Smoking Crack, A Respectable Analysis of the Beginning

Let me tell you about smoking crack

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.



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

The Purpose of a Hooker’s story as told in as of today March 24, 2019

Caroleena used to be a drug addicted hooker on streets of downtown Honolulu in the early years of the 21st century. She was not the only learned streetwalker among the sex worker addicts. This group would have been a liberal college admissions officer’s dream of diversity seeing as how they represented such a wide range of ages, races, family types, locations of origin, education levels, and gender identities. The two constants were trauma and dependency. Everyone out there had experienced life altering trauma which spurred them to seek refuge in drugs. Addiction was the unexpected phenomenon that kept them stuck in the dope. This downtown area was different from other drug saturated areas of America in one important way. The U.S. is the most violent country in the world, but in this corner of the nation there were no street gangs, no gun violence. You wouldn’t get shot but you were probably going to be beaten up and robbed at some point. Interpersonal violence between intimate partners, friends, and family members was viewed as a natural part of being close to people. “Domestics” was something an individual brought upon herself or himself by causing problems in an interpersonal relationship. Caroleena, the perennial pariah even among society’s rejects, had no intimate associates who might harm her. Prostitution was not as risky on Oahu as it was most everywhere else because the island was just too small. Everyone was somehow connected to everyone else with only something like two degrees of separation. You commit a crime, someone will know who you are and someone else will know how to find you. Hookers rarely got killed. Honolulu’s relative safety allowed Caroleena over 10 years of street longevity until the scene ended when authorities started arresting men for allegedly soliciting undercover police for sex and posting their pictures on the evening news. tells Caroleena’s adventures during her decade of addiction and its consequences–homelessness, prostitution, drug dealing, incarceration, family destruction, the list goes on. Every story relates events Caroleena experienced, witnessed, or imagined. The tale of this outcast is skillfully and paradoxically told in the language of the elite. The wording of the posts is itself a testimony to the wide grip that addiction has on all levels of society, even impacting the privileged who were previously thought to be immune to the troubles of the lower class. During these days of opiate addiction maybe she can answer some questions and present applicable solutions. If not, you are still in for a hell of a good read.