Tag Archives: Drugs

Out On The Weekend

Although this is my latest post, it is not, technically, new work. I wrote this over a year ago towards the middle of my stay at JAIL. A few weeks before this shit came out of my head, I had hit the book-cart lottery and came across a copy of Cormac McCarthy’s The Crossing. It was such an amazing stroke of luck that I find it difficult to convey the excitement I felt at that time. In a claustrophobic world dominated by westerns, romance novels, fuck-books (slang for romance novels with explicit sex scenes), YA literature, outdated technical manuals (MS-DOS programming anyone?), and bottom of the barrel science fiction; finding The Crossing was the most merciful event I experienced since I had been incarcerated. However, I was about a third of the way into a novel of my own at the time and a few months later it became apparent that multiple readings of McCarthy’s work had negatively effected my own. I couldn’t help but notice that my novel had turned into a cheap imitation of Mr. McCarthy’s style. In response, I wrote this as an exercise to regain my natural voice. For lack of better terms, I would say that what came out was simply a dictation of a hallucinatory daydream and although not purely stream of conscious, I engaged in a very minimal amount of editing. I thought it was decent enough to copy and mail to a friend to see what he thought of it. Continue reading


More Drink

Little D had been selling bottles of his father’s liquor to neighborhood kids for a couple of years.  He charged a flat rate of five dollars per bottle, no matter the content.  I’m not sure how he determined what bottle he gave to who.  Sometimes you’d get a near-full fifth of Crown Royal, other times a half empty bottle of Apple Pucker.  After two years I imagine the selection was pretty dim.   Continue reading

Take Your Medicine

Have you ever taken Suboxone before? Those slick new strips they’ve put out, to curb abuse and misuse and whatnot? For something that eases the misery, both physically and mentally, it’s not a lot of fun. Fun, perhaps, in the same sense that cutting yourself or beating the shit out of a dog is fun. That is: not fun for most people… Continue reading

Getting Right: The Delusion of Need

Years ago, during another life, my lover spoke of the “unknown/invisible” number hanging over every drug addicts head: Continue reading

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