YESTERDAY, MARILYN wanted to smoke crack. She was Valium'd or otherwise benzo'd, and so insulated against the more jagged effects of cocaine. So we went to my place and she rang my dealer. The crack was nicer than the usual rubbish that's been around lately. Also, the deals were over twice as big for the same money as Wicked's. Only reason I've called Wicked for it is 1. he always has it, 2. he is quick 3., it's not my drug so when I want a bit I do only want a bit. Money spent on crack is money down the drain however much you get for your money. Same could be said for heroin (commonsensically) but heroin makes me feel better all day. Crack makes me feel good for ten minutes. Then I either feel bad or the same as before. When I've binged on crack it has sucked all the joy I had left in life out, and left me feeling bled dry. I do like a pipe now and then. I love mixing a bit in my "gear" to hit up a "snowball". But beyond that, crack just does not do it for me.
To cut a long story short, even before the dealer came with the second delivery, I was feeling sick and dehydrated. Too paranoid to leave the house (but I had to, to buy another lighter). I was drenched in sweat, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over me.
As we smoked on I began to feel so sick that I palmed the drugs I was meant to be smoking and put them on the side. Marilyn smoked on. Couldn't understand how I could be less high at the end of the evening than the start. But that's just me. Cocaine (except for generous doses in small amounts) doesn't really agree with me.
Generous doses in small amounts? Let me explain. Ridiculously small lines snorted... how many times have I sat there, having had the same as everyone else, hearing them comment or compliment the quality of the drugs: and yet I don't feel it. Coke with me is like pulling a switch marked ON. It takes a decent dose to do this, but once ON I stay ON. I don't need to keep taking more. And that's where small amounts comes in: every time you take cocaine (by whatever method) it's like flushing the toilet. Dopamine is flushed into then out of your brain. Because you only have so much dopamine, repeating the dose over and over, after a point just will not get you any higher.
I woke up this morning, went back to bed. Woke up again in the afternoon feeling 70 years old. Spent an hour coughing what felt like dirty great cobwebs out of my lungs.
A documentary came on about children's literature. And I thought back to being spellbound by storybooks. And then I pondered and asked myself what there was in life left over, apart from drugs, that I can take very much interest in at all. Answer: not much.
The thrill is gone.
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