Friday, January 14, 2011

Waking Up with C*ck in Mouth

So, if you are following me on Twitter you know what the rest of the world knows: somewhere between now and my last post I seemed to have misplaced my notebook. THE NOTEBOOK. The one that has random ideas, happenings and other tantalizing anecdotes that I use solely for the purpose of amusing you, my internet legion. Now, I have nothing more to rely on then my cell phone, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and type a note into it. Or, I will be having a conversation with someone and it will remind me of that time I was ****ing Jimmy behind the Circle K and I may act like I am checking my text messages but I am not. I am making an note. Now you know.

Since it has been a good month (meaning at least a month, not in the sense that it has been a GOOD month - though it hasn't been especially painful) I have decided just to write about my last "note"that I put in my phone. The note merely says "waking up with cock in mouth". So, here we go:

It was a Friday night (seems it is always a Friday, doesn't it?) and I was on Dunlevy, in the side doorway of the Patricia Hotel. I had had a good evening so far that night. I specifically remember having a nice spot o' the crack cocaine in my pocket and at least 5 bucks in the other pocket. No immediate down sickness in sight.

Now, if caught in the right frame of mind and with a nice amount of dope, I could be relied on for being up to pretty much anything. Of course, if I was f*cking desperate I could be up for anything as well but on this night, I wasn't desperate. I remeber this one desperate Sunday morning I accepted an offer to go to Squamish with this intense dude with nothing more than a promise of a healthy amount of cocaine as payment. How will I get back? I asked and he said, "Don't worry about it!". So I didn't. And then ended up by some shady railroad tracks hitchhiking a ride back to Vancouver. I was sick as f*ck and the old man that gave me a ride kept asking me if I needed to go to the hospital. Bless him, he drove me almost the whole way.


So, it was Friday, I was working and this youngish guy came up to myself and another female and initially he just wanted to score some dope (crack). Then somehow between the score and him going home he had asked me to go with him and I had agreed. When I think back I think I may have been short of a couple nights sleep - not realizing how perilously close to unconsciousness I really was.

We went to his house. It wasn't too far from the hood. I mean, it was still in Vancouver anyways. We went to his house and he was just like any other crack smoking guy. He wanted to do dope and to get a bl*wjob. Fine, I did that all the time. BUT, usually me and the "guy" would at least hang out and do our dope. There was some sense of comraderie usually but not with him. I don't know how long I managed to stay awake for but all I can remember is waking up periodically with his c*ck in my mouth. Like, I would come to and he was forcing me to give him oral sex. I mean, how can that even be satisfying? I was so out of it.

The next moring I was sooo dope sick, I knew I hadn't smoked all my dope because I had been asleep but the crack (his and mine) was gone and so was my 5 bucks. What a jerk off.

Anyways, he was pissing and whining that he didn't want to give me a ride back downtown. But since he lived a basement suite I threatened to scream bloody murder so the upstairs folks would hear me and I told him I knew where he lived so he had to driveme downtown or I would come back with my gang of thugs (what thugs?).

He took me as far at the Greyhound Bus station at Main and Terminal. I was crying that I was so sick and couldn't possibly walk the rest of the way and you know what he did? He punched me in the face and told me to get the f*ck out of his truck. Nice.

It is so weird for me to think that this was actually my life. Things like this happen all the time. It's awful and true.

That is basically the end of this story. You want to know what happened next? Well, let's just say that it involved heroin, cocaine, money, prostitution and a needle exchange. Oh and some major bouts of dope sickness in between.

Right here I would like to mention that my friend from down there, whom I refer to as R has recently informed me that he is using again. I am sorry R, and I love you.