Wednesday, August 15, 2007

silence is golden, duct tape is silver

Okay I apologize in advance if this post isn't upto my usual standards because I am quite fucked up right now. I've been complaining about my left shoulder for months (I thought I had what street hookers call "date shoulder" which is caused by leaning over to the drivers side during car dates) and the chiropractor was only helping a little so I wnet to a pain management doctor. He did an x-ray and checked it out and discovered a hairline fracture on my shoulder blade and pinched nerves. That didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was the prescriptions he wrote me: 60-count OxyContin 40mg and 60-count Soma 350mg. I never thought I could walk into a doctor's office with trackmarks on my arms (and hands, and wrists, and feet, and legs, and ankles) and walk out with scrips like that! So I filled them and took 2 Oxys and 2 Somas. Right when I started to feel them kicking in, I shot 2 bags of bomb heroin.


Joe's obituary was in the paper today, so I went out and bought a copy. It was the first time in my life I ever bought a copy of the sickeningly liberal Palm Beach Post, in fact I didn't even know how much it cost! I took out the local section, ripped out his obit, and threw the rest of the paper away. Didn't even read the comics. God, I hate the Post. All newspapers are slanted, but this one is ridiculous. Greg also printed me out a picture of Joe, he's gonna print another one with me and Joe and also he's taking me to the funeral on Thursday. I'm scared that his relatives heard that there was heroin in his system and blame me for it. I'm gonna be sad enough at the funeral without a lot of hate aimed at me. I'm gonna go ahead and brace myself for it though, especially from his mother. When your kid dies, you have a lot of anger and need someone to throw it on and I guess I'm perfect for the job. The hard part is gonna be if she actually starts something with me, to not make any kind of smart remarks. An old woman doesn't need smart remarks coming from some snot-nosed brat at her son's funeral, that's for god damn sure, but if someone attacks me verbally I can't just let it go. I don't have it in me to ignore mean comments. And I don't just defend myself, I attack back. And I get personal. I think it'd be better for everyone if I showed up at the funeral home with a giant piece of silver duct tape plastered across my mouth. Silence is golden, duct tape is silver.

I still have no cell phone because it was pouring today so I could barely make any money and the cash I did make payed for my scrips and my chiro appoitment and heroin and my ride home with Greg. Tommorrow, I guess...

My 19-year-old brother hangs out with kids between the ages of 17 and 20, which is totally cool, then there's this one creepy guy who is like 24. He finished college and moved right back in with his parents. He doesn't work, doesn't date, doesn't drink, doesn't get high, doesn't go out, doesn't go to school, doesn't do shit. He hangs out with high school/college kids, plays Magic: The Gathering and Dungeons n Dragons, and goes online. As my brother puts it, the kid never grew up. It's sad. Sure I'm staying with my family right now but that's only because my best friend died less than a week ago. I'll be back on my own by Friday, not only do I want to be but also I don't have a choice in the matter. Even if I'm not ready to leave I'll be dragged out kicking and screaming. Fucking bitches heh.

God, do I love OxyContin...

1 comment:

scarlettt said...

Damn, that sucks about your friend. I hate to hear that, especially that you had to find him. One of my best friends OD'd few years back.. it was horrible to say the least.

I had been reading your blog on JL for a while. You have a very illuminating writing style. (Yours and BD were the only blogs I regularly checked in on, ever since I kicked in January with Sub.)
I live in Florida too, not all that far from West Palm. Small world, huh? :-)

Keep your head up, and try not to let any (possible) residual anger from his family sting to deep. It's not your fault.