Thursday, May 03, 2007

I remember the longest line of cocaine I ever saw....

I was living with Theresa. People would ask me, when they'd found out I'd moved in with her, how I could stand living with her...she was always talking fifty miles over the speed limit, she was intense and loud, her hands were always moving and fidgeting and pulling on her long red hair....and I'd reply that I didn't need a TV, I could just sit back and watch T. I got a kick out of her and her vibrating energy.

One day her old boyfriend, Seppo, got back from a fishing trip. This translates to "loaded with money and needs to burn it". He came over with Kelly, a quirky young punk-rocker we all knew, and a big bag of cocaine. We closed the curtains, put on Led Zeppelin II, cracked some beer and began to party, just the four of us.

The party itself is rather unmemorable; we didn't terrorize the neighbours, we didn't bust a hole in the wall. We just hung out listening to loud music. The reason I tell this story is because of this one image in my mind. Seppo, T. and I are all sitting on her bed, looking at records and liner notes in the dusty dimness. We look up, and Kelly is quietly sitting on the floor. He has taken the full length mirror off our wall, and has proceeded to cut the longest line of cocaine I have ever seen, snaking from one end of the mirror to the other and back again three times. We have no idea how long this has taken him. I can see him quietly bending over the mirror making little tiny chops...he looks up as he realizes we are watching him, and kind of giggles. "I just wanted to do one more line."

The line must have been 15 feet long! Silly boy.

I thought to myself at that moment..."This should be a scene in a movie. My life is like a movie."


Spoke said...

I remember T. I remember Seppo.I remember T. singing on Granville while jonesing for Government Methadone...
One time, I went with a girl friend of mine from school to her boyfriend's place in Vancouver's West End. We smoked a little dope while Wendy cooked an amazing meal. I wondered if I could fly down to the ocean several stories below and land like a goose.
I remember Steve answering the buzzer and letting someone up. The guy came in, handed over lots of money and Steve went to another room. He came back with several paper shopping bags full of weighed, bagged, high-grade pot. The bags were the kind June Cleaver brought the groceries home in.
Wendy looked nervous, which made me nervous!
I think I was 16 or 17, Steve was way older. She married him years later.

Anonymous said...

and I have no idea what either of you are talking about. I've never been involved in anything even close to this sort of experience. Not that I wish i was or think I missed something. My life had it's evils without me looking for more, that's for sure. It's cool that God takes people like me and like you and puts us on common ground, isn't it?

Anonymous said...

you and spoke always talk about your drug days with such fondness, like you miss them? Do you..

Paula said...

Do I miss the drug days?


But if, in my remembering them, I recorded something other than what I remember, I would be writing a falsehood. I'm sure your mother has told you "Drugs are Bad". They are. But the bad part doesn't happen while you are doing them, not usually. The bad part is cumulative, burrowing deep in your soul. The actual act of doing them is often quite lovely, tinged with light in my memory like a beautiful, shining dagger. People wouldn't get addicted to drugs if it sucked to do them.

I imagine when soldiers speak glowingly of their memories of the camaraderie of war, they would not want to actually go back to the battlefield. But the camaraderie was there and very real just the same. Do you see what I mean?

Spoke said...

Good thought about us and drugs. I used to do drugs for fun, to fit in, to hide behind, but I have no need for drugs anymore. I don't miss them in and of themselves...I miss some of the happenings around drugs though. That whole lifestyle was 13 years of my life, my formative years. Stopping dope was like saying goodbye to a trusted friend. Drugs are bad, hear me on that. You dabble here and there and eventually become dependent on the way you feel, the way your outlook on life appears. Ultimately, you make the choice to continue taking them and before you know it, they're all consuming.
Don't be fooled, drugs work! They make you feel GREAT, but its so artificial.They can kill you!
A line from an old Cheech and Chong album:
I'm feeling good all of the time these days. Only some days, I refuse to believe it.

Kim said...

You felt like you were in the movies in those days? I read your life and go "wow! That lady lived in the movies." which isn't always good, sometimes you don't want to be in that movie. You are wonderful and I missed reading your blog.