Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Junk is a way of life.

The house is quiet, Eleanor is on the couch curled up in the soft green blanket on the end of the couch that I myself was just wrapped up in watching TCM. Now I'm listening to Radiohead softly on the CD player as write. My parents have gone to the grocery store. Outside its 28 degrees with a windchill in the teens. Smoking a cigarette is a hassle.

Right now I'm missing my ex Pete. I think maybe he was my soul mate. He put up with everything I doled out. He knew the real me, and loved me. We used to listen to this CD and have sex. Of course I was high, and nothing seemed like there could be wrong with the world. Christmas lights hung around our window even though it was three months past Christmas. I remember I was as rail thin, I felt sexy, I was high, I had heroin and syringes laying around on the coffee table. We would have sex, and I would tie off, and cook up a shot and push off right after naked and comfortable with my body. Chain smoking we would talk of what we were writing about in our notebooks. I always admired his writing. He had a great talent for poetry, but he wouldn't read my notebooks. He'd rather we talk about his writings. I was all right with that, because I thought him to be such a supiour writer than I. I was embarrassed at my efforts at poetry. I look back on those notebooks and those poems are some good. Mostly centered around junk, like ode to opiates. Opiate cat tails. Take me to places I will never know then just take me home.

Perhaps it wasn't Pete who was the love of my life, but Heroin itself. Heroin and I would take long walks that seemed to last forever. Just me and my lovely emotionless thoughts. The world at my feet. Words at the tip of my tongue falling out and when I made it home from my pen onto the page. Like smoke rings from my cigarette smoke. So easy just little help with some chemicals. No spinning in place. Spinning in place like I am now. Moments of clarity when I wasn't too high. No computer to write on, no that would have been pawned as soon as we had received it. Just 80cent note books and dollar pens.

The house never seemed to get a mess. There was always a glass  of water on the coffee table for me to get water for my Heroin, and to wash my syringe. A candle to boil down the concoction. I always wore a belt and had shoe laces hanging on a wall where a nail protruded. A tourniquet in my bag of works. Always something to tie me off with. I preferred the shoe laces if I was shooting in my hand, the belt for the inside of my elbow, the tourniquet for my feet. The biggest mess was made by used fits. We didn't have enough used laundry detergent bottles to throw them away in and bring them to the needle exchange. So we used an old empty suite case. There were thousands of syringes in that suite case. We would go through the garbage and look for empty laundry detergent bottles to bring to the needle exchange. Plus we had that little bio hazards box for dirty needles that the exchange gave us, but that held nothing.

I remember one time my dealer was out of heroin and pills, and I was going to be going sick for a week. He told me to get on the Methadone clinic. At the time the thought of it was outrageous to me. Methadone. Ha. Instead I checked myself into a detox for that week, and then as soon as I got out my tolerance was lower and my dealer had new gear.

I have so many memories of Heroin, with and without Pete. I always went and got the dope. Pete may have paid for it sometimes, but I took the risks. That's why I doled out what he got, and that's why he never got as much as me. Which is why he never got strung out like I did. He had a chip. Junk became a way of life for me.


elizabeth said...

This is never going to stop unless you get off this merry-go-round someplace. Think about the dual diagnosis route again please. This is such a waste of you.

Anonymous said...

Hey Anna,

I've been reading your blog for a few days now. I wanted to ask you, are you still attending classes? It seems like those would occupy your time a little and stop you from obsessing over H.

Anna Grace said...

Duel diagnosis scares the hell out of me. To Change everything about the way I live, think, perhaps even write. I would have to go down to Madison WI, were I would meet new hook ups, and where its easier to get Heroin than it is here in Green Bay. Excuses,excuses I know.

Anna Grace said...

I'm still attending class, but I've got a mind for Heroin right now. I've also got a headache that won't go away.

the guy in the silk taffeta dress said...

You mentioned watching TCM, do you like the older movies? I love b&w movies. I saw Boris Karloff was their featured actor today. Those old horror movies are something else.
You know you have sensational blue eyes, really amazing.
I hope my saying that does not put me in a "stalker" category.I'm pretty frank with my thoughts, that's all.
My name's Jake btw.
Anyway, good night and sweet dreams.

Sarcastic Bastard said...

I hope you manage to have a good Thanksgiving. I am thankful to have you as a friend, and I mean that. I still think you are a very talented writer.

I wish you would quit the drugs, but it's your life and your choice.

Love you,


Anonymous said...

Truth is, you will never get anywhere with the subutex unless you really want to quit the opiates. I'm a Heroin addict, clean 4 years, and what did it for me was the pure desire to get clean and never touch the stuff again. What you're feeling right now with the sub is called reality, with nothing to cloud your judgment. If you can't deal with it, then you're on the path to relapse.

Anonymous said...

r u pregnant in that picture w/ the white shirt?

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Uhmmm, Anonymous 3,
Could you be more of an asshole, possibly? I doubt it.

Fuck you.

Skidaddle said...

Hi Grace, I've just found your words from Gledwoods blog which is also new to me. A little something I think you'll know and like. http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1869900453399416474#
I bet you already know it.
Strange isn't it, I feel girls are so visually motivated. You also like strength. It all seems easy if you list it but I never get it. You seem a lost soul but you also seem like a hundred other people I might pass a little out of the bright lights. I guess my point is you might be next to someone who's just the person you need at 3.45 the day after tomorrow and perhaps they're to unsure to say anything, just like you. Would Kurt be so beautiful if he was in the gas station queue and had never taken the turn that took him eventually to the brink. he'd still be the same soul. You obviously spend a great deal of time in your own head so there's nothing I can really tell you that you don't already know but in there there must be some good things, spend a little time in those boxes. I'm so very prone to thoughts like yours and I have to use a little discipline to stop negative things just going round and round, if I start being negative alll the time I really just have to STOP. Perhaps another small blog with another character made of you but good things happen. I envy your discipline of writing, both you and Gledwood. I met Burroughs once. Good luck to you.

Anonymous said...

Can you take down the pics where it looks like you need to shit?

Gledwood said...

Is Pete the one you're lying on the subway train with in NYC?

Does Jess do the B, too?

I'm just curious, as you say and say you want heroin, then say you won't do it, bc of your family... so are you doing it away from then?

Anna Grace said...

Jess doesn't do H. Yes Its Pete I'm on the subway with.
When I do slip and use I use when my parents are not around. Eg: sleeping, or I leave and go to my dealers house.

the guy in the silk taffeta dress said...

I was thinking about you Anna.
This is for you:

Gledwood said...