As you probably could have guessed I never would have done it if I had known that I was actually smoking crack. I wouldn’t have wanted to embrace the stigma, even secretly The people who introduced me to drugs told me I was freebasing cocaine. I asked them what was the difference between this and smoking crack and they said a longer pipe. so I figured that’s okay because I wouldn’t want to do the highly maligned crack. Of course that’s what I was doing. And I remember when I first got addicted. It was Christmas break and school was not in session. I was so sick of being alone again on a holiday. No family. Just getting the pity invite from someone who takes in strays on the holiday. So I met this girl in a bar and I kind of liked her and she was smoking something from a glass tube and I figured what the hell who cares anyway I might as well try that drug. and sometime during the first week I got the hang of it. I figured out just how to pull in the flame very gently so that I could hit the rock that was at the top of the tube with the flame of the lighter. The rock was held in place by a piece of screen, made out of dry brillo, not the kind that has soap in it. Then you could watch the smoke head down the pipe toward your face and it was the best feeling in the world. I do remember thinking this, this right here, is how I want to feel all the time. And I believe that’s when I got addicted. Of course I didn’t think so at the time but from then on in the back of my mind and then shortly after in the front of my mind meaning all of the time, that’s all I could think about. And there’s no hit like the first hit of the day because once the endorphins are released in a flood you can’t get that back again unless you give it a rest. But you don’t want to give it a rest because you want that feeling again and again and again. So it’s the kind of thing that makes you want to do more of it. It’s like eating food that makes you hungrier with every bite. A marketer’s dream. And a money spender’s nightmare. smoking crack was the beginning of lying to myself. I never intended to spend all of my money. No one ever does. Everyone does it. It is always,this is going to be the last one. Or I’ll save these three for later. But the truth of the matter is, and you don’t see it at the time, and you totally believe yourself, the truth of the matter is you were going to do all the drug and then you were going to spend all of the money that you have. And you’re going to keep going until you spend down to nothing. And then he will somehow get more money and then you will spend all of that and smoke all the drug. Then repeat. all the while telling yourself this time it’s going to be different and it’s never any different. but you don’t see it. All along you are constantly comparing yourself to other people and noticing how you are not as bad as other people are or you don’t do as much as other people do or you are more responsible or less desperate or whatever. But the thing that keeps addiction alive is your condemnation of other people. So for all of the people who say you willingly, knowingly, choose to do what you do to yourself, I would answer no we don’t choose because we never believe we’re going to do that to ourselves. Not this time because this time it’s going to be different. Let us not forget what addiction analysts who never got high always leave out–how very good the drug is or how very good we believe it can be again. Just one more time.
Lesson–Starting drugs was a form of giving up on hope. The u expected obsession was useful for taking my mind off of my surrender.
25th College Alumni Reunion HARVARD HOOKER IN HONOLULU
Harvard Hooker? This title will simply not do for the reunion. The reunion isn’t tomorrow but it is within the decade. I have got to get it together so I can feel confident enough to attend the reunion. I know happiness would override all concerns about professional and economic success. But with the death of my significant other, I can’t get happy. Yes, I know he would’ve been waaay over me if it had been me and not him, dead on my kitchen floor the Sunday before the Patriot’s come from behind Super Bowl victory in 2017. But I am not reassured by reminding myself of my one sided love for my mostly gay former trick. I’ve got to turn to the things shallow people use to try yo make themselves whole, success, wealth, fame. I need to get some success, wealth, fame. I don’t want to name drop my college bc I am pretty positive the university would not drop my name, at this point in time. What to do, what to do? A lot of people who went down the path of addiction instead of success feel ashamed to let classmates know what became of them. On top of general embarrassment I feel like I ammunition for people who say affirmative action doesn’t work. Yes, I graduated Magna cum Laude so I did what I was supposed to whole in school but then, after graduation, I failed myself and my people and I want to make it right. Hey if I can’t reach social acceptability I will settle for wealth. I am going to pursue my Hooker Life from the world’s oldest Profession.
Pursuing Your Addiction is a Surefire Way to Meet People
I thought I was lonely and friendless bc of some internal flaw. Maybe. But maybe not. My research shows that in today’s world we spend our time in meaningless sub-social (my word) interactions mediated by a screen. Texting instead of calling. Facebooking people we will never see again or never meet in the first place, instead of putting in face to face time with a reach-out-and-touch human. Time wasted in meaningless chatter bc our souls feel lonely without constant contact with someone or someones. You can have a close relationship if you talk on the phone, and don’t see the person, but that is the maximum distance between two people if they are to be considered in a relationship. Take the voice out of an interaction that is not face to face and what we have is a bunch of pen pals.
Addiction’s Plus Side
If you want to get high you have to interact with people. If you are not independently wealthy you will need a hustle. Theft. Prostitution. Drug dealing. There are sub categories. You could be a shoplifter (colloquially called “booster”). Or an identity thief. Under prostitution you could work the streets or make it your mission to be the dealer’s girlfriend. Drug dealing could be as big time as you see in the movies or as small time as running the $10 baggie to the new customer so if it’s really an undercover cop the low level person will catch the 10 year case for actually handing the stuff to the officer.
Once your financing is in order, you either have to go to the dealer or find the person who knows the person. From what I have seen from my personal level heroin use in Hawaii, the bigger the dealer, the less likely he is to use the drug himself (though he might pull temporary sex partners from the drug using population.) All the books on making friends suggest shared hobbies as a springboard into relationships. Up the ante to shared obsession, and you’ve got instant companionship and association. Not friendship, of course, bc addiction brings out the cold hearted snake within the soul of every human. That primal, limbic brain is activated and addicts will do whatever is necessary, making it is best not to let the necessary occur.
But hey, we’ve got each other–ain’t we got fun? This fun is something I seldom hear spoken about when there’s talk about sobriety. What will I do with my time if I’m sober and who will I do it with. If people can’t get drugs or sex out of me, will anyone want me at all? Will I want anyone if interactions aren’t about using others? I get using and being used. That’s safe as a known phenomenon. Relationships based on…whatever they’re based on between people who love each other, I’ve never had that and wouldn’t know how to begin. I’m lonely and don’t know how to fix it bc my caustic wit isn’t reeling ’em in. I don’t know how to conclude this piece. I’ll just stop writing now
I graduated from an ivy league college in 1995. After graduation, I taught secondary school in Manhattan and worked on a master’s degree. I met people smoking something unfamiliar out of a glass tube during Christmas break, my second year of teaching. I had never see drugs before but I decided to try it because I wanted to be happy. I was an orphan and everything I had tried to fill the void in my life had failed. Another Christmas and I still had nothing but pity invites to share Christmas dinner with people who had families. I felt like I was wearing a sign on my back, like a kick me sign, that said “Loser.” I was tired of being such an obvious outcast in a world where everyone else was part of something bigger. If I pursued hanging out with the people I had met in a bar, I was not feeling sorry for myself. I was getting into the solution. Maybe all of us losers could form a community by being alone, together. Joining a group of drug users was a hail Mary play for companionship. It wasn’t about the drugs. The idea of trying drugs (wow!) was intriguing, but secondary to my true motive. Besides, in my book, there was no such thing as addiction. What do you mean, you can’t stop? Ridiculous.
Life is a good news bad news story. The good news is you can get used to anything. But you know what the bad news is? You can get used to anything. The once unimaginable, the once inconceivable, can become routine. The thought of something used to horrify you, and now you can do that very thing without batting an die. I suppose it is necessary to adapt in order to survive. but it could easily happen that the very adaptation that enables you to survive in the short-term hurts you in the long-run. Sometimes we have to keep the horror of a bad situation alive, if it is within our power to change the situation. Acceptance may be the key to solving most problems but not all problems. Be careful what becomes acceptable to you, and question anything that was once out of bounds but you now consider alright.
Don’t confuse giving up with serenity
Hooker Life Hack: the world’s newest everyday wisdom from the world’s oldest profession
What’s it like: Funny, at first. How could you not laugh at the thought of the alumni office carefully and quickly rushing the periodical to a valued grad who might make a generous donation. Until you remember that you won’t be making any donations unless you get s prison promotion to the 63¢ an hour workline position. You know that if they knew the exact location on Kalanianaole Highway, they’d skip your name on the mailing list. Efforts to send goodness your way are not investments because those efforts won’t yield dividends. Efforts for your benefit are a waste.
I do want the present reality of limited prospects as a convicted felon to change. In order to generate hope I have to believe my place in society can change and I cling to the hope by calling the things that are not as though they are. I want to become successful, as in self supporting at a level that allows for frequent air travel first class (I don’t need a personal plane because I am not greedy). I confess to you my fervent wish that this blog will allow me to become someone who has made 5he world better for having lived. If I do become a success by my standards I will also have to remove the taint of sexual indiscretion from my name, maybe by removing the the shame altogether. One day, I could generously donate the funds for a building that will bear my name along with a plaque detailing a sanitized version of my life story. Unlikely at best… but not impossible. Getting the alumni magazine in prison reminds me that things were once better than I ever imagined and they can be that way again. I need not feel grief at the loss of a chance to fund a building on campus. I am still alive. When my significant other died I saw first hand what THE END looks like, and I’m not there yet. Perhaps I have a future as an experience based sex therapist? Soon I will begin a YouTube channel FYI, and I could take questions, kind of like Dr. Ruth with a fufferent sort of doctorate. I may find another grad in the magazine who will be my partner. I think Halle Berry could play me in the movie… and Harvard will feature me on the cover of the alumni magazine.
Imagine being an addicted street level sex worker. I never would have been able to as a young woman unless I had seen an informative HBO special. Even then I would not have related to the subject matter and more than I related to my beloved nature documentaries. Fascinating show–right? I’m doing these things but not really, not likes the other women and men dressed as women. They look like they were born for the streets. Not me, obviously, I would reassure myself. I will hang out for a while and, I’ve got it!–do some Anthropological research that will one day make the acquaintance of a university press. “One day” was a bustling time, full of plans. “One day” was also comfortably vague enough for me to settle in and not pay attention to the growing number of years between my real life and this temporary transition to–I knew not what. Without realizing the moment things changed I recognized that my real life was not in my future but in my past. I was a has-been rather than a gonna-be.