Time is free falling backwards and I'm walking through a thick crowd of people at the club and I feel nothing but disgust for anyone blocking my access to the bathroom. I want to burn this place to the ground suddenly. My expression displaying no emotion as I walk calmly with Sara trailing behind me. A moment ago I was gonna get high in the bathroom in back of the dance floor but Sara pointed out the group of security guards right by the door and two girls going in at once might alert them.
Minutes before that and I'm dancing with Stacy and Val and staring at the large flat panel mounted on the wall behind another bar showing random clips of music videos mixed with clips of gay porn as techno vibrates through the club in invisible waves that reverberate over walls whose color is endlessly shifting with the beat of the music. I walk over to Sara who is smirking at some drunk retard who decided to grind on a go-go dancer pole installed close to the bar. Not only is she drunk but she is swiveling her generously proportioned hips out of sync with the music in an attempt to look seductive. What completely seals the deal is the fact that she is wearing a circa 1987 fanny pack which hops up and down her lumpy waste as she mindlessly grinds against the grimy looking pole.
I look at her with an expression that mirrors the same expression I get when I'm driving and start to wonder if I left the stove on.
Sara "She's wearing a fanny-pack. ha ha! Do you see this shit Kristen."
K: "I'm not sure what I'm seeing. I think I'm going into shock."
Sara: "ha ha."
K: "I knew I should have brought my leg-warmers. That's the fucking sexiest thing I've ever seen. I need to use the bathroom (my glance tells Sara I'm going to do drugs and she knows I'm asking if she wants to join me). I'm walking now through drunken college girls and shirtless sweaty gay men and even though I see the security guards it doesn't register until Sara taps my on the shoulder.
And Suddenly I'm standing in front of Brooks house where the birthday party is going on inside. Sara and Val are with me and we start walking toward the club. I suddenly realize we forgot someone.
K: "Where the fuck is Stacy, Val? Where the fuck is that bitch."
Val: "Oh shit. We have to turn around, she probably wondering where we went."
K: (annoyed) "Weren't you the one who asked her to come with us?"
Val: (looking like a guilty little kid) "yeah."
K: "FUCK"
Sara: (laughing) "OK, should we call her cell and tell her to meet us here and well wait for her? (were already halfway to the club when I realize Stacy was left behind.)"
K: "And tell her what? Meet us by the fucking palm tree next to the shitty car parked in front of the abandoned looking crack-house? That really narrows it down. How the hell is she gonna know which palm tree, which shitty car, or which cracked out looking house. Every fucking block looks the same."
Val and Sara are laughing hard at my sudden rage and I take a deep breath. Sara and I just did some lines in Brook's bathroom before we left and it along with the pill under my tongue are all dissolving into to me distilling into a pointing yet undirected anger but also a strange sense of over-confidence which comes across as meanness although I am not in reality angry at anyone or anything except perhaps myself. In fact I'm happy to be here, with my friends. I hate those long weeks spent completely alone and I am grateful to be invited but I cannot suspend my need for drugs. I cannot tell my body and mind to just wait it out, I'm too far gone and there is simply not the option of saying no or delaying the inevitable. I accept the inevitable. The inevitable is programmed into the multiple alarms on my cell phone which tell me when its time to swallow some benzodiazapines before withdrawal sets in and when I'm in the safe zone to dose on more amphetamine so at least I have a general idea of how much I've taken so I avoid overdosing. And discovering Sara tonight has made the inevitable a little more tolerable and her excitement and even her curiousity give me feel a little more alive.
"Nothing would ever change; nothing new could ever be expected. It had to end, and it did. now in the dark world where I dwell, ugly things, and surprising things, and sometimes little wondrous things, spill out at me constantly, and I can count on nothing." - A Scanner Darkly
If this were a movie perhaps now you would watch the as the powder rushes out the bottom of a rolled up dollar and back into little orange lines on a mirrored surface. Perhaps you would see Sara's eyes open in slow motion as she leaned backwards and extended her arm taking the rolled bill from my hands. The camera would pan left as it captured her and I giggling and walking backwards out of the bathroom in slow motion to a perfectly synced soundtrack. Walking backwards through the house with technicolor tones, the house full of friends.And the camera would swing overhead and then pull out wide before zooming in to the couch we were sitting on. And now my eyes blink in slow motion as my mouth forms words unheard by the audience as I smile and lean in to tell Sara something. We have been sitting her talking for hours. She is asking me so many questions I start calling her the inquisitor. It makes me very nervous until she tells me something that changes everything. And shortly after she is watching left as I watch right to avoid discovery and in unison our heads tilt back and we both swallow a dose of slow death pulled from my purse. I open up more to her and she stops interrogating me (at least for a few minutes).
It's hours earlier now and she is firing questions at me in rapid succession about how I know that person or how I got to do work for this company or how I learned to do what I do. I decide she must be a recruiter. I get their emails everyday and their phone calls sound just as she does right now. I ask her if there will be a test later or if emailing her my resume would save her some time. She laughs it off saying she is just curious.
I don't trust her. I've learned living in California long enough to be wary of her attention. And in my mind I imagine her exending her hand, and as we shake hands I imagine her saying "Hi, My name is Sara. I was wondering how I can use you" as she smiles back at me warmly. I've seen so much fakeness in people that sadly now I expect it everytime I meet someone. I expect her to find out what I can do so she can manipulate me to her advantage. Why shouldn't thats exactly what I do at times. And with that said I'm typically extremely good at spotting it in others.
Yet I remain pleasant despite my growing mistrust and answer her questions honestly but with as little detail as possible. The thing is I WANT to trust her. I want to believe she simply enjoys talking to me. She is smart, funny, gorgeous, and a bit aggressive which I always find fascinating in others.
Minutes earlier and I'm glaring at Valentina standing in front of the counter full of food drinking her bud-light/Clamato as I explain to her that she is drinking shellfish. And a gorgeous girl with dark silky hair that's been glancing at me leans over the counter on the opposite side as she lays down a warm tray containing round play-doh looking objects and half are topped with a single piece of Edemame.
Minutes before that and I'm dancing with Stacy and Val and staring at the large flat panel mounted on the wall behind another bar showing random clips of music videos mixed with clips of gay porn as techno vibrates through the club in invisible waves that reverberate over walls whose color is endlessly shifting with the beat of the music. I walk over to Sara who is smirking at some drunk retard who decided to grind on a go-go dancer pole installed close to the bar. Not only is she drunk but she is swiveling her generously proportioned hips out of sync with the music in an attempt to look seductive. What completely seals the deal is the fact that she is wearing a circa 1987 fanny pack which hops up and down her lumpy waste as she mindlessly grinds against the grimy looking pole.
I look at her with an expression that mirrors the same expression I get when I'm driving and start to wonder if I left the stove on.
Sara "She's wearing a fanny-pack. ha ha! Do you see this shit Kristen."
K: "I'm not sure what I'm seeing. I think I'm going into shock."
Sara: "ha ha."
K: "I knew I should have brought my leg-warmers. That's the fucking sexiest thing I've ever seen. I need to use the bathroom (my glance tells Sara I'm going to do drugs and she knows I'm asking if she wants to join me). I'm walking now through drunken college girls and shirtless sweaty gay men and even though I see the security guards it doesn't register until Sara taps my on the shoulder.
And Suddenly I'm standing in front of Brooks house where the birthday party is going on inside. Sara and Val are with me and we start walking toward the club. I suddenly realize we forgot someone.
K: "Where the fuck is Stacy, Val? Where the fuck is that bitch."
Val: "Oh shit. We have to turn around, she probably wondering where we went."
K: (annoyed) "Weren't you the one who asked her to come with us?"
Val: (looking like a guilty little kid) "yeah."
K: "FUCK"
Sara: (laughing) "OK, should we call her cell and tell her to meet us here and well wait for her? (were already halfway to the club when I realize Stacy was left behind.)"
K: "And tell her what? Meet us by the fucking palm tree next to the shitty car parked in front of the abandoned looking crack-house? That really narrows it down. How the hell is she gonna know which palm tree, which shitty car, or which cracked out looking house. Every fucking block looks the same."
Val and Sara are laughing hard at my sudden rage and I take a deep breath. Sara and I just did some lines in Brook's bathroom before we left and it along with the pill under my tongue are all dissolving into to me distilling into a pointing yet undirected anger but also a strange sense of over-confidence which comes across as meanness although I am not in reality angry at anyone or anything except perhaps myself. In fact I'm happy to be here, with my friends. I hate those long weeks spent completely alone and I am grateful to be invited but I cannot suspend my need for drugs. I cannot tell my body and mind to just wait it out, I'm too far gone and there is simply not the option of saying no or delaying the inevitable. I accept the inevitable. The inevitable is programmed into the multiple alarms on my cell phone which tell me when its time to swallow some benzodiazapines before withdrawal sets in and when I'm in the safe zone to dose on more amphetamine so at least I have a general idea of how much I've taken so I avoid overdosing. And discovering Sara tonight has made the inevitable a little more tolerable and her excitement and even her curiousity give me feel a little more alive.
"Nothing would ever change; nothing new could ever be expected. It had to end, and it did. now in the dark world where I dwell, ugly things, and surprising things, and sometimes little wondrous things, spill out at me constantly, and I can count on nothing." - A Scanner Darkly
If this were a movie perhaps now you would watch the as the powder rushes out the bottom of a rolled up dollar and back into little orange lines on a mirrored surface. Perhaps you would see Sara's eyes open in slow motion as she leaned backwards and extended her arm taking the rolled bill from my hands. The camera would pan left as it captured her and I giggling and walking backwards out of the bathroom in slow motion to a perfectly synced soundtrack. Walking backwards through the house with technicolor tones, the house full of friends.And the camera would swing overhead and then pull out wide before zooming in to the couch we were sitting on. And now my eyes blink in slow motion as my mouth forms words unheard by the audience as I smile and lean in to tell Sara something. We have been sitting her talking for hours. She is asking me so many questions I start calling her the inquisitor. It makes me very nervous until she tells me something that changes everything. And shortly after she is watching left as I watch right to avoid discovery and in unison our heads tilt back and we both swallow a dose of slow death pulled from my purse. I open up more to her and she stops interrogating me (at least for a few minutes).
It's hours earlier now and she is firing questions at me in rapid succession about how I know that person or how I got to do work for this company or how I learned to do what I do. I decide she must be a recruiter. I get their emails everyday and their phone calls sound just as she does right now. I ask her if there will be a test later or if emailing her my resume would save her some time. She laughs it off saying she is just curious.
I don't trust her. I've learned living in California long enough to be wary of her attention. And in my mind I imagine her exending her hand, and as we shake hands I imagine her saying "Hi, My name is Sara. I was wondering how I can use you" as she smiles back at me warmly. I've seen so much fakeness in people that sadly now I expect it everytime I meet someone. I expect her to find out what I can do so she can manipulate me to her advantage. Why shouldn't thats exactly what I do at times. And with that said I'm typically extremely good at spotting it in others.
Yet I remain pleasant despite my growing mistrust and answer her questions honestly but with as little detail as possible. The thing is I WANT to trust her. I want to believe she simply enjoys talking to me. She is smart, funny, gorgeous, and a bit aggressive which I always find fascinating in others.
Minutes earlier and I'm glaring at Valentina standing in front of the counter full of food drinking her bud-light/Clamato as I explain to her that she is drinking shellfish. And a gorgeous girl with dark silky hair that's been glancing at me leans over the counter on the opposite side as she lays down a warm tray containing round play-doh looking objects and half are topped with a single piece of Edemame.