Usually, I take about an hour to type what I’m thinking into this blog, and then let it fly out onto the internet. The posts tend to be around a 3–4 minute read, according to medium. This time, it’s a bigger story, so I wanted to write in the way that my mind allows me to, therefore I gave it about a week, in little bursts with all of the detours my mind takes. It’s roughly 5 times the amount of words I usually have in a post, we’ll see if anyone makes it through.
Saturday 11/09
Well, I had one of those days when I can’t muster up the drive to do much. I couldn’t easily get to sleep last night, tossing and turning until God knows when, and so it fucked up my day today, I took two separate naps, actually.
Also, I wanted to unwrite the last post I wrote. the one about tripping on ketamine into Hindu temple, getting sober shortly thereafter, and having been sober for 3 months (on the day I wrote it). I don’t know, I felt like I just let a little too much out. Here’s the thing: I don’t recommend that anyone take the route that I took (and take), there are more than enough stories on here that should illustrate how bad addiction is, and if you want to come visit me in Queens I can show you the gnarly scars I have all over my body. I am never out to glorify drug use, I just want to call it like I see it, that’s all.
Since I write, and don't unwrite:
Drugs. You can lose everything, I’ve lost everything numerous times, to numerous drugs. The worst thing to lose, when you’re really deep into the bad ones, is yourself. A few months ago I found that I was getting there, and although I hadn’t ended up completely destitute on the street again, it was going to be inevitable if I didn’t cut out what I was doing. Plus, I would be moving all of my furniture around and crawling on the floor, looking for little crystals that I must have known I’d never find…which obviously was terrible.
I can also write this story about what I recently learned about someone who I spent some of my spring and summer around, which as you’ll read is troubling (to describe it mildly) and perhaps even horrifying. I’m sorting it out mentally by writing about it.
I went out to get smokes and a burger, then I fell asleep.
Sunday 11/10
So, now… Yes, I was doing drugs a few months ago, and doing them with drug people. These people, they weren’t bad people, actually they often had good qualities about them, they were just hung up on doing drugs (like I was). I was also lonely, without much of any social life since coming out to Queens nearly a year ago, so beyond craving drugs I was craving human interaction.
Here’s something I’ve wanted to get at: loneliness. Drugs and alcohol will absolutely bend your decision making, that’s a given, but I never hear anyone talk about how feeling lonely will also have you make choices about who you’ll hang with and where you’ll go that I don’t think you’d make otherwise. Loneliness is its own emotional intoxicant, and one’s decision making in its cloud is not to be trusted. It’s hard to really understand this until after the fact, I’ve found.
Anyway, I hate to call people drug people, but I’ll deal with it by calling myself a drug person (when I do drugs). Addicts are people, they should be treated like people, and respected like people. I don’t hang with drug people anymore, I hang with former drug people who are working on not being drug people, and it helps me not to be one. There is one person who I hung with during the spring and summer while I was doing all of the drugs who Is very bright, We’ll call her Lila (because it’s close enough her only fans pseudonym), I got along with and could identify with her neurodiversity journey, despite her being around 20 years older than I am. She worked some square jobs for one of the banks but remotely, which seemingly paid well, and therefore kept a large supply of drugs handy. We were both really getting into what was going on with the possibilities of artificial intelligence, which is what we first bonded over when we met at the futuristic apartment of an individual who will come up later in this story. We check up on each other by text now and then.
Now I’ve got to go off on a tangent again before I get on with where I’m going. I wan’t to just ask a question: Why would anyone be shocked when someone with ADHD takes to using methamphetamine? After all, many of them were fed Amphetamine and Dextroamphetamine by the school nurse when they were children. We really like being able to function, think, create and all of the stuff that’s challenging, yet appears quite simple for the masses of normal people. I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault that people take to using speed, I’m simply raising a question about the soil which that behavioral plant took root in and grows from. I was personally introduced to not just speed, but the entire notion of altered consciousness through chemistry by a psychiatrist. I am genetically predisposed to be a druggy, so i’m sure i’d have figured it out somewhere else, but I didn’t…I figured it out in the school nurse’s office.
The real bummer about uppers isn’t that complex, it’s just gravity (which may be complex to a physicist, actually). My understanding of gravity is “what goes up, must come down”, the distance in which one goes down is directly proportional to how far one has gone up. Down sucks, so you try to stay up.
Anyway, my brilliant neurodiverse, onlyfans creating AI enthusiast former drug buddy (who is also a classically trained opera singer) texted me to Google the name of our mutual “friend”, who I’ll call Ryan. I’ll call him Ryan, because for the majority of the time I knew him I thought that was his name, even though it was a different name that started with that same letter, and he never once corrected me. He was saved in my phone as Ryan Scootertee, because he rode a scooter and sold T, which is short for Tina.
I became aware of Ryan on the app that I would use to find people who were in the business of doing what he did, supplying psychoactive chemicals that you can’t just walk down to Rite Aid to pick up. Within the hour of first messaging him, there he was coming down my street in Hollis, queens on an electric scooter to my front door, with a smaller amount of what I was looking for than anyone else in that business would ever bother to deal with. After all, I never had much money… I still don’t, I feel like I’m getting past the idea that my worth is defined by it, which is freeing.
The next time I needed his services, I had to go to where he was. This nearby apartment, which he informed me he was subletting for a bit, was ultra modern, super clean, and very upscale. Because of all the video doorbells , NFC locks, and talking steel elevators It reminded me of the setting of that futuristic science fiction movie Demolition Man, in which Sly Stalone wakes up from a cryoprison to stop Wesley Snipes from fucking up a technological utopian future version of Los Angeles. If you have never seen Demolition Man, you’re missing out, big time.
The focus and will to write ran out.
Monday 11/11
Ihave this idea for a new approach to writing these things that I write, if you’re familiar with what I do here, then it should be somewhat apparent in the formatting that it’s a little different. I was thinking about what I wanted from writing and what I wanted it to be.
I have some stories to tell, so, I tell them, it’s a positive and cathartic undertaking. I have a mind, it has it’s “stuff” (good points, bad points). I’d like the reader to feel like they’re taking it for a spin through the experiences that I write about. So, if I’m telling a story (which I promise I will get on with), and things go a bit off road… Well, the idea for the new approach incorporates that. I have ADHD, and these days I drive within the lines it paints on the asphalt of thought and attention, and I stop when it changes the color of the light.
The light was yellow, until it was red. It’s sure to turn green again, but I don’t know when. I did set a deadline to finish this post, which is another new way to approach how I do it.
Tuesday 11/12
Midnight
If you want to be technical, the day changes at midnight, so here I am. It’s my regularly scheduled time of neurotic inferiority complex, and self doubt, which can be loud enough to keep me up. It matters little what I’m doing better than how I once did, or who i’m doing kind things for… It’s not enough. If my mind can’t find a way in which I failed in the last 24 hours, have no fear! we can go back decades, and sometimes we do.
I won’t drag on an on about how fucked up my thinking is, but I will point out that it’s at least predictable, which helps with not latching on to believing everything it has to tell me. After all I have a story to tell about the guy who rode to my place on an electric scooter with the speed I had taken to using, and as it turned out was quite a habit forming.
So, when I got to his “Demolition Man, San Angeles, 20XX” apartment, to get my little $20 of crystalline stimulants, I was made aware that that wasn’t the only thing on the menu. It was very, very far from the only thing on the menu, and actually the only things that weren’t on the menu were cocaine and heroin. It was like Hunter Thompson’s suitcase from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Everything. Even Viagra.
I wasn’t interested in Viagra, and although I would normally be interested in psychedelics and psychedelic research chemical analogs , at this time I was hung up on maintaining my Methamphetamine habit, which I couldn’t even afford anyway.
Ryan had supplies of all of these chemical compounds in more copious amounts than I had ever seen. I’m talking about crystals the size of soft balls. He was more than generous with what he’d give me for the close to nothing I could scrape up (I can’t imagine how much all of this was generating for him in the full picture). When i’d come by, we’d have some banter and smoke, a few times he even tossed me a few hits of acid, as the psychedelic experience was one of the subjects we’d touch on.
As far as people in his business go, I’ve met a lot worse. He was an interesting cat, intelligent, well spoken and like me not at all a fan of any kind of authority. After a while, I could tell that he wasn’t very happy with what he was doing, which made sense after I learned more about him.
He would talk about some of the more erotic escapades he’d get into with some nice young ladies, and it was a little off putting, but I fancy myself to be sex positive and I try not to shame anyone’s kinks as long as everything is consensual and ethical. I myself was never present for any of these type of occurrences, but I did notice a giant inflatable sex pillow/platform in the center of the living room. How could I not? It was a giant neon inflatable sex pillow.
Do you know what GHB is?
Gamma-Hydroxybutyrate.
Gamma-Hydroxybutyrate (GHB) is a naturally occurring chemical in the human body. It is also a controlled substance with potential for abuse. In its prescription form, sodium oxybate (Xyrem), it is used to treat narcolepsy. GHB can cause serious side effects, including overdose and death, especially when mixed with other substances like alcohol.
GHB is sometimes used as a party drug because it can produce feelings of euphoria, relaxation, and increased libido. However, it is a dangerous substance that can lead to overdose and death, especially when mixed with other drugs or alcohol. — Gemini AI
It’s a clear liquid which used to be tasteless until people started spiking drinks with it and date raping each other, from what I understand. Now there’s no way you wouldn’t be able to tell if it was in your chosen beverage, as it’s one of the most disgusting things going.
I had personally tried GHB at one point long before meeting this fellow, in carefully measured dosages (which are very small). I didn’t like it and never circled back, by this time I didn’t like substances that would “take me off my square” (that’s my verbatim description of that kind of intoxication). Like blacking out on alcohol (which I rarely ever consumed in the past few years and don’t consume at all now). If anything, the speed was keeping me in my square (at least in my perception).
Being a blackout alcoholic, I really hate the feeling of waking up without any clue what happened the night before, and I hate hangovers. if you think a few too many chardonnays makes for a mean headache the next day, G is some next level shit. Would not recommend it.
According to Ryan, there was something he and a female friend would like to do with each other that involved GHB, and my thinking is that it led to where this story is going. They were into taking the GHB, and then taking “advantage” (although it was consensual) of each other, and documenting it with a camera.
the story isn’t going there now, though. I’m going to try to go to sleep. I still have 3 days and 15 hours left until my self imposed deadline.
Tuesday 11/12 II
10:34 AM
Predictability, I’m into it. There isn’t much you can do to control reality, I think once you realize that you can really get to the work that can reasonably be done. 51 days ago, I downloaded this insight timer app with the intention of starting my day with some guided meditation, instead of rolling into the social media pit. I’ve yet to miss a day. A few weeks later, I got another app called Deepstash, which is a little micro learning thing with various topics that I can quickly digest and understand, so there’s the 2nd buffer between me and the pit. After those 2 things (and of course the coffees, cigarettes, and carbohydrates), I got into the journal that was actually a gift from Lila. Predictably, Tuesday is the day where I go down the street at around 6pm to fulfill the coffee making commitment that I made to an AA group, the very first time I was there. Having spent some years in the “rooms”, my muscle memory of what to do quickly locked in. I love Tuesday nights, I laugh and learn things about my fellow group members, all of whom are at least 10 years older than me. One of them, a DJ, said he would actually be in the South Bronx back during the primordial days of what became hip hop, patching into the street lights to power his turntables and speakers. Given my historical interest in music, culture and New York city, this is amazing to hear a first hand account of those times.
Sure, a story about sex, drugs and death is interesting. What do you think Netflix is streaming (aside from Tyson Vs. someone I’ve never heard of), and Hollywood is selling? I’m not here to be shocking, though… Well, maybe a little bit but not completely, there is a wider context for everything. My hope is that in allowing my detours from the plot will allow for some of the context to be illustrated. It might be a reach, but I also hope that I can shine a little light on the fact that people are more complex, beyond just the thing that we assign them in our judgment.
Tuesday 11/12 III
9:14 PM
Iwent down the street to make coffee for my homegroup. Now I am home again, and I’m going to try to locate the plot.
So, in the late spring, I would frequently visit the futuristic apartment with the giant neon inflatable sex pillow, in order to acquire the speed. I’d take some bong hits, chat a bit of chatter and be on my way, as I don’t like to overstay my welcome anywhere (never have) and I preferred to be at home either watching pornography (as is customary behavior with that drug), or manically working on some crazy project of my own or for Lila, who would compensate me with generous portions of chemicals.
Ryan’s sublet was about to run out, but there was one more night when I swung by, and Lila was there. I didn’t take off as quickly as I normally would.
You’re probably thinking about adding up an only fans creator with GHB and a giant neon inflatable sex pillow. Well, I don’t know where your head is, but shame on you, freak-o. Pull it out of the gutter, will you?
We were just talking, the three of us. I found out that Ryan was a singer/songwriter who had played at the gathering of the juggalos at one point, which was interesting to me because of how much I learned that he knew about music at large (and the general negative preconceived notion I had about Juggalos and the Insane Clown Posse). For instance: there is a very obscure remix of a Nine Inch Nails song (The Perfect Drug) , that you could only get on a 1997 or 1998 EP that was 5 or 6 remixes, and no A side, the remix came up in conversation. No one would ever just know about this track, I mean it’s way the fuck out there, but it was one of the things we talked about, before moving on to the subject of psychedelic ego death, and the sense of oneness with everything that is inherent in experiencing that. Lila hadn’t been to that place, so we were telling her about it and describing the kind of compassion for others that tends to grow out of the experience.
It wasn’t bullshit, because it isn’t.
During the times I’d be stopping by the future pad, I would see this little crackhead girl from Jamaica, Queens, who’d be there cleaning up or sleeping on the couch and my sense was that Ryan was looking out for her, in some weird big brother, or paternal type of way. Obviously, I don’t know what was going on there completely, I can only tell you the way that I perceived what was going on, and to me it lent credibility to the discussion of what can be learned from spending time in the big “one”.
He said she was a sweet girl, but one should never dismiss that she’d cut your throat for a vial of crack.
And now, it being past 10, I think I’ll go to sleep. Tomorrow is Wed. which means that I go to the lower east side to volunteer at a food pantry, which is coincidentally in the building of the rehab program where I spent 15 months before coming to Queens. It’s not at all coincidental, of course… who knows why I said it was. It’s not likely I’ll be able to work on this tomorrow, but I am still shooting for a self imposed deadline of completion, which is 5PM on Friday.
Saturday 11/16
9AM
Well, the self imposed deadline disintegrated. I blame all of the things I was doing like: volunteering, grocery shopping, cleaning my house and the ADHD freeze that happens when I go hard doing those things in. This is a real thing, I researched it. Today I woke up, and did what I do every day: meditate, micro learn, cigarettes, caffinating, and a strong breakfast. Hell, I haven’t even gone into the scroll pit, to find out if that kid beat up old Mike Tyson on the internet.
The reason I got to typing was the result of a text conversation in which my friend Lila told me to Google the person who introduced us to one another, or at least provided the place and circumstances for it.
So, after Ryan’s sublet in the future was up, I think I only saw him once at Lila’s apartment. Soon after that I got clean, so I wasn’t trying to keep company with folks like that, who did what they do.
What do they do? I’ll tell you (finally).
Following Lila’s recommendation I hit Google, and I learned that Ryan had been busy getting indicted for concealment of a woman’s corpse that was tied up and stuffed into a suitcase. He was busy going to the lost and found of the Long Island Rail Road to find the backpack he had apparently left on one of the trains. Too bad (for him) the authorities were already looking for him (for the corpse, of course) and the backpack was full of methamphetamine and GHB. He wasn’t charged with murder, though, I think that’s worth mentioning.
I don’t know exactly what happened, obviously. I can only theorize that one of the GHB photo shoot sessions went awry, and panic ensued. I think a lesson can be learned by all of us, which can be easily stated in a time honored pairing of just 2 words: safety first. It seems too simple, but that’s the beauty of it.
I’m not really into clocking anyone’s drug intake, but I’m sure the panic wasn’t helped by the massive amounts of Tina I would see Ryan smoking, which can lead to paranoia on its own, especially when you forget that it’s a good idea to sleep occasionally. Like any of us, I had heard all of these tales of psychosis, and “shadow people” in the whole “Meth, not even once” media blitz of the last couple of decades. I never personally saw any shadow people, but that doesn’t mean that it’s anywhere close to a good idea to start using it.
Well, then. I did actually say “wow” out loud when I read what happened to Ryan. I had been having a bummy day, with the low energy thing that I have and the whole “being unsure of myself and what i’m doing” trip going, more times than not. Learning about what happened came as a sign that I was on a better path than the one I was treading months ago, as none of the folks I associate with nowadays are being detained by authorities for allegedly concealing corpses in suitcases.
I had to go for a walk. Strangely enough, when I did I saw that Lila texted me to check in and I told her that I was writing this big story, and I sent her what I had so far up to the paragraph just before this one. I walked, a bit on edge, waiting for her thoughts, as this is the longest piece I’ve ever written on this blog, it’s risky, and she’s in it. No one else has seen this, or will see it until I finish it, and then it’s out of my hands what anybody thinks of it. Luckily, she thought it was well written, accurate and far enough from any real names and places. I do believe she’s doing better as far as using drugs goes, but it’s none of my business . Obviously, I just want the best for her, as I consider her a friend.
Saturday 11/16 II
8:46PM
I was thinking about what the point of writing this actually was, and I think I figured it out. I’ve decided not to tell you what I believe it is, so that you can draw your own conclusion. I’ve also done my best not to assign any kind of moral assessment on anyone, except for myself, who is honestly the only person who’s morality I should be at liberty to judge. Of course it’s sad that someone lost their life, and that someone else is probably going to lose their freedom…that goes without saying (still I said it).
I won’t link any media stories, just like I chose not to use any real names., it just didn’t seem like a good idea to do so, for reasons I would hope are quite obvious.
You can get an email whenever I write one of these things:
Did you know that you could buy me a coffee if this blog does anything for you? It actually helps me take the A train to my food pantry volunteering that I do every wed: ko-fi.com/evr0ck17
For more things and also stuff: https://linktr.ee/EvR0cK17
https://www.instagram.com/evr0ck17/profilecard/?igsh=MTI5MngycXg0YTVjYg==
Bonus, I remixed the remix at some point during the summer:
