Monday, November 16, 2009

Sketchtasy

When I lived in Boston, someone was always playing the Priscilla soundtrack, I mean when they weren’t watching the movie again. My room was right next to the living room, sometimes I would wake up to Priscilla, I can hardly think of anything worse. Or Abba, which was also on the Priscilla soundtrack. The Pet Shop Boys were bad enough, but when their new album came out it was at least a break. My roommates even liked To Wong Fu, where Wesley Snipes, Patrick Swayze, and John Leguizamo play three drag queens on a road trip -- it was Priscilla, relocated from the Australian outback to the US heartland -- in Boston, I was living inside gay culture. JoAnne would call me up and say: you know you’re an addict, don’t you? She was high, I could hear that hollow sound in her voice -- kind of like Erin, the coke-head hairstylist who my Boston friends and I would run into at all the clubs, whenever she was really high all she could talk about was quitting: as soon as I finish this, I’m going to quit -- do you want a bump?

In Boston, sometimes drugs were the best thing in my life, a good night would start with a few cocktails, continue with a hit of ecstasy, maybe a bump or two of coke while waiting for the ecstasy to kick in and then oh, that place in the sky and then Special K when it was fading, so you could sink into the ground while flying, pot to bring it back on, a Xanax to relax. When the drugs got really bad, it was the dealer’s fault -- the dealer gave us something awful. Like that batch of big flat tablets a yellow brown color instead of white, there wasn’t really any ecstasy in that ecstasy I called it sketchtasy. You would take the pill, and just when it started to kick in you had to rush to the bathroom to vomit -- because of the heroin, that’s what we thought, and then when the speed kicked in it would knock you over the head like the whole room was expanding and contracting at the same time. Everyone got used to that back and forth slam, and then when we got real ecstasy again people complained -- where was the rush?

The problem with real ecstasy was the crash, that beautiful place in the sky your body it wouldn’t last. I remember this one time when I crashed I kept taking more, in the café across from Neiman Marcus that was somehow the big gay hangout, that’s how awful Boston was, I walked down three stairs and into a hole and when I woke up on a sofa it was like reverse ecstasy: people were talking to me through a cave and there was this buzzing in my head, everything vibrating and dark, when someone looked at me I could see their eyes in my eyes. Kind of like the ecstasy that just made you nod off -- that was the worst kind, heroin for sure and one time we tried to fix it with more K and then I opened my eyes and there was this show on TV that was all about K I mean I can’t remember what it was really about -- oh I think it was the KKK, do you see what I mean about how everything could go wrong? Then there was Madonna in a video fitting herself into boxes -- Madonna’s in a K-hole, everyone kept saying -- and one of our friends kept trying to crawl or fly or fall out the window when we all started nodding off again -- someone would open their eyes and say: what are you doing? JoAnne, I would say, I know I’m an addict, but you’re the one who’s high right now.

4 comments:

marginalutility said...

Just for the record--it's way too expensive to put heroin in E for it to be a good business proposition. That's a street myth. Though I do realize you're talking experentially and not necc. factually...(My one woman heroin defamation league, ha)

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Aha -- the heroin defamation league, indeed :)

Or wait -- do you mean the heroin anti-defamation league?

Love --
mattilda

Elián Maricón said...

marginalutility,

I am no expert, but I swear I've taken pills before that felt quite similar to the cheap shit that was available in the hood.

You are right--It still doesn't make sense though. What do you think is the source of that street myth? And if it's not H., what drug is in there that causes that particular effect? Maybe it's just a psychological reaction by people who have done so much e that they don't have enough serotonin to roll anymore?

There was a time when I was younger when the only thing that could make me want to assault someone who wasn't a cop was if they sold me a bad pill. THe first time I took K, I thought I had purchased a capsule of E. That sucked. I spent what seemed like an eternity in what I didn't know was a k hole. Another time I ended up tripping on what I suspect was mescaline for 10 hours. Instead of the bliss I ended up sitting in a corner by myself all night because I forgot how to talk, wondering why everyone was staring at me.

I cant deny that at times I still get a vestigial tingle when I hear a certain track that I used to love to dance to back in those days. But after I spent an evening sober around several people who were rolling, I am glad I no longer act like that in public. I am ridiculous enough sober lol

xoxo

EM

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Elian, "And if it's not H., what drug is in there that causes that particular effect?"

I know -- I'm asking myself that same question -- inquiring minds want to know...

Love --
mattilda