flashing red lights
it makes me sick
to think
this is it
even tho deep down inside
i know it's not true
marty has a new apartment across the street from wallgreens. no more crack heads. just a bunch of kids smoking pot. from what i see, marty is the oldest one living there.
we talked for a while on the porch. the whole drug scene is starting to get to me. i get kind of sick to the stomach and depressed just being around the kids.
sometimes they ask me about the cigarete burn scars on my wrist. i wonder if they get the same sick feeling from me. i don't really answer their question or even recognise them. i just space out and try not to pay attension to any one thing.
i want to go to school. i want to work full time.
marty and i went for a drive. we went to mont lake terrace to meet up with chuck and maybe score some pills for marty.
"it sounds like the throw out bearing," marty kept saying, refering to lucy's rattling.
we got to chuck's house, but he wasn't there. his wife was in an accident. some old dude had a hear attack and flipped over traffic and t-boned her in chuck's pickup. she's in the hospital and i don't know how she's doing.
we drank beer in his front lawn, smoke cigaretes and talked about life. marty's got emphasema, he says. he knows that he has to stop smoking and he wants to give up drinking.
at the irish pub, marty and i drink white russians. those are sneaky little bastards! i had three white russians and i felt sober but i knew i wasn't. deep down inside, i knew i was fucked up.
marty and i climbed into his buick and we went speeding thru back alley ways and over bumps and narrowly missing every corner and over correcting every turn. we cruised the ave and that's how marty lost his right rearview mirror.
a frat boy was stepping out of his jeep and we almost killed him. three inches left and we might have ran him over.
"who the fuck did that?" marty demanded. "did you see the fucker?"
"marty, i think you almost ran someone over," i said, strangely calmly, holding back from exploding into nervous laughter.
wait! we saw some of those kids who live in marty's building! the young chubby girl who hangs on michael and some guy.
"what happened to the mirror?" he asked.
of course, i had almost forgotten about it. it was old news, right?
that's when two cops on bicycles showed up.
"you got me, guys," marty said to them. "you got me."
"have you had anything to drink?" the cop asked.
"yes," marty said. "i drank a lot. and you got me. it's my fault."
"what's your fault?"
"don't drink and drive."
the police were just going to secure the car as it was, in the cheveron parkinglot. i called up john parker and asked him to help me out. he didn't seem to mind at all to running down from his house to pick up marty's car.
"now you have to smoke a bowl with us," the chubby girl said.
"yeah, i think so," i said. "but later my girlfriend comes home."
"oh so you have a girlfriend now?!" she mocked.
"yeah," i said. "you better believe it!"
"so shes comming home and i bet you want to have sex, huh?"
"we're actualy going grocery shopping."
"who goes grocery shopping in the middle of the night?"
"obviously we do."
i realised how drunk i was when the chubby girl suddenly dropped her affable flirting. once i mentioned a girlfriend, she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. we were all drunk, really.
while we waited for john parker to show up, i had to pee real bad. the cheveron bathroom was closed, too. so i peed in a plastic bag while the chubby girl watched. that was awkward and i think she liked it. people walked by on the sidewalk and stared at the car.
the car was obviously illegaly parked at cheveron and i was turned around in my seat, peeing in a plastic bag. they couldn't see what i was doing, but i'm sure it looked odd.
john parker took marty's car and i took the two kids over to my house to smoke a bowl. i don't know if it was the pot or the vodka finally catching up with me, but everything after that seemed to fall apart.
i really like how i percieve the world while i'm on drugs. it is impossible to describe. it feels like i'm waking from a dream. i always tend to get more of a psychodelic trip off of pot than most people. i don't remember any of my thoughts while i was stoned but i'm sure they were great.
i stared at the candles burning. i listened to the new death cab for cutie album. i moved my arms around real slowly and i thought, this is real strange.
then i blacked out.
when i came to, i was sitting upright in the bed and whitney was on the computer. it was 6am.
to think
this is it
even tho deep down inside
i know it's not true
marty has a new apartment across the street from wallgreens. no more crack heads. just a bunch of kids smoking pot. from what i see, marty is the oldest one living there.
we talked for a while on the porch. the whole drug scene is starting to get to me. i get kind of sick to the stomach and depressed just being around the kids.
sometimes they ask me about the cigarete burn scars on my wrist. i wonder if they get the same sick feeling from me. i don't really answer their question or even recognise them. i just space out and try not to pay attension to any one thing.
i want to go to school. i want to work full time.
marty and i went for a drive. we went to mont lake terrace to meet up with chuck and maybe score some pills for marty.
"it sounds like the throw out bearing," marty kept saying, refering to lucy's rattling.
we got to chuck's house, but he wasn't there. his wife was in an accident. some old dude had a hear attack and flipped over traffic and t-boned her in chuck's pickup. she's in the hospital and i don't know how she's doing.
we drank beer in his front lawn, smoke cigaretes and talked about life. marty's got emphasema, he says. he knows that he has to stop smoking and he wants to give up drinking.
at the irish pub, marty and i drink white russians. those are sneaky little bastards! i had three white russians and i felt sober but i knew i wasn't. deep down inside, i knew i was fucked up.
marty and i climbed into his buick and we went speeding thru back alley ways and over bumps and narrowly missing every corner and over correcting every turn. we cruised the ave and that's how marty lost his right rearview mirror.
a frat boy was stepping out of his jeep and we almost killed him. three inches left and we might have ran him over.
"who the fuck did that?" marty demanded. "did you see the fucker?"
"marty, i think you almost ran someone over," i said, strangely calmly, holding back from exploding into nervous laughter.
wait! we saw some of those kids who live in marty's building! the young chubby girl who hangs on michael and some guy.
"what happened to the mirror?" he asked.
of course, i had almost forgotten about it. it was old news, right?
that's when two cops on bicycles showed up.
"you got me, guys," marty said to them. "you got me."
"have you had anything to drink?" the cop asked.
"yes," marty said. "i drank a lot. and you got me. it's my fault."
"what's your fault?"
"don't drink and drive."
the police were just going to secure the car as it was, in the cheveron parkinglot. i called up john parker and asked him to help me out. he didn't seem to mind at all to running down from his house to pick up marty's car.
"now you have to smoke a bowl with us," the chubby girl said.
"yeah, i think so," i said. "but later my girlfriend comes home."
"oh so you have a girlfriend now?!" she mocked.
"yeah," i said. "you better believe it!"
"so shes comming home and i bet you want to have sex, huh?"
"we're actualy going grocery shopping."
"who goes grocery shopping in the middle of the night?"
"obviously we do."
i realised how drunk i was when the chubby girl suddenly dropped her affable flirting. once i mentioned a girlfriend, she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. we were all drunk, really.
while we waited for john parker to show up, i had to pee real bad. the cheveron bathroom was closed, too. so i peed in a plastic bag while the chubby girl watched. that was awkward and i think she liked it. people walked by on the sidewalk and stared at the car.
the car was obviously illegaly parked at cheveron and i was turned around in my seat, peeing in a plastic bag. they couldn't see what i was doing, but i'm sure it looked odd.
john parker took marty's car and i took the two kids over to my house to smoke a bowl. i don't know if it was the pot or the vodka finally catching up with me, but everything after that seemed to fall apart.
i really like how i percieve the world while i'm on drugs. it is impossible to describe. it feels like i'm waking from a dream. i always tend to get more of a psychodelic trip off of pot than most people. i don't remember any of my thoughts while i was stoned but i'm sure they were great.
i stared at the candles burning. i listened to the new death cab for cutie album. i moved my arms around real slowly and i thought, this is real strange.
then i blacked out.
when i came to, i was sitting upright in the bed and whitney was on the computer. it was 6am.