All Smashed Up II
I'm doing well-ish these days when it comes to substance abuse to cope with my BPD Depression fucked up traits. Once upon a time I'd get royally smashed up using speed, copious amounts of it, fresh and powerful. That was hell. I actually hated it but it masked off a lot of insanity, face value wise. Speed is grim. Don't touch that poison. When my teeth became loose in skull I knew it was time to knock that on the head. The parties though at postman prats place were off the scale. Absolute lunacy. Insanely rock and roll. Especially when we rolled out and about in Paul's big rover of our tits. How we are still alive today is anyone's guess.
This random illustration is a vague memory of a fleeting moment of one of those parties watching on from a corner completely of my nut. I'll add to this post entry as I draw more hectic bad memories.
These days, after numerous phases of debauched hedonism, long story short, booze is my only vice. That can still be a problem from time to time. I'll get into that soon with another illustration.