Anyhow, that’s my big story for the trip. We’re on our way back home again unfortunately but South Padre just wasn’t happening and we crave stimulating action-packed adventure. Sometimes life is reduced to the style of an Ansel Adams print, beautiful to look at but rugged and devoid of color.
My weed plant was chopped off and stolen before harvest a while back, likely by the same skaters I politely invited over to use my half pipe. I wrote a very angry letter and left it by the remains of the plant for any of them that might return looking to steal more herb. My note basically said that I would have shared it with all, but now there is nothing for anybody. I used some F-bombs in there also and likened the thief to the Grinch. Christmas vacation went by too quickly, cut down like my bountiful harvest.
If I haven’t mentioned it before, our friend Gabe, the guy who considers himself the last Coke in the desert, finally found his elusive heroin connection a while back. Of course we’ve scored through him several times now, snorting the brown vinegar smelling shit despite witnessing Gabe’s rapidly diminishing sociability and lowered cash flow. Gabe works a low-paying part-time job and goes to school but he runs a very profitable weed delivery service that he’s built up over the years. He weighs the bags heavy, delivers to your house within an hour of paging him and his prices are good. He doesn’t smoke pot himself so he’s got no incentive to cheat anyone and his low-profile clientele—mostly sorority kids with rich parents and spending money—has built up over the years. Still, I think he’s a full-on H addict whether he realizes it yet or not; he’s barely different from the old junkie he scores through. The guy he connects through is just called Donut (I think his name is really Mark or something) and the smack we’ve been getting from Gabe through Donut has been a disappointment to me and Jen. We’ve been playing with it, trying to figure out what the groove of it all is. It’s supposed to be that final frontier drug, remember? The fucking ultimate!
Turns out, the most evil drug that all our education is supposed to warn us about is actually tame in certain respects. Really, I’ve got to say it’s been a general disappointment so far. Heroin kind of makes me feel sick to my stomach at first and then my body totally relaxes and I’ll spend a lot of time not moving around much and then I feel nauseous again. Speedballs of cocaine and heroin are extremely dangerous and really fucking fun; although we had to swear them off after the first time we tried them so Jen could keep her pledge to not shoot up coke anymore. Rohypnols fuck me up more, but I can inject the smack now and it has the added bonus of allowing my body to fully function while I’m on it. That means the majority of the shit I do is before work and my shift is usually over before I come out of my daze. It’s like I get paid to stand around and do dope, sound familiar? I’m still working hard at my job but any repetitive task is a breeze because I won’t remember or care that I’ve washed seven sinks full of dishes or changed six kegs of beer.
My new classes are the shiz-nit except Gabe’s in one of my film classes and he seems to have this unspoken rivalry or some need to look down on me. He’s had this severe crush on my ex-girlfriend Melanie since forever and he worships the ground she walks on, buying her presents with his weed money and doting on her every whim, which somewhere along the put him in her “friend” category. I’ve always been kind of rabble in his eyes for breaking up with a girl he would chop off his arm for, but he really likes Jenifer as a friend and he likely only associates with me since I come along with the Jenifer “package”. He actually gets the dope for Jenifer and we do it; but, when I ask him to get us some there’s always some sort of inconvenience that comes up so he has an excuse to blow me off. The one thing Gabe’s never had since Jen and I have known him is a girlfriend, so maybe he fucking thinks by being nice to other people’s girlfriends he can catch them on the rebound. It’s shitty to be pussy-whipped when you aren’t getting any pussy out of the deal.
Anyway, we have a huge final film project that constitutes the majority of the grade in our class and he’s planning on using Melanie in his final project. I suspect it’s a ploy to try and flatter her into the sack. Part of our class fee pays for us to use the school cameras (expensive S-VHS) and editing equipment but Gabe’s trying to get permission to spend his own money and use real film. He thinks he’s ready but whatever. I’m curious to see what sort of Lynch/Tarentino hybrid rip-off he puts together. I know that’s harsh and maybe I’m just jealous he has an out-of-pocket budget to play with, but I hate being dismissed by people. I see Gabe as the film auteur that needs everything to be exactly right before he can film it. The kind of director that throws chairs and pitches fits when the color scheme of a costume isn’t exactly what he envisioned. I see myself as the kind of director that comes in under budget by using what’s around me, improvising and adapting to whatever’s going on, tapping into a cache of talented unknown actors and since I know public interest better than anybody I’m certainly not above sacrificing my vision to cash in. That’s the way the fucking game is played boys. Okay, okay, I’ll admit I do have an unjustifiable inferiority complex around Gabe for no good reason, but I have my Jenifer so it’s all good. Let Gabe spend his cash and stress out trying to find film-editing facilities at the last minute. I’ll turn in my crappy project on video and get a decent grade.
On a weirder note, Gabe and I both seem to have a minor crush on this beautiful collagen-lipped cheerleader-type girl in our class. In fact I think the whole class has a crush on her since it’s basically a room full of lusting movie geeks and being a movie geek is slightly above being a lusting computer geek on the date-ability scale. I think that’s all it is for me—some sort of lust on a primal scale that’s invoked by lip enhancements. I understand what a harmless crush is and I’ve never been happier in a personal relationship than I am now, so I don’t really understand what’s up with me checking out some chick that isn’t really even all that good looking. Of course I can’t tell Jen about her (suicidal I am not) but I feel like I’m cheating on her when I’m attracted to other women. I want to be loyal and faithful. Hell, I AM loyal and faithful, but what’s up with this weird crush? Perhaps it’s a subconscious desire to sabotage the good aspects of my life. Maybe deep down I feel as if I don’t deserve anything great due to feelings of inadequacy from my mother. Freud would have a field day with my psyche I’m sure.
I need to be honest and let some of this shit out of my brain so I can keep my grip on reality. Having a routine helps, but the murmuring in my head is starting to get louder again and that’s one thing the fucking heroin is good for. Something is bothering me, a crisis of faith is venting out of my pores. Plus, it’s not like I’m fantasizing about the girl when we’re having sex together, when we’re actually having sex together anymore that is. I’ll shut up now.
What is it with people and Renaissance fairs? Do people really yearn for the days before showers and food and shelter when 99% of the populace was made up of peasant slaves?
Remember when I wrote about all the junk Dan and I moved from his parents’ house into our living room? Well it’s been sitting in the same spot in our living room for the past few months, cluttering up the entrance and being a general nuisance, so this past weekend I killed two birds with one stone by having the garage sale and also filming it for a documentary project that’s due in my film class soon. I slacked off and I was desperate for something interesting to document but instead I settled for what I thought would be easy. It turned out to be a big pain the ass trying to maintain total control of two situations at once but I managed to pull it off. You think, “garage sales are easy, just thrown your shit out in the yard and it sells, keep the camera on and film it right?” Ha! The more simple something seems the harder it gets to pull off.