Showing posts from October, 2014

The Rock Star

The room is completely dark with the exception of the red ember illuminating a sweaty face. I don't have my glasses on so it is impossible to see much farther than my nose. I had gone to "sleep" a few hours or a few days ago. It is hard to tell. Have you every had that feeling when you wake up and you are not sure exactly where you are or what the fuck happened? Yeah that was me. Wait a minute. I have something in my mouth. What the fucking fuck. I fell asleep eating something- something sweet. I continue chewing this paste in my mouth. I feel the sugary paste on the corners of my mouth I must have been drooling as well.  I try to lean up when I notice my arm has gone completely numb. I must have "slept" on it the wrong way. There is no light in here. Someone has covered the only window with cardboard. The room smells like sulfur, butane, and the faint smell of ass. That old fart smell. I know There is a light around here somewhere if I could only wake my arm

The slings and arrows

The fog has slowly rolled in over the city. I can hear the sounds of the garbage trucks getting started on their route. I can hear the chimes of the recycled bottles getting places gingerly in shopping carts as the all night recyclers attempt to beat the clock. In a few moments, their free money will be sailing off to the city dump. There is a method to their madness. Sorting through their smelly routes of dumpsters and cans they can get up to $50 for three to four hours of intense scrounging.  I feel slightly guilty when I see the older Asian ladies searching. I have put everything from piss to bloody hits I have missed to uncapped syringes in those bottles. I hate to think of myself as catalyst of a new disease. I knew a mother that died that way. She got the Hep C after being stuck by one of her son's needles. He swore he was clean. As she made his bed, she felt the truth sticking her deep into her finger. I wondered what he thought as he stood there at her bedside thirty year

There was that time I almost lost my leg

There are many types of users. There are "chippers". These are the junkie unicorns of users. These are people who can use occasionally. To me, any day was an occasion. How someone can take an Oxy or shoot some dope here and there is beyond my comprehension. Yet i hear that people do it. Personally, my drug of choice was more.  There are pain patients.  After having three surgeries, I have a soft spot in my heart for them. I needed that pain medicine- needed it. I would be lying if I said it didn't feel good in the process. It would have been so easy to take that extra pill. And pain profoundly impacts your life. It is hard to participate in the world when you have trouble sitting in the chair. Pain patients- I salute you. You are like the food addict. You need something to live that may be killing you at the same time.  There are the new users. They provide middlemen, older junkies, and dealers a constant stream of income. All that over charging and overdosing. It is almo

The Heating Pad

When I was a teenager, I remember sitting on the sofa starting blankly at the TV while my mother vaguely attempted to educate me on the ways of the world. She would have her heating pad on her back after a hard day at work. She carried most of the parenting burden as my father was either traveling for work or drunk or both. I would to lose myself in Star Trek the Next Generation, imagine myself being magically transported past the boundaries of West Chester Ohio. I had very few friends and an emotional unstable boyfriend, a perfect storm of self pity  I could not wait for the weekend so I could get out of the house.  Around 7:30, my vegetative meditation would be broken by the sound of a car in the driveway. I could feel a chill go up my spine. I held my breath with anxious anticipation as my father turned the door knob. I never needed to look up from the tv but I could tell within three steps if he was drunk. In fact, I already knew he had been drinking today. I saw him at the bar o

90 day wonder

"Hey Tracey I have 90 days clean " he says.  I see the glow has returned in his eyes. He has that look, that swagger. That pep in his step like fuck yeah my dick works AND I can take a shit every fucking day. Feel me?  I haven't seen him in awhile. I assumed he was in jail. When people come around after rehab, they have this bloated look on their face. Like a fucking chipmunk storing up for a relapse. Their food reserves hang off their cheeks.  The first week after getting off dope is spent masterbating, showering, and marveling that a needle is no longer hanging out of your arm. The first month is depression alternating with boredom. Suddenly you are sober to realize OH GOD I FUCKED UP MY LIFE. There are parents to deal with, bills to pay. If you duck off to treatment, these will be waiting for you when you come home. It is amazing how fast collection agents get your new addy. By the second month, the connection is no longer on speed dial. Fuck, they may start calling yo

What Deserves My Attention

I took some time off work this week to finish my book proposal. There was a time when getting a book published was my only dream. I remember bringing a sample of my work to the English Department of the University I was attending when I first started using drugs. The professor was nice enough to humor me by reading it but I could tell he was put off by the content. He referred me to another colleague and I never pursued it.  I had more important things to do. My work at the time was filled with near pornographic material on my love for opiates. I loved the burn of the needle, I dreamed about when heroin and I would be together again. Drugs were my sex, my romance, my joy in one place. I never had to look beyond the plastic bag or bottles of pills. As I licked the blood of my hands, it was as if I was embracing life when that needle came out of my skin. My foreplay consisted of two hours of waiting for a dealer. I was in that phase when heroin WAS love and we were happy.  And then the y