"Sing a little song of sunshine,
Sing a little song of rain.
I married my girl for lo-ve,
But all I got was pain."
Hmm. Thinking of becoming a songwriter, but I only have four lines so far. I wonder how many you need before you are a legit songwriter? Before the Simon and Garfunkel types start tipping their heads to you as you walk into their local, wherever that may be.
I have the same problem with being a novelist. Sure, I have gathered a lot of "stuff", like a whole stack of bottled feelings sitting on my shelf. Ten year old vintage - almost a distilled essence of the narcissistic heartbreak of a young lad who thinks he's just experienced all there is to experience in love and rejection.
Or a more recent bottle with a healthy dash of cynicism and sarcasm, mixed with honest feelings. I guess I have enough to fill the literary equivalent of a small cellar. A beginners' entry into the novel world, if a novel was just a gathering of "stuff that happened".
But in my heart I know it's not full cellars that interest readers. They want a hook, like in a good pop song. They want some of the Universal Questions tackled - Why are we here, What is the purpose of this life, etc. But they want them tackled in a unique and entertaining way.
And that's what I don't have, a hook that ties them all together. I know I could find one if I started looking, but at present with this whole (incredibly arrogant) gabo "Nothing is new or unexplained anymore" outlook, it's hard for me to tackle, no, hunt, for that original beast that will uniquely tie all my bottled stuffs together magically. But at least I believe I could do it, given the right circumstances.
****
SO today was an exciting day for "my kind". No, not Jewish (and I doubt life is synchronicitous enough for today to have been some obscure Jewish Holiday anyway, but Junkish. What makes a Junkie excited?
The promise of better gear (unless the purveyor uses the word 'dynamite' in describing the product, as dynamite invariably tells you that you and the product are going to have a fizz of a relationship).
Better gear, and a dealer who is always on time.
Magical promises, taken with a grain of alkaloids as usual. But in the end, I did score a 70 at lunch from the usual girl. And she did put me through around 90 minutes of "Don't come to me I'll be there in 10/20/5/10 minutes." In that order.The only reason she didn't want me to go to her was because she wasn't ready - her dealer was late or she was still packaging, it matters little.
So from my regular dealer I got this 90 minute wind up where I ended up returning to work after lunch empty-veined, only to have to run out five minutes later when she turned up for real. The 70 I got off her was a stopgap score, to satisfy my Pavlovian urges upon receipt of a paypacket.
Then, after work, I met half of a gay couple (introduced by M, perhaps in gratitude for my half-baked support the other night when he over-ate), who turned up, near my place (my current girl hasn't delivered to me at home for what, five months?), handed over a heat sealed century with no fuss, did a discrete lap around the block (compared to current girl's "Yeah now worries just lean in through the car window outside my workplace").
I got home, had $50 worth and felt the brushes of prickles - nothing major but they were there. And I was trashed.
S turned up 15 minutes later and had hers and she's still nodding now four hours later. She states she dislikes the new stuff it as it's "overpowering" and gave her a filthy headache, but I am considering re-trying it for these reasons:
a) It's safer-the supplier is not a goose who treats jail as just another necessity of the business and therefore takes precautions accordingly;
b) It's cheaper, and as a broke junkie this means money for food, healthcare ( I see the dentist next Tuesday, my mouth is a tidal delivery system of pain at present. Infections in the gums perhaps? The mind runs riot at mirror-based glimpses.(Shouldn't a girlfriend be providing this service for me? To be fair, she did peek yesterday, but in an "Oh my god that's disgusting" fashion rather than a "How can we fix this for you" way. So I can just buy less gabo for S if she finds it too powerful.
c) It's quicker. I shudder when I start to calculate the amount of time I have spent idly waiting for a childish dealer to de-noddify and deliver. If M's statements are true, 15 minutes after promised delivery time is an unusual time to still be waiting. I would like to test this.
d) Maybe it's selfish but I am the one who pays for this stuff, so saving 20 to 50 dollars a shot means at least a hundred dollars saved every week. More money to spend on more gabo... (I know I mentioned the money aspect before, but it's important!)
So yes S did not enjoy tonight, but she just admitted she'd been beer drinking which always gives her a headache wit gabo (Well I cannot definitively say always but I can state confidently that there's a causal link. OK?)
S is painting, which is great, supercute naive 2D girl-pics. And she is organising an exhibition in West End. Great news, she is an artist (as I have always known) and I have only helped delay her emergence. Not all my fault, the usual "Real life crushes all dreams" story.
What else to blurt out? Hmmm....Thought of a decent quote today that I'll put up on the site's random quote selector.
"Heroin is the symptom, society is the cause. The cure starts with you."
Oh, and incidentally, in the realms of life-changing decisions, I attended (yes I left my flat after dark and went to a room full of strangers! I must be serious) an MSF recruitment seminar over at Mayne Medical School. An MSF Admin person and a doctor from the field spoke for two hours. If this is not the life for me I do not know what is. Minimum placement is 12 months and Africa is where 60% of placements occur. I am awaitimg further information from them.
Funny stuff - and not necessarily PC!