Wednesday, December 13, 2006

wasted means hasted

A blur of work, hours gobbled by sonething inexplicable. Five minutes now is 5 hours. Just sitting down, wheeling chair deskward, a sip of water, pretending it will make a difference to the drought in my mouth and throat. I feel productive. If only that made a difference. Always doted on by my bosses and colleagues, handled with care, as if a lapcat, needing strokes and tail scratches, I blipped last week. Felt the first frowns ever,workwise.

I thought of apologizing, but it's not good to admit a thing like I did. It's less of an issue, flickering out in a shroud of unknown variables. A personal something-or-other, maybe completely understandable.

So this was it, two radios to write, 3 days. Easy. The first day, I researched, had the ideas, but fuck, every time I started to write, the words dripped out of my finger like a clogged syringe. So, I'd leap to my feet, go bathroomward, the end stall, coughing and scriiping my heels on the tiled floor when the main door swung open. The stall doors have oddly loose locks, and three times someone has opened the door on me, my arm whipping up, in record time, to slam it in their face. But even record time can be just enough to see me with my purse strap twisted, held in my mouth, bloodied arms, a needle poised, or half in.

By the time I get the fucking vein, sometimes 45 minutes can pass, one night four, uh-huh, four, hours had passed. And that was the first radio-writing(non-writing really) night at work. Four thirty am, I depressed the plunger, the liquid so bloodied and thick, despite countless emties and clot-removal. Switch to new syringe, add a bit of water to anti-opaque it. Maybe the coke had clung to the clots I'd killed, because it was weak as fuck.

By that time, I was alone in the office, daylight waiting in the wings, 4.30am. Too late to go home and sleep, three hours in my own bed could only be a cruel tease, I worked(I guess, no actual words materialized on my radio template) until 6.30am, when the dealer turns his phone on.

The day was like a marathon drug-scoring, over and over not predicting the right amount of drugs to get, yo-yoing between the money-machine, my dealer's car, the bathroom, oh yes, and my radio scripts.

That evening, falling asleep in my cab home, I had had had to finish the radios, for a meeting at 9am the next morning. I tried, a valiant effort, I presume, but all I know with clarity is that moment I burst awake. The clock flashing 9am, computer still open on my chest, radio templates still empty, the meeting starting.

That felt really bad.


Anonymous mary said...

Tui..honey before you crash and burn anymore than you have please try and get a grip...any kind of grip.

This coke shit is gonna rip from you in nanoseconds what heroin will only rip from you in years.

You know that.

In some very predictable way it may be what you want to happen..maybe it's all become too too much. Lord knows..or some higher power've been hanging on valiantly to some invisible dam like barrier. With nails bitten to the quick & bleeding imperceptibley. Meant perhaps to hold back the flooding consequences of your recent actions..for how long sweetie before it separates..ruptures into inumerable pieces and long before you break?

A mind scratched to shit like an old vinyl straught with replays..overplay and just plain play...a jolting frontal lobe boost will be needed here shortly if you don't let go.

Let yourself fall and come to a screeching halt...heels dug in..of your own it even if you can barely bring yourself to. Don't allow the levee to take you down unaware. The undertow & vortex sucking your last panicked scarcely sane thoughts as you drown in the incoherence and babble of this drugs prequisites. To finally deposit you in the still waters of its insanity.

Decide by choice of alternatives to bow out..before the dance is done..before you are thrown out. And I'm not speaking of work here..I am speaking of life. There is always a resevoir of fate to land in..with offers and smacks of new beginnings..equal and fair selections.

Take your trip home..I know you fear it..but do something to get away from the blow. It's fucking with your thoughts girl..and they're showing up in places where you don't want them to be seen or heard. Coke is sneaky like that..closest a person gets to clinically insane are those all to fleating moments after you get your hit.

People do care what happens to you Tu..but that matters little if you don' beleive it or care yourself. I read in your words that you very very much give a shit. My past is all over those words of yours.

I get that youth in all its infallabilty rarely if ever heeds the words of the middle-aged and newly falliable. Hell..when does that 'tinker tailor soldier sailor' skip over happen anyway..who wants to notice..but it does and without ones permission as far as I recall. What does an older person..let alone older junkie know of my journey of my high?

Perhaps nothing or very little...I'll say this do absolutely not want this life for yourself in the years ahead. It becomes so much more dilusional..harder, like day old cotton candy..sweet turned to bitter...turned to nothing.

And it's lonely's lonely as hell on its fullest day.


4:26 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

ms. tui -

haven't heard about your feline companion in a while... how is she?

times sound tough right now... and since you haven't been posting so regularly i started reading the archives (gotta get my tui fix one way or the other)... i ran across this entry & i thought it might help to recall happier times from a couple of months ago...:

Saturday, October 07, 2006
Go me
I did it. I wanted it so badly, my mind couldn't look away. So I brought the cat, stuffed it in my purse to distract me, and went and got my methadone. And now I'm back safe, drug-free, in front of Law and Order re-runs. And I'm glad, I'm really fucking glad. $60 is just a sweet flush through my veins, then nothing. It's too expensive to feel wow anymore.

I'm surprised how good it feels, saying no. It's exciting, like beating up your bully.

I remember when I first read it, and, Damn, I felt good for you that day! Just a reminder that you have it in you to make things just a little happier!

Well, hope its goin better!!

Your friend in cyberspace,


12:00 PM  
Blogger The Very Reverend Ace Clemmons, Jr. said...


its sounds like they gave you a pass tho?, no?


12:25 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My days of being the office cat ended with them at my bed in a hospital petting me goodbye (they thought I would straighten up before it came to this, I was yound, smart, beautiful after all, just a little wild).When I got out of the hospital, out of restraints, off the machines, catherters gone. It had been 30 plus days and no it wasn't rehab, it was intensive care and critical care, they replaced blown out veins, left track marks to match yours, finally using the groin. Even that would prove to difficult. They put a shunt in my liver, I had blown the portal vein more than once. I wasn't suppose to survive, but I did. Against my wishes, but that was then and this is now. I had to choose life as i knew it which would end in just days or a new life away being nursed back to health. My mom chose for me, I couldn't. I just couldn't. So it came down to do not pass go, do not collect $200. She wouldn't even let me pack my own stuff, it had been done previous to me getting out. I couldn't be let in MY OWN HOUSE, they thought I had stashes they hadn't disposed of.. My cat had been relocated, as was my car, there was no escape. Lock, stock and barrell. Do not pass go.

7:54 PM  
Blogger tui said...

Thanks, all of you.

My anonymous cyber-space friend, I think about his grumpy meows and head butts, it's like the bad-news letter, or impossibly high bill, screwed up, squashed & hidden, under piles of others, trying to be forgotten. Throbbing, loud and angry. Horny as fuck, he's tried to make-out with my arm, heavy lidded sex-eyes rolling in his head, steamy, seductive, biting my hand softly, but still too hard, the way you grip the headboard of your bed. Chasing girl-cats all over town.

His vet appointment, for the chop, was supposed to be today. I'd been trying to keep him inside. His poor little brain, so muddled, confusion stamped across his face. My fur jackets and hat each christianed, cat-sex toys, I guess the cat blow-up doll equivalent.

I was afraid for him, tough-guy swagger traded for doe-eyed ditsyness. An angry woman brought him home two weeks ago, he had victimized her female cat with adulation, repeated advances, first-love syndrome. Crying outside her window, stalker-like.

The nuerotic, slimy, "aww sweety" saying/evil thinking roommate, let him out on Sunday. A spoilt, repulsive diva, each time he'd meow, her fat ass crushing the couch, eyes glued to tv screen, she'd scream abuse at him. Confused he'd cock his head. Silently, I'd rescue him. And then, 10 days ago, she locked him inside without his litter box. Maybe his little tummy was sore. But when she arrived home, she put her hand in a runny pile of poop and potent urine, pooling in the only personal iten in the living roomm, her insanely expensive and ugly jacket. Somehow screaming and vomiting at the same time she sprinted from the room, demanding I scrub the entire floor, throughout the house. My cat had made his move. She hated him, loudly and incessantly. No wonder he just comes in for food then bails when I'm not there, and when I am, he's my small shadow. He was my small shadow.

8:25 PM  
Anonymous mary said...

Well that makesd me laugh..alot of it anyway. You're sounding better on that last comment...humorous even.

Tui have him fixed..don't leave him to suffer while you're away.

Truly they are much better off that way. The average life of an unfixed cat that is let outdoors is 2 years. It's very hard on them if they cannot release themselves..and when older unfixed males and females have far more problems with diseases in those areas. Ahh urine and unfixed male's the #1 reason they are brought to shelters or the SPCA, etc..becasue they spray like mad all over the place when whole. His urune will be so much milder..almost perfume like compared to the amonia he's peeing now...not their faults of course but wicked smelling nonetheless. It takes 6 to 8 weeks for all that testosterone to leave their systems...and your world will begin to smell normal again. Trust me..from the sounds of it he's a very dominant male. He'll still be himself only alot more chilled. They really have time to develope unique pesonalities once they've not got to worry about getting off every us a little I guess. Hehe.

Bet that shit and puke looked really good on your roomate..she sounds like a piece of work that one does. Hope she's not abusing him when you're not around. People are fucked like that.

When do you leave for home?

5:23 PM  
Anonymous Beth said...

Yeah Tui, like Mary and Anon said pls try and get a grip before it's too late. How much longer before you lose your job? By the sounds of it you are very good at what you do but what the hell would you do if you lost it??

It's probably the only thing that keeps you relatively sane and if you didn't have it you
would probably do more (if possible..) drugs than you are already doing now. At least when you work, you have something in your life other than drugs, I ended up losing my job because of heroin/crack and thats when my life completely spiralled out of control. First I lost my job, then my house, then ran out of money etc and that was just the start of it...

Tui, can't you tell your family what's going on? By the sounds of it you need a break away, somewhere peaceful with just your meth? Anyway, I really hope the new year is better for you, have a good Xmas - love Beth x x

6:35 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

i love it tui!

thanks for the kitty update, sounds like he's quite the hellraiser!

warm holiday wishes!

your friend

9:29 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Tui, a few weeks ago you asked, and I'm paraphrasing, why law and society won't leave you alone with your H as its not effecting your life. And then the admission of the coke use.

For an addict keeping your life together is like walking on a log. Keeping your balance is a challenge but when you begin to lose it you scramble and the fall is almost inevitable.

Your falling Tui, you life is coming apart. You can stop now or wait till your job is working the streets of Parkdale.

Your choice

10:47 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I don't even know what to say that could help, but I do hope for the best. Your roommate, on the other hand, desperately needs to contract a bizarre and mysterious disease that strikes her dumb and immobile to give her some perspective.

8:08 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home