Methamphetamine

The cocaine high wasn't so much of a rush as a climb and a steady plateau. I always snorted because of my fear of needles, so there may have been a difference there. Of course the first sensation was the numbing, almost cooling sensation starting in the nose then going down the back of the throat. Normally I was drunk before I tried to access the hard stuff. As soon as I snorted a bit, the drunk was gone. I liked that because I could get drunk again. But then I started to need more: tolerance. And then one day, a friend suggested we try it the other way, so we cooked up some crack using equal parts baking soda and coke in water on a spoon. We lit a flame underneath until it just started to bubble. We then used a steel knife to attract the oil away from the water which then hardened and we could smoke it.

My first crack pipe was an aluminum can with a dent on top and poked with a pin repeatedly, and then a carburetor on the side which is just one big hole. On top we would put cigarette ash which didn't act as a filter, but would prevent the crack from melting and simply falling into the can. Well, the result, I thought, was amazing. After my first hit I ran to the bathroom to shit and throw up. What a miracle drug! And that's how my life went for about six months. That's when my creativity in stealing hit bottom and I resorted to taking things from unlocked garages and grocery stores. I also stole some money from my mom, something I only resorted to once, but i certainly do regret. I would take anything including things that were nailed down as long as I perceived some value for my various crack dealers. I also lost the few jobs I could get those days working in hardware stores fixing windows and screens. I didn't quite understand the value of a paycheck vs. The value of the occasional unattended lawn mower. Either way none of my money was used to pay rent or bills.

With meth, it was sort of the middle ground. And as I've mentioned before, there were so many ways to use it. Again, I chose smoking as my favorite way to do it, but eating it was pretty cool too. Smoking hit you fast, like 10 seconds. It was like a pot of coffee in every hit: I could actually hear my hair growing. It made me jittery, sweaty, and sticky, and I could play Angry Birds for hours without looking in any other direction. Eating it was way different. It was more of a visual kind of feel-good high. Having sex after ingesting meth was/is  very common among users. Feelings and sensations are heightened, and I often felt a wave of happiness overcome me. But after a while none of that mattered. I had to smoke to stay awake. I had my pipe everywhere I went, no matter what. It's very dangerous for a meth addict to try to function out in the real world during a drought. Falling asleep is no longer voluntary, and it can happen anywhere as I have written about many times.

One comparison I'll make with crack and meth is this: With crack, all of the doors were closed, blinds pulled tight, and any form of noise silenced. This was especially true if you could afford to be awake for a few days on the stuff. Oh fuck, the paranoia I had was intense. I would peek through the blinds so often that the little spot I used had a permanent sweat mark on it. But with meth, random people were always over. The TV and computer both had porn on, one stereo was playing at full volume, the other completely taken apart on the floor. Agates and other rocks were everywhere. Useless clutter piled on beds which no longer served a purpose, dishes all cleaned and put away as they no longer needed to hold food. A complete chaotic madness was the organizational style: Everything in its place, and everything else in that place as well.

There was paranoia with meth, too. I often thought people were talking about me or plotting against me. I've known people to hide in crawl spaces to avoid the police that weren't there. And strange irrational thoughts occured frequently. One example I can give occurred in Rochester when I was living in my apartment about ten years ago.

I had a female over that I was interested in. We were getting high, talking about nothing, and all of a sudden she just got up and walked out. I didn't see her again. Months later, a friend of hers told me that she left because of the other girls I had over. The girls that were hiding under the couch and making fun of her. I know that sounds crazy but when her friend was telling me this, she was actually mad at me because she believed that I had been hiding women under my couch.  All I could picture was a colony of midget women living and breeding somehow under my furniture and randomly sticking their heads out to patronize my guests. But to her, it was absolute reality. She saw what she saw and there was no changing her mind.

I could and did stay up for days even a week or so at a time with meth. Toward the end of my tenure as a drug dealer, I was working full time at a beautiful restaurant down in Lanesboro, Minnesota. I barely held it together. I would work eight or more hours then hit the road selling drugs all night. I wouldn't get home until 10 am or so most days at which point I would make the decision to try to nap for an hour or two, or keep it going. Most days I would arrive to work completely drained and unable to comprehend what I was doing. I was cooking outdoors on the grill in front of people most nights, and I can imagine the show I must have put on. My hands full of grill tools, only one of which I needed at a time. Me walking back and forth from tickets to grill because I could not retain orders in my head. Sweat pouring down my face. Arms and legs flying all over but not accomplishing anything, at least not very quickly. But apparently quick enough to keep the job, which I did for a full season. Once  the tourists were gone I was laid off ant that's when dealing became first priority. Just a few short months later I was on the news and in jail.

Every substance I've ever come across, I've abused. I've been to jail so many times that I still find mugshots of myself I've never seen before. I'm not at all surprised that I went to prison, I'm surprised I didn't go sooner.