thoughts, happenings, and adventures of an IV drug user in of all places...Oklahoma City OK.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
the interview
went to cop this morning at my usual spot, my guy knew I was coming because I had asked him to bring extra for the holidays...heh only problem was I woke up an hour late goddammit. pulling on my levis with one hand and trying to hit his number on speed dial with the other I dance around trying to get the fuck out of the house and started on the 30 minute drive to where I need to meet my guy. he won't answer and I have no more smack so I'm already feeling sick - yawing and the sweats mainly. I drive the little car as fast as I can safely drive on the interstate, honking at assholes doing 65mph in the fast lane and passing them in the slow lane. Still no answer from the guy and just as I get downtown a fucking train blocks my way so you know it is a long one and it is traveling slow slow slow. I curse and smoke, reving the engine on the little car waiting for the long ass train to get past. Finally! Goddamn lets go people! Get a fucking move on! Click- hey! he finally answers and I hear sleep in his voice. yo dude are you still in bed?! 'Ugh yeah bro. Shit. Not feeling well'. Holy shit! All that for nothing! He says to give him 15 minutes which really means he will be here sometime in the next 2 hours so I park close to our spot and smoke. I have my brothers digital camera and I look for a scene or image that I can add to this blog but there is nothing but run down buildings, a methadone clinic, and run down looking ex junkies entering and leaving the clinic. I notice a couple staring at me suspiciously so I put away the camera and try to look like I belong here, like I'm waiting for my gf or friend who is inside getting his legal dope. I hear my guy before I see him because he needs to 'midasize' his muffler in the worst way but he likes it and thinks it sounds like those little Honda cars you see in 'Fast and Furious' but it's a damn Chevy Lumina POS that looks nothing like those cool little fast fucking cars. He drives past and I follow him for a couple of blocks to the Downtown Quik Stop where he parks and then gets in my car. Quickly now I hand him the cold hard cash which he counts hurriedly then he spits 3 balloons of varying sizes into his hand, has enough tact to actually try to wipe off the spittle on his pants which I can see is white and foamy. Cottonmouth spit! heh. Ugh. I want to ask him if he is thirsty but there is no time. I notice that there are 2 larger balloons and 1 small which is what I had asked for: 2 grams and a bit more. 'Call me when u want more' and with that he is gone. No have a nice day or Happy Thanksgiving or enjoy your Turkey Day. Always the business man my dealer is...like I need to hear him tell me to call when I am out. Of course I will fucking call when I'm out, hell I will call before I am out! I'm an addict and that is what addicts do. Now I have a decision to make: because I am already late for my one interview I had to have this week in order to keep my unemployment benefits coming in but I could get away with just slipping into the interview office a few minutes late and blaming traffic but I need to get well or I will be sick and sicker during the interview. I drive over to a small park behind a bank on Lincoln Blvd and park in the back by a little bridge over a dry stream which has a side road that leads out to a street and prep a shot, constantly looking for anyone coming down the street. I fix a small shot then cap it and stash it, after I get everything put away I'm feeling paranoid so I decide to move and drive over to the main State library, park between 2 large trucks and start hunting for a vein that will allow me access. I pull off my Irish Pub Crawler hoodie, then my long sleeve shirt and check my arms for a likely spot. A trick I use in the car is to hang my arm over the seat, using pressure to push down on the arm and then out pops a nice fat one right on top of the elbow joint. Another quick glance around to make sure the coast is clear then I slide the needle in, stop, pulls back a bit, shit. nothing. push the needle in a little farther then stop, pull back slightly on plunger and I'm rewarded with a flood of dark blood into the syringe, yes, yes perfect-amundo. Quickly I push to plunger home and warmth floods my face, I taste something slightly acrid as a warm gentle wave envelopes my body. Ahhhh man this is the best damn damn damn. No time to enjoy though as I wipe my arm, put the orange cap back on the syringe and stick it under the floor mat. I'll deal with that guy later. I pull my shirt back on, button it up then slide my hoodie back on, as I'm starting the car I notice the clock and I'm 45 minutes late for the interview. Shit. I drive on over and explain that I was caught in traffic, really bad accident had lanes closed blah blah blah - hoping I don't look too fucked up. She sees that the employment office sent me and smiles saying "you need this interview huh?" I sure do hon "well here I'll sign off on it but you will have to have them re-schedule the interview" Thank you very much. I really appreciate this and I'll get it re-scheduled ASAP (not! all I needed was the form signed cutey!) She gives me a high wattage I-bet-you-would-like-to-fuck-me smile and grabs her phone which has been ringing nonstop ever since I've been in her office. I pick this time to leave...hoping that I don't trip or stagger on way out. heh. What a fucking morning huh?
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
the odd couple
My brother is my roommate because my aunt(who lives in Illinois) let's him live in her house rent free just like me ostensibly to run off hunters (she has a couple hundred acres and it's full of deer, turkey, squirrels, rabbits, and quail) harvest pecans, and just generally take care of the place. The only thing we actually do is run off hunters if it is not too much trouble. My brother is also a chronic alcoholic who lost his license to drive a couple of years ago and is continually scavenging rides to and from places, mainly the closest liquor stores and casinos. His drink of choice is vodka - and he likes it ice cold mixed with almost anything. We are a pitiful pair in the mornings: if I don't have my shot I get sick as hell and if he does not have his shots he gets sick as well but it is much easier for him to get well than me yet I seem to keep up with my addiction better than he does, mainly because I can still drive and he can't. I've lost count of the times he has called me begging and ill to bring him several pints of the cheapest vodka I can buy, usually Smirnoff or Popov, sometimes Finlandia if its on special. He receives a veterans disability check plus gets free medical at the VA, they also load him up with painkillers, antipsychotics, sleeping pills, and whatever pill is the current one or ones they are trying out on his for his various mental issues. He is several years older than I am but and it's even hard for me to comprehend, I am the more responsible one if you can be responsible when you are shooting heroin. Since my brother can't work he stays home all day long drinking, watching TV, and cleaning because he is a damn neat freak. It's something he picked up in the service and he keeps that damn house spotless and spartan like a military barracks - he is constantly bitching about my room and I just keep my damn door closed most of the time now.
Monday, November 21, 2011
monday
struggling to keep your eyes open after having a shot of H for lunch is my chief preoccupation at the moment - the guy giving us the "sermon" here at the unemployment office (which is mandatory if I wanna keep getting those checks) drones on in a voice that could cure withdrawal insomnia. I really do not give a rats ass about 'improving my interview techniques' because they never send me on any jobs that will hire me anyway and the ones that will hire me don't really need to interview someone to wash fucking dishes or mop floors. What I really need to do is find some cash, and get some dope, or find another connect, now that would be the cats me-ass right now. I really do not think of too much else besides money, dope, cigs, and my old car. My aunt let's me live in a small house on her property in exchange for me running off hunters, trash dumpers, wood and pecan thieves (in season which is right about now)so things could be worse and let me tell you they have been. More on all that later I hope.
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