I sit here, endless evenings passing in the dim glow of my computer monitor.
I go out in the day, do what I must, and will at some point invariably wind up discussing some form of chemical poetry with one colleague or another. But I am hampered - By the small-mindedness of government officials, the secretive seclusion of those 'in the know', hampered because I cannot for the life of me seem to obtain even the most rudimentary of glassware required for organic synthesis. I have been piecing together, for the past six months or so, and have endured losses, breakages by the untrained and foolish, raid scares and authoritarian interference. I still have not even managed to obtain a condenser, RBF, or stirrer.
This, as one might imagine, vexes me. I can tell you, almost to a tee, how to manufacture highly effective amphetamine analogues from over the counter precursors, I can intimitely describe the poetry in watching phases seperate as you titrate a nonpolar straight to base wash of longifolia bark, but SWEET FUCKING GODS ABOVE I simply cannot place my sweaty fucking nitrile wrapped fingers on a goddamn distillation kit.
I'll find away around this. I need to get the ball rolling, get out of this debt-hole I'm sinking into and FUCKING DO SOMETHING WITH MY LIFE.