posted on March 26, 2017 at 11:08 pm
hope

hope

WARning : this blog has been commissioned 

it is about heroin and it is a fictionalised account 

of lives lived in a day

 

So i’m riding the train to the vietnamese part of town

and its taking forever

yeah i am riding along

maybe you dont recognise me

i was hurled into this world with enough past life baggage

to check into the white hotel for evermore

how the hell would i know what it was..?

but it was something that was a big hassle

i had no screaming esteem

i could not dig myself at all for sure

as the slow old train wound its way to my destination

my self esteem was not picking up any steam

i sat there attacked from all sides by pain ache despair and anxiety

and thats just the stuff you can give names to…

there are the other formless nameless horrors

bearing down on me and it felt like the whole world

finally we get there and i wander around trying to make eye contact with someone

sometimes the dealers actually greeted ya as you got off the train

today they werent there so i walked through the shops

i make eye contact with a vietnamese guy about the same age as me

ie early forties

he sidles over to me gracefully

what you want ? he smiles

i do only hundreds. this is the best stuff you ever had in your life. i promise you!

i nod my head.

i heard that best stuff line a thousand times before

hissed in swedish

guffawed by an irish guy

sneered to me in cockney english

in matter of fact american

an enthusiastic old mexican guy whose stuff actually had been the best

but i am conflicted because this guy looks like he wouldnt have said it

if he didnt mean it

because yeah

he said it with the pride of merchant who knows he has the best fucking merch

i follow him to a restaurant and he bids me wait and pulls up a table and chair

he disappears out the back into the kitchen

the people in the restaurant all watch me sadly as they eat their noodles and chilli

its seems like an eternity that i sit there

the people go on with their low drone of conversation

i guess they all know why i’m here

eventually he comes out and puts down a little square object on the table

two? i say…

he nods and puts another little package down

i give him 200 bucks and i walk back and get on a train home which is even more agonisingly slow

somehow those 2 little packets sitting in the change pocket in my jeans are keeping the lid on things

i take a bus and eventually i get into my empty and neglected house

where children had once played was now only dust and a sullen darkness

my friends never liked me enough and they were gone

the wives and girlfriends had never loved me enough and they were gone

the music had been too loud and my hearing was gone

the sweets had been too sweet and some of my teeth were gone

the money in the bank had been too easy and now it had mostly gone too

still i didnt care

i had snuck a peak at my packets and i knew i was holding the real deal

after crumbling off a bit and tasting it

yeah there was that familiar old bitter taste

up in my room i got the ritual ready

a silver spoon still with this mornings cotton filter in it

i pulled a needle out of the large family sized pack of needles

gotten from the pharmacy up the snobby road

where the pharmacist had visibly winced as he took my cash

because dope users had all kinds of diseases…

anyway i take out the packet and examine my dope

its in this aluminium wrap and it looks like a small caramel  square

it is extremely yellow

the most yellow dope i have ever seen in my life

like yellow ochre i want to say from my paint set as a child

yeah definitely yellow ochre

i take about one third of the block and put it in the spoon

it has the consistency of some soft sweet or something

then i draw up half a needle full of water and squirt it into the spoon

then i pull the plunger out of the needle

and with the small black spongy tip

i mix up the yellow dope into the water

until the solid dope is disappeared into the now thick yellowy water

putting the plunger back into the syringe

i throw a tiny cotton wool ball into the spoon

the cotton wool absorbed most of the mixture and turned yellow

i apply the needle to the cotton wool

and from it i suck up all the yellow solution of dope in the spoon

then i fish around in my arm for a vein

there a still a few ok veins left to hit but its getting trickier and trickier

it takes about 5 or 6 long sweaty minutes

before a small flash of blood appears in the chamber of the needle

i carefully suck up some more blood

which swirls through the yellow dope creating horrifically beautiful shapes

then i push down ever so gently with my thumb as the stuff drains into my vein

a direct injection into my living mainframe

the feeling is overwhelming an exciting rush

it instantly erases every single worry doubt ache cramp nausea anxiety and nightmare

then

you stagger back and sit on the bed

you dont care that youre alone and unshaven and shabby in this dim messy room

you dont care that tomorrow was another day you gotta somehow find another hundred bucks at least

the  rush brings the taste of the dope into the back of your throat

its a bitter medicinal taste but now youve grown to love it

you sit there and in the wake of the rush comes the calm

wow! things arent too bad…i guess…are they..?

oh boy youre so serene and wise and detached and beyond it all

the whispering of the empty house silenced

the murmuring of the voices in your head is gone

your dismal room seems cheery and muted

you just sit there happy content warm and comfortable

you just sit there quiet easy nice soothing

everything is just so cool actually

youve scored some nice dope so fuck the bills and the work and the gossip and all the rest

once you were doing ok and now youre plainly not but fuck all that!

who cares about all that stuff anyway?

and then your head starts to slump and your eyes are starting to close

your nodding and then catching yourself you snap out of it

and yeah youre still sitting on the bed in the dim old room

a stupefaction has come down upon you now

you enter these realms of pure fantasy which last for one millisecond only

but during that millisecond in the dope world time is passing at another rate

you keep snapping out of it and blinking your eyes and youre still sitting on the bed

its 630 pm and its raining outside but outside no longer exists for you

your head falls forward again on your chest

and then you nod right out and curl up on the bed

behind your eyes are a million dreams

you seem to walk along this corridor sampling every dream

and every dream is unbelievably fantastic and more real than real

eventually you are dreaming you are this man

and youre married to this beautiful woman

oh boy what a wonderful marriage you have

oh man that woman of your dreams here in your dream and yeah she loves you

well you are a good man and you live your life here in this dream

and you and your wife have one two three handsome sons

and you watch them grow up

and you walk through the snow with them in winter

and through the soft warm sunlight of the dreampt summer

and the boys grow

and your wife loves you

and you fix up your house in the country

hey tho…

maybe its like a hundred years ago or something…

theres even some horses and animals and a war

but you go and fight in the war and you are triumphant and your side always win

when you come home the beautiful wife who youve been married to for like 30 years now

she is still young

the weather is always nice

the daughters in law and grandchildren all love you

everything in your life is happy and righteous and good

friends come over and you sit long into the nights

laughing and eating and drinking and being satisfied

youve been living here in these lovely woods for so long

youve planted all the trees and seen them all grow

you and that lovely wife whose name is always on the tip of your tongue

the fish in the river they are so silvery

the birdsong in the air is glorious

the crowds fluffy on water colour skies and the warming sun

the cooling white moon of the long perfect evenings

the mornings in bed with that gorgeous wonderful obliging wife

man she loves ya all up!

the white sheets the soft eiderdown the moving curtains in the zephyrs of spring

those sweet kisses those lovely sleeps when its all over

yeah you roll out of bed ready for breakfast have a look in the mirror

yeah age has not wearied you brother

you are strong and firm and decent and handsome and popular and kind and good

so many days stretch behind you

so many days stretch away ahead

days full of doing wonderful things

days full of wonder and light and peace and love

the whole world swings through space and the whole universe is in accord

problems you just laugh away

your 3 fine sons and your most gorgeous wife who loves you so much

youve worked so hard for all of this although it seems effortless

on a day like this so perfectly crisp and so immediate and new

if there is a more happy satiated contented man on this earth he would be hard to find

man this goes on for even more years and years and years…

what? click!

suddenly i open your eyes to find its 6.34 on a rainy evening in winter

and im lying on a bed in a cold dim room and theres no one else is home

and theres the needle and theres the spoon and theres the cotton

and a small drop of blood coagulated on my arm

and that whole life i just led is cruelly snatched away

that glorious world where i was a king

and that lovely wife you had and family…

im nothing here just a shabby hopeless dodgy dope fiend and a wretch

bang! its all taken away from ya just like that…

and then just as im thinking about it all i nod off again

and that pleasant memory is nearly almost totally erased

but even through all the next series of dreams

that i will have before the next shot in a few hours time

the incandescent memory of that world burns bright

in some harsh contrast between that world of wonder

and the darkened sad empty dusty rainy evening

which is enveloping us right now

as i lie in the room upstairs in the lonely house

and i start to dream it all again

 

 

for JB

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6 Responses to “dope”

  1. avatar
    allan_steen | 26 March 2017 at 11:47 pm #

    An Essay? in any case a very strong one. personally I have never tried anything stronger than jack Daniels, but you are giving me here a detailled horror first hand experience how it is like to be an addict to Heroin and the like. Thank you. i do hope you, your self are able still to keep away from it, knowing how wonderful – and terrible at the same time this is, and what it does to you. Thank you for this indsight.

  2. avatar
    Chris | 27 March 2017 at 8:28 am #

    All I ever wanted to see was just invisible to me…but that song enables me to see it…thus don’t need the smack.

  3. avatar
    Cocoamo | 27 March 2017 at 8:58 am #

    The happy thing is that this is in the past, long behind you. (Although the codeine, alcohol, and grass cocktail leading to a conversation with an angel is a bit worrisome, but anyway…)

    The sad thing is the damage to the ears from loud music, a weapon of destruction you continue to inflict. It’s the ultimate irony, that you can no longer accurately perceive or enjoy that which you are so beautifully capable of creating…the marvels you have given us.

    And I seem to be the only one mourning the loss. And I really do.

    Your Friend in Pennsylvania
    (Now in Cocoa Beach)

  4. avatar
    Desertrance | 27 March 2017 at 1:37 pm #

    Wow that took me away the true escape of a chemical reaction well done amazing writing . Be fun to have you come to do a project here in the mountains of the old west. Change of scenery change of mindscape effected by landscape. Thankful for all you’ve done hope your happy! Was a pleasure meeting you in the past .

  5. avatar
    Wayno | 27 March 2017 at 4:56 pm #

    Great writing derived from a dark place.

    Somewhat related… I’ll bet that you’re not looking forward to border control for the next USA tour with Drumpf’s goons in charge. They’re giving children’s authors a hard time so what are they going to make of rock’n’rollers with colourful histories…

  6. avatar
    andy | 27 March 2017 at 7:49 pm #

    i’m too inept with language to make a meaningful comment. we all dream the same dreams.


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