ashes ashes we all fall down

a couple posts ago i wrote about some friends of mine, alyson and scotty, the master thieves. well, all things come to an end, good or bad.  scotty got arrested again, after a short foot chase with police. he was mid boost at a wholesale store, and something went wrong. he was out of jail less than a week.

alyson was also mid boost, she filled up a handbasket with top end cuts of beef, and just walked out of the store. i guess she got away, but someone got the plate on the getaway car. (my friend kristi’s) so they picked up alyson, and kristi’s boyfriend, as an accesory. alyson had been out two weeks.

it sux, but it was bound to happen. a hustle like that only goes on so long, and it always ends in jail time.  these kids are used to that. it’s kinda like they manifest their own destiny.  you think this is the only way, so it is.

i hope the massive run they went on was worth a winter inside.

pieces

this was a poem i wrote when i was sixteen, after a long winter dosing ecstacy and acid  two or three times a week. i know the language is a little silly, but i was young, and i think it gets the point across. when i stop and think–this was eight years ago, i’ve been so tired, for so long. different drugs, same feelings..

pieces

i am only pieces

shattered bits of me

always somthing missing

something i can’t be

always quiet and nervous

wondering why, how

what the hell brought me here

and what do i do now

jagged little pieces of

who i used to be

a distorted copy

of the inside me

disillusioned and dizzy

shaky and confused

i am now a product

of all the drugs i used

the liquid light of

endless nights

i clench my teeth

it feels so right

it takes me over

and its disbelief

this ecstacy i feel

so complete, so brief

take me from reality

make me who i’m not

let me be free tonight

let all this pain just rot

stars are out,

but i don’t see

the air’s so cold

but not to me

on my tongue

a world of dreams

where nothing matters

as much as it seems

everybody’s crazy

and we are all just fine

in this land of candy

everything is mine

the sky, the stars

the river, the seas

the castle, these kiddies

you and me

i am only pieces

of the kid i used to be

sometimes it’s hard to remember

what i want from me

all i hear is music

all i see is traces

all i feel is liquid motion

all the cards are aces

only little pieces

whatever’s left of me

a little puddle on the floor

overcooked candy

i get dizzy when i close my eyes

and it’s hard to concentrate

sometimes i wish to take it back

but it’s beyond too late

it’s never enough

i always want more

you can never go home

once you walked through that door

i am only pieces

what do you want from me

i tried to come together

i tried to become free

now i’m just a prisoner

of a false reality

always and forever trying

to get somewhere i can’t be

when you’re there, nothing matters

when you’re high you just don’t care

then you come down, back to yourself

but not all of you is there

now i’m only pieces

and that’s all i’ll ever be

i’ve lost those shards of self somewhere

somewhere deep in me

and i wait here, for the sunset

my fists tense, my mouth dry

all i want is the stars to come out

so i can stay up all night, so high

spring 2000

 

ground score

casey and i have been doing the disco biscuits tour scene since we started dating, about two years ago.  he’s been doing phishtour for almost ten years.  it’s a huge part of who we are, and it’s one place we’re not known as junkies. it means alot to me.  if you are unfamiliar with this particular subculture, it’s pretty incredible in it’s own right.  amazing, mind-bending music, endless supply of good drugs, and the people you meet are unlike anyone else on the planet. biscuit kids. my pseudofamily.  you do meet your fair share or shady opportunist. kids looking to rip you off, make money of your ignorence.  but little do they know i come from the world of junk, and they’ve got nothing on what i’ve seen. so we hold our own with these novice hustlers, be sure.

we have one group of kids we do these shows with.  jarod his girl rachel, our friend ben, and a handful of other kids who we party with occasionally.  we were alot closer with them before we got so tight with the Hman, and i mean, they know we mainline, but it’s a dont ask don’t tell policy. as long as they don’t see it, we are cool. i appreciate that alot, and it makes the shows a possiblity still.  if we could kick the dope, i’m confident we’d go back to hanging out every weekend. they’re good people.  every show we hit, we all get rooms together, and this weekend was no different. we rented a ski house a couple hundred feet from the festy grounds.

the festival we were hitting this weekend was camp bisco. end of summer madness extravagansa.  up in the new york mountains, bunch of spun out kids descend on the ski resort, take complete control, and make a mockery of all things normal.  we were really psyched for the weekend away. except for one small detail…our habit.

over the past couple weeks, since we got booted from the suboxone program (no pun intended, hehehe) we’d aquired a medium size habit, which had to be addressed before we even toyed with the idea of leaving for three whole days.  thankfully, a friend of our hooked us up with six grams for half the usual price.  okay, i guess we can go now.   i know, six grams was a little much, but we were on vacation, how much damage could it do?

the weekend was going great, we were volunteering, so the tickets were free, we were staying off site, which means we avoided the ever-present police search, and unavoidable part of festival life today. no search meant our house was a fear and lothing style free for all.  the first night of the weekend saw not only the disco biscuits, but ecstacy, molly (pure powder mdma) ketamine, dmt (smoke it and tripp) weed, booze, cocaine, acid and a little nitrous. good times. i appreciated everyone else’s intoxicated state even more cuz it fogged over the fact that casey and i were in our room more often than not, taking shots more often than we should. nobody noticed, which just made me cocky. bring it on, we aren’t getting caught this weekend.

so by saturday nite, when we went to do our last shift voluteering, we were crazy jammed, which was a double edged sword, it made me all warm and fuzzy, made the shift go by super fast, but it also made it hard to process the things around me.  along with all the other drugs, i was far from myself. but try to find a sober kid on the property, and i’ll give you a dollar.

at the end of our shift, we headed back to the cabin to “freshen up” before the biscuits’ set.  i was on the bed, setting up two more moster shots, when casey pulled a small green baggy out of his pocket. inside was white powder. this peaked my curiosity. “kaia, check what i found.” he dropped it on the table.

now, ground scoring is an age-old tour kid tradition.  take one diranged, drug-addled biscuit kid, add pockets full of consumables and a dizziness in the head that just won’t die, and you’ve got a festival grounds littered with little bags of drugs, cash, and items purchased from vendors and dropped two feet from the table. 

casey’s true calling in life is the ground score. like i said, he’s been going to shows since he was 16, and he finds something good every single time. from dank weed to e pills, coke, meth, he’s even found hundred dollar bills. he always finds something. this night was no different. the question was, what the fuck was it?  with the various kinds of drugs on the market today,  a ground score is often an experiment, a leap of faith.  usually, casey and i are very careful to do this right. perform a little taste test, before you commit to a full size dose.  but i guess its apperant by now, we weren’t in our right minds.

“what do you think it is?” i asked. i put my point down, if it was good drugs, i’d save my shot for later.

“i’m not sure.” casey dumped the contents out onto a plate.  it was a white crystaline powder.  a few possibilities ran through my head.  coke: nope, too shiney.  meth: maybe, a little too white.  should be yellower.  molly: i hope so. i should have noticed it looked too much like salt to be molly.  but our favorite thing to do at these event is roll out, and sometimes you see what you want to.

“i think it’s molly.” casey said. he’s reading my mind. he cut the pile into two lines. big ones.

“how do you know?”

“i don’t.” he wet his pinky and stuck it in the pile, tasting the powder. “it’s sweet.”

molly has a very distinct taste, but you can never be 100% sure. i was still wary, but casey seemed convinced, he took the straw and went to do a line.

now this is the part where you hear me–”just a bump, hon. safety first.”– but i was mid nod, and i really thought it was/wanted it to be molly, so i forgot the rules.  casey did the line.

“what do you think, babe?”

he looked over at me with a little horror on his face. “what if it was K?”

how could you forget about k? we just fuct up, bad.

for those of you who missed that dare class, k is a heavy disassociative, a bump can make you feel like you downed a case of beer. hallucinations and complete lack of coodination. the ammount that casey just did is a guaranteed overdose. it was just a matter of how bad an overdose.

“oh shit, baby.” i went over to him and grabbed his hand. “oh shit.”

he sat on the floor and put his head back. the reaction was almost instant. his eyes rolled in the back of his head, his words were immediatly slurring. “it’s okay, kaia, i’ll be fine. just let me ride it out.”

“okay, okay.” my voice was shaky, as were my hand. i was scared. i need that shot.

i sat back on the bed, keeping my eye on casey.  everyone else was at the show, so i was on my own with him.   as i was tying off, casey started crawling toward the bathroom, on his hands and knees. as i pushed the plunger down, my rush was intterupted by the sound of projectile vomit.  i didn’t take any time to enjoy the run, but i did feel calmer and more in control after. i joined casey on the floor of the bathroom, and prepared myself to “ride it out” i rubbed his back and cleaned up his face, “it’s okay, baby, everything will be fine.”

i spent the next two hours helping casey to and from the bathroom (on his hands and knees), nodding out, and missing the show.  how perfect is that?  what was the one thing that could cause us to miss the show, the whole reason for this weekend?? drugs, silly.  only being that high could cause a lapse in judgement of that magnatude, leading to casey’s overdose.

now don’t be scared, casey did come through the other side, and i never did have to call the ambulance. (which is also one of the rules: never call the medics unless you know there is no other way to handle it) i was scared out of my mind, but we made it through together.  we made it over to the show for the last couple of songs.  we were bummed about missing the show, but we did bring it on ourselves, and the bigger picture was he was even okay to see the encoure.

i guess the moral to this story is obvious.  no matter how fuct up you get, never forsake you basic rules of recreational drug use.  taste test all ground scores, moderate you intake of all substances. because if you’re not careful, you will miss the show. and maybe every other show after that.

orestes lyrics (perfect circle)

Metaphor for a missing moment
Pull me in to your perfect circle

One womb
One shame
One resolve

Liberate this will
To release us all

Gotta cut away, clear away
Snip away and sever this
Umbilical residue that’s
Keeping me from killing you

And from pulling you down with me in here
I can almost hear you scream

One more medicated peaceful moment
Give Me
One more medicated peaceful moment

And I don’t wanna feel this overwhelming
Hostility
I don’t wanna feel this overwhelming
Hostility

Gotta cut away, clear away
Snip away and sever this
Umbilical residue

Gotta cut away, clear away
Snip away and sever this
Umbilical residue that’s
Keeping me from killing you

Snip away and sever this

Keeping me from killing you

booster shots

i think it goes without saying, if you don’t hear from me, in real life, or via blogging, it’s understood; i’m running hard.  (pushing a heavy habit) this past week is no different. it’s been a vivid trip down the rabit hole…

my parents have been out of town, as well as my dealer/friend, kristi.  i was asked to watch both houses, and i took the opportunity to go completely off the deep end with the drugs.  i actually took some kind of sick pleasure in doing massive shots in the living room, and the kitchen. being a junkie is such a solitary thing, and there is a lot to be said about doing your shot without having to be perched behind a locked door, in a parked car, or on a toilet seat.  so yes, i was enjoying myself.  until the end of the week. out of drugs, out of money and yet again, i find myself sick.

casey has  been working overtime, to try and make some extra cash for our trip to new york. (not going so well with the saving) so on sunday morning he woke up, two hours late for work, and headed out.  we were both pretty deep in the sickness by that point.  i downed a fistfull of sleeping pills and hoped for the best. 

six hours, and no sleep later, i found myself lying on the floor of the shower, letting the scalding water course over my aching body, still unable to get warm.  the day had gone by very slowly, and there was no end in sight. i had resigned myself to sweat it out, this is the result of my choices. oh well.

then, the phone rang.

“kaia, how you doing, sweety?” it was marc. good sign.

“bad, kid, really bad.” i was a little upset with marc, he was supposed to come through for us with some suboxone, but his connect flaked on him. so not only did he owe us 40 bucks from the weekend bender, but he’d contributed to the sickness of a junkie, a crime punishable by death. “what do you want, marc, i’m not really in the mood to chat.”

“well, i’m with scotty and alyson, and we are looking to make some money.”
“go on”

scotty and alyson are two notorious hometown junkies, both fresh out of a short bid in county, and running super hard, per usual. 

“well, i heard you and casey had a rental car for the weekend, and i had a proposition for ya.”

“you already owe me, marc.” unless this story ended with me getting bags hand delivered, i was wary to even move.

“i know, i’m sorry, let me make it up to you.” i know marc was sorry, it always sux when you can’t come through for your friends.

now, marc’s main hookup in the dope scene is his massive connections.  he knows every addict in the tri-county  area, and they all owe him one.  if you’ve got the car, he’s got the deisel connect.  if you’ve got old c-d’s, jewelry, fucking car parts, the kid can sell them for cash. he can usually find a dealer who will take trade. if you need to cop, marc can usually make it happen.

i manage a half-seated position, and listen up for the hustle-o-the-day.

“scotty and alyson are ready to do some boosting, if you can hook it up with the wheels.”

ah, good old reliable–boosting.  aka: shoplifting, an age old junkie tradition.  if you know someone who’s not super paranoid, that can handle the stress of the job, it’s always good for fast cash. it makes me nervous as hell, but desperate times, baby…. “we’ll pick you up as soon as casey gets home.”

in the next 20 minutes i wrangled my carcass out of bed, put on a pair of dirty overalls on my sweat-dreanched pajama top, pulled my tangled hair into a ponytail, and put on my hangover sunglasses. i was ready.  casey pulled up and we were gone.  we picked up marc, with scotty and alyson, and headed to an electronics store in the city, to boost some dvds.  apperanty there was someone who knew a guy who paid cash for box sets. 

now scotty and alyson are two pretty standard “junky life stories”  these are the people that straight people envison when they hear the word heroin.

scotty has been an addict for about ten years, since he was 14 or so.  he’s well known in our hometown, and has pulled more than his fair share of scams.  off the top of my head, i can remember a couple times he broke into cars all down casey’s mom’s street, sold a bunch of bad acid and made everyone tweak out, overdosed and got dumped in the hallway of some random complex, and has spent 60% of his short adult life, serving time. needless to say, he’s not too popular among my old crew of friends. but to be honest, he’s not a bad kid, and not a bad kid to know, in the game.  if you’ve got the ride, he’ll get you high all day. not to mention, i sortof respect him, if for nothing more than the fact he’s a survivor.  how many people can do whatever it takes, completely alone, and make it work. sleeping under bridges, crossing the country, hitchhiking, stealing, going in and out of jail, quitting dope, relapsing. i don’t know if i could live it like that.  no matter what you think of him, he can do whatever it takes.

the same can be said for alyson.  same bad reputation, same 10-15 years in the game, and the same survivalist mentality.  she’s done it all to see the next day, the next shot.  boosting, robbery, armed & otherwise, and even hooking. that’s the kicker for me. the stories that she’s told me about tricks and johns, beatings and arrests. and for her, most of the time the money is just to live. hotels and food, hooking up kids she stays with. it’s the hardest life, if you ask me. and she’s also the first to help out anyone who needs it. if you’re sick, she’ll make you well. if you’re hungry, she’ll feed you. if you’re homeless, she’ll make the money for the hotel. it’s amazing, how someone with so little will go so far to hook up other junkies.  she was abandoned by her family when she was really young, explain why no one was concerned when she was introduced to IV drug use at age 13. so we are her family.

it reminds me not to believe all the gossip you hear, and maybe not to judge people by their acts of desperation, but by how they treat you.  we put ourselves, or sometimes life puts us in places we need to  adapt to.  not everyone can live this life, it’s a very hard one. even with junkies, only the strong survive.

so we pulled up at the store, and scott and alyson went in. me, casey and marc waited in the car.  i was feeling worse every second.  it didn’t help any that the whole way to the city i was subjected to observing scotty’s never-ending nod.  he was superjammed, as he’d been running this hustle all day. boost, cop, get off, boost, cop, get off.  he actually had to give us a list of stores NOT to go to, cuz he’d already hit them that day.  this little tidbit made me that much more nervous, but it really wasn’t up to me. my habit was in charge.

about ten minutes later they came sauntering out.  i actually allowed myself to get all excited, thinking we were done  as we drove away from the store, scotty and alyson dug dvds out of their pants.

“what the fuck, aly, you only got two.” scotty was pretty pissed.

“why, what does that mean?” alyson handed over her two boxed sets. “i’m wearing really tight jeans.”

“well, i only get 20 bucks for each set, so we only have 120 here.”

now, $120 in my neck of the woods is enough for a bundle. now, that would’ve been fine by me, but scotty was the one doing all the work, and he was looking to shoot some coke too. you know what that means, we had to hit another store. great, being sick that much longer sounds like a good idea.

i looked over at poor casey.  after six hours of work, and all this driving.  sweat beading on his face, dark circles under his eyes. it never gets easy, suffering side by side.  helpless.  totally dependent on these kids, praying they don’t get popped in there, praying we don’t all get popped. (worse than being dopesick.  what is being dopesick in police custody?) i just want it to be over, counting the seconds until i’ve got that needle in my hand, 20cc of relief. my mouth was watering just thinking about it.

so we drove 20 more minutes and hit one more store. in and out really quick this time, with $75 more worth of dvds. but the paranoia was setting in. any time you’re trying to pull a hustle, and you get close to the end, everyone involved starts getting freaked out. “is that security?” don’t go left, cops chill down there.” “don’t call that guy, he’s an narc.” we were parked across the isle from a kid in a shirt that looked a little like a uniform. scotty gets in the car, and notices the kid across the way.

“dude, that kid works here, get the hell out of here. go go.”

“come on casey, move it.” marc gets spooked easy. soon the whole car was in an uproar, but it died down as we put some distance between us and the store.  i was glad the boostin was done for the day.  we were finally on our way to see the guy who buys the dvds.  (for those of you playing at home, that’s 3 hours elapsed since we picked up marc.) scotty and alyson went into the dvd guys house, while marc, the poor kid was trying like hell to make coversation with me, to no avail.

“this should be pretty quick, kaia, i know this is sucking for you.”

silence.

“we really appreciate you picking us up.”

silence.

“okay, here they come, girl, it’s almost over.”

i managed a grumble. “grhmm.”

scotty and alyson got back into the car, minus the movies, and plus almost 200 bucks. we were driving again. finally, we were on our way.

but wait, there’s more. “so i can’t see this girl for like a half an hour.” scotty said, scratching his head.

godfuckingdamnityou’vegottobekiddinme….i was gonna fucking cry.

“so let’s get some coke.” marc’s bright idea.  marc’s always been my #1 coke fiend, and this was his answer for any problem.  toothache, get some coke, dopesick, get some coke, bored, angry, sad, get some coke.  so we did.

next thing i know i’m riding off a huge coke shot, and we were pulled over so scott could puke.  it was then that i realized how bad an idea coke really was. alyson was in imidiate tweak out mode, super paranoid.  “i’ve got warrents, you guys. you get pulled over, i’m running.”

“it’s okay, it’s okay.” casey said. as i look over i notice A. he’s trying to steer the car through a densly populated area, B. has a needle full of coke hanging out of his forearm C. while a carfull of people high out of their minds rambling on and on about cops and speed limits and kids on bikes who are watching us swerve. it was chaos.

if i don’t get high right now i’m going to throw myself in front of the next truck that passes us.

needless to say, the coke didn’t make me feel any better, and the trip to see the dope girl was a necessity at this point.

“okay, we can go see her, but only me and casey, i can’t go up there with a carfull of people.”

of course. insult, meet injury.

so casey and scotty drove away, as me, alyson, and marc stood in the parking lot of a minimall near the girl’s house.  it was cold outside, and i was covered in sweat.  my head was pounding, my muscles were on fire.  i hobbled over to some park benches, and we waited.  i vaugely remember hearing alyson going on about a cop that was parked across the way, and marc talking about the weather…none of it mattered to me. this situation couldn’t get any worse.

then, it started to rain.  not just rain, downpour. thunder. lightning.  cold wind, hard rain. beautiful. 

of course, at moments like this, you really feel the effects of “junky karma”, the self-inflicted bad luck only junkies understand.  standing in a downpour, dopesick out of your mind, praying for drugs, or death.

at that moment of reckoning, casey pulled back into the parking lot, at the other end, of course.  at that moment, the pain was secondary, i had to run.  so i ran, in my flip flops, getting soaked, to the little white rental.

i sat in the car, and we drove. this is the moment, this is it. five hours had passed since we started our adventure. scotty had made it happen, just like marc promised. he passed me two bags, and my hands were shaking as i drew up the water.  less than ten seconds later, at a red light in the city, with the sun going down behind me, i felt that pinch, and then that warm flush. push all the agony from my bones.  it was gone. that aweful time game was over. (two hours, 30 minutes, 57 seconds until i get high)

none of that mattered any more. because i was well. i  got straight. i got high.

it’s incredible, what you will do. what you endure, in what you participate, what you orcestrate, facilitate.  all for that elusive, toxic, erotic fix.

 

 

keep trying

in my reckless moments its hard to find reasons to quit dope. then things like this occur, and it becomes clean again…
casey and i were house-sitting for some friends of ours, and since we live with my parents, we rarely have a house to ourselves. it was late on the first night, and we had been doing coke for about three hours. it was getting to be time to come down and just chill.
casey was setting up some dope for us.  to take the edge off, make the rest of the night livable. i went into the spare room to get changed for bed.  at this time i was struck with a playful mood. it has been so long since we were totally alone. all of the sudden i started thinking about how much i love him, and how nice it would be to just be a normal couple.  to just be young and in love without all the baggage that comes with being an addict. the more i thought about it, the more in love i felt, the more hopeful, happy.  i needed to feel like we were going to be okay, i wanted to feel that unconditional love that i hold so dear between us. when you have a heavy habit, that feeling, along with every other feeling, becomes distorted.
i guess everyone is struck with these moments. you just want to close your eyes and click your heals and wake up in a place where you feel safe and happy, and far from danger.  elated, and still a little high on coke, i went with the feeling. i rummaged through my bag and took out a pair of tiny pink pajamas, a halter top and boxing shorts. i put my hair up in pigtails and put on a pair of knee high socks and pink tennis shoes. i looked hot, even if i say so myself. what’s more is that i felt good. the way i used to when casey and i first started dating. when we got along so well, and before we started doing dope. it had been a while since i was giggly and spontaneous. just doing what came to me, for fun. i was smiling, anticipating the look on casey’s face. he always loved this surprise attack romance.
“kaia, are you coming or what?” he calls from the next room.

“yep.” i was walking through the hall, and he met me half way.  he smiled. here comes the part where he sweeps me off my feet and the rest writes itself.
“what’s this?” he asked, as i did a little turn so he could take it all in.

“well, we’re all alone, and i was just thinking, the perfect way to spend the evening…”

i put my arms around him, and gave him a little kiss.

“sure, baby, that sound great, but let’s get high first.”
ouch.
 
i don’t know why, but i was expecting that instant, primal reaction. the “i can’t wait one more second, kiss me now.” type thing. like we were the only people in the world, and being together was the most important thing. seeing me, wanting to be with me would put everything else out of his mind.   how naive.   first thing’s first, right?
casey walked back into the bedroom, and i followed, feeling silly all of the sudden. why was i all dressed up, again?  what was i trying to accomplish?   he handed me my rig, and i knew that after this, sex was out of the question. we’d been up for a couple days, and after this shot, we’d get in bed and just…be jammed. 
i watched him, as he hit himself, and after i gave him a minute to recoup, i asked him to hit me off. after a long night of coke shots, i get shaky, and casey always gets me first try. 
“okay baby, gimme your arm.” he took my arm in his hands, and as i sat on the bed, in my little pink outfit, he hit me and i was overcome by that old familiar feeling. he released my tie, and kissed my hand.  at that moment i saw the love i was looking for.  the look in his eye, like i was the only girl in the world, and he would do anything for me.  a little happy, to be with me, have me near, and a little sad that we put each other in this position again. 
the love is there, but its not the solution to our problem. there is no magic fix for our addiction.  overcoming it will probably be the hardest thing we ever do. but  we can do it.
these are the moments we need to have before we go on a weekend bender.  before we throw away 7 days clean just because we’re bored.   remember why we are together, and what we want to do as a couple. have our own place, and get married, have kids. none of that will ever happen until we are in recovery. and on a smaller scale, i want to be the first thing on casey’s mind. i want our relationship to be top priority. i want nothing to come between us, especially drugs. 
so we learn our lesson, and try again. that’s all anyone can do.

the trouble with mikey

mikey and i have been best friends for almost ten years. it’s been a long arduous road, but i love him and i always will. we have way too  much history to just give up.
for instance, he was with me the night i ate bad acid and had a psychotic epsiode (seeing god will give you a special bond with someone, i guess)
i was the only one of our friends who stuck by him when we were 18 and he got his brand new girlfriend pregnant, and immediatly started fucking another girl. i know he was wrong, but it doesn’t mean he should be abandoned by eveyone.
we have a special understanding, because no matter what happens in our lives, we don’t judge each other, we try our best to help and see each other through it. it’s important, becuase in life, there aren’t alot of people that love you no matter what.
mikey has been in the military since we were 19. he’s been deployed to every warzone on the planet. sometimes i think he’s got an addiction to danger. as well as everything else. see, mikey and i are good for each other in alot of ways, but there’s one way we don’t do so good. the drugs.
since we’ve known each other, we’ve been balls out party kids. it’s just in our nature. so this last time he came home from iraq for leave, it was the same story.
“hello” 

“kaia, it’s mikey”

“oh my god, where are you??”

“i’m home, can you pick me up?”
i was out the door and in my car before he even hung up, i’m sure.

as soon as he got in the car, it started.

“so kaia, i wanna party, can we do something?”
”of course we can do something”  we headed to the city and came home with some coke. it came to my attention, as he tried to pass me a line of coke, that i needed to go over a small detail with him first. i went in my purse and took out my set of works.
the look on his face, i can’t even explain it.
“what’s this shit, kaia?”

“ i thought you read my emails, about the trouble i’ve been in the past few months”

“i thought you were talking about the pills and shit, the oc’s the fentanyl patches, i didn’t know it was needles and shit.”

“heroin, mike”

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” he stood up, and did another line of coke. this was looking bleak.

“come on, man, i’ve been getting shit from everyone for this, i don’t need it from you.” now, normally this would be alot to ask of someone, but we’ve been through too much for him to get freaked about this.

“i don’t know,” he’s pacing the floor “it’s dangerous, it’s dirty”

“you fuck hookers on like a regualar basis”

“just tell me you use clean needles” mikey’s a medic in the army, so he knows his shit when it comes down to it.

“i try my best”

“damnit, kaia” he sat back down, he looked at me for a long time, for a second i though maybe this was too much to ask.  “well, do you want some coke or what” he asked.
so i took my line, put it in the cooker, and preped my shot. i was pretty enthralled with my work, but out of the corner of my eye, i noticed mikey watching me work, with intensity. not talking, just drinking his beer and watching me. watching me draw it up, watching me tie off. he didn’t take his eyes off me. blood register, and push down that plunger. my head started to ring and i sat back on the bed. when my rush was done i sat back up, and there he was, staring. he didn’t say a word.
hours went by, and we got back to being just best friends again, laughing and drinking. soon the needle didn’t even seem to exsits, we were just partying, like always. soon we were out of drugs again. so i called up my friend alex that lives in the city.  alex is a certified crackhead, and he can get the best deals in town. so mikey gave me his hazzard pay and we transformed it into rock. presto chango.
we sat up at alex’s house for the rest of the night. we smoked almost 200.00 out, and after the sun was up, we sat on the couch while alex struggled with sleep.
now things between us always get weird when we put 24 hours under our belts. i knew it was only an hour or so before my dope girl opened up for business. so i laid it on the table.
“feeling pretty shitty, huh?” i asked him.

“yeah, how are you doing?” he’s rubbing his eyes, pacing again.

“well, at 8:00, my girl kristi gets up, if you could let me borrow 50 bucks, i could get straight and we could go back to my house and chill. get you some beers or whatever.”

“you mean dope, kaia?” he just looked at me.

i figured it was worth a shot cuz we were so spun out on coke and shit, and i really needed a fix, or i was gonna start to cry. “yeah, dope.”

“okay, call her up, i’ll let you borrow the money”

nice nice nice nice. i grabbed the phone and called her up. the deal was done and we were to pick her up in an hour.
the next hour went by like time was standing still. that cracked out time, when all you wanna do is come down, and the finish line seems so far away. i did feel bad, for asking for the money, but he had like five grand, and i was gonna pay him back. it was his idea to go out tonight anyway, i mean, i was just doing what he wanted me to.
my internal rationalization helped my pass the time, and pretty soon it was time to get kristi. we left alex’s house without making a sound, cuz if he knew we were going to cop, he’d wanna get in on it, and that just wasn’t happening. so we made it to the car in stealth mode and i preceded to speed profusely to kristi’s house.
we made the switch to her car, cuz i was too cracked out to drive, and we started the trek to the dealers house. kristi re-ups in the morning, and we made it just in time for her run.
“you look like you’ve had a long night, sweet thing.” she laughed

“you don’t even know, girl” i giggled, putting my shades on and settling in for the ride. i expected a nice quiet ride, but mikey had other ideas.
“so kristi, you guys get high alot together.” he says

kristi just looks at me, i nod my head, if he really wants to know, let him have it.

“yeah, baby, we get high alot.” she said, smiling. “but kaia’s been doing good, only a few times a week. that was a baldfaced lie, at that time i was with kristi everyday, getting high all day. but why tourture the poor kid.

“do you guys like it?” he asked. he sounded like a little kid, asking questions at career day. i felt a little guilty. poor innocent mikey.

“it’s not an ideal situation, but it has its good points” kristi answered.

“i wanna try it.”

there goes my poor innocent mikey  idea. “no fucking way.” i said, turning around in my seat. “no way in hell i’m letting you get high. not on my goddamn watch.” this was gonna totally ruin my high. wait until this shit gets out, crucify me, why don’t you. besides, mikey does enough shit on his own, i didn’t wanna facilitate.
we pulled up in front of the dealers house.

“okay, who’s got the money, three bags for fifty bucks” kristi put her hand out. i knew exactly what was coming next.

“either i get one of those bags, or noone does” mikey, you suck.

okay, what would you do, on the brink of dopesick, coupled with a 12 hour crackbender, with your best friend, who introduced you to every drug you ever did, except this one….i still felt like an asshole.

“fine, whatever, just give her the money, please.”
kristi came back to the car, and we wern’t even out of our parking space before i was fixing my shot. two bags in the cooker, “please watch the bumps, kristi” and bang, fixed.

i sat back, put my sunglasses back on, and let it go.
that’s all i needed. we can figure out anything now. it’s all good. i looked back, and there he was, staring at me again.

“kaia, if i want it, i’ll find it with or without you.” it’s like he was reading my mind.
we got back to kristi’s house, and mikey sniffed half his bag. after which he fell asleep. no big deal, just take the edge off, like i said. he hasn’t done it again.  he went back to iraq, like he does every time. no more than what it was, early morning come down.
but the trouble with mikey is that you never know what’s gonna happen next. he got court-martialed a few weeks ago,due to an indiscretion he’s yet to disclose to me,  and now he’s home for good. and i worry about what he’s gonna fill his time with. i wasn’t worried before, cuz no matter what went down at home, he was alway on his way back to a controlled environment. now he’s free to do as he will, and that’s usually trouble. i haven’t seen him yet. i can’t wait, and i’m scared at the same time. we can’t live without each other, but living with each other, well, it’s a rough ride.

mistrust, mistake

i understand that being a junky comes with certain bad side effects. track marks, poverty, and mistrust, just to name a few. i see, i’ve done some fuct up shit in my day, i won’t deny it. but this situation just didn’t jive with me. i just feel like the wrong reasons are behind it all.day before yesturday i finally ran into my best friend mikey, back from war for good, and looking to do some drinking. i called casey at work and told him, i’d probably be gone when he got home cuz me and mike were gonna go out and drink a little. casey didn’t mind. me and mike have been friends for years, and it’s never been a sexual thing.  besides, if you are gonna be in a relationship, there’s gotta be some kind of trust. looking back on it now, i don’t think it’s sexual mistrust, i think it’s drug-related.
so mikey showed up and we were in the pool for a while, just drinking and catching up, it’s been about three months since i’ve seen him, so time passed quickly. before i knew it casey was home and we were all just chillin, having a good time. my brother and his friends asked me to go to the liquour store for them, and mikey had to pick up a dresser from a freind’s house, so we decided to go take care of that. casey asked me to get him some food while we were out too. now here’s the fatal mistake; we took our beer with us. now, as a junky, drinking doesn’t come into the equation often anymore. i don’t know what it is, but to me, dope and booze just don’t mix well. so if you’re drinking, leave your beers at home, or you’ll never go back there.  so by this time,  i was tipsy off like three beers. we got to our friend dave’s house, to pick up the dresser, and we ran into even more people i haven’t seen in forever. we decided to stay for one beer, i mean, we brought it with us, why not have one??  two hours later, i had totally forgotten about the booze for my brother, casey’s food, and anthing else i was supposed to do. i was just living the moment.
at that point, the whole direction of the evening changed. this kid john we know from a couple years ago showed up. he’s a recovered addict, well, at least i thought he was recovered… about ten minutes into his visit, mikey and dave finally go downstairs to load the dresser, the whole reason we even came over, and john makes his move.
“so kaia, how’ve you been?”

“good, how’s your wife?”
”getting a divorce.”

“bummer, sorry” nice one kaia.
“so,what are you doing tonight, i hear you can cop dope in the city”

here we go. “yeah, i know a girl, i thought you were cool with that shit now.”

“are you ever really cool with it?” he just smiled at me.
in five minutes i was on the phone, and in ten we were in the car. twenty minutes, and i was balencing my cooker on my lap. that first desperate coke shot always rattles my cage. you can never get it done fast enough, and you can never seem to get your hands to stop shaking.  as i closed my eyes and tried to get my head-ring on, the phone rang. it was casey. understandable upset, i’d gone to cop and totally forgotten my responsibilities to them. so i hung up the phone, and went into my purse to get the money for the booze. i had to make this right before people started to get really pissed. priority check; failed.
this was about the time i noticed, all the money was gone. as well as my wallet. nice. very nice. i imediatly called casey back.
“all my fucking money is gone.”

“what, what the hell did you do with it?”

“ i lost it or it got stolen, or something.” i was about to tell him about the wallet, but he cut me off.

“yeah, or something. nice one, kaia, you like spending other peoples money on dope.” he was sooooo pissed off.

“what do you mean?” i knew what he meant.

“you take off with aaron’s money and go to cop, and then convienently get robbed. who do you think you’re fucking with?”

i was hurt, i admit it. but i had a feeling, as soon as i noticed the money was missing, that this was the way it was gonna go down. i am, after all, still a junky. weather it’s my brother or my boyfriend, they all see me the same way. there’s always that chance, in their eyes, that i’m gonna hustle them. but that’s not the case with me, i don’t pull that shit. and i certainly didn’t pull that shit this time.

“i don’t know what to tell you, baby. the money is gone.”

he hung up on me. nothing makes me sadder than that sudden dial tone. i was surprized he took my brother’s side so adamantly. i mean, we are partners in crime, even if i did rip off aaron, (which i didn’t, repeat, didn’t) casey should have had my  back. after all, it wasn’t even his money. that’s what leads me to believe, he was jelous more than anything. not of me and mikey, or a “cheating thing” but of the drugs. he was pissed i copped for another kid, and got high out of the deal. just gives you a little insight into the mind of a junky. do whatever you want, but don’t ever fuck with my drugs.
mikey brought me back to the apartment we were hanging out at. no money. we checked his car, no money. we checked john’s car, no goddamn money. i reluctantly dialed my house back, they had to hear it from me.
aaron answered the phone.

“is casey there?”

“no but i am, you know what isn’t here, my fucking money, or how about my beer.”

“i told him, aaron, i lost it, i can get it back to you tomorow.”

“what does that do for me tonight, kaia?”
”i didn’t have anything to do with it, it was an accident, or a theft.”

“I DONT BELIEVE YOU”
that pretty much said it , right there. no matter what i said, noone was going to believe me.  aaron told me casey said “fuck you” and went out for the night.  i went to a girlfriend’s house for the night. no use in going home unless you have what they want from you. and i couldn’t have the money til the next morning. so i settled in at a house where beer and weed are the two main food groups. tell you what, nothing give you that mix of a rush and a shame wave like secretly shooting dope in a friends bathroom. but, hey, i don’t make the rules, i just live by them.
when i did get home, i gave aaron his money, and we were cool. things with casey were a little tougher. he left the house and didn’t come home for two days. didn’t go to work, was just out on a revenge bender. you know how that is, when you feel left out of a score, you settle it on your terms. well, for my indiscresion, i paid. two days of no phone calls, worrying, wondering. when you are living the life of  two addicts, the worst case scenario runs through your head alot.  for all i know he could have od’d and been stuffed behind a dumpster.

 if i learned anything from this experience it would have to be; if you want anyone to trust you, buy your booze before you cop your drugs, hehehe. but seriously, if you want people to trust you, do what you say you’re gonna before you do what you want.

rip matty luv, another one gone too soon

New ANTHEM FOR AMERICA’S DISENFRANCHISED
will we look back and laugh at our twisted path
or will we drive on mindlessly,
asleep at the wheel, too numb to feel
the weight of the gravity that’s holding us here?
wasting away, lookin’ for a new cause to die for
or a reason to live another day,
what would it take to make it worthwhile,
to make all ya’ll smile, and say: hey hey hey, everything will be okay

what now

 it’s sunday. feels like a good enough day to start over.
it was a predictable weekend. we spent all the money we had, on drugs, by friday, simple equation we keep testing. does me + you  + money= debauchery? 

the answer is irrevocably yes.  so we made our way from wednesday to friday tepidly inebriated, and saturday rolled around. i felt strange. i was tossing and turning. my muscles were clenching, and i was sweating profusely. it hit me like a ton of bricks.
i’m fucking sick.
now i know what you’re thinking, “silly junky, of course you’re sick, it’s what happens when you run out of dope. did you miss this class?”  but there is always a catch. casey and i have been on the suboxone program on and off for about two years now. it always starts out with us doing our damndest to stay straight. fighting every will we have to keep clean, and keep together. it always ends up with us doing our damndest to be clean for piss tests, and fighting  every will to sell our last pill for two bags. life is funny like that. learn from it, or repeat it until you do. we are still trying.
so casey finally got booted off this program we’ve been working since march. he got final word last week. i have been off the program for about three months, since i lost my last job. we were doing okay, with just casey’s meds. well, at least i thought i was; i had a “get out of sick free” card, and he took all the piss test (you know it was a good deal) but he missed a few appointments, and failed a piss test, so he’s off. we had one more script for 14 pills. he promptly sold half of it, and we copped a half bundle.
now for those of you who don’t know suboxone, it’s a pretty good deal. put one under your tongue and half an hour later, you are well. don’t get me wrong, there is no buzz involved (i hear you can get a slight body high, but only if you have absolutely no habit). but lets be honest, certain times, you will take “well” over anything else in the world, except high, that is. so i took my pills during the week, and waited like a good little girl til payday. it was working out better than anything else we’ve tried.

so, needless to say, i haven’t been sick, unless i wanted to be. wait it out, see if you can score. if  not, the worst of it was an hour or so of mild discomfort. not the ”sick” we all know and love. desperate, angry, tired and pathetically helpless. i haven’t been there in a while, until right now. 
so that brings me to the end of the weekend, no money, and i had two suboxone left. now good conscious would say “take your meds and cool out til next payday” but my girl had another idea.
“trade you those two pills for this bag” kristi had been letting us stay at her house for a couple days. now its getting down to the wire, and bartering for whatever’s left is a common practice.

no way, i need this shit, i have to think about tommor…”okay”

i know i’m an idiot i was thinking it the whole time.
add water. there’s still time to give this back.
draw it up.  casey is gonna kick my ass.
tap tap tap, damn little bubbles, what am i doing.

push it down i am gonna be so sick…but not til tommorow.
fade to black…
and here i am. it’s two in the morning. i am going through my old routine. hot sweats, cold sweats, sneezing and aching. and all for a 45 minute buffer between me and all the shit. i’d like to say it was worth it. what do you think?
now for the question i should’ve asked then. what the fuck am i gonna do tommorow??