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Bluelighter
Opiate landscape #2002
"There's a party in my mind...and I hope it never stops/I'm stuck here in this seat...I might not stand up/Other people can go home...Everybody else will split/I'll be here all the time...I can never quit"--Talking Heads, "Memories Can't Wait," 1979
In my bed, I am lying face down as I am brought back to consciousness, before my eyes open the thoughts of heroin permeate my being, Cartoon syringes are dancing the waltz the muted background music, Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. As the tempo slows the syringes tire from galavanting across the dance floor the record changes on the Wulitzer jukebox the characterized needles change there dance as Anarchy in the UK pours into the sound system of my head. Semi-conscious, I am carried back into time to the annual family trip to see the Christmas production of the Nutcracker, soft velvety seats, warm woolen overcoats, rainbow colored candy canes. 'POOF, BAM, DREAMTIME OVER'. I filp onto my back, force my body to its feet, and reach out and grab my brain by its invisible cord. I tug it back from its swirling in a cloud of unconscious imagery bordered by tall evergreen trees and guide it into its awoken position. I hesitate for a brief moment and am tempted to lay back down and let my imagination continue to roll out and present itself, but I disgress and shuffle to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, I start to piss as my vision is drawn to a fashion magazine laying on the floor, Gritty black and white... Skinny waify girls... Caught and captured in a fleeting glance. I curse when my piss stream trails off onto the seat.
In the Kitchen, my roommate has obviously been on another all-night painting frenzy as the room is littered with brushes, paint tubes, crumbled napkins, and the distinct smell of paint thinner. Out of the corner of my eye I spy a lone amber bottle sitting next to the pepper grinder. Adderall 20mg tabs, I take out two and open the pantry door and walk up the old wooden stairs, creaking underfoot.
On the roof, I am met with a harsh sunshine that blinds me temporarily. The heat feels good on my arms and chest but not as nice on the soles of my feet. I hop-step my way onto the tiled center and plop down into a chair. The city scape is sprawled out across my vision, water towers (http://www.fno.org/exhibits/WT/nd.html) and pigeons filling in the empty spaces. Empty green beer bottles litter the rooftop and the mid-summer heat is burning up the various plants, all except my baby girl. A nice 4 foot Northern Lights #5, I have planted in a 55-gallon plastic drum cut in half, its doing nicely and remind myself to water her. I scan the windows of the building across the street hoping to catch my daily sneak-peek of one of my curvey neighbors getting out of the shower.
In my room, I pull out my last remaining bag of heroin out of my cedar lined treasure chest, I crack open a fresh bottle of water and fill the needle. I rip the glassine bag open and dump the dope into my spoon. The flakes of dope fall and gently pile up on the metal spoon reminding me of fresh white snow falling on the Vermont country side either that or a snow -globe depicting a ramshackle, dilapidated city scene. I shake my head and bring my thoughts back into the moment. Sliding into a vein the thought of spying neighbors enter my head. I fall back onto my bed in accompanied by a gentle 'whooshing' sound. Closing my eyes I am in a lack of better words, comfortably numb. big-wheels and tinker-toys float thru my thoughts as does Samantha, the first girl I ever kissed. The images of her seem as if it was just yesterday. I wonder what ever happened to Samantha, clad in her overalls and pig-tails. I lost contact with her long, long ago but I still wonder about her. A handful of years back a friend was in rehab in Chicago and the strangest thing happened. Somehow he brought up my name and she remembered my name from from 20 years ago, he gave her my number and she called. unfortunately I was out when she did (probably scoring dope ironically). She left a brief message about how we should hang out one night when she got out of rehab but neglected to leave a number to contact her. Thats the last I have heard of her and I hope she didn't end up a statistic in the insane war on drugs. Dazed with memories I crawl out on the fire-escape.
On the fire escape and stare blindly into the never ending parade of foot soldiers on the streets below. Cleaning out my syringe and spray the streets with fresh water. A red double-decker tour bus slowly makes its way down Bleacker Street. Its open top deck is filled with tourists snapping random pictures, the tour guide is announcing landmarks and historical tidbits. I try to shoot one of the travelers with a stream of water to no avail. I hear my name being called out and scan the people on the street only to see Julie waving both arms madly in the air yelling my name from 3 stories down. I wave back. I wonder what she could want, it couldn't possibly be that she wants me to help her score some dope on this beautiful morning.
In the hallway I hold down the buzzer until Jules grips the doorknob and enters, I crack the open the door and listen to her make her way up the three flights of stairs.
In my bed, In the bathroom, In the Kitchen, On the roof, In my room, On the fire escape, In the hallway, In my head
finish later.
"There's a party in my mind...and I hope it never stops/I'm stuck here in this seat...I might not stand up/Other people can go home...Everybody else will split/I'll be here all the time...I can never quit"--Talking Heads, "Memories Can't Wait," 1979
In my bed, I am lying face down as I am brought back to consciousness, before my eyes open the thoughts of heroin permeate my being, Cartoon syringes are dancing the waltz the muted background music, Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. As the tempo slows the syringes tire from galavanting across the dance floor the record changes on the Wulitzer jukebox the characterized needles change there dance as Anarchy in the UK pours into the sound system of my head. Semi-conscious, I am carried back into time to the annual family trip to see the Christmas production of the Nutcracker, soft velvety seats, warm woolen overcoats, rainbow colored candy canes. 'POOF, BAM, DREAMTIME OVER'. I filp onto my back, force my body to its feet, and reach out and grab my brain by its invisible cord. I tug it back from its swirling in a cloud of unconscious imagery bordered by tall evergreen trees and guide it into its awoken position. I hesitate for a brief moment and am tempted to lay back down and let my imagination continue to roll out and present itself, but I disgress and shuffle to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, I start to piss as my vision is drawn to a fashion magazine laying on the floor, Gritty black and white... Skinny waify girls... Caught and captured in a fleeting glance. I curse when my piss stream trails off onto the seat.
In the Kitchen, my roommate has obviously been on another all-night painting frenzy as the room is littered with brushes, paint tubes, crumbled napkins, and the distinct smell of paint thinner. Out of the corner of my eye I spy a lone amber bottle sitting next to the pepper grinder. Adderall 20mg tabs, I take out two and open the pantry door and walk up the old wooden stairs, creaking underfoot.
On the roof, I am met with a harsh sunshine that blinds me temporarily. The heat feels good on my arms and chest but not as nice on the soles of my feet. I hop-step my way onto the tiled center and plop down into a chair. The city scape is sprawled out across my vision, water towers (http://www.fno.org/exhibits/WT/nd.html) and pigeons filling in the empty spaces. Empty green beer bottles litter the rooftop and the mid-summer heat is burning up the various plants, all except my baby girl. A nice 4 foot Northern Lights #5, I have planted in a 55-gallon plastic drum cut in half, its doing nicely and remind myself to water her. I scan the windows of the building across the street hoping to catch my daily sneak-peek of one of my curvey neighbors getting out of the shower.
In my room, I pull out my last remaining bag of heroin out of my cedar lined treasure chest, I crack open a fresh bottle of water and fill the needle. I rip the glassine bag open and dump the dope into my spoon. The flakes of dope fall and gently pile up on the metal spoon reminding me of fresh white snow falling on the Vermont country side either that or a snow -globe depicting a ramshackle, dilapidated city scene. I shake my head and bring my thoughts back into the moment. Sliding into a vein the thought of spying neighbors enter my head. I fall back onto my bed in accompanied by a gentle 'whooshing' sound. Closing my eyes I am in a lack of better words, comfortably numb. big-wheels and tinker-toys float thru my thoughts as does Samantha, the first girl I ever kissed. The images of her seem as if it was just yesterday. I wonder what ever happened to Samantha, clad in her overalls and pig-tails. I lost contact with her long, long ago but I still wonder about her. A handful of years back a friend was in rehab in Chicago and the strangest thing happened. Somehow he brought up my name and she remembered my name from from 20 years ago, he gave her my number and she called. unfortunately I was out when she did (probably scoring dope ironically). She left a brief message about how we should hang out one night when she got out of rehab but neglected to leave a number to contact her. Thats the last I have heard of her and I hope she didn't end up a statistic in the insane war on drugs. Dazed with memories I crawl out on the fire-escape.
On the fire escape and stare blindly into the never ending parade of foot soldiers on the streets below. Cleaning out my syringe and spray the streets with fresh water. A red double-decker tour bus slowly makes its way down Bleacker Street. Its open top deck is filled with tourists snapping random pictures, the tour guide is announcing landmarks and historical tidbits. I try to shoot one of the travelers with a stream of water to no avail. I hear my name being called out and scan the people on the street only to see Julie waving both arms madly in the air yelling my name from 3 stories down. I wave back. I wonder what she could want, it couldn't possibly be that she wants me to help her score some dope on this beautiful morning.
In the hallway I hold down the buzzer until Jules grips the doorknob and enters, I crack the open the door and listen to her make her way up the three flights of stairs.
In my bed, In the bathroom, In the Kitchen, On the roof, In my room, On the fire escape, In the hallway, In my head
finish later.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
