"Ah yes, I thought, revenge is a dish....no, wait, the best revenge is a life lived well."

I knew the aforementioned cliche was intended to give a person comfort without interacting with any external parties, especially the ones that most likely do deserve vengeance, but that wasn't enough for me. I wanted her to know I was doing well, and know soon. I couldn't rely upon the pre-binary communication methods of verbal gossip (a communication method dependent on manifold varaiables, some as primitive as atmosphere, and biological input/output devices such as memory, tongues, then all the organic things that can go wrong in an organic brain to garble the content. Psychology was the word used for it, but it really meant that a message could have its value flipped, deleted, added to, subtracted from,

Metalanguage. The message could be passed on but it's meaning changed again through the context. So the same message delivered by the same outputter in the same emotionless monotone could have two different interpretations dependent upon "the message about the message". basically, if you were told this phrase "Pierre has left his chequebook at home" you would get a different result dependent upon whether you are seated at a table with six other diners enjoying a gourmet meal, or whether you are forty minutes into a seven year interstellar space trip to begin terraforming operations on a new world.

So once the decision had been made to ignore the implied message in the message of revenge being a life lived well, but wholeheartedly accepting the overall message of the cliche (I don't really know if this is technically possible, can one pick and choose one's content? I know we all have a right to make our own interpretations, to come to our own conclusions, but does this extend down to within the sentence? Or is the sentence, or perhaps even the paragraph, that must be absorbed as a whole?

In my case, I'd picked and chosen. This was still the 21st Century, at least I had not receieved any solicited emails to suggest otherwise. And I was gonna show my ex-if-she-was that I was living well.

I had the nameless member of my current entourage to take a happy snap. Bill the beard, as I called him from Jani days. Courtney the croupier, telling me that the casino was a worse addiction than drugs. PIckersgill the comedian thief, he who took a 3000 year old Chinese sword, sparking an international diplomatic incident when he tried to hock it a his local pawn shop for $200.

The nameless member was otherwise known as mumbler. He was giving me a hundred dollars credit. He knew it was my payday the enxt day. He made me promise he wouldn't have to chase me (as in I would ring him at lunch to give him the cash rather than him ringing me. He wanted me to get a friend scoring through him. And thirdly, he knew I had an alternative, if he didn't give me dope on tick then I would score with cash off others the next day.

Boy was I living my life well. I couldn't wait to let her see this!

I had the happy snap taken digitally, of course. My home setup wasn't as advanced as I'd have liked, so I had to plug the phone into a port on my PC, run an app, DL the snap, run an app to edit web pages, upload the html-embedded pix and communication was established, revenge dealt.

Simple really.

just popped in flat after spending night at merckys, with S. tradeoff for gabo? Hadta wait till dawn for my fundz 2 arrive n i could score. OD at mumbles, indecision on ambulance, mumbles not keen.

So what to make of dear Ms S. Jet just asked me "But did you have a good time with her?" I answered "Yes, but we used. I wouldn't want to make it regular as I don't want to just use with her."

What can I say? I loved it. To lie next to her. We were straight all night from 7pm till 6am the next day. And we couldn't touch. Then as soon as the gabo came, S stroked me first I think, then in bed I placed a hand on her hip. No sex, of course. That's ok. It was as it was with her for the last few years.

We snoozed post gabo, like post coitus. This is where we touched. She made the smallest of noises, asleep or awake I don't know, but the noise was that you make when you get touched by someone you've been waiting months to touch you.


She made no words that indicated I meant more to her than any other friend. But judging by actions, well, she let me sleep next to her, to hold her hair. Either she's being a very tolerable "wean him off gently" girl or she is still undecided on us.

I hope for the latter.

Did I mention that I went to her place at 710pm, bouyed by bourbons. Suited up, $50 flowers in hand. I was the image of positivity.

I guess it was the first Friday I hadn't used (on a payday) in...well a long time, I could check my records but I'd rather rely on bio-memory. The positivity was infectious, she smiled back, she was a picture I tell you. But the talk soon turned to gabo. Why wasn't I getting her any? Couldn't she get some through me? My mood soured quickly, and the bourboon's buzz had hummed to a stop.I was seeing the whole "G as supplier of gabo to S" routine in front of me. Five weeks since I'd last seen her and she just wanted me to score for her.

So now I'm souring. She asked me a couple of questions about my life, which I avoided. I wasn't here to expand on what had happened to me while she wasn't with me. Then the big puppy, Tank, went to the pond. S said "push him in", I said "there isn't enough water to drown him".

S mock-shocked. " I didn't mean drown him!".

I reply "But you were saying how much he wears you out, how demanding he is...."

"Yeah but I didn't mean I wanted him killed! Poor tanky...."

And then she drops in the sentence that kills me.

She almost says a name, holds back, says instead "...someone else told me that the other day. They said 'Is that dog bothering you? I'll come around and fix up the problem.'"

Why does this sentence worry me so?It seems pretty vanilla, pretty plain. But it means that there's a dude out there at the moment wanting to protect S. And why's that such a bad thing? I feel that this is my role, that someone else muscling in is out of my control. It scares me.

A minute later I am rushing out of there, making excuses.

I drive home feeling physically ill, ringing mumbles on the way. He has product, but no he won't do tick till I get paid around midnight.

I had deliberately taken out no cash so that I can't score no matter what S says. Now this decision haunts me.

Home half an hour, S rings "Ring me back on merks home phone".

I ring. Answering machine picks up, records and beeps while S asks me if I am OK. I lie say yes at first then say "It just made me feel uncomfortable you just seeing gabo when you see me. But what can I expect, you don't use for a month then see a person who helped u with gear for years, you've had your first full week at work. Of course you're going to think about scoring."

There I go seeing both sides of the story again. Damn it.

She was just checking I am not too freaked out. Hangs up after finding out I am.

An hour later I am ringing her, asking "does it make me a bad person if I get you gabo for your first time in a month?". Knowing the answer is YES but she will say otherwise.

I go back to Annerley. Take two. We sit on opposing couches across a coffee table, watching Benny & Joon as the clock ticks. Mick won't give tick till eleven, then I ring and it looks like I need cash. That' sOK, I get paid around 12, (I hope).

We are both tired. S says "do u want to crash out on bed while you wait?". We haven't touched yet.
I end up sleeping next to her all night till 530am. We don't touch.

I get up score at 530 and return. Then we are back in bed, we hold, make the right noises. I even think once she hugs me. She holds my head at one stage and I cry.

Now it's 1120pm the night of the morning we held. I am confused. I love her I am sure, but I want to hold her without gear. I want to be able to say what I need to say w/o gabo in my system. When straight I know what to say but cannot. When stoned I can say it but can't recall the words or feelings, I am disconnected from them.

I was a bit ill Fri night, maybe alcohol burnt through last traces of metro in my system. who knows.

I want to see more of this shining light. I want her to love herself. I want her to see herself as others see her. How can i help her do this, and how can she help me see myself in a better light?