Monday, February 01, 2010
Detroit is aka the precious which is aka for the shit
Dr. Detroit is the name of my coke dealer. Naturally, I make all kinds of references about "Detroit" when I talk to my drug friends. I say things like, "I am going to Detroit" when I am going over to my drug dealer's house.
My drug dealer does not have a house. My drug dealer lives at one of those Resident Inn's or Traveler Motels. For a motel the place is pretty nice. His room comes with a small kitchen and a 20 inch TV.
My drug dealer is straight up ghetto. He has jerry curls and walks with a limp because he's been shot so many times.
You may wonder why I am doing drugs. I will tell you. I just spent 2 hours editing the whataburger on the road post. (Was it worth it?)
I was reading over that blog post in hopes that I could get a book out of it. Either that or I hoped I could see some talent or good writing on it. I was looking for anything that would give me hope. Hope enough for me to hang on to this crappy life and keep trying.
What I found caused me to take a road trip to Detroit.
So what we have here at this blog is what we have always had.
A Chronicle of decline. (If I were ever up.)
So that's why I am doing crack, Meth, mushrooms, and whatever I can get my hands on.
I text my friend (she hooks on the side) and I ask her if she wants to rent a motel room with me and buy some coke. I tell her I want to buy the stuff on my day off and hang out with her and get drunk & fucked up in the middle of the day.
"It has to be in the middle of the day." I tell her. "I don't want to get high at night, because then it just seems like we are partying."
I want this drug taking to be seen as obscene not glamorous by her.
I tell her, "I want to snort as much cocaine as we can buy."
I don't tell her that I am really thinking about buying her meth. Meth is way cheaper. Meth is also way more dangerous. Meth is gonna fuck us up real soon, because I can't stop thinking about Meth.
I have Meth on the brain.
I want to rent a motel room so we can keep all the Detroit to ourselves.
She agrees with me. We should keep all the shit for ourselves. Anyway my roommate might be a cannibal. It's better if I stay the fuck away from him as much as possible.
My new life of drugs promises me a quick burn out. At least I hope it does. When I am gone you will forget that I am loser.
I just want to feel good.
Her text says.
Don't we all baby-doll. Don't we all?