Seedless

I didnt know what I was getting myself into…

heroin

Street corners, and Rolling Stones, amphetamines, clouded memory…what was I just saying.  Speed Kills, powders, test-tubes, and bunsun burners.  Inner city blues, shrieks thru the night as the city comes to life.  Red and Blue lights flashing ’round and ’round.  Two for one after dark.  Yellow eyes, shining with infection.  Down with disease, and I am laughing at the begining of dawn, pencil in my hand, and sauce-sized pupils staring back at me.  Depth of field is blurred, you dont care if you live or if you die. 

A fistfulla dollars somebody crying for a fix, another turning trix, yet another robbing you blind.  Conscious of a robot, programed for Stoned Immaculation.  Enter the war zone to get your medicine fix, cartoon like pimps, and scragely street corner tricks.  Industrial size horse needles, 23 gauge you think I give a fuck.  Refill my syringe with a rain puddle, watching the rainbows of gasoline ripple away from the point.  Gotta let that deal go down, your stomache is in your mouth and your mouth explodes your foamy puke, but the dry heaves, oh man, oh man, as the plastic crack smoke comes ringing out your ears.

You kick yourself and bitch and moan, motherfucker its 5am why is my dope spot only selling rocks, I am sick as a dog, why am I smoking crack?  The bellringing, electrifing buzz, rips you into the world of a paranoid.  My mind zips thru the glossy pages of the 2005 PDR I was memorizing while nodding out last night.  Squirming in my flesh.  I flip flop the decisions: should I go to the ‘McDonalds Pill spot’ I know my imprint codes like some people know the current events.  Baseball, hotdogs, applepie, amphetamines, and lsd.  Or should I buy a few more rocks and wait on the bag man and his “15 minutes” and the blows will be out.  [I.E. blows = smack, chunky rocky off white powder behold the power of numbness of the mind].  I decide to buy another rock, head toward the pill spot to try and pick up a gulp fulla methadone, or dilaudid or fentanyl. 

I really dont want eaither of the three but I am sick, my skin is gray, I am a wreck, I think about smashing my car into the stop-light just to get a piddly morphine drip.  Criminal element, tappin the phone.  Riding in second gear in the pre-dawn ghetto, the snow banks are gray, the scene seems to be watercolor washed with a eiree smokey dull gray.  The only light comes from the broken glass as it glitters on the street, thought you had a gram, popin ativan, triple chekcin’ your pockets.  Nose dripping like a ghetto motel bathroom facuet.  My and a friend have been staying at the Shamrock Hotel puffing on botanicals to get our heads clear.  Much like a cold winter night warming around the bonfire.  Except its 8am we have been up since last Friday, minus the unconscious nod-outs.  We met a prostitute next door that instead of turning tricks is more happy to swarm around the red-hot glass pipe, as chunk after chunk of crack gets melted into the brillo.  I have a slight fear about her pimp coming for his money and finding her with a couple of out-of-place doped-up-junky-fucks.  An odd sentiment waterfalls over the scenerio as the prostitute eye’s us both and asks if we want our cocks sucked for another few hits.  Shit naw, we want to flood our bloodstream with a backwash of liquified heroin. RIP>…..

I pass a side street off Independece Ave, on my way towards the Mcdonalds [pills-a-go-go].  Last minute decision I whip the wheel and slide into the turn slipping on the unplwed and icey side streets.  Boom into the curb, fucked up my steering, I spit out of the window as I lean back and flame the craack pipe with two plastic lighters that have been busted open and the flame turned up to a height of about 2-3 inches.

Roast bitch roast.

Clouds of smoke billow out my window as I unroll it at the next corner, I cant hear the dealers at first as I am deaf from the crack rush, my heart beating literally from my chest, addicted to addiction. 

Blows you got blows?  Is all I can must, Yeah Joe… Whatchoo want?  I’ll take 3, no make that 4 [I am not wasting my money, better known dope is to be had].  Ripping the bags open as I drive I balance my upturned popcan on my legs, I drop in 3 bags a mountain of powder gets liquified by my syringe.  Cotton gets dropped in and the nice tan colored water sucken up.  I tie off with my seatbelt and pull over to the curb on some street, I dont care where the fuck I am.  I lunge the needle into my arm pulling it half way out slightly geeked from the crack, my hands are shaking.  I hit a vein and slam the plunger home, ahhh.  Mother dearest I love you but motherfuck do I love you heroin.

I grab some xanax from the glove compartment and pop 4mg to help with my shakes.  I cruize the McPill-spot… typical sellers are out, codiene, hydrocodone, oxycodone, methadose, morphine [only MScontins over priced], dilaudid.  4mg Knoll’s for 5 a pop, I buy 2 and go thru the drive thru ordering a Cherry coke, I crush the pills and empty them into the upturned pop can, I sprinkle my last bag of smack over the pills.  Water, cotton, injection.  FUCKKKkkk… 

I drift back head slaming back into my head rest eyes fluttering riding the rush like a rollercoaster, if I die at least they will find me with a smile on my face.  Straight up fucked up, pulling curbies as I try to drive.  Mirrow, blade, and a pile of pure…   Will I ever change, guess it all depends bottles and cans, seeds and stems, can I borrow another tomorrow.  Gritting my teeth I want more, more, more… 

I stop off a a corner gas station and buy a mini bottle of Vinegar I my way back to my main dope spot the time is approaching 6:13′ish as the morning commute is starting to pick-up I notice the bus-stops are being filled up the faces all a blur to me.  Back at my favorite dope spot at the time, my dealer has finally got his lazy ass outta bed, bout fucking time shit.  I feed this fucker hundreds of dollars a day, I dont even like to think about it after 3 days worth of ca$h. 

Whats up drew…?  Shit man, fucking sick, I need 2 packs and 3 rocks, where were you earlier?  Shit drew this is earlier.  I lean back and adjust the radio, hoping my god will save my soul, talk radio, shitty pop, music, I throw In some Morphine ‘Cure for Pain’ and watch ‘Slim’ run back up to my car with my 24 bags of heroin and 3 rocks.  I notice multiple other cars are starting to pull up as they see the spot is open slanging that super smack.  Slim hands me my taped and sealed packs, and throws me 5 rocks, on the house Drew.  Thanks, catch ya tomorrow I mumble as I am driving away and he is running up to the next car.  I shoot some crack, slam another bag, and than retreat into isolation untill the sickness creeps back.

Inflicted with the madness of addiction and I just cant get enought of it.  I crave it like a 14 yr old craves lsd on home-coming weekend, like a 17 yr old craves, pussy on prom night. 

Just walk away… To much wrong for me to stay, Just walk away…

Instant Karma’s gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on the head
You better get yourself together
Pretty soon you’re gonna be dead
What in the world you thinking of
Laughing in the face of love
What on earth you tryin’ to do
It’s up to you, yeah you

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on…

The hairs stood up on my arms, as I heard this song wash over the radio I was listening to as I was jotting down incoherent notes as I watched NOVA on the television screen.   Instantly a voice came over than me told me to copy those opening lyrics into a journal post, and than just let what comes to mind flow out.

Chicago mid 1990’s

I was a strung out to high hell dopefiend, all that mattered to me was that next fix. Fuck who or what was in my way… Chicago was littered with high quality heroin at every corner, the southside projects were like something I have never seen, outside the decrepit CHA [Chicago Housing Authority] buildings in the courtyard would be 10 or so males and females, that would lunge at you soon as you made the walk up to the entrance. Each yelling out and totting a different brand of heroin, ‘Black Diamonds’, ‘Puke’, ‘Pitchfork’, they would leech onto you each fighting for a sale, each under cutting the other in price. The Nickle man was always a good bet, as the size of the bags on the South Side were double that of the West Side [which catered to suburbanite junkies, and deliveries to your car]. If you wanted the best heroin this is where you came, the South Side Projects, that were a stones throw away from the Chicago White-Sox Stadium. The gangs ruled those buildings hands down, they would have armed soldiers with 30 odd 30’s staked out on the roof along with the members with binoculars and hand-radio’s to communicate with the sellers on the ground that cop’s were coming.

Which at times would happen in an ambush attack, as there was really one road into the project buildings and one road out. At times they would come flying off State street, tearing through the swatches of grass, fishtailing as they got there rocks off by slamming on the gas storming the project building and taking it by as much surprise as possible. It was a site to see, if you were caught in the project parking lot, and they didnt find dope on you they would arrest you for tresspassing. It was the biggest crock of shit, but thats just the tip of the Iceberg for ‘Crook County’s’ finest the crooked Chicago Police.

You usually always new which brand/bag of dope was the best thru the network of junkies, so once you open your mouth and said… ‘Black Diamonds’ the guy would literally grab you buy the arm and escort you away from the other sellers, at times you would hear bottles smashing on the concrete behind you. Walking into the entrance you were told to stand up against the wall ala arrest stance, as you were quickly frisked down for weapons and than led down a concrete corridor that reaked of urine, puke, alcohol, and death. From there you were pointed in the direction of the bags you wanted. Be it up a flight a stairs or around the corner, passed the gangstars throwing dice, sipping on cheap malt liquor. Eyeing you with intention. They made it seem like you were safe, but in truth there was nothing safe about it. There were rapes, deaths, and robberies on a daily basis. I would just stare at the floor and shuffle up in line as I got to the seller who’s partner would ask how many you wanted and take your money, the seller would be holding a paper lunch bag just filled to the top with fat 1 inch x 1 inch square plastic baggies. A sight that would make my eyes sparkle, oh how many times I dreamed of just grabbing that bag and making a mad dash for it. I would have probably made it a good 5 feet before being sprayed in a hail of lead. I always surmised if I packed a loaded Uzi I could mow down enough people to make it outside. My sidekick would have to drive up the parking lot onto the front landing and pick me up. A dream once dreamt.

After seeing the same dealer day after day, sometimes multiple times a day. They would warm up to you and start to tell you where the best dope was or start cutting you deals. I would grab my bags, quickly wrapping them in paper or something and palm them and walk with a extremely steady pace towards the exit. I had to run a couple times for my life, but another tale another day. You would walk past the skinny crack head women, ‘I’ll suck your dick for a bag’ some would beg for money. It was a disgustingly sad sight. What happened in those buildings, would surely make a grown man puke in disgust. Finally I made it past the crack whores, and into the outside. Once outside a spotter would tell you if it was ok to go or if the police were circling, which you usually would have heard about before you got to the exit as the security system they had in place was untouchable.

Usually the first words as you slid into the car was ‘You got um all right?’ or ‘You didn’t forget my crack?’ Out of my pocket a pile of huge bags of oh so perfect heroin would sit on my lap almost making my dick hard. My buddy would usually already have the rigs filled with water and quickly hand me a cooker and as for a few bags for him/her to rig up as god forbid they wait till I am done. I would usually have a shot in my bloodstream with in minutes of getting in the car, pushed back into the car seat from the rush, my eyes would flutter and those brief seconds were what I lived for. Nothing else mattered, and nothing was going to get in my way of getting my shot[s].

After we would get those first few bags in us to get our sick off, out would come the pipe or the vinegar. Myself, I was a sucker for that IV rush from the crack. The quick build-up in my body, soon reaching my head with bells ringing so loud and fast I could do nothing, ahh my heart is beating fast as I type this. Under gray skies we would escape from the lawless southside and return to our places to shoot dope till we were unconscious.

Reckless abandon was implanted in that gram
Pop’n Ativan’s to chill the shakes
The plunger I would slam
Homerun… Stoned Immaculate
Oh’ the mistakes
narcotic fever, sweating beads of rain
Robotic madness, controlled by forces unknown
A day in the life of getting blown
Shadows of the devil I would spy outta the corner of my eye
I could never quite catch him and he hasn’t caught me yet
As I wake up drenched in sweat
Thank god those daze are gone
Withdrawn

Chicago Heroin Southside

Life is full of pain, but the pain I feel is the pain of fleeting joy…
Excess rules everything I do…

Time: Sometime during the Fall of the year 2000?
Location: Outskirts of Chicago, Eden’s Expressway

Full fledged dope fiend I be couldnt even tell you how long this run has been but its been at least a few years with out a day of a needle piercing my skin. Sitting in traffic, another day of feeling nothing. I woke late in the afternoon scrambled to get dressed thru on a hat and sunglasses and hopped into my Volkswagon Jetta. My car has taken the toll of being a junky, I am probably a good 10K miles over getting an oil change, let alone your basic upkeep, its always tomorrow, its simply I don’t care. Unfortunetly this would be the last day I would drive my Jetta, fairly new 97 or 98 I forget, I probably had about 60-70K miles on the car. It was my favorite dope scoring machine.

On this unfortunate day, I was stuck in your typical Chicago rush-hour traffic. Instead of sitting and playing brake dancing with the car infront of me I decide to ride the shoulder and pass all these smucks stuck sitting in traffic. All my needles are stashed and I dont have anything else on me but cash so I could give a fuck about getting pulled over and ticketed, the 20-30 minutes I save riding the shoulder of the expressway is definitely worth the sickness that I am feeling.

Humming away on the side of the road, having to break for the random trucker that swings into the shoulder to stop me from my goal, heroin in my veins. Seconds are critical, as I swallow back the dry heaves. 10 minutes from the dope spots, I notice that my car has been driving WAY in the red and it should have overheated by now. My opiate depleted receptors tell my logical brain fuck stopping your almost there, you’ll make it. I agree and continue flying down the shoulder at a cold 50 mph as the traffic to my left sits in stop and go. Somewhere in my daydream of me fixing up my shot and hitting a vein my first try I hear a loud snap and I start to loose power. Motherfucking shit!!! Luckily I was right by an exit ramp and coasted up the exit, coasted thru the redlight and pull right into a gas station on 17th Ave. if I recall correctly.

I try to get the car started again but knowing in the back of my head that I just killed my car, I blew the fucking engine. Fuck it, I dont care. I am sick as a motherfucker and I have to get some dope in me immediately. As fate would have it that sun-spotted day the first person I walk up too is my savior.

He looked about my age but probably was 5-6 years younger, he was rummaging around on his floor of his car for change to fill up his gas. Immediately with all the red flags going off I know the skinny kid is a dope fiend. I approach him from the front as I didnt want to scare him as this isnt exactly a ‘nice’ neighborhood. ‘Hey’, I call out and give him my schpeel about how my car just brokedown, and I am stuck up here. Slowly testing the waters. Which way are you headed? ‘East’, How far East are you going? ‘Into the City’. Ahh I see, you wont be stopping at Independence Ave. by chance would you. We eye each other carefully, both of us skinny, runny noses, and looking like we havent shaven or showered in a week, time skips a beat as he replies ‘Yeah thats where I am headed, know any good dope spots?’ The fuck I do, look I’ll buy you a couple bags and throw you a 10 for gas if you save me the trouble of having to cop on foot as I am much to sick for that.

He is down hook line and sinker, we get in the car and he starts to tell me his story a story I have heard a thousand times… Well, I just got out of rehab about a week ago I have been on a run ever since. I stole my ma’s car and broke my little sisters piggy bank to scrape up enough cash to score a bag. With the bat of an eye he starts puking into a plastic garbage bag he has rigged up right next to the drivers door. His eyes tearing as he wipes his mouth clean he gets back to the details of the story. What rehab he went to? Where he has been cop’n his dope? He continues to puke right up to the dope spot. Thankful he took my advice and went to one of my reliable spots at the time rather than some of the shitty spots he reeled off as to where he was cop’n from. The spot we went to were selling $5 nickles and I picked up 2 packs: 100 bucks for 22-23 bags. I give him four nickles in addition to the 2 nickles he bought. He shot one and was blown away, high as hell. I thought nice, at least he will be happy he scored some good dope. The nickles were a good 100mg’s and potent off-white vinegary smell when you opened up the bags sealed in double-sided tape the heroin clumped together and just by looking at it you knew you were in for a good high.

I ask him if he would be so kind as to drop me off at the train station and he would have none of that, he insisted that he drive me all the way home even though it was well out of his way as he was from the southside. I was curious as to why he wasnt coppin from the southside instead of the westside but kept my comments to myself.

I had the car towed to some lot where I donated it to something similar to Toy’s for Tot’s I forget??? I ended up geting a nice tax write off that I didnt even need but it sure saved me from the headache of getting a new engine and all that jazz. I was carless for a short period of time when my parents blindly gave me a nice Cadillac, which I lost in my last arrest for being passed out in a gas station with a cooker and needles on my lap, windows rolled up and doors locked. Woke up to cops rapping on my window with their billy clubs quite the nice awakening. Ending a well needed heroin run and since than I have been sober with the help of buprenorphine albeit a few slip ups in the begining but alls well that ends well, I guess. I miss my crocodile and hope she is doing well :\

All good things in all good time, someone once said…

Reach for the sun, catch hold of the moon
They’re both too heavy but what can you do?
Reach for the stars, smack into the sky
You don’t want to live but you’re chicken to die
Chicken to die

Run, run, run for the roses
Sooner it opens, the quicker it closes
Man, oh, man, oh friend of mine
All good things in all good time
All good things in all good time

Reach for the rose, get caught on the briar
You’re warming to love, next thing there’s a fire
The trouble with love is its other face
You just want the cup, you don’t want the race
No, you don’t want the race

-Seedless [cutting this landscape short because I am tired of typing]

Its was one of those sick summer mornings.  While flip-flopping in bed I was watching the digital clock out of the corner of my eye, 3:53, 4:03, 4:15, fuck it I am going.  I rumage thru my dope chest and pull out some fresh needles and the last 20$ I have.  I really should wait a few hours untill I can be re-up’d on my cash but I cant wait.  The aches and insane body tremors, lock my body in cortorted positions, I wanna die.  I pop some more valium to ‘help’ try and take the edge off for the ride to cop.  Its early 4:30am, I will be right on time for the early morning sales, the time you usually see ppl in suits rolling up to cop enough dope to get them thru there day.  I am sick, I only shot my last bag about 18hrs ago but my habit is large at the moment and this $20 will put the monkey back in his cage for a few hours untill I can grab some more cash and actually ‘try’ to get high, ha.

I tease myself with thoughts of those brief few seconds as I push the plunger down and the instant relief washes over me, ahh man.  I zip thru the building early morning rush hour, a robot programmed for destruction.  Cicero Ave. I pull off make a few turns, FUCK my normal spot isnt out yet.  Oh well I’ll go hit one of my 20 or so back-up ‘normal’ spots.  A few blocks later I round the corner ‘Rocks-Blows’ echo off the run-down houses.  The spotter tells me pull up halfway up the block.  2 blows, boom deal is done.

I round the corner pull into a abandoned parking lot and dump my bags into a upturned pop can, squirt it down with water, add a little flame to the bottom, cotton, suck up and inject.  Hands shaking the whole time, fuck where is the rush?  MOTHERFUCKERS!  God-damn it I cant believe those punk ass bitch fucking ****** ripped me off.  FUCK what to do?  What to do?  Think Seedless think?  My mother isnt up yet she wont Western Union me money down here this early, I could go panhandle for a quick 20 to get my sick off, naw I am too sick I cant even move, fuck it they ripped me off I am going to go rip off another spot.

I round the same corner and the guy yells the same thing ‘Rocks-Blows’, I roll down my window and say Blows?  Your selling bullshit I just spent 20 bux on crap, I want my fucking money back.  He replies well we have the REAL blows now, well what the fuck motherfucker, you didnt have them 3 minutes ago.  I hold my rage in and tell them I want 2 more.  I grab a crumpled up dollar bill from my center councel of my Jeep and fold it over so its just and inch or two wide.  I crack my window 4 inches or so and some old cracked out lady selling the blows runs to my window puts the blows in my hand and grabs the money.  I punch the accelerator.  I hear her yelling behind me, motherfucker ripped me off fucking this fucking that.  Fuck her is what I think to myself I quickly open the bags as I am driving and taste with my finger.  Yup real dope, thank god.  Now this particular spot I was at is all one-way streets and dead-ends so I have to loop around on the next block and drive right back by the spot I just ripped off.  As I do a heard of 4-6 young kids start to run at my car throwing rocks and bottles, I hear a bottle smash against my brand new Jeep Cherokee, I could careless I got my dope fuck um.

I drive away and as I am opening the bags and filling my needle with water I see a late model typical beater start to speed-up and follow me.  This guy is on top of my back bumper motherfuck they musta had a guy waiting in his car for rip-off’s like me.  Shit.  I speed up and blow stop signs with no care in the world except to get this heroin in my arm.  Snort it ha, yeah right.  I get out of the neighborhoods and onto the busy streets this motherfucker is still on my ass.  I hit a red light, no way am I stopping.  Who knows what this crazy ass will do to me?  I lurch my car around the ppl waiting at the redlight and pull a left hand turn into oncoming traffic.  A few brakes gets slammed and I hear a few honks, I lost him I think to myself as I quickly get onto the expressway.

I dump my dope out into my can and squirt the dope down with water, glancing into my rearview mirror I see the motherfucking car speeding down on me with no stopping, FUCK.  Soon we are going about 90mph and I am forced to try and balance my cooker filled with my liquid savior and drive while thinking what the fuck should I do.  The one time I wish I could find a cop, I am truly scared at this point my heart is beating out of my chest.  If this guy bothered to follow me out of the ghetto all the way out onto the expressway wtf does he want?  Blood?  Thinking quick I enter the middle lane of 3, I am coming up to an off ramp soon this guy is on my tail so close he is starting to bump me.  Here goes nothing.

As the enterance ramp gets closer I ready myself making sure I wont lose to much dope I drop a cotton in the heroin solution to suck some of it up.  At the last possible second I whip the wheel to the left cutting across the fast lane and onto the off-ramp.  One hand on the wheel the other precociously balancing my dope cooker.  The speed I was going made me almost crash into the barrier wall, I whip the wheel the other direction and fishtail up the off ramp.  Fucking A, my heart is just beating like I just shot a half gram of coke.  I look in my mirror no sign of him behind me but I wouldnt doubt he will get off at the next street and circle back.

I quickly pull off into a gas station suck up the dope and slam the needle home.  Ahhh now thats what I am talking about, bliss, numbness, those few fleeting seconds I live for I feel my body get replenished cell by cell as the heroin washes thru my system.  Fucking jesus christ was that a nightmare.  I have ripped off spots plenty of times before and never had anything like that happen.  Oh well fuck it I am not sick, but I am far from well.

Quickly I pull a U-turn and get back onto the expressway only to return home and grab the 50$ dollars left for me on the counter.  I am back in the ghetto scoring an hour later.  I make one more run later that evening for a friend and stock up for myself so I wont have another morning like that morning tomorrow.   Those morning happened all the motherfucking time.  I could never hold onto my heroin if I had a gram at 9pm I would tell myself just one shot and I will save the rest for morning.  2am would come along and I would wake up face first on the carpet with barely a wake-up shot left.  I dont miss those days for anything, specifically that day.
OBSESSED WITH HEROIN

Colorado - 1994

Returning back from a short visit to the parental figures and the innercity, Jimmy is strapped with a multiple grams of heroin as he steps of the small airplane, glad to be on the ground and back home in Crested Butee. His friends are in the lounge waiting with fingers crossed. I grab my carry on bag and join them, small talk ensues and the main issue is brought to light. How much did you bring? I laugh and tell them just enough for me, your going to have to stick with your tar smack, while I hit the slopes with my rocky powder. We all get into the old battered 4-Runner and zoom back into town past the downtown strip and into our condo. Where’s the dope? Alright call down, here is a gram for you Brent, a gram for you Kris and a 1/2 gram for you Zieter, that leaves me with 3 grams before I have to switch back to colorado dope, yucky tar. Although this town is a Sitterpharmaceutical free for all from all the ski/board injuries I prefer illicit medicine to ease my pains. We all sit down in front of the roaring fire-place and rig up together, I just do a small shot as I have been banging dope the whole day across the country and in the sky. I settle back with a Fat Tire Ale and listen to the gossip about whats been happening in town since I left. Nothing the but usual wild parties, insane amounts of cocaine, and girls. What day it is is unimportant to me as everyday is the same, wake up late, click into my bindings and ski skate out our back door and ride the gentle slope to the ski lift thats a 2-3 minute glide for us. No waiting on the ski bus. I want to see Jenny but she is off visiting her parents for winter break, all the better I am to stoned to get it up.
Zip————–

New Hampshire 1997

I open the door to the growroom and I am met with a bursting aroma of heat, slight humidity all intertwined with a handful of strains [Shiva Shanti, Northern Lights, NL #5, Skunk red hair] all the real deal aquired from a trip across the sea. I figure on 3-8 days till harvest depending on what plant. They are being starved of water these previous days in an attempt to squeeze every nanogram of THC and its friends into the arm length buds. I shut the door and sit on the floor and look at my face in the crinkled mylar attached to the corners of the room as to not loose any light. The two 1000 watt HPS suns are glowing strong. I can hear taylor downstairs blasting some beatles music… Quote: It’s getting better all the time, I used to get mad at my school, the teachers that taught me weren’t cool I lay in the neatly organized rows of plants and marvel at this grow bumper crop for sure. I will do 2 more watering 1 today which is a mix of carbonated water and fruit punch. The dry plants soak up the sweet tasting brew and I hope my intentions will be realized and I will have a little bit tastier smoke.
Zip——–

California - 1999′ish

I really forget lol stoned on the beach some girl I have known for 2 months trying to convince me not to rent a sleeping space in one of the sailboats in the harbor, why dont I move in with her. Whaaat…? was my reply. I just happen to get involved with this girl on a random notion I was bored. I dont like her place even though its nice I just dont feel right about it. I stay for a week and make up my mind no matter how good the sex is I dont want to live with her. Thinking back I wonder what could have came out of that scenario? Shit I could be a movie star, or dead, or a model, or a beach bum, or strung out on speed and shitty tar? Who knows maybee I would have finished school as UCSB. What would have been will never be known. Its days like this that I wish I would have taken that chance just to see what it brought me. Instead I didnt for reasons I know not. My eyes dripped with tears the day she drove me to the airport to return home. I should have given her a chance. Oh, well thats life.
Zip—–

New York - 2002

Another place where I wish I would have given a better change there were many opportunities out there for me as strong connections were abound, instead I wasted away shooting coke and heroin. I should have stayed. Who knows where I’d be today. Dead? Or successful? Its an expensive place to live our rooftop apartment rented out for 3500$ a month?!?! Insane, just as I was. Thank god for friends and Western Union and Mommy and Daddy. Bad place to try and clean up, I’ll leave it at that.
Zip—–

Chicago - 1995′ish

Our small apartment was set back from the street and I drownded myself in booze to avoid negative forces pulling me back into narcotica. Too many drugs to many problems. The city just wasnt in my plans this season as I needed leafy quite retreats not a 10 minute jaunt to heroin heaven. I remember somebody filling up the needle out of my fishbowl to shoot a shot of rollercoaster cocaine, I had enough. Bail on the lease.
Zip——

Outskirts of Chicago - Summer 2005

Going slowly insane and tired of medications tired of life and tired of everything. I am protected from life living here as everything is frozen in time. I still get a daily allowance, I still have needles stashed, I have a nice car, I have a bank account, I have copious amounts of pill bottles, I dont work, I party part–time [which is probably 60 hrs a week to most ppl] as of late. I have everything I need but a damn girl friend the last 2-3 g/f’s I flew thru were of no real interest to me just a mere fuck or suck, although I do seem to have a strange attachment to the last one even though I truly didnt like her and its still fucks me up. Its only been 5 months since my last girlfriend and I need a new one badly, mainly for my emotional state. I know something will happen soon, I will make an outgoing attempt soon as I am a pussy and just wait for girls to come to me. I dont want this to be a summer of 1-5 night stands. I want a girl that I enjoy her company to lay with me in the wooded backyard at night drinking booze till I feel looped just holding her in my arms content. I wonder if it will happen, time will tell I guess. 11 years of undetailed memories.
“Down To The River To Pray” As i went down to the river to pray Studyin about that good ol’ way and who shall wear the starry crown? Good Lord show me the way! O sisters let’s go down Lets go down, Come on down O sisters lets go down Down in the river to pray As I went down in the river to pray Studyin about that good ol way And who shall wear the robe & crown Good Lord show me the way O brothers lets go down Let’s go down, Come on down O brothers lets go down Down in the river to pray As I went down in the river to pray Studyin about that good ol way And who shall wear the starry crown? Good lord show me the way O fathers lets go down Let’s go down, Come on down O fathers lets go down Down in the river to pray As I went down in the river to pray studying about that good ol way And who shall wear th robe and crown Good Lord show me the way O mothers lets go down Come on down, don’t you wanna go down? O Mothers lets go down Down in the river to pray As I went down in the river to pray Studin about that good ol’ way And who shall wear the starry crown? Good Lord show me the way O sinners lets go down Lets go down, come on down O sinners lets go down Down in the river to pray As I went down in the river to pray Studyin about that good ol way And who shall wear the Robe and crown? Good Lord show me the way whats next I ask you?

[old post] Will this summer be different than the last? A question I always tell myself it will be. I would give my pinkie finger for the ability to change my lifestyle. I can do it, I just have to make the effort.

Great read about Jay and Silent Bob…

Jason Mewes road to recovery?  Is the final chapter written?  Makes you wonder, but it has, can, and will be continued to be done.  I thought it was an excellent story and filled in alot of the blanks concerning what I knew about Mewes’s addiction.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9