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And I guess that I just don't know. - Sing With Me If It's Just For Today... — LiveJournal
If I should fall behind, Guyster, wait for me.
And I guess that I just don't know.

The Score: You’ve been looking for a while. Your regular source can’t be reached, and now you’re calling friends of friends who might know someone who knows someone and it’s starting to piss you off. You’re not panicked—yet—but you just want the blow and you want it to happen now. When the actual transaction does happen, it’s hurried, sweaty, and that’s just how you like it.

The Bindle: You’ve got the bindle, a fun little piece of origami that keeps everything neatly in place; maybe it’s in your wallet or in the watch pocket of your jeans. No matter—it’s secure and you’re not about to lose it. Serenity seeps in, knowing that it’s there, and your heart skips a beat as if you were in love.

Privacy: Get through traffic, just get through the fucking traffic. The second you get home, you need to find a quiet spot, one where you won’t be disturbed by your partner knocking on the door or someone walking in on you. The toilet is your best bet.

The Prep: Opening the plastic top of the syringe cover, you turn it on its back. Fill up a glass of water—you’ll need it in a minute. Take the bindle from your pocket and tap enough powder into the cap. Your hands are shaking a little as you uncap the needle of the syringe and sink it into the glass. With both hands, you draw back about half of the syringe with water and squirt it slowly onto the powder, watching the mother-of-pearl dissolve into a milky white. You take the orange cap protecting the needle and tamp down the clumps that haven’t spread into the mixture, making certain that no clumps are left and only smooth watery white goodness remains.

The Cotton: A piece of cotton from a Q-Tip or the top of a medicine bottle or the filter of a cigarette—it doesn’t matter as long as you have something to stick the needle in, and pull the liquid into the barrel until the wet cotton is bone dry.

The Slam: Hold the syringe to the light, tap it a few times, and close the plunger until the tiniest little squirt leaks out of the tip. You have to make certain they’re no air bubbles. Panic can make you forget some things, sometimes. Pull the sleeve of your button-down shirt up above your bicep, take the firmness of the cuff and twirl it around tightly. You look down instinctively to the vein, the good one on your left arm that pops so well. You tuck the knotted-up sleeve into the crux of your arm, squeeze your fist, and slide the tiny needle right into the middle of the skin there, on a slant.

The Register: Pull the plunger back just a little, just enough for some of your blood to leak into the snowy mixture in the syringe. You’re in—good to go. And slowly you push the plunger forward as you watch the liquid disappear, and stop just before it’s all gone. Pull back again, and this time there’ll be a lot more red, more blood, and then jam that plunger back down through the syringe, emptying it.

Cleaning up: A wad of toilet paper sops the few drops of blood on your arm. You take the syringe and load it with fresh water from the glass. Push it out quickly, and repeat. Better yet, just let the syringe drop from your hand onto the floor, lean back on the toilet, play with your cock, and smile.

My daily routine, twenty years ago.

I can still taste that explosion in my mouth when the juice hit my heart.

I can still taste it.


21 comments or Leave a comment
shawnsyms From: shawnsyms Date: January 5th, 2007 07:07 pm (UTC) (Link)

Be the death of me

>>I can still taste that explosion in my mouth when the juice hit my heart.

What's funny, I'm afraid to do anything hardcore now, because I'm afraid my heart might not be able to (physically) withstand it.

Thanks for sharing this.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 07:07 am (UTC) (Link)

Re: Be the death of me

I've actually thought about the pros and cons of a middle-aged drug habit, but my dad kinda ruined that for me. Good thing he did, I guess.

Keep that fear, too, cause it'll keep you safe.
littlezen From: littlezen Date: January 5th, 2007 07:21 pm (UTC) (Link)
When I tried coke it involved snorting and I kept blowing instead. People found that irritating. I failed at coke. I probably would have accidentally killed myself with needles. I am somewhat thankful for my ineptitude with drugs.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 07:02 am (UTC) (Link)
You are so off the list for the next ski party.
uberdionysus From: uberdionysus Date: January 5th, 2007 07:47 pm (UTC) (Link)
I love the little origami!

Needles scared me, as did my junkie friends. Needles still scare me; I no longer have any junkie friends.

I had (and have) Gremlin Rules for coke:
1) It's after 2am.
2) It's with women.
3) It's free.
But I never liked coke, and still don't. I never felt good, only anxious. I snorted your shit a few times, but also didn't like it, and there are no social reasons for doing that.

I guess I'm too much of a control freak for most drugs. And I guess that's why I liked MDMA so much. Good thing for me that the E in NYC is subprime.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 06:50 am (UTC) (Link)
I like the way X makes your eyes twitch.
uberdionysus From: uberdionysus Date: January 6th, 2007 08:32 am (UTC) (Link)
You can tell how old someone is by the letter they use for Ecstasy. We called it X, the younger generation called it E. Not sure what this generation calls it. Anyway, it seems to be out of vogue. In Europe it's still common, which might explain the prevalence of Euro-pop and techno.
calamityjake From: calamityjake Date: January 5th, 2007 09:06 pm (UTC) (Link)
wow. Well it sounds pretty fun but I think I'll skip it.
liquid_wayno From: liquid_wayno Date: January 6th, 2007 12:33 am (UTC) (Link)
Wow. That's powerful. I almost lost a nose back in the eighties from snorting meth and crank, but thank god needles scared the shit outta me. I might have never met you otherwise.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 07:05 am (UTC) (Link)
Then I'm glad needles scared the shit out of you, too.
yieldsigns From: yieldsigns Date: January 6th, 2007 01:34 am (UTC) (Link)


our ghost is a horse
a horse as if
we're still riding through the forest with
the Elbe in our hair

is a liquid stride dissolved in spoons
coursing from prideless little rooms
on toward the limbless wild and cold,
comatose-close on side-streets
as the haunting hits a vein.






guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 06:52 am (UTC) (Link)

Re: 2002

The soul of Bukowski.
yieldsigns From: yieldsigns Date: January 6th, 2007 10:33 am (UTC) (Link)

Re: 2002

You flatter me, T.
creactivity From: creactivity Date: January 6th, 2007 01:38 am (UTC) (Link)
I'm curious about the turn of events that occurred that caused you to leave it behind.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 06:55 am (UTC) (Link)
I had a total spin-out. I was up for days. My clients were grumbling. My ex-partner Russell saved me.

I cried when I broke my needles.
From: tequilaprophet Date: January 6th, 2007 03:43 am (UTC) (Link)
Man, I don't even like pot...
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 06:57 am (UTC) (Link)
Don't worry, Ty. I won't make you shoot up when you visit LA.
From: tequilaprophet Date: January 6th, 2007 06:59 am (UTC) (Link)
I wouldn't expect you to. Just that I don't even wanna think about what I'd be like on the hard shit...
quuf From: quuf Date: January 6th, 2007 06:24 am (UTC) (Link)
You made the whole ritual seem utterly delicious without disrespecting your readers with the cautionary notes that usually accompany such accounts. It's perfect.
guysterrules From: guysterrules Date: January 6th, 2007 07:00 am (UTC) (Link)
It's the theater of it that I miss most, Q. It was harder to give up than the drugs.

ubermunkey From: ubermunkey Date: January 11th, 2007 03:17 pm (UTC) (Link)
T. you really fuck with my mind sometimes the things you write they move me and remind me that I am alive. Great stuff. Glad as hell that you are still here.

I think for me that self abuse usually comes in the form and shape of another human and the munkey mind suplies all the madness I need.

The romance of the act tho, that I get, and I'm glad as hell I'm such a wimp or I'd probably not be here. Some of those dark days would have led me to take huge risks and fuck the consequences.

Happy Thursday
21 comments or Leave a comment