On the bus ride home from work, various pictures of my life flashed inside my mind like they always do. Flash. One year ago today walkin to the bus stop after getting off work. It was hot and humid as all hell. Hotter than it has ever been in my neck of the woods in So. Cali. It was 107 degrees that day and I felt doubly shitty cause I always did Sats and Suns a year ago. Thursday night was the last day of the week I could shoot up and still test clean when Monday rolled around for Prop class. Consequently, I felt fine Thurs and Fri of my work week, but Sat and Sun shifts were a major drag, a form of slow, tedius, apathetic torture. Lord why couldn't I just use all the time? Why won't the fucking law leave me alone?
Flash. I was 26 years old and had a fallout with Tami, my long time best friend of 13 years. I'd finally had enough of being hurt by her, but at the time lacked the life skills of being able to open my mouth and set boundaries and make clear to others where I stood. Our friendship ended for good and where did that memory come from?
Flash. I was 7 years old and living in my old neighborshood all excited about my 8th birthday coming up. My folks were gonna throw a birthday bash for me at Farrell's ice cream parlor and I walked over to Becky Peterson's house, my friend and neighbor that lived directly across and diagonally from me. Mrs. Peterson answered the door and she smiled. Handing her the invitation to the party, I said, "Will you please give this to Becky?" "Sure I will," she said as she took it and smiled at me.
Flash. Erik and I are sitting in my old apartment high on mushrooms and meth. I made a phone call to the guy he said had been a real asshole to him while he worked at this dude's house as a house boy. I called the dude from my PC, not sure exactly what I was gonna say, but knew there was no way for him to trace a call that came from a computer. The phone rang. A man's voice answered. "Hello Bill?," I said. "Yeah." "Sir you're a real jerk and you owe me money for plane fare buddy." "Who is this?" "You know who this is Mr. Man, pay up." "Lady I don't owe you a damn thing." Click. A roar of laughter came from Erik and I cause we were all fucked up. I then clicked in the home phone number of John Kirby a guy that was a 2 faced liar that pissed me off cause he had accused me of stealing methadone from the clinic I had worked at and gave that as an excuse to fire me. Truth be told I can honestly say I never once touched a drop of the shit the entire time I worked there. I came in high on speed though too many times and the guy being an ex speed freak had to of known. The phone was ringing and Erik was still tweekin and shroomin hard as fuck making funny ass noises a few seconds before even realizing that John had picked up the phone. It was all I could do to keep from losin it big time. Picturing John's puzzled look on his face I had found amuzing.
"Hi John?," Erik had said. "Yes?" "Hey why were you such a dick?" "Who is this? Who are you?" "Fuck you," said Erik then started laughing halfway through his insult. Click. More uncontrollable laughter from the two of us speedin and shroomin HARD with Marily Manson clamouring in the background, "We're all stars in the dope show! We're all stars...."
Flash. Standing in front of the Judge, in custody behind the cage with other female inmates. I hear the name "Aimee Thomas" being called by the balif. Whoa trip out! I looked over and saw her sitting there in a wheel chair. She was there for a parole violation. I was in jail for probation violation. Talking or communicating in any way to inmates from the free world in court is a major bust which could get both the inmate in deep trouble as well as putting the free person's freedom in jepardy if they were there for parole or probation violation, which she was. I held my gaze and she looked up at me. Both of us exchanged mutual nods of recognition, but that was all we could do. I wondered if I was gonna be stuck serving 270 days in that fuckin hell hole and the way the DA and the Judge were talking, my chances of getting out any time soon were lookin slim to none.
Flash. I was 18 years old at Steve's house, the very first man I fell in love with and on again off again boyfriend of almost 4 years at the time. I had left my 2 hamsters with him to hang out. Steve had left a note for me in his bedroom that he enjoyed the hamsters and to leave them another night if I wanted. I had done as he'd asked wanting to please him and went on my way knowing I'd probably see him the next night.
Flash. I was homeless, living in my car one day, Dave's garage another night, out tweekin and up all night goin from place to place, then sometimes back to Dave's spare room and seeing the endless parade of various ugly ass fat broads Dave met off the internet to fuck. Most of them were butt ugly, but he was having fun I assumed. Or was he?
Flash. 18 months ago remembering one of my many Mon, Tues, Wed nights shootin dope, my green light days to do so, off work and able to do my shit and still pass the drug test by stopping Thurs. Erik had mailed me some lovely white smack and I had mixed it with the meth doin a speedball, but what he refers to as a fireball. The rush was fantabulous. I felt the mad rush of the meth which felt like being behind the wheel of a high performance Ferrari goin from 0-60 mph in 5 seconds, while simaltaneously feeling the soft, warm, but intense glow of the heroin combined. Picture being behind the wheel of the Ferrari, feeling the engine accelerate, moving fast only going nowhere because the heroin was the cruise control, first one, then the other, but both at the same time, yet feeling them, appreciating the highs of both separate and together at my whim. Ohhhh fuuuuuckkkkkk.
Flash. The present. Getting off the bus, thanking the bus driver. "You're welcome. Have a nice day," he says and I start the treck up hill to walk home. Clean now. Clean and sober for 7 months. Pictures of my life changing. My mind tuning into various pictures at random. The present. Thinking I wanna get better. I wanna change the destructive traits about myself that have caused me so much pain my entire life. Am workin on it. Am gettin there.
Flash. I was 26 years old and had a fallout with Tami, my long time best friend of 13 years. I'd finally had enough of being hurt by her, but at the time lacked the life skills of being able to open my mouth and set boundaries and make clear to others where I stood. Our friendship ended for good and where did that memory come from?
Flash. I was 7 years old and living in my old neighborshood all excited about my 8th birthday coming up. My folks were gonna throw a birthday bash for me at Farrell's ice cream parlor and I walked over to Becky Peterson's house, my friend and neighbor that lived directly across and diagonally from me. Mrs. Peterson answered the door and she smiled. Handing her the invitation to the party, I said, "Will you please give this to Becky?" "Sure I will," she said as she took it and smiled at me.
Flash. Erik and I are sitting in my old apartment high on mushrooms and meth. I made a phone call to the guy he said had been a real asshole to him while he worked at this dude's house as a house boy. I called the dude from my PC, not sure exactly what I was gonna say, but knew there was no way for him to trace a call that came from a computer. The phone rang. A man's voice answered. "Hello Bill?," I said. "Yeah." "Sir you're a real jerk and you owe me money for plane fare buddy." "Who is this?" "You know who this is Mr. Man, pay up." "Lady I don't owe you a damn thing." Click. A roar of laughter came from Erik and I cause we were all fucked up. I then clicked in the home phone number of John Kirby a guy that was a 2 faced liar that pissed me off cause he had accused me of stealing methadone from the clinic I had worked at and gave that as an excuse to fire me. Truth be told I can honestly say I never once touched a drop of the shit the entire time I worked there. I came in high on speed though too many times and the guy being an ex speed freak had to of known. The phone was ringing and Erik was still tweekin and shroomin hard as fuck making funny ass noises a few seconds before even realizing that John had picked up the phone. It was all I could do to keep from losin it big time. Picturing John's puzzled look on his face I had found amuzing.
"Hi John?," Erik had said. "Yes?" "Hey why were you such a dick?" "Who is this? Who are you?" "Fuck you," said Erik then started laughing halfway through his insult. Click. More uncontrollable laughter from the two of us speedin and shroomin HARD with Marily Manson clamouring in the background, "We're all stars in the dope show! We're all stars...."
Flash. Standing in front of the Judge, in custody behind the cage with other female inmates. I hear the name "Aimee Thomas" being called by the balif. Whoa trip out! I looked over and saw her sitting there in a wheel chair. She was there for a parole violation. I was in jail for probation violation. Talking or communicating in any way to inmates from the free world in court is a major bust which could get both the inmate in deep trouble as well as putting the free person's freedom in jepardy if they were there for parole or probation violation, which she was. I held my gaze and she looked up at me. Both of us exchanged mutual nods of recognition, but that was all we could do. I wondered if I was gonna be stuck serving 270 days in that fuckin hell hole and the way the DA and the Judge were talking, my chances of getting out any time soon were lookin slim to none.
Flash. I was 18 years old at Steve's house, the very first man I fell in love with and on again off again boyfriend of almost 4 years at the time. I had left my 2 hamsters with him to hang out. Steve had left a note for me in his bedroom that he enjoyed the hamsters and to leave them another night if I wanted. I had done as he'd asked wanting to please him and went on my way knowing I'd probably see him the next night.
Flash. I was homeless, living in my car one day, Dave's garage another night, out tweekin and up all night goin from place to place, then sometimes back to Dave's spare room and seeing the endless parade of various ugly ass fat broads Dave met off the internet to fuck. Most of them were butt ugly, but he was having fun I assumed. Or was he?
Flash. 18 months ago remembering one of my many Mon, Tues, Wed nights shootin dope, my green light days to do so, off work and able to do my shit and still pass the drug test by stopping Thurs. Erik had mailed me some lovely white smack and I had mixed it with the meth doin a speedball, but what he refers to as a fireball. The rush was fantabulous. I felt the mad rush of the meth which felt like being behind the wheel of a high performance Ferrari goin from 0-60 mph in 5 seconds, while simaltaneously feeling the soft, warm, but intense glow of the heroin combined. Picture being behind the wheel of the Ferrari, feeling the engine accelerate, moving fast only going nowhere because the heroin was the cruise control, first one, then the other, but both at the same time, yet feeling them, appreciating the highs of both separate and together at my whim. Ohhhh fuuuuuckkkkkk.
Flash. The present. Getting off the bus, thanking the bus driver. "You're welcome. Have a nice day," he says and I start the treck up hill to walk home. Clean now. Clean and sober for 7 months. Pictures of my life changing. My mind tuning into various pictures at random. The present. Thinking I wanna get better. I wanna change the destructive traits about myself that have caused me so much pain my entire life. Am workin on it. Am gettin there.
