DROWNING- NOT WAIVING (c23)
This was perhaps just what I needed. It`s how I did with most of the drugs, before getting tired of them: I`ve hit the absolute bottom and there was no way to continue, except for an ugly death at which time something changed within me and I`ve never felt the craving again. I think I just did it again.
Anyhow- now I`ll be continuing to write, so hold on to your hats, folks!
NEEDLES AND PINNS
Poking, sticking it, penetrating the scared, scarred flesh deeper and deeper, holding breath not to miss that microscopic “pop” of the virgin vain`s wall collapsing, letting the blunt, overused needle to enter the river of blood, taking one to the promiced land. Complete concentration- the gallaxy stops rotating, the heart stops beating, the whole univerce shrinks at the tip of the siringe, awaiting the big bang. Half a sentimetre long draw of the pump backwards, to create the vacuum that is to be filled with blood as the bright red signal for full speed ahead. The tip of the plastic siringe filles with a tiny air bubble- vacuum: nothing. Miss. I have to start all over.
Introvenious users are a speciall bunch. A speciall breed. The very first question a police or a doctor often asks a dope head is if one is introvenious user. Not because it is more addictive to inject heroine, than to smoke it- infact often quite the opposite, since while smoking, you need alot larger dozes, thus speeding up the addiction. No- it`s that speciall moment in once life, when one breaks the boundary, the taboo and takes the first introvenious hit. It`s as if one becomes a member of a special club of the doomed. For me it wasn`t quite the same, since the very first drug I took, was introveniously.
Yet even that very first time had that masochistic pleasure. Siringe was made of glass, the needle had to be screwed on. The whole kit was packed in a jewelery like looking box and seemed like something a doctor from the 1800-th would stick in you. I loved it, dasregarding that it has been in my step-fathers ass more times then I would care to admit, saving him from yet another alkogol overdose. That`s the thing- it was just prior to the AIDS getting faimous, besides offisially there was no drug problem in the USSR. So no one cared about all the funky microbs we could be sharing. Luckily the Sovjets were a healthy nation or it`s just me who got lucky, having such desease free friends.
Recently I got beaten up by a pal of mine, who couldn`t handle his liqour and was sitting in the emergency for my 5 stiches on the lip. Waiting for the nurse, I opened a drawer and allmost fell on the floor. An intence flashback- a strong physical kick spread through out my whole body, shorter than an orgasm, but allmost as intense. It has happened to me once before, when I felt the smell of the cheap parfume, which I used to wipe my arm, before injecting amphetamine. The whole drawer was packed with siringes and needles. Brown once,(too thick), yellow (better, but not as good)… as the green once. Thin- for your pleasure. It has been years since the last time I`ve injected. I wasn`t planning to do it again, yet I grabbed handfulls and stopped them in my bag, praying to God not to get caught. “It`s for my junkey palls”- I explained to myself.
I`m still a strong believer in giving out the sterile gear to the fully comited dopeheads. Swedes` officialls seem to believe that it would mean accepting and promoting the drug abuse, instead of saving lives and stopping epidemics as well as legalisation of industriall hemp would in their view mean excepting marijuanna, instead of sparing our forests.
The same evening I was crushing and dissolving in a spoon the only drug I had in my pocket- synthetic heroine. After all theese years my veins were still not fully recovered. It took a few tries- and after I finally got in me a hefty dose- nothing happened. Well, something, but no rush, no kick. That was one of the modern medicines miracles- a designer drug, that is useless to inject.
The need to get high can be overpowering. I remember having a single siringe left, when a dope pall came by with a few hits of heroine. I wasn`t hooked on it to the point of having withdrawals, yet presented with it, I could not say “no”. Problem was that he allmost certainly had hepatitis B and boiling the plastic gear does not guarantee its sterility. Still I`ve cooked it and was about to take my hit, when he insisted on doing it first. I don`t remember if I`ve cooked it again, since the plastic easily deforms at high teperatures, but I`m sure I just didn`t care. I could`ve smoked it or snorted it with the same result, just taking a bit longer time, yet I just had to inject. Sticks and stones may brake my bones, needles and pinns will give me a full blown AIDS…
