Blu and yellow make green. ZiploK that shit up

[blahblahblah]

Another day in disaster...

Awoken to the phone ringing non-stop at 8am, I refuse to answer it. Instead I sit up in bed and stare at my bottles of scripted pills. I think to myself should I be good today and take my meds. The fleeting thought escapes me as I reach on my nightstand and grab my needle and a measly 1/2 bag I saved for this moment. Injected, I stare out the window and surprisingly see a blackbird pearched high in the treetops watching me. I know he is disgusted with me I am disgusted with myself.

I make a phone call with a freshly cracked Old Style foaming over in my hand, I have a urge to listen to a Dido song "white flag" I dont know why, I dont even like her much, but what the fuck the volume cranks loud.

I need a shower but naww not today, I am waiting passing time before catching the 2:05 train to Chicago. Crisp 100 dollar bills in my pocket. I think to myself that I will just score dope maybee some crack. I will get spun out drink a chocalte milk in my favorite coffee shop (whipped cream of course). Than I think I will just ride Chicagos mass transit train system nicknamed "The L" because it is an elevated train system. I know my subconscious will be elevated, opiated, and just plain numb. I have been thinking about writing a short collection of conversations that I have when riding the L, as I run into the strangest people. Its hard to imagine the amount of junkies that ride the train smack into uptown trouble as I always run into them. Do they find me or do I find them? Just the other day I had 2 19 year old girls walk with me to go score, they only had a measly 20 bux so I felt bad and gave them each a free bag of heroin. I kinda enjoyed the packaging of the dope that day, the heroin came in mini blu ziploK bags with florecent yellow tape wrapped around them to prevent tampering. For some reason I was reminded of space and neon time travel shit, but I digress.

I need to get a mini tape recorder to tape the coversations I have. Certainly the ones I have with homeless bums with all there possesions held in a dufflebag near there feet. In between rushed hits of crack, I expound on mindless rambling, carefull to pray for them. Most often 3 Hail Mary's follwoed by a short prayer of direction. I am torn by my actions I continuously abuse and purposely wreck my physical body and emotional state, but yet I enjoy it. I than am always silently reciting prayers and oddly enough I hate to admit it but I often get the feeling that I have been choosen for some thing great. Wasting away>> Trip away.//? Pins in the Zen.?

Maybee I will pick up some girl and she will take me in and care for my opiated addicted body. Destruction, littered alleys, broken glass, why am I drawn to the sketched out parts of big cities? Why for the past 12 years have I felt the overwelming urge to pump my veins fulla dope? Why to I care for nobody that is close to me but yet I have a huge amount of compasion for others I see on the street that are less fortunite (sp?) [maybee I should write literate].

Didos song has played about 3 times as I sit here and write, its is 12:45 and I will be on my way soon. Wish me luck and keep those evil blue men with the silver badge out of my hair, and wish me hope that I run into a savior disgusied as a homeless baglady. As insanity breeds true selflessness and I just dont know what I am babbling about but I must get dressed and finish this beer.

Ill report on my misadventures later this evening if I feel like it or if I get sidetracked into something that will hold my attention Ill post a finsih up later.

Fryday 12:48 pm, Dopesick scales: 1

 

[phactor]

Cool story... yeah I've certainly meet some interesting people on the L. Its always such a trip esp. on Friday and Saturday nights, the mix of people is crazy, its awesome for "people watching".

 

[blahblahblah]

I kinda remember the outcome of that day...

I went and cop’d in the usual spot I was copping at during that time frame. I got off the train in the windwhiped, freezing-cold Chicago weather pulled my winter hat down tight, zipped up my hood and tied it tight. I than stashed my 2 needles behind a payphone and with my heartbeat elevated continued my short 3 block walk to the dope spot. I rounded the corner and picked up a pack and a few rocks, with a quickness I speedwalked back to my point of origin. Gragging my needle I scan the broken concrete for a empty soda can. Score, a diet Dr. Pibbs. I twist the can back-and-forth eventually freeing the bottom portion of the can which I will use as a cooker, I toss the rest of the ripped-up can to the street. Jaywalking across the greenlight I dodge a few cars and pull open the door to Popeye’s Chicken.



I ask to use the bathroom, they buzz me in [bathrooms are a prize near dopespots and most establishments often keep them guarded. Once I am in the bathroom I strip off the top half of my winter clothes and throw them to the floor. I turn the old faucet on and collect some water. I sit on the toliet and unfold a foil wrap, quietly gauging the size compared to yesterday, or the day before. I dump the off-white snowflakes into my cooker and soak with water. My hands are shakey and I am getting nervous awaiting my shot. Flicking the battered lighter I add some heat to the mixture to get it dissolved completely, I go to add a piece of cotton and realize I dont have one. FUCK! Motherfucking goddamn shit, no q-tips, not cig butts, I have to settle for toliet paper. I rip a tiny square off and ball it up and throw it in the liquid. As usual the paper doesnt hold its shape and I am lucky this dope is pretty clean and sucks up effortlessly. Using the string from my hood I tie my arm off, my tracked up arm looks like somebody was trying to mine it for gold. Plunging back and forth I hit a vein, a rose shaped explosion of blood seaps into my needle assuring me that I register as I push the plunger home. I quickly whip the needle out and rinse it a few times, the rush hits me deep in my chest making it hard to breath, slowly its curses thru all my veins. I collapse back on the toliet and close my eyes trying to enjoy the fleeting few seconds of bliss that I live for. I feel so happy I could laugh, so sad I could cry. My pin-prick pupils return to there normal size as I tidy up my gear and stash my packet of dope deep with-in my coat. I wash my hands and look in the mirror, quickly adverting my glance to my feet.



Feeling like a new person I exit the bathroom and walk up to the take-out counter of the fast food joint. I ask the young black girl for a piece of tinfoil, she hands it over eyeing my curiously. I sit down at one of the plastic and laminate tables and roll up a rudementary foil pipe. Standing outside the resteraunt is a crowd full of people waiting for the next bus to pull up, I eye the people carefully looking for the right person. I ask for a smoke and am handed a Kool 100, fine with me I think as I light it up. I puff the cig like a mad man and collect the ash into my foil pipe. Halfway thru the smoke I extinguish it with my fingers and quickly check my surrounds, Nobody around.



I rip the plastic top of my first rock bag and drop a nice size chunck onto of the ashes, a flick of the lighter and the rock melts into the ash. I walk towards the El station but stop short in the underpass of the tracks. Trash swirls in the wind, I walk towards the side and crouch down and hide myself beneith my hood. After a few flicks of the lighter I hold my own against the cold chicago wind. The heat makes a sizzling noise as I inhale the rock in huge gulps of smoke, once I get a good hit I start walking and exhale leaving a rancid trail of smoke from my mouth. The rush tingles every cell in my body, vibrating, its sounds as if a school bell is going off in my head as I lean up against the wall for balance. Just as soon as I finish exhaling my eyes start to dart around to the pedestrian foot traffic, is that a cop? why is that guy looking at me? fuck I gotta get out of here, the parinoia starts to take hold. I walk up the steps and sit on the bench studying the carved graffiti in the wood. Ahhh, the life of a dopefiend.

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