I was eating breakfast today with my friend Melissa when an older man sat at the table next to us. He had beautiful, friendly blue eyes and was wearing two blue earrings. I would guess he was about 75 years old. He pointed at my phone sitting on the table and said "you know, the sun is heating up for a big solar blast that will destroy all the frequencies for phones and tv and radio and will also knock out all the satellites and most of the power." I replied, "sweet, that sounds awesome." Then he said "did you know congress is trying to take everyones private 401k's and give all the money to social security and they will just give you a piece of paper, like an IOU?"
I liked him.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
lalalalalalalalalalala *fingers in ears*
It's gonna sound crazy, but sometimes I miss being a junkie. Sometimes I fantasize that I have no responsibility. No accountability. Nobody expects anything from me and that I live in that comfortable haze of cigarette smoke with the low din of the TV in the background.
My biggest concern when I was a junkie was how to get money to get drugs. Everything else I needed I could steal. Cigs, food, haircolor, makeup, clothes, etc. Sometimes I could talk a nice mexican fellow out of a few bags of dope, but not often. That required cold hard cash. Hustling was not that hard for me, I was actually a really good criminal. I got caught very few times, statistically.
I knew it was just a matter of time before it all caught up to me and to be perfectly honest, I probably got out right at the tipping point. Thats a fucking miracle. Technically, I could be writing this from prison. But, I'm not. I'm in my nice, cozy apartment with my teenage son. Contemplating what we will have for dinner. Reflecting on my stressful day at my well paying corporate job.
As disgusting and hopeless as it was at the end, I do think about the high. The actual feeling when the shot of heroin you just did would finally reach wherever it was supposed to and wash over you like stepping into a hot bath. Aint nothin like it I'm tellin ya. The misery and devastation that accompany it keep me away. Thats the shit I'm too lazy for. Every once in a while I ask myself if my life is peaceful or boring. Its a pretty fine line, but either way, I'll take it.
My biggest concern when I was a junkie was how to get money to get drugs. Everything else I needed I could steal. Cigs, food, haircolor, makeup, clothes, etc. Sometimes I could talk a nice mexican fellow out of a few bags of dope, but not often. That required cold hard cash. Hustling was not that hard for me, I was actually a really good criminal. I got caught very few times, statistically.
I knew it was just a matter of time before it all caught up to me and to be perfectly honest, I probably got out right at the tipping point. Thats a fucking miracle. Technically, I could be writing this from prison. But, I'm not. I'm in my nice, cozy apartment with my teenage son. Contemplating what we will have for dinner. Reflecting on my stressful day at my well paying corporate job.
As disgusting and hopeless as it was at the end, I do think about the high. The actual feeling when the shot of heroin you just did would finally reach wherever it was supposed to and wash over you like stepping into a hot bath. Aint nothin like it I'm tellin ya. The misery and devastation that accompany it keep me away. Thats the shit I'm too lazy for. Every once in a while I ask myself if my life is peaceful or boring. Its a pretty fine line, but either way, I'll take it.
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