Stay Gold, Ponyboy

Salutations, my loyal minions...I don't feel like ripping out my guts and putting them on display for you today. Nor will I indulge in a spell check or profred.

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On occasion guys/people pick up prostitutes for non-sexual reasons. I had requests from "clients" calling in sick to work for them to writing out bogus police statements. One time in particular I was hired by these two American guys that told me they were from New York. I have no idea why they were in Vancouver, but I do know that they knew no one. They wanted to go to a bar but needed someone that knew the area and so decided on a prostitute as their guide. Now, this night I am writing about was not an average night.. I seem to remember that it was the eve of a day that I had ran away from my parents house...

*If you can't remember from previous posts my parents would come to try to rescue me and would bring me back to their house and I would last about 12 hrs then I would bail. During this 12 hours I would shower, change in to some of the clothes I had there, and then climb the fence or run out the front door while they were asleep (they knew I left, the alarm would go off, but by then I would be gone - I have said this before: a girl can get picked up anywhere - those that have sex for sale and those that want to buy it are drawn to each other..it's a weird unspoken vibe. SO, I was able to get back downtown....fast and easy).*

So when these 2 "yanks" pulled up to me I looked like a normal person I guess. I know for sure they wouldn't have picked me up if I had been exuding a vibe of soul destruction and drug addiction. They were a little yellow in the belly if you know what I mean.. wimpy.. chickens, you know? I wasn't sick at the time, which must have helped my appearance.

So, they pull over to me and I get in. They were mid 30's ish, attractive, sort of geeky..kind of like what I would imagine the children of people with money might be like as they got older. You know, private schools and all that. Total Socs. They wanted me to go to a bar with them so I suggested the Penthouse. We drove there and I was starting to wonder what was going to happen next, the topic of bl*w jobs hadn't really come into play yet. That happens sometimes. I would meet certain people that made me feel stupid for bringing it up..stupid like ashamed, sort of. Usually if a girl and a guy ever approached me and she was around my age I always felt like an idiot. These guys kind of had the same affect. Of course they could never understand why I did what I did for my dope. People like them always say stupid things like "but there is always another WAY.." Barf. NO, SOMETIMES THERE ISN'T.

Guy #1 bought me a drink (which was weird because as a heroin addict I was soooo not into drinking) and the three of us just sat around a table..chilled out, talked. Then it was last call, so we left. I know all these small details may seem unimportant but they are crucial for me because this is how I remember the story, therefore this is how I must tell it.

Anyways, turns out they were staying at the Four Seasons or somewhere like that. Initially, after we left the Penthouse, I had asked guy #1 if he wanted a "happy ending" to the evening and the two of them were giggling like little girls but #1 agreed. They obviously had money and I wanted it. #1 and I went to his room while #2 went to his.

I asked for the money first and he hands me $300. I was stoked, to put it mildly. I guess he was used to "hookers" (hate that word) from TV or movies because apparently he thought my time was worth big bucks. Which it WAS....most of the time. Sometimes.

So, there we were, he gives me $$ and then starts asking me questions like if I do drugs..what kind, how old am I ...am I really a prostitute, etc. As I am answering his questions he makes it obvious that he has no knowledge whatsoever about addiction, drugs, life on the street or hardship of any kind and when I ask if he has ever used any sort of drug he says no. Alcohol yes, but drugs no.

Then, rather than asking for the hummer he shelled out for, he instead asks me if I will help him play a practical joke on his friend. He wants me to act like I did some crack with him, make like he is totally f*cked up and that I don't know what to do because he is wasted. I was to say to his friend that I think he should go to the hospital. A total Grade 7 idea but awesome none the less.

I go and knock on #2's door and I tell him that his buddy is wasted because he smoked some crack and I am a bitch and I don't care and I am just going to leave him there. #2 freaks out when I drag #1 into his room. He is asking me why? why did I do this terrible thing? #1, not knowing how a person is when they get high from smoking the up, starts moaning and swooning and says.."ohhh man..I am sooo high..f*ck I am STONED" and other such ridiculous statements all while feigning like he is going to pass out. #2 totally buys it.

After a few minutes the jig is up and #1 busts out laughing and #2 does not think this was funny at all.

I got paid $300 for pretty much nothing and it was awesome. The only down side was that after I left and went back downtown I spent like $100 bucks on heroin and it totally sucked. I mean, it was bad heroin, that is what sucked. The heroin, not me.

Get it? I didn't suck?? As in I did not hum his or anyone else's mer?

What I am trying to say is that heroin is a person that I used to know.

This won't be a full on post, I don't think. I am just thinking about certain things today..and don't really have much of a story to tell. I have always been an avid dreamer and my dreams invoke certain thoughts and feelings. Like music. Most people are like that though, are reminded of things through music...scenery..smells, etc. I read somewhere that your sense of smell is responsible for the most heightened sense of memory recall (I am not really sure how to say that - hope you get it).

Certain songs always remind me of heroin. "Dead Flowers" by the Rolling Stones (weird, since it has obvious references to heroin) and "Time Has Told Me" by Nick Drake. Other songs remind me too..but it's these two especially.

Anyway..what I was thinking about today is something I think about not as often as I used to, but often enough - especially after I have certain, themed dreams.

My point is that if I am to be honest, I miss heroin. I do, and I don't think that it is bad to admit that. I don't CRAVE heroin, understand that, but I miss it all the same. I miss it like I miss my ex-boyfriend that I was with when I first began using (heroin) seriously (I used many other intoxicants for years prior, heroin included).

I miss heroin like I miss him. I dream about him all the time, about as often as I have using dreams (not all the time..but it is recurring). I dream that I am so happy that I have found him and that it is like no time has passed (but it has) and the love is there. We did love each other, not in a healthy way of course, but still it was love. I have mentioned this to friends before and the ones that witnessed that relationship are not very understanding.

I wonder where he is now. I have done a bit of research but have found nothing. I wonder if he is somewhere nearby? Is he happy? Is he dead? Probably not. Jail? Nah...With another woman? Most likely, it has been so many years. He may have a new girlfriend, showing her his undying love through bouts of adoration mixed with physical and mental torture. Of course it isn't wasn't all like that but I am positive that is how it would be for him and any female since myself. I was there, I lived it, I know him.

You cannot possibly understand what I am trying to say here. One could read and think what the hell what I miss this guy for? I don't mention any of the good things about him, but he knew me like no one else. Can you even know what I mean? Maybe. Maybe not.

Him and heroin...are like "this" in me. F*ck, I miss him. But I live without him and I am happy all the same. It is just when I have one of those dreams...and my dreams of him are much more painful than my ones of heroin.

Why I am telling you this? Why, considering it really has nothing to do with the topic that my blog is actually supposed to be about? I dunno - but I had to get it out. I am just recognizing a feeling that I am experiencing.

One of my old counsellors used to tell me that my harboring feelings for him was like holding on to old stuff, when I need to get new stuff. I don't know what it is going to take...but it hasn't happened yet even though my life is so different now. Of course, I forgive my ex...we were both sick people. Sick in different ways. My illness is treatable..his, not so much.

He occupies a space in me, I guess. Like heroin. Heroin sucks, and I know that. It isn't even fun - and I don't have any desire to do it but I miss blank so much it hurts sometimes. Very irrational, I know.

Anyways, my next post will be back on topic. Have a pleasing afternoon.