Have you seen these?
A Year in Books - 2009-12-27
Skip Tracer, Loan Detective - 2009-11-22
New Job - 2009-11-03
The coleslaw got served. - 2009-10-21
Probably a new job. But maybe not. - 2009-10-08

Return to the Dark Side
2000-07-19 14:38:13

July 18th

One of the first nights I was here, Vincent passed me a bowl. I had one hit, and then I didn't want anymore. At the time, I said, "I take the bowl, and I hold it for a minute, and think about it, and I can't really think of a good reason to take a hit." At the time, I meant it. I'd had the same feeling every time D. had tried to get me stoned the last month in NowhereLand. I knew I was no longer in danger of losing my job because of a failed drug test, but I just didn't want to be high. For some reason, I preferred being sober.

For a while, I wondered if this was some sort of psychological block, the result of having a drug test hanging over me for two years, and those nice police officers the first month we lived in NowhereLand. I tried to convince myself this really wasn't that bad of a hangup, and maybe I shouldn't make the concentrated effort to "cure" myself. My neuroses had the law on their side. Maybe I was a better person for giving it up.

Sunday night, though, I found myself kinda wanting to get high again. I did nothing to follow up on the feeling though, because I was afraid that once again, I would ask D. to pack a bowl, and then decide I was done after just one hit. He hates smoking alone, and I didn't want to do that to him again.

Last night, Jay called. He said he and Missy and Alice were going over to Yahn's place to watch Weird Al, and I was welcome to join them. Jay. Alice. Yahn. Weird Al. It would be almost impossible to come up with a more textbook example of imminent drug abuse. I accepted, curious about what I would do when I got there.

Alice had to work until midnight, so Jay and Missy hung out at my place. At 11, I went to pick D. up from work. In the car on the way home, he said he really wanted to get high tonight. I said we were going over to Yahn's to watch Weird Al, (I was sure he would see the same underlying message that I did) but I wasn't really sure where Missy stood on the issue. At home, we all watched an old SNL episode, and one skit had a bong in it. D. said, "You know, speaking of bongs..."

Jay said we were going over to Yahn's later. D. took this as a no, and a subtle attempt to change the subject. He went to find Vincent

When we got to Yahn's, we found not only Yahn and Alice, but also two friends of Yahn's, Ellen and Joe. The 1st words out of Ellen's mouth were "We found Bob!" (Obviously, she wasn't talking about Vincent's roommate Bob. To be perfectly honest, Bob isn't really his name. But it's just the perfect alias for him. Partially because of the drug connection, and partly because a lot of people used to call him Bob. He hung out a lot with a guy named Neal (think sbout it) and then there was Silent Bob, which fit him even better. But we aren't talking about that Bob right now. We're talking about Bob. Six years ago, Jen Z. came back from visiting her Chicago friends, and told us how they all called pot "Bob" down there when they wanted to be discrete. "Have you seen Bob?" "Yeah, Bob's here with me. He wants you to come over." It amused me that the term was still in use. )

So we all sat around with our good buddy Bob. Bob was in a steamroller. I got kind of a hit the 1st time around, and then I really had to go to the bathroom. No, really. It sucked, and I knew it sucked, but I had to go, that very minute, or bad things would happen. When I finally got back, Bob was gone. Dammit. Everyone else was quite clearly stoned, and I was slightly buzzed, but I wanted more. When D. had left, he'd taken his whole stash with him, and I hadn't wanted to ask for some, because I also had been thinking that Missy's presence meant no smoking.

Dammit. It's bad etiquette, asking someone else to pack a bowl, if you can't supply any of your own. I'd just have to wait. Finally, Alice packed a pipe. I got two good hits, then nothing but resin. Crappy dry ass ditchweed. Stupid five other people in the room, preventing me from my total re-surrender to the Dark Side.

Once again, everyone else was more stoned than I was. Goddammit. I'm always the most fucked up person in the room! Everyone says so! ("Goddammit, Ana! I had shrooms earlier today, and I just dropped two hits of acid. You've had a few bonghits. Why are you the one giggling at my carpet?") How is this possible?

Jeez, I thought. Maybe I'm immune now. That would suck. I really really want to be high. No, it's just that this stuff isn't any good. These people just think they're stoned. Damn, do they suck. Then I started drawing, which I only do when I'm fucked up, but my heart wasn't really in it.

So, I think tonight I want to get stoned for real. I know the stuff D. has is good. I can smell it right through the plastic.

I said I think I want to get stoned, because I'm pretty sure any doubts I may have at this point revolve around not getting stoned here. Even though it's a completely different apartment, I got busted once while at home. I don't feel safe, being high in my own house. I guess I figure that if the nice police officers find me while I am somewhere else, it isn't really my problem. Someone else will have to do the talking. That makes no sense at all, but it's how I feel. Perhaps once I'm sure I no longer have a hangup about smoking in general, I'll work on it.

Maybe I can convince D. to go for a walk with me tonight. Vincent is really trying to stay clean, so we really shouldn't go there. Paul is living on Jay's couch, and he goes to bed early, so Jay wouldn't want us there, even if we did bring him drugs. Even though Alice would be cool, I hardly know Yahn, and besides, I guess since they became the stoner hangout, they've been having problems getting time alone together. Goddammit.



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