It's frighteningly easy to score drugs off the Internet.
All it took was a trip to a shady website, an email and text conversation or 2, and after a trip to a casino parking lot on the East side of town, I had enough illicit powdered narcotics on my person to fuck my life up big time, whether shooting it up or being caught in possession of it. I hurried home post haste, being extra sure to obey the speed limit everywhere I went because I wasn't going out like that. Again. Just like in the Trainspotting movie, I planned the trip very studiously and was well supplied and outfitted, even going so far as to buying a rug to lay down on in my computer room when the drugs took effect. Tile is cold this time of year. I locked the house up, turned all the lights off, shut off my phone, and just took a walk down a familiar road. Look, I'm not stupid, I dipped my toe into the pile, didn't jump in head first... the water hardly turned brown from the few flecks I put in. Cooking up over a stove sure was easier than doing it over a Zippo, that's for sure. I took my work, went back into my computer room, put Flipper on repeat, hit it, and just layed down and let the warmth overwhelm me. It felt monstrous, making all my troubles go away with just one little plunge. I ran my hands all over my face and body and just felt the stimulation wash over me like echoes, like waves of pleasure. All pain was gone. I felt normal again for a second. My body pulsed, almost orgasmic. There was a little bit of nausea, but nothing I couldn't deal with. It felt euphoric... God like. I passed out while trying to think of ways to put into words what I was feeling.
I woke up feeling sick, like nauseous still, but wanting more. I repeated the recipe, adding a little bit a little more every time I did, testing the boundaries, pushing my limits, motivated by the fact that I was reminded of her everywhere I looked - the spices she cooked with, the stuff she left behind, the pictures of her family members on the fridge, the walls with our pictures of us smiling and happy hanging on them, etc. I fixed and went back into my control room. It was the safest place for me to be, it felt the easiest to deal with at the time. I did this for days, draining the bar of every drop of booze I had, not taking my meds, throwing up blood every now and then, and just wallowing in it. I smelt like shit. I felt even worse. People came and left notes and gifts and knocked and banged and screamed at the door to my house, but it all sounded distant and faint. I wanted nothing to do with any of it. I just wanted to be alone to die. My existence was like being at the bottom of a swimming pool and just being in that quiet otherworldly like environment for as long as you can before you have to go screaming to the surface grasping for air. Problem was I didn't have to come up for air. Cops came to my door while I was high as fuck for a safety check of sorts, to see if I was still alive and OK. I assured them I was fine and they left. I was getting used to the idea of spending my days like this, and that was a dangerous thought to have in my head.
I deleted all social media contact. I didn't wanna talk or see anybody. I was just alone and miserable. She had taken the dogs too, which is always painful, but especially because she took this little abused dog with her as well, a dog we had just adopted a few days before at some Zappos sponsored event at the SPCA. Irony. He was an older dog, badly abused and mistreated, scared of anything and everything, and I told her to bring the dog back to my house if she wasn't going to keep him, but she assured me that she was going to keep him, and that was that. I couldn't tell you on what day of my death dirge I snapped out of it long enough to go browsing the SPCA website looking to replace a small piece of my soul with another rescue animal, when low and behold I see the dog we had just adopted back up on the website with some cockamamie story next to him saying he didn't get along well with the dog he was previously with, which I'm sure is just BS for "I'm too stupid, selfish and proud to take him back to Gilbert, so I'll dump him back off back at the SPCA so like, whatever". Long story short is that when I saw that poor little dog on the website wearing the collar we had bought him, looking sad as fuck and miserable in his updated photo, I flushed all my shit down the toilet and popped a shitload of Xanax and crashed the fuck out, passing out with a mission to accomplish, a new lust for life, and a promise to keep. You see, when I was walking the dog around the house, getting him familiar with his surroundings and all that, I told him that this was his Home, and that he was safe here, and that nobody was gonna hurt him ever again while he was here. I told him he was protected here, I told him he was gonna be OK, and then that selfish bitch tried to make a liar out of me by taking him away from his new home. No. Fucking. Way. Anyways, I found a new reason to live, and his name is Yahoo. He's the funniest guy ever and if you're lucky enough to meet him you'll see why I say that. He gets better and stronger everyday and so do I. Neither one of us has that much time left on this planet, but we're gonna make the most out of what we got. Who's with us? :)
Gig Review: Misfits / Alkaline Trio / FEAR @MGM Grand Garden Arena
Idle Gossip updated
Pictures: Doulos @Angel City Cafe
Music Review:Desert Rats With Baseball Bats, Volume 3
Music Review:Blondie - Pollinator
Pictures:Manic Hispanic @Silver Saddle Saloon (Repost)
Pictures:Dinah Cancer & The Grave Robbers @Double Clown Saloon (Repost)
Gig Calendar updated
Conflict @ Ft. Cheyenne (Repost)
Punk Rock Summer Comp
Sparks / Les Sewing Sisters @The El Rey Theater