Saturday, November 5, 2011

Yesheroom No. 4


Im a block away from my cousin’s place, sitting on a street corner. I’ve been sitting here for about 15 minutes. If you asked me 15 minutes ago if I was going to make that call to her – and let her know I was coming – I would have not had an answer.

But as im sitting here im thinking, well, ive walked this far, and worst case scenario is I’ll go in, say hi, wait the “expected” hour or so and then head out. But do I want to make that call? To put the effort? To go ahead and go in?

I pop an oxy, 2 actually, 40mg each… then wait 5 minutes and pop another 20mg. Ive learned to chew them before swallowing – this breaks the time-release mechanism and makes achieving “the high” an instant gratification sorta’ thing. Though it’s all relative, of course, since my body has built quite the tolerance. 

10 minutes ago – which is 5 minutes after chewing – I dial my cousin. I think she’s surprised that I actually am coming.

I haven’t seen my cousin in well over 2 years, though we’ve been within 20 mintes walking distance for that much time.

Though about 10 years older than me, this particular cousin is the most like me – the black-sheep; just a bit off; she doesn’t give a fuck. Though if we’re gonna’ be real then like me on some level she probably does. Well, actually, I take that back. Ive always thought her to be the very definition of a free-spirit. Her with her big mane of red hair and grin the size of Arkansas. What does that mean, “grin the size of Arkansas”?!  Who says Arkansas is big? Not when compared to Texas or California! But it has a ring to it, right? SO IF I STARTED USING IT I wonder if it’ll get into everyone’s every day lexicon. Probably not but do me a favor and use it if you get the chance.

Arkansas has 3 kids… and I don’t recall all their names. I know one, the baby, is a boy and is called Raphael. I remember that cause it was such an odd name (for our family). The other two are girls… and for the life of me I know not what to call them. So I’ve decided that I’ll just make a joke of it, no, actually, as im writing this I realize that will be stupid, im better off just being honest and asking. Cause Arkansas is a whack like me so she’ll probably see right through any verbal shenanigans I toss. 

Pot is her thing, at least that’s what I know. But like me, she probably has secrets, though unlike me she’s not one to hide – which tachlas leads me to conclude that yes, indeed, “pot is her thing”.
I wish I can go in there and be open with her, tell her what’s going on, how I feel. But I can’t. I knew that before I sat down to chew the oxy & smoke the cig.

Or maybe I can be open with her, to let it out and spill the beans. I don’t know, maybe I can though what exactly will that achieve?

I should go in there already, I should just hit “post”, shut the laptop and head on over there. Cause right now the high is kicking in, its not a rush but a mellow high, and the shit part is since I have such high tolerance by now that it wont last so long, and then the slow painful fucking down shitty down starts throbbing pulsing sneaking its way in.

I should place a pill in my pocket just in case I stay longer then expected, this way if/when I need it I can “go to the bathroom” and chew the fucker.

Ok, ok, cig is almost up so… I think im about 3 blocks away so I’ll smoke as I walk, Arkansas lives on Yesheroom Street, No.4 (who the fuck comes up with these street names?). But at least i will remember it - sounds like shrooms, right?

During high school - 11th grade - my shroom phase - one day my friend and i got high off our asses and sneaked onto the backlots of Universal Studios; this is something I would do often but only invite certain friends to join. So we got in, walked around some major Hollywood names - and pretended we fit right in. But we didn't, we were caught, and got kicked off the lot. It was worth it.

Alright, whatever, I gotta' go, wish me luck, gonna’ hit post and head on in…

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