Just got back from a mini vacation. My recovery anniversary is next week. This always puts me in a strange mood. I was grateful to get away with my family. Here are a few pictures.
I want to get this in one place. Here you go When was the film made? The film was made from Dec 1995 to Dec 1997. Originally the film was supposed to be for one year but I believe when HBO picked up the film they wanted two years. How were you picked for the film? Steven met a bunch of different people at the youth needle exchange. He wanted subjects that were slightly younger than me. He filmed a few other people that never made it into the final film Were you paid for the film? No. I was not paid for the film. he bought me a hotel to stay in for a week and bought me lunch a few times. I think they left some money for me when I was in jail too. Documentary film makers, in general, don't pay their subjects. Was I friends with the other people from the film ? Sort of. I never knew Alice. I met Oreo when he was 15 or 16. He was VERY young when the film was made. His mom used to work the desk in one of the hotels I lived in. Jake and I used to hang out. At one point he had
Being able to fall apart is a luxury many people don’t have. They carry their burdens until it breaks them. Miss Jamie was one of the most aesthetically pleasing women I had ever seen in my life. She simply glowed. When she entered a room, everyone had to stop to pay attention. She took that space over. Her smile was radiant. Her energy was infectious. She was a fireball of a human. Her petite frame was always draped with carefully selected skirts, dresses, and form fitting sweaters. She paired this with her signature plum lipstick and acrylics. She always came late in the day, usually when I had the lowest energy. Yet, I never refused her entrance. I was happy to see her. Happy to listen to her while she held court in my desk area. On this day, Jamie was wheeled into the clinic by a person I had never seen before. Instead of scrubs, he looked as if he had woken up on the streets. He looked left like a caretaker, more like a person in need of our services. Our patients i
"Hand me the alcohol wipes" I reach over the bed " this is finally starting to drain" He hand me two packets of alcohol pads. "Damn Tracey. How many fucking times are you going to do this to yourself?" That question rang in my mind for a month to come. I had been performing surgery on myself. I was laying on the bed of our hotel room. We had hustled all day to get the $35 we needed to stay here tonight plus money for dope. Soon, we will have to do the whole thing all over again. For now, I needed a place where I could take off my pants. I needed to lance this abscess to get the pressure off. It wasn't getting all that red or hard but it hurt to walk. I knew the signs. I knew when to go to the doctor. I had been there many times before. The clinic would slice me open and send me on my way with some sterile water and gauze to pack my wounds. I was quite the amateur doctor, at least in my mind. I had taken a new syringe and stuck in the middle of
What were you feeding the goats Tracey, hairy walnuts ??
ReplyDeleteYou should try some of my cream of walnut soup. IT'S DEEELISHHH
ReplyDeleteI had walnut pie there. Carmel and walnuts. Better than soup, less complications.
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