I met Pat in May of 1999. I had been out of work, but had met him in a dark alley in the middle of the night. We had both been tweaking hard that night. We ended up talking to each other for hours. When dawn finally came, I could tell that Pat was a bit bummed out because he couldn't score any more dope for a while, and my guy Ricci, had been busy getting laid that night. Therefore I gave him a little of what I had. I know how it feels to be jonesin really bad and I'd want some nice soul to do the same for me. Pat and I had exchanged phone/pager numbers.
Three nights later, I accepted an invite to go hang out at Pat's place and party. And party we did. He had asked me if I had paraphenalia before I came, and I said that I did. Of course, once I got there, I was in for a bit of a shock. Oops, no sorry, I didn't have any needles...We stayed up and partied all night long. He offered to let me hit myself, although he told me if I wanted to do it that way, that I'd have to do it myself. No way was he going to get me to "like" something that can get you into all sorts of trouble. He started telling me about the negative consequences of using, to which I told him I was well aware.
Even though, being a nurse, and having always been very skilled at hitting other people's veins, I was simply too squeamish to hit my own. It wasn't until about 4 months later trying unsuccessfully to hit myself, or if I did hit myself, I went about it all wrong. I had this major paranoia of overdosing. I had told Pat over and over I still did not get what in God's name he got out of slamming. So one night, about 4 months after I met him, he said, "Hey this is some GOOD shit man. You ought to get some real coughers out of this." I had no idea what he was talking about. After Pat and I had become friends, he also became my dealer. For months he'd sell me these big, huge rocks for $70 or $80 bucks. They were the most beautiful sight to behold.
More lovely then the finest jewels fit for a queen.
At first, Pat always did his crystal his way, and I did my crystal my way. He was the only friend I had that slammed. I don't care what anyone does, so long as they treat their friends with love and respect and be there for the good times as well as the bad. I always kept a needle and syringe, cotton, and spoon in a cabinet specifically for him for whenever he paid a visit. Since he had become my runner, it was a MAJOR bonus to have it delivered by an honest...(at least he was until he went over the edge) businessman.
"Would you like me to make you a cougher?," asked Pat. "Huh?," I said not knowing what he meant. "Here let me show you," he said. He started teaching me the ritual of the shot preparation. "No, TJ you don't need to grind it up first," he laughed. He put some in a spoon and before he started to put water over a nice size rock, I protested, "NO! You'll kill it!" "Just relax," he said. After wetting the rock, oh my God what has he done to my poor precious rock? I thought. He has murdered my poor sister crystal. Taking the back of the syringe he smashed it all up in the spoon until it was melted. "Damn how come you have to use so much?," I complained. I didn't mind being generous, which would have been a hefty amount had anyone snorted that
rock. But damn, did he have to do it all in ONE shot? "No," he reassured me. "It takes more shit to do it this way." I watched as he took a small piece of cotton, rolled it into a ball, and dipped it into water, then put in into the spoon. From there he proceeded to draw up what looked to me like a hell of a lot of contents! There was about .6cc of crystal in that 1cc syringe. "Ok," he began. "Isn't that too much?," I asked. "Shit I don't want to die!," I said. "Will you relax? Trust me on this. Now before I start, I want you to know what you will be feeling ok?," he said. "Ok," I said. "Don't freak out when you feel a bit funny at first. You will feel alot of heat at the back of your throat.
You'll get hot all over. You'll start to cough and hack like a motherfucker, but don't freak out thinking you can't breathe ok? It's normal," he said. Now I was scared. I mean sure I had been wanting this for a long time, and he would not shoot me up, and here he was going to do it, but all that stuff he said scared me. "It will be ok. This feels GREAT!," said Pat. "Oh my God," I kept thinking. I was equally anticipating with pleasure and scared. I squeezed off my arm. A nice vein popped up for him. He tapped on it lightly and blew on it as the needle went in. God I was acting like such a freakin baby, I wouldn't even watch as he did it. After he was done emptying the contents, he said, "Ok you can let go," which I did. "Well do you feel anything yet?," he asked giving me a strange look and wondering what the fuck was going on. "Uh no," I said. Twenty seconds after my medicine, sure as
shit, I got all hot and flushed, I was gasping for breath, I started coughing like a fool. He saw the look of panic on my face and reassured me. "It's alright," he said and smiled. "Let yourself cough." And cough I did. Christ almighty I had never felt so turned on, so awed, such intense heat, an even more intense rush. It was way better than I remembered from my token first time back when I was 18, if such a thing was possible, I thought. Whooo hooooo I was all red, my pupils were bigger than black basketballs, now yes for better or for worse, I now understood why Pat loved slamming so much.
End Part 1
Three nights later, I accepted an invite to go hang out at Pat's place and party. And party we did. He had asked me if I had paraphenalia before I came, and I said that I did. Of course, once I got there, I was in for a bit of a shock. Oops, no sorry, I didn't have any needles...We stayed up and partied all night long. He offered to let me hit myself, although he told me if I wanted to do it that way, that I'd have to do it myself. No way was he going to get me to "like" something that can get you into all sorts of trouble. He started telling me about the negative consequences of using, to which I told him I was well aware.
Even though, being a nurse, and having always been very skilled at hitting other people's veins, I was simply too squeamish to hit my own. It wasn't until about 4 months later trying unsuccessfully to hit myself, or if I did hit myself, I went about it all wrong. I had this major paranoia of overdosing. I had told Pat over and over I still did not get what in God's name he got out of slamming. So one night, about 4 months after I met him, he said, "Hey this is some GOOD shit man. You ought to get some real coughers out of this." I had no idea what he was talking about. After Pat and I had become friends, he also became my dealer. For months he'd sell me these big, huge rocks for $70 or $80 bucks. They were the most beautiful sight to behold.
More lovely then the finest jewels fit for a queen.
At first, Pat always did his crystal his way, and I did my crystal my way. He was the only friend I had that slammed. I don't care what anyone does, so long as they treat their friends with love and respect and be there for the good times as well as the bad. I always kept a needle and syringe, cotton, and spoon in a cabinet specifically for him for whenever he paid a visit. Since he had become my runner, it was a MAJOR bonus to have it delivered by an honest...(at least he was until he went over the edge) businessman.
"Would you like me to make you a cougher?," asked Pat. "Huh?," I said not knowing what he meant. "Here let me show you," he said. He started teaching me the ritual of the shot preparation. "No, TJ you don't need to grind it up first," he laughed. He put some in a spoon and before he started to put water over a nice size rock, I protested, "NO! You'll kill it!" "Just relax," he said. After wetting the rock, oh my God what has he done to my poor precious rock? I thought. He has murdered my poor sister crystal. Taking the back of the syringe he smashed it all up in the spoon until it was melted. "Damn how come you have to use so much?," I complained. I didn't mind being generous, which would have been a hefty amount had anyone snorted that
rock. But damn, did he have to do it all in ONE shot? "No," he reassured me. "It takes more shit to do it this way." I watched as he took a small piece of cotton, rolled it into a ball, and dipped it into water, then put in into the spoon. From there he proceeded to draw up what looked to me like a hell of a lot of contents! There was about .6cc of crystal in that 1cc syringe. "Ok," he began. "Isn't that too much?," I asked. "Shit I don't want to die!," I said. "Will you relax? Trust me on this. Now before I start, I want you to know what you will be feeling ok?," he said. "Ok," I said. "Don't freak out when you feel a bit funny at first. You will feel alot of heat at the back of your throat.
You'll get hot all over. You'll start to cough and hack like a motherfucker, but don't freak out thinking you can't breathe ok? It's normal," he said. Now I was scared. I mean sure I had been wanting this for a long time, and he would not shoot me up, and here he was going to do it, but all that stuff he said scared me. "It will be ok. This feels GREAT!," said Pat. "Oh my God," I kept thinking. I was equally anticipating with pleasure and scared. I squeezed off my arm. A nice vein popped up for him. He tapped on it lightly and blew on it as the needle went in. God I was acting like such a freakin baby, I wouldn't even watch as he did it. After he was done emptying the contents, he said, "Ok you can let go," which I did. "Well do you feel anything yet?," he asked giving me a strange look and wondering what the fuck was going on. "Uh no," I said. Twenty seconds after my medicine, sure as
shit, I got all hot and flushed, I was gasping for breath, I started coughing like a fool. He saw the look of panic on my face and reassured me. "It's alright," he said and smiled. "Let yourself cough." And cough I did. Christ almighty I had never felt so turned on, so awed, such intense heat, an even more intense rush. It was way better than I remembered from my token first time back when I was 18, if such a thing was possible, I thought. Whooo hooooo I was all red, my pupils were bigger than black basketballs, now yes for better or for worse, I now understood why Pat loved slamming so much.
End Part 1
