Waste. Getting wasted. I spent all last night and all today trying to get wasted. And in pursuit of being wasted I instead wasted the day.
Came home last night pay packet in pocket. S started first words being "You called X yet?". X being current person who plays dealer. How quickly these dark birds return to roost. Six weeks ago she told me how she could not envisage spending time with "those eyes". As in, stoned eyes. Total hatred of that lifestyle. And now she stands in the same room demanding I return her their. We must have segmented minds. How else could we deal with such divergent opinions in such a short time without going crazy? And I know that before too long she will revert to her previous hatred of the stoned state.
Last night I didn't want to score. Didn't want it to become a regular paypacket event. Then it becomes a regular twice weekly event, then it is every day. None of this was germaine to the discussion, as they say. Shite poured from on high as she tried to force my hand. It was ugly but it served well to remind me of the last six years of our relationship.
It helped propel me to my statement to night that I would cover all her exit costs for a relocation with S2. Or whoever. It was weird saying those words. Almost an out-of-body experience, as the person saying it did not truly believe the words. I mean, he believed that they would honour the promise, but he did not want S to leave for any reason. He was comfortable in his inertia. He was comfortable with the pretence of a relationship that had satisfied (just) his relationship needs for six years. But somewhere inside part of him knew it was all wrong. Part of him knew she only stayed when there was dope, and with a cessation of dope there also comes a cessation of the performance of a relationship. Although the performance was aesthetically pleasing, it was not morally satisfactory, to use high-faluting terms. That part of him set his heart to cold and forced out the financial offer.
"I'm so glad we had this little chat" came the response. And then she lay down in the dark. Nasty nasty. But there had only been a nasty scoring energy for 24 hours so it didn't seem that different to him. Though he had hated the nasty scoring energy he had actively participated in perpetuating it, not out of love of it but because it was some kind if energy between them. Better than none. Though coming only five days after the last injection I know that it is a dangerous time to make big decisions.
All too hard. Loving being clean but heart of darkness loving the loving getting stoned. Love = weird. Watched French movie "The Closet" which mum taped for me. It contained Felixes, accountants, homosexuality, unloving partners and low self esteem. I think ma may have been trying to tell me something in her usual cryptic sense.
Fire brigade were upstairs with boltcutters before. Ambulance still downstairs. I think it is all tied in to a woman screaming and threatening suicide this afternoon. I missed that episode but S saw it all. Though that trouble was on the second floor I thought so maybe two people have gone crazy this weekend. I am sad for them but also it is a little heartening that I am not the lowest-feeling life form on earth right now.
I will go to my empty bed now to read some Pynchon, Mason Dixon. Third time lucky I hope. I love Pynchon when I have finished the book. V and Gravity's Rainbow were easy but this isn't so easy. All the better the reward. S drinks at a cafe with friends. Night cyberspace.