Reflections on the first time.
When I Look at my kids, I see reflections of the promise that was once there. I really enjoy the clean slate and their fresh perspective on my life. They see me as a totally different person, one without a past, one that is perfect the way I am today. I suppose this was the way I was before all the insecurities and curiosity that turned me to the drugs.
When I get ready for bed at night, I spent alot of time reflecting. Its wasn't THAT long ago i came to SF. The first year that I did IV drugs, I didn't know how to stick a needle in my own arm. It was only when I became frustrated with sharing that I learned. The first time I did heroin, it was a whole ordeal. At the time, no one in Cincinnati I knew could get heroin locally. People would take the long pilgrimage to NYC and return with some overpriced bags of death to distribute to willing victims. The bags would be stamped with names- my particular poison was 666.
We needed to come up with today seems like an enormous amount of money- $120- so all of us could get loaded. The last thing I wanted to do was try it by myself. I wasn't much of a leader, mostly a follower but people had a tendency to follow me around because I could come up with money. I remember going to the ATM and someone had accidentally left their card in there. I withdrew $40- just enough. That was my over all moto with drugs. I did just enough, never taking too much. I was suicidal but I didn't want to die- at least not yet. That would come after many years of addiction.
The first time one of my compatriots overdosed. He grabbed the table in what they call the death grip. After slipping and splashing water- they asked me if I still wanted to go. Of Corpse! Only half for me. I started into my friends eyes- "look at me" he said. The rest was history. For the next 8 years, I was chasing that feeling I felt. The soft around the edges feeling of fuck it all I would never experience the same way again. A part of my life died that day because I never saw the world through anything but a cracked lens. I traded sanity for instant gratification and loved it. My life was unraveling. Off to the Sub galley.
When I get ready for bed at night, I spent alot of time reflecting. Its wasn't THAT long ago i came to SF. The first year that I did IV drugs, I didn't know how to stick a needle in my own arm. It was only when I became frustrated with sharing that I learned. The first time I did heroin, it was a whole ordeal. At the time, no one in Cincinnati I knew could get heroin locally. People would take the long pilgrimage to NYC and return with some overpriced bags of death to distribute to willing victims. The bags would be stamped with names- my particular poison was 666.
We needed to come up with today seems like an enormous amount of money- $120- so all of us could get loaded. The last thing I wanted to do was try it by myself. I wasn't much of a leader, mostly a follower but people had a tendency to follow me around because I could come up with money. I remember going to the ATM and someone had accidentally left their card in there. I withdrew $40- just enough. That was my over all moto with drugs. I did just enough, never taking too much. I was suicidal but I didn't want to die- at least not yet. That would come after many years of addiction.
The first time one of my compatriots overdosed. He grabbed the table in what they call the death grip. After slipping and splashing water- they asked me if I still wanted to go. Of Corpse! Only half for me. I started into my friends eyes- "look at me" he said. The rest was history. For the next 8 years, I was chasing that feeling I felt. The soft around the edges feeling of fuck it all I would never experience the same way again. A part of my life died that day because I never saw the world through anything but a cracked lens. I traded sanity for instant gratification and loved it. My life was unraveling. Off to the Sub galley.
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