the conflict between my sex (male) and my gender (fluid). I have always had strong “female” feelings of compassion, nurturing, and effusiveness that simply do not fit with my internalized gender expression rules.

Hence my referring to myself as a “maternal male”. It’s not a very precise term but it’s the best I have come up with so far.

Note that I don’t in any sense feel like a woman trapped in a man’s body. The conflict is not physical at all. I am perfectly happy to be biologically male.

No, it’s a gender role issue.

Makes me wonder if being socially transgendered is a thing.

And I know that there is technically no reason why I can’t be nurturing and emotionally effusive and all that while presenting as male.

All I can say to that is that I have absolutely no solid role models for that. Just tiny scraps of pop culture like Nathan Lane’s character in The Birdhouse (“He’s so maternal he’s practically a nipple!”) and the way Felix’s poker buddies try to keep him from committing suicide at the beginning of The Odd Couple.

So I don’t know how to be a man like that. Role models are important.

But deep down, I know the real appeal of being a housewife – it would be a great way to retreat from reality and having to be an adult.

No big issues to think about. No massive decisions to make. My world is as small as my household and everything else I leave up to my husband.

Sounds like a lovely place to visit but I doubt I could live there. Sooner or later, my greater mind would awaken and demand to know what’s really going on.

Might be nice for a while, though.

And who knows, for the right man, I might be able to make a real go of it.

I can always be a grownup online while he’s at work,

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.