PREFACE
I was inspired to write this collection of true accounts after I realized I was telling them too often to the woman who puts up with me. I suspected writing it would convey it better, and in more detail. These stories did in fact occur, these people very strangely did exist and all during a blurry time frame meaning this won?t be chronologically based. I?ll use hyperbole and humor for effect in my inner dialogue, but these were all strangely true and inspired by real-life events. I hope current users and former addicts who read will consider the humor as well as the distress. I tried to dig down to the root of why I felt the need to recount these tales. I?d be pleased to offer a definitive motivation. Honestly, I don?t have one.
I like to think I speak aloud about them as cautionary tales, sometimes trying to sum them up with a positive thing I noticed about people, life, and myself. Lately, I also read about sociology and psychology as a hobby, so perhaps they have (probably low) anecdotal value to academics interested in addiction and behavior during stimulant abuse.
I suspect that I?m giving my first personal writing too much credit. Sometimes the bullshit I vapidly attached myself too was just plain funny. Is there a better way to appease the shame and guilt of reckless hedonism than with the relief of laughter? I hope through all the worry, sadness, and other shit I caused my loved ones that I can make some people laugh. That is a form of selfish but necessary appeasement in the most non-religious sense. What better way to offset such unchangeable mistakes than to make someone laugh. I?ll start with a grueling 2 chapters on a brief history of myself, and then get into the meat of the story. The characters of this strange world I found myself in. A real world, that you now are stuck knowing they exist in. They are the circus show I went to town to write about.
I do however respectfully ask any and all readers to not do this one thing:
Do not feel bad for me. I was not a sensational case of ?victim of addiction that nearly cost him his life.? If I had an Intervention episode, the first 30 seconds of my episode would be a black screen with white text saying: ?Normally we show a reason or root cause of this addicts problems. Sometimes it?s juicy and sometimes it?s fucked up beyond belief, but it?s always some abnormal type of stuff. In this episode, the addict is in fact just a complete dumbass. Here are some pictures of the young dumbass and we?ll get back to our routine again.?
Nobody forced me to pick the pipe up and smoke it. What?s worse is I had an older brother who went through more shit than I did at an age where I wasn?t yet using any street drugs. I didn?t learn from a bad example. This is a major mistake in any thinking person?s journey. And I?m a lot of things, both flawed and decent things, but thoughtless isn?t one of them.
Thoughtfully, I still decided to use. I made my mother feel the same way my brother did, with no thought at the time of how it would make a mother feel to have her only two sons turn into hard drug abusers. My brother is a textbook sociopath, I am not. I still did that to her. Your sympathy isn?t going to erase that. I try to own my mistakes, and the terms of this ownership is such that your sympathy may not trespass.
Empathize, satirize, and criticize to your heart?s content. Cut the bullshit sympathy though.
The names in this story have been changed for various reasons.
CHAPTER 1
?THE THEN ME?
I had used methamphetamine before. In the Midwest I had a short fling with a girl who stepped me up from my adolescent Adderall use to the dope bulb. It was a short lived thing, I didn?t find myself wanting it after I caught myself screaming at her at a gas station for not cancelling her plans to come and sit in my shitty basement. Adderall had caused these types of abnormal outbursts before, this was worse. Paranoia itself wasn?t abundantly clear at this time, and I can recount no instance of being irrationally afraid of any trivial thing in that period. I liked the initial effects it had on me. At first it was less jarring than Adderall on the nerves, and focused me more on things like drawing and music, all the while providing that euphoric delusion of grandeur that lasted for what seemed like centuries to an aimless creative. I?d previously fucked off the entire 4 years of high school. I wasn?t stupid. I wasn?t vehemently ?against the system? nor did I have some deep rooted anarchist thing going on. I just plain didn?t give a shit. I was careless. I still don?t know what my deal was but at no time in the first three years did it dawn on me that not doing well in class would later be a huge regret of mine. Foresight wasn?t a concept I?d even dreamt of at this point. To illustrate my overall lack of fucks distributed: I considered and still consider myself an ?artist.? Thus I took an art elective. A large portion of the grade was a simple weekly sketch book assignment that was pragmatically graded on whether or not you tried to draw / scribble the assigned subject with any sort of observable effort.
I drew at home all the time, smoking a little weed and rocking a pencil and pen like a madman in all sorts of graffiti lettering, abstract, and character art. A couple people even paid me to draw their names. My first A grade was a given, right? I only completed 4 of 20 or so assigned sketches. I think I may have passed with a C or B due to some studying for tests and already knowing about the artists through my own directed learning. This does possibly hint at some sort of narcissism or unhealthy self-involvement, but I don?t know. Psychology is for sadists. I guess if it didn?t interest me, it wasn?t worth doing. I could try and get philosophical in retrospect and apologize to ?now me? by saying I was trying to obtain control in a world I observed as thinly veiled chaos. However, ?now me? knows I didn?t know enough about the world, history, politics, religion and current affairs to dare have some sort of vague air of worldliness about me meaning old me should shut the fuck up and listen. Even if I was shy or quiet on the outside some of the time I was pretentiously and deeply shallow on the inside all the time. It was obvious that my talent itself would pave a golden path to somewhere awesome. All these A+ honors dipshits were being played like suckers and didn?t have the balls to dream. Later I?d learn that it?s I who has a fear standing in the way of a simple living.
CHAPTER 2
?POSSIBLE BONERS AND A NEW START TO SABOTAGE?
I stuck around my small city a while after failing high school, further immersing myself in drug use, partying and some weed dealing to fund the escapades. It got old I guess. One day I was sitting on an electrical box. Sitting and staring at one of the buildings we?d overrun as party and drug spots with a decision I?d immediately act on. ?I?m going to leave here. I?m going back to the coast.?
After all, my caring mother and infinitely patient step-father would love nothing more than to see their kid get their shit together. So I asked for a ticket, told them my plans and I headed out. I saved the emotional goodbyes for a few close friends. On the small duel-engine plane ride to the larger airline there was one other passenger - an exchange student who went to my high school, who I found extremely attractive. I told myself to talk to her, even dared myself to hit on her. I thought of how that might be uncomfortable for her on a dark plane ride even if for a half hour, and weighed that against the fact I really had nothing to lose. She was seated a couple rows ahead of me anyway, meaning I?d have to get up. Also, if I stayed back there I could effectively masturbate to the fantasy of her responding well and nobody would know. I?d never before masturbated sneakily with people present and unaware. It wasn?t as thrilling as one may imagine it to be - so with the sudden decency that we all have within us I stopped right after I came. When I arrived back home to the fresh smell of the coast I really did feel a new person. I was inspired. The room I would be in, however, startled me and I?d remembered my mom telling me what she?d done with it, and told me well before I?d decided to come back. It didn?t bug me then, shouldn?t bug me now. It could startle me though - out of forgetfulness alone. But that was really unimportant to me honestly. In my 5 year experience in the Midwest I had dealt with living in a basement that sometimes would back up with live sewage. Well it wasn?t alive but it smelled like shit. I also sometimes partied and slept in apartments whose conditions were akin to what reported schizophrenics often live in, minus the carpet. Our messes were on more soft and decorative floors. Besides the only thing that was wrong with the room now was the color. It was a feeling that literally lasted a couple seconds. ?I?m a single grown man sleeping in a pink and yellow bedroom.? ?Neat.? I?d soon started a community college program to get my diploma. The credit transfers were such that instead of needing a Midwest?s 6 credits, I needed only 4 fresh coast credits to graduate with a regular diploma. 1 elective, 1 P.E. and 2 science credits were all I needed to accomplish this. For science I took a first-aid / CPR course and a pretty tough anatomy and physiology class. For P.E. I had an open schedule allowing for golf or yoga. I didn?t much like golf, but preferred it over what I considered to be stupid stretching non-sense those dorks on TV do. After calling the instructor for the golf class I found out the course was over an hour away, and that since class lasted an hour, I wouldn?t be back in time for one of the other classes. It?s cool, this ?new me? disregarded the brief comical image of a wooey dharma dude. I probably reminded myself that there would be chicks ? in tights ? bending over. Yeah, I did that too. They even give a credit for it? On the intro day in yoga class the instructor simply told us she suggested tight comfortable clothing. She understood that some people prefer loose comfortable clothing. The only thing she asked was that if this was a person?s first yoga class that they honestly ask themselves how they felt afterwards, and don?t ruin it for themselves with denim. The first day of that class was awkward. I was one of the first people to the class and I remember hoping there was going to be another guy there. I guess if there was another guy there it would tell me two things. 1. It probably means that I?m not the only man on the universe stupid enough to risk a boner while rocking sweatpants around 20 hot but uninterested Asian girls and 2. If I practice, I can laugh at point at his phallic folly quicker than any of them, leaving me out of his disaster. Fun fact: Many boys and young men have popped the accidental boner at schools across this beautiful nation. This notion at first may be off-putting to some na?ve women, but alarmists be damned. Many of these are not sexual - the wrong rub of our leg while thinking about any given thing at all can bring these about. Fear not, these are not fully prepared, broken and conditioned soldiers ready to deliver a payload of ambushes. No, these were scared, paranoid but otherwise innocent ding-dong doofuses getting called to the proverbial office. They fear the principle is about to expose the deplorable and tragic things they haven?t even done, and instead are relieved to see it was their classes day with the guidance counselor. At ease dude, you don?t even know what you?re doing here.
These foolish little peckers from east to west are harmless. Plus, we had desks to cover them should they fumble tragically into our classrooms. By High School, most of us probably had it figured out and it happened less randomly. Statistically, it?s probable that someone worried about this potential problem to the point of google searching ?temporary penis removal.? But I?m a grown man now- in college, in a community - in a class full of women. While there?s no universe in which they?d all take a gander at my pelvic region anyway (NASA Voyager has a twitter feed) I still had the irrational fear that I?d somehow bust a rager in nylon adidas and everyone would blush or properly ostracize me. I was dramatically relieved to see a rather clumsy fellow stumble in after the first several girls. I gave him a brief inconspicuous up and down from the corner of my eye and internally cemented a mental note:
?When I go and unroll my mat, I should pick a spot far away from this dude. I want plausible deniability when this dolt and his idiot dick hit the six o?clock news and wreck this whole shit for everybody.? I knew he?d be the first and I?d be clear. I never before played a game in which I?d try and determine who was a virgin or who was not, but I found myself confident now playing this game. I determined he was not only a virgin, but he was constantly getting erections in awkward places and everyone fucking hated him for it. It probably strained his relationships with everyone in his life. Big dummy. Yoga was his last chance at an associate?s degree this particular quarter and in this county. He was going to be a spectacle.
I picked my spot in the corner and listened to what the instructor said. I made it a point to not let my eyes wander and practiced faking a non-wander should someone think my eyes are wandering. I don?t want them to think I?m staring at them. I?m not a creep. Plus the subtle yet oddly soothing authority of the instructor completely distracted me. I was breathing as she suggested. I loosened my jaw muscles and found a rhythm with the stretches and breathing. Time flew by and I didn?t look at anyone?s ass except the girl 5 feet in front of me a few times on accident. Then the instructor did the most amazing thing. She told us to take a five minute nap. She?s an expert, and she just suggestively demanded that an adult male take a nap. Looking back, I totally could have found that the most sexually fetishistic thing I?d probably ever enjoy in any situation. But no, I was focused on my body. I felt great. I was 50 pounds lighter, my head was tingling and I felt completely and totally at ease. Walking to the next class I felt thoughtless, I was floating, no concerns. Yoga was awesome. I also took an elective that ended up being a team-building course with my first-aid / CPR instructor and his wife. Nice couple, you can tell they loved the outdoors and had a passion for life. They had us do team building obstacle puzzles which were pretty tough. They made us climb large stuff and jump while on billet. Eight others would hold the rope in case some sort of fuck up accidentally missed the bar. My turn. I made the high and frightening climb to the top. I wondered for a moment if there was a certain look the instructor noticed everyone had on their faces right before their own turn to jump. Was there a common look people have when sizing up 8 strangers of variable strengths who essentially held their life in their hands? Were there a separate set of glances for the less trusting of their students? The moment they decided that the group 50 feet below them weren?t going to cut it in a crisis, but decide to leap solo anyway so they don?t hurt the pussies feelings ? What?s that one look like? I almost asked ?What do I fucking look like right now, seriously?? Interestingly, there was a nice young Asian fellow who happened to be taking pictures the whole time. I would have thought of reviewing his pictures had I not politely suggested he put the camera down while he was holding his part of the rope for the first jumper. The male instructor just as politely offered to take pictures for him, and agreed with my suggestion also. I was long after bemused to learn that Asians and cameras were a racial stereotype. That?s hilarious to me. Writing this, years later, I have to wonder if he took yoga. I soon was close to getting my diploma and was ready to work. A family member had a foot in the door at a decent waste management facility, and got me an interview. Before I knew it I was rocking a respirator driving a forklift carrying 40 gallon barrels of stuff that eats through metals and various non-metals. I wasn?t the best employee. I liked the danger and being safety aware. I liked the hard work and the sweat. I didn?t like being an asshole who can?t change the propane tank on his 4 lever and have to sheepishly ask a truck-driver to do it. I would dig through piles of all sorts of acidic and basic chemicals of all colors and safety labels. But that damned propane tank. Someone else is blowing up on this particular location. Fair is fair. I wouldn?t complain about the hard work. My boss was an asshole and for the first time being tougher than someone stupider than I was became an actual goal. Well, I was 19, and I was making more money in two weeks than I?d made in months at my high school fast food ?job.? I didn?t know what to do with 1,200 every two weeks and no time to spend most of it. ?I could save! I should save! I should also get some ecstasy. I?ve never had it before and I?m practically winning at everything right now. I had some friends that could easily hook me up. I picked up one Pink Playboy, one. Nobody?s home on some Saturday afternoon and I can just stay in my room if I?m too high to associate. It?s kicking in??. WOW! Music has never sounded better, visuals have never been so visual.?
Yeah, I?m not going to repeat this again, ever. And work on Monday?s will be a breeze if I only use all weekend. How many can I take before the magic wears off? Wow, that was a lot of pills for the magic to wear off. Wow that was crazy when I lost my job, but there?s still regular Methamphetamine which lacks the awe inspiring euphoria, but it still feels good and keeps me focused! Things are going to be fine. There?s no way I?m about to be amongst an underclass of individuals too strange to be fictional. There?s no way I will someday leave this place after a tech nine automatic will be both loaded and less than an inch from my nose.
