Man, its been quite an experience filled with experiences.
I'm sitting here on the deck outside my bedroom at the home I thought I was going to lose as a result of my uncontrollable use of drugs. I can't help but reflect on all that has transpired within the last three years.
It was approximately three years ago that my dad had to fly out to Colorado from Philly to escort me back to Pennsylvania. I was caught in the grips of shooting coke and the constant need to have some sort of chemical in my system so that I could tolerate a day in my own skin. I just couldn't stop regardless of how bad I wanted to.
After a 32 hour drive back to philly, I was left sitting in an apartment with a tiny TV and a mattress on the floor. My mom had done all the foot work to get me a place close by so that they could watch over me. I still wasn't done yet, though. I began drinking immediately upon my arrival. Eventually, I paid a visit to a local bar, assessed the people that were there and chose the perso I was going to sit next to. His name was Anthony and I knew what he was about before I even heard him talk (hence my decisio to sit next to him).
I ordered a drink and Anthony and I started talking. The conversation immediately turned to drugs. I mentioned 'dope' and he said 'Meet me in the bathroom'. He left his bar stool and, after a few minutes, I went to the bathroom. Anthony was standing in there looking right through me. 'How do I know yu aren't a cop?'. Ha! Standard operating procedure. I showed him my arms and said 'I ain't no fucking cop, man'. Anthony glanced at my tracks. It basically looked like someone had taken a marker and outlined the lengths of both of my arms (that's what happens when you shoot coke for three ad a half months straight, nonstop).
Anthony says, 'Yeah... you pretty marked up. I ain't holding but I can tell you where to go in the city to get some fire'.
'Coke or dope?' I asked.
'I thought you said 'dope' earlier. I fucking hate when people say 'dope' when they ain't talking about actual DOPE'
'Dude, I'll fuckin' take anything. Where's it at?'
He told me a couple a street corners in North Philly, I thanked him and rolled out the front doors to my car.
'Yo! Hold up, man! I ain't cool with this. Its late and they might not be open. Lemme buy ya a drink and I'll make a couple of calls.'
I followed him back in the bar and sipped on the beer he bought me.
'Dude, that's all I need is to watch the news tomorrow and see that some white boy got shot at a corner I told him to go to.'
Anthony made a few calls and arranged for me to meet a local hookup in the town we were in.
I forget how much I got that night but I snorted the shit and loved it. A point of note is that the dude Anthony set me up with that night, I read about in the paper 2 years later. He was a stickup boy who also robbed drug dealers. He was wanted on homicide charges. Part of the game I suppose.
In time, me and Anthony started hanging out and shooting dope together. That all stopped, though when I went to his house and his wife tore me a new asshole by blaming me for him 'relapsing' and being sick again. She threatened to call the cops if I ever came by again.
Never saw dude again.
Anthony had also hooked me up with poor quality coke. It was a tease and now that I didn't have ANY access to coke, I went on the hunt.
Somewhere along the lines I ran into 'Nifty'. Nifty used to be my connect ears and years ago. He used to sell E, coke, weed and sometimes mushrooms and acid.
I used Nifty often now and was always owing him money. One day, Nifty swings by my place and says 'Yo, lets go for a ride.'
I was broke and wanted to get high so I was down for it.
He told me that he just wanted to go to the city and cop a coupla dimes for a blunt.
We drove to a certain corner in Philly, parked the car and he hopped out. He hit one of the corner boys up and came back to the car. As we were driving away, Nifty said, 'Yo, I ain't selling coke no more. That corner right there is where you want to go for the good shit. I told them that whenever they see your truck, be on point'
I smiled broadly on the inside because I didn't want dude to know how much I was digging that hook up.
That knowledge became dangerous and shit started to get bad again, real quick.
(to be continued)
I'm sitting here on the deck outside my bedroom at the home I thought I was going to lose as a result of my uncontrollable use of drugs. I can't help but reflect on all that has transpired within the last three years.
It was approximately three years ago that my dad had to fly out to Colorado from Philly to escort me back to Pennsylvania. I was caught in the grips of shooting coke and the constant need to have some sort of chemical in my system so that I could tolerate a day in my own skin. I just couldn't stop regardless of how bad I wanted to.
After a 32 hour drive back to philly, I was left sitting in an apartment with a tiny TV and a mattress on the floor. My mom had done all the foot work to get me a place close by so that they could watch over me. I still wasn't done yet, though. I began drinking immediately upon my arrival. Eventually, I paid a visit to a local bar, assessed the people that were there and chose the perso I was going to sit next to. His name was Anthony and I knew what he was about before I even heard him talk (hence my decisio to sit next to him).
I ordered a drink and Anthony and I started talking. The conversation immediately turned to drugs. I mentioned 'dope' and he said 'Meet me in the bathroom'. He left his bar stool and, after a few minutes, I went to the bathroom. Anthony was standing in there looking right through me. 'How do I know yu aren't a cop?'. Ha! Standard operating procedure. I showed him my arms and said 'I ain't no fucking cop, man'. Anthony glanced at my tracks. It basically looked like someone had taken a marker and outlined the lengths of both of my arms (that's what happens when you shoot coke for three ad a half months straight, nonstop).
Anthony says, 'Yeah... you pretty marked up. I ain't holding but I can tell you where to go in the city to get some fire'.
'Coke or dope?' I asked.
'I thought you said 'dope' earlier. I fucking hate when people say 'dope' when they ain't talking about actual DOPE'
'Dude, I'll fuckin' take anything. Where's it at?'
He told me a couple a street corners in North Philly, I thanked him and rolled out the front doors to my car.
'Yo! Hold up, man! I ain't cool with this. Its late and they might not be open. Lemme buy ya a drink and I'll make a couple of calls.'
I followed him back in the bar and sipped on the beer he bought me.
'Dude, that's all I need is to watch the news tomorrow and see that some white boy got shot at a corner I told him to go to.'
Anthony made a few calls and arranged for me to meet a local hookup in the town we were in.
I forget how much I got that night but I snorted the shit and loved it. A point of note is that the dude Anthony set me up with that night, I read about in the paper 2 years later. He was a stickup boy who also robbed drug dealers. He was wanted on homicide charges. Part of the game I suppose.
In time, me and Anthony started hanging out and shooting dope together. That all stopped, though when I went to his house and his wife tore me a new asshole by blaming me for him 'relapsing' and being sick again. She threatened to call the cops if I ever came by again.
Never saw dude again.
Anthony had also hooked me up with poor quality coke. It was a tease and now that I didn't have ANY access to coke, I went on the hunt.
Somewhere along the lines I ran into 'Nifty'. Nifty used to be my connect ears and years ago. He used to sell E, coke, weed and sometimes mushrooms and acid.
I used Nifty often now and was always owing him money. One day, Nifty swings by my place and says 'Yo, lets go for a ride.'
I was broke and wanted to get high so I was down for it.
He told me that he just wanted to go to the city and cop a coupla dimes for a blunt.
We drove to a certain corner in Philly, parked the car and he hopped out. He hit one of the corner boys up and came back to the car. As we were driving away, Nifty said, 'Yo, I ain't selling coke no more. That corner right there is where you want to go for the good shit. I told them that whenever they see your truck, be on point'
I smiled broadly on the inside because I didn't want dude to know how much I was digging that hook up.
That knowledge became dangerous and shit started to get bad again, real quick.
(to be continued)
