Sunday, May 26, 2013

The coke cure

Darling, the coke cure, it's all the rage. With six vials in my vitamins, why not? Anytime something gets a tad too dreary — honey, it's time for the bathroom. Come back out and everything’s flawless.
Don't worry, I always cushion my demise with a little bit of Xanax, Valium, whatever’s around, grind it up and take it all slowly, just a little at a time, savor it, even it out, make everything into that moment when you walk into the club and you first hear the music and all you can think is yes. Yes, this walk to the T, yes, this ride with all the homophobes, yes this walk down Newberry, Boylston, Arlington, Tremont, Mass. Ave, yes, the line at Bread & Circus, yes, this conversation with who, who am I talking to, wait, the bathroom, oh so much better. Is it really that cold outside? I can’t even tell.

And Ned, ever since I realized how to channel the hate into a hard-on: how to be in my body without being in my body; now the sex is almost hot. Just a quick bump to mix with the cocktails and small talk on big topics or big talk on small topics and then I’m a porn machine pounding that asshole and Ned thinks he's in love. Good thing he hasn't been around drugs, otherwise he might notice the way my eyes roll back or yes, the telltale runny nose, or yes, that glossy glassiness, forget it, soon he'll be in bed and I can do runway all over the rugs downstairs, adjust the lights, oh that's the way I love it, look in the mirror at every pore, no stop, stop popping blackheads, look in the mirror again, from the distance, let eyes blink no not blink, flutter, flutter some more and then roll back and yes, my acne has even gone away, it’s only up close where I see every flaw — obviously, what I needed was more drugs, a regular allotment, no need to take a break, just keep it balanced, yes, darling, balanced — oh, I love it, balance.

And yes, Sean was finally right about something: Marinol is the answer. I take one of those pills and boom, I'm out. Or, no, don’t exaggerate — it doesn't happen right away. Actually, it takes so long that I think it's never going to happen, but then it's already 10 hours later and I can’t even remember how I got into bed. Ned’s bed. I didn't even wake up when he was getting ready for work. How much pot do they squeeze into one of those pills? New day, new promise. Do I need to powder my nose? I’m so glad Ned has Puffs Plus.

Yes, a little coke can go a long way. And, a lot of coke can go even further. Oh, brown glass vial! Can you see my reflection in your curved surface, maybe just a hint of my eye checking the level? Oh, black cap, such a comfortable place for my nose to rest. Oh, white powder and my head, my head and white powder, power, this house of white walls and white sofas and white marble and white powder and when I open my eyes I’m studying the textures of light on the ceiling, tiny crators, yes, more white.
Oh, Ned who started to worry about me, started to worry because I was getting so edgy, he didn’t want his fuck machine to get edgy so he sent me to the pill doctor. Oh, dear pill doctor, provider for every need!

Oh, Marinol, blackout in white sheets.
Oh, Valium, a toast to all the ‘50s housewives, you were on to something, you are definitely on to something.
Oh, Xanax, a walk with pillows.
Oh, Ativan, so the lights get softer.
Oh, Klonopin -- no, wait, incest flashbacks, both times I try it, take that back to Doctor Pill.
Oh, Dalmane, no, that horrible feeling in my head, where is my head, give me another bump right now.

But back to Marinol, blackout in black-and-white, study the light and shadow, shadow. Side effect: hunger. Or, perhaps that's the intended effect. It’s for people with AIDS or cancer when they find themselves wasting away, right? Nauseous: can't eat can't stand up can't sit down. To counteract the terrible drugs that don't help. Or, I suppose, the drugs that do help. And the other thing it helps with is getting hard for Ned’s flabby ass, I swear, because when I wake up I’m laughing I mean I’m laughing once I remember where the hell I am, try to remember what happened but who cares, this bed is so comfortable. No, don’t exaggerate: I can remember what happened, just not when I put my head on the pillow to drift away. They should put Ned’s flabby ass on the label, right next to the part where it says warning, don't take with alcohol.

No comments: