unexplained chemical extracts

I would drop acid if I had it but the girlfriend continuously denies me of this opportunity. she is coy about drugs but I assume it’s a front considering she will often divulge in ecstacy or coke and smokes pot regularily yet mention to her "acid" and she gets a sour face as if THAT drug would be the one to take her down.

I can’t ever get away from my fascination and constant exploration in drugs. Though I would never, and have never, with a handful of opportunities, touched any sort of speed- other drugs like downers and psychs and that fucking evil cocaine have made me well versed on dabbeling. which is it allll it is, essentially.

The third roommate, before we moved out, began dealing cocaine out of his bedroom. We weren’t fond of this. In fact, we told him to fucking stop. Yet, we were to part ways in a month and it seemed silly to cause such a fuss sooooo- we started doing coke, hmmm,  nearly every weekend. Jane and Breezy began DJing regularly- getting paid for parties and club events- and buying coke to fuel their goodtime. After a while, Jane, Breezy, the girlfriend, and I did not think twice about sitting around the table, having expensive vodka, and snorting lines of coke until the wee hours of the morning.

 Coke is, as I’ve discovered, my kind of drug. Though historically I’ve hated "uppers", coke, for me, allowed me to become more social and open and mingle freely. The drip I got a few moments after a line made me want to fucking meet and greet and gawk and flirt in a manner which I wouldn’t normally. And I began to like how I was on coke, and others began to consider me more of a fun and outgoing gal.

The problem with coke is there is never enough and there’s always way too much. After it’s gone you want more and when it’s there you think there’s no way you’re going to do it all. That’s why it’s dangerous and that’s why we stopped.

I often wonder about people and cocaine though. I look at the guys that work at Echo Mag and wonder if I offered them a gram in-between boring internet research they would accept. And everything would be more fun. or whatever.

During this month period would coke was a staple in my liiiife I wrote a street poem about it.

Coked out consulting, constructed from cold contemplation- I’ve never been good with alliteration, especially when it in involves this white drug invasion of uncontained cravings, like chocolate and beer, wrapped in a tenth power shot of steadfast fear it was clear to me, my friends and foes, that lines of coke is bad for you nose, slipping unexpected rocks of unexplained chemical extracts and cutbacks in a soft tissue entrance, the prereqs for a cokehead read like the ingests of fat kid: indulge until you explode a white powder shower. Then, do more.

I don’t do coke anymore and I don’t talk to anyone about coke anymore but I would lying if I said sometimes I didn’t think about it. Especially when Jane comes over all pissed about her relationship and declares that she wants to buy some coke just to piss Breezy off. That’s not really why she wants to buy it though.

My internship at Echo is going to the shits because sometimes I don’t show up and I think they get pissed and then I get scared to go in. A proper fuck-up, but still a fuck-up.

Work soon, nothing else to look forward to. Throwing our global house warming party on the sixth and I’m trying to talk the girlfriend into buying an eight ball.