This giant litter box they call New Mexico is literally draining the life out of me. It's Friday night and what the fuck am I doing? I can tell you what I'm not doing, I'm not getting the hell out the house to go do something ill advised and I'm not high. FUCK am I not high! I am in fact as far from high as you can get, meaning that I am sick, sick, sick. Like ready to drive 6 hours to go score if it wasn't almost midnight sick.
I'm such a pussy now that a mild edgy feeling is enough to make me pace the house all night looking for lost cottons and contemplating the syringe full of coagulated blood sitting on my nightstand. Seriously, I'm weighing the consequences of what might happen if I cook out the blood and pop it. It's only about a month old and yes at the time I found myself reluctant to toss it out because it contained enough heroin to knock me down...but it will almost certainly mean a wicked abscess and I'm low on Keflex.
If I was smart I'd shoot it into the toilet and be done but the junky in me finds that beyond abhorrent so I'll leave it where it is and hope that a few more hours of this restlessness will produce an outcome I'm comfortable with. Maybe I'll go to sleep? Maybe not.
I snatched the keys to Casey's truck and ransacked it, looking for pills that I know are there somewhere but he is too much of a Nazi to dole out, even though he isn't gonna take them himself. The fact that they were mine to begin with is lost on him.
Since he happens to be one of those wretched creatures that can force sleep while dopesick, he isn't too concerned with my malaise. Sufficed to say he thinks I'm malingering. It has been over a week and at this point I'm probly kicking suboxone not dope but that doesn't make me feel better at all! He suggested I do some theraputic house cleaning until I feel better, I suggested he go bugger himself with a pitchfork. How am I to do the Devil's work if these hands don't remain perfectly idle? Exactly!
If I wanted to I could hunt down some overpriced oxy or even some free speed but I'm not quite there yet. Doing that means subjecting myself to some kind of drama and/or idiocy and I'm just too wilted to deal with it.
I stopped the subs 3 days ago and haven't slept since and that doesn't bode well for anyone that comes within 50ft of me. I'm twitchy, easily annoyed and have the odd (yet somehow comforting) feeling that grinding my foot into someones face might be just what I need.
Adrian is banging some girl from Aztec and Maniac is way too eager to make introductions. Why I should care is the question of the hour. I don't really but I've heard (bet you can guess from who) that she is less than thrilled when my name is mentioned and if that wench gives me so much as the stink eye, I will knock it out of her head and shove it up her ass! I'm not terribly stable right now and am actually giggling at the picture of that in my head, not a good sign.
Adrian is a doll but I can't bang him so it stands to reason that someone else should but if that someone is stupid enough to think that she can engage me in some lame cooze bitch fest, she is sorely mistaken. I will knock her on her ass before she finishes the first sentence...and then I will go to jail. Girls like that always call the cops.
Christ, am I making any sense right now?
I've decided that the next person who says "F-bomb" within striking distance is gonna geeeeeeet it! That also goes for," Amaze-balls" do these people hear what is coming out of their heads??? I have along list of shit that irritates me no end, it includes ironic mullets, pork pie hats and crocs, pity the fool who leaves the house sporting all three, at least if I'm around. Good thing I didn't go to Turkey with Regina, according to her I've just described the majority of German tourists she came across.
My head is a mess right now, one half is saying that I should go kneel on Casey's chest til he gives up the pills and the other half is remembering that Faith No More sued the Care Bears...what the fuck is going on???
My favorite pussy is up in arms because my phone was out of commission for a week...it's back on Kitty Kat, same number as before, just switched vonage to comcast, no biggie. Problem with the phone is that if you answer it people start getting the idea you wanna talk to 'em. Not aimed at you K, jut sayin' is all. Call my cell.
Espanola got hit by the Feds on June 5th (I think) and it's made things inconvenient as they gaffled up 75% of the people I knew there. I wonder how many pics they have of me? Hmmmm...
Better go now before I go completely incoherent, I got's some blood to boil.
P.S. listen to The Murder City Devils, In Name and Blood. I don't love every single song on there but pressgangs, crying cowboys and drunken homicide never sounded so good. Plus it reminds me of Mikey and that's never a bad thing.