September 3, 2008
I crossed paths with an old man carrying his groceries across the street yesterday. Ten seconds later I heard a car’s screeching tires, and I turn around to see what looked like a guy threw himself out of a car. It was the old man. He got hit. The medics and police came to help the blood-covered man and to clear up the mess he made with the car. At the time I was thinking how maybe I could have done something if I had left the house a bit later or walked slower. But I’m left unshaken. This is only what I see. What I don’t see is infinite, and what I don’t see surprisingly affects me very little.
September 7, 2008
Did coke this morning. Fuck.
September 22, 2008
I went to my first strip club last Tuesday (and coke again that night).
September 28, 2008
I dumped the student apartment where I was staying for a small house right next to a railroad track that brings a train every half hour. It’s fairly normal until you meet my roommates, and then it turns into a post-rehab rehab center. Both Jim and George know each other from rehab two months ago, which I found out when I drove out there with them to drop off one of their friends (who they also know from there). I consider myself lucky to have a room though.
A typical night consists of lots of weed, beer, women, occasional parties… almost what I’d expect at a college. They go to the bar across the street nearly every night, and they stay there until it closes at 2 in the morning. They bring home whomever is left to have sex with on the couch while I try to sleep. And it’s no help that my room is directly in front of the living room (including the couch), and my door filters absolutely none of the sound.
Otherwise if they don’t get any women, they might bring a few friends over just to hang out, which can be interesting at times. Like, I snorted a line of coke this weekend, and I smoke weed on a regular basis… not that I go looking for it. It just happens to be around all the time. For some reason I never seem to get high. Maybe I do, and I just don’t realize it, or I might be smoking it wrong. I still have yet to feel high or anything, and the cocaine just made my throat really itchy.
I don’t know how you can make a mistake snorting shit up your nose. I think I’m just not doing enough of it or something.
Moving along… the sorority thing is kind of losing its magic. The girls are all pretty much exactly alike, and I’d never have the courage to approach any of them in a non-work related way. But the main reason I took this job was to make myself like women less. I thought maybe if I was around dozens of gorgeous ladies every day then maybe they’d eventually sink into the background, and I wouldn’t be in such awe of them. I mean, I love women, I just don’t want to be controlled by them and my sex drive my whole life (a little like my roommates).
They don’t pay me shit though. I don’t think I’ve ever been this financially dick-slapped before. I’m literally living on pocket change. The good thing is, I won’t owe anybody anything in a month. Money is pretty tight, nonetheless. Once I get famous, none of it’s going to matter because I’ll be rich as hell, and then I’ll have other non-monetary problems.
So from 2-8 PM I can’t tell if anyone’s tried to call me. I’m starting to call too much, I think. There isn’t any signal at all inside the ADPi house except for this one awkward spot next to the pool. I’ve always been dissatisfied with my phone company (T-mobile), but can’t do anything about it without any money. Back in Nashville I used to not get any service inside my own house. It sucked because that’s where I usually was most of the day. If I had my way I’d probably switch to Verizon or AT&T depending on the kind of phone I want.
I wasn’t cool enough to be asked to smoke at school, so living with Jim and George was my first exposure to drugs. I think they viewed me as a fresh face… someone they could have fun introducing the world to. They were both in their early 30’s and were extroverted thrill-seekers. I liked both of them and even looked up to them since they had more experience with the world than I did.
I was their little buddy that they could hang out with. They once brought some friends over and were having a good time while I was in my room. Jim grabbed a Tom Robbins novel off of the coffee table and chucked it at my door. It made a loud “bang”, which, in good humor, was followed by “Seth, get out here!” I left the security blanket of my own room, and proceeded to join the party where I was sociable for a while until I got tired.
As far as the drugs went, if there was anything out there that could make me feel better, I dared it to try.
My first few times smoking weed wasn’t anything special. I inhaled a shallow amount and didn’t get high at all from it. Then I tried filling my lungs up all the way, and I felt it searing. It made me slightly more self-conscious. The most I did while high was sit around the house or go get tacos at the taco truck directly across the street from our house. I was already so used to being extremely self-conscious and having anxiety all the time that it didn’t feel new at all, and I didn’t see the point.
I was excited to try cocaine and to see what it felt like. Jim would bring friends over, and we would take turns snorting it then rubbing the leftovers into our gums. I took the same amount as they did, but for some reason I never felt any significant difference. It was most likely very low quality and not very strong. It’s supposed to amp you up, but I was already amped up naturally from being around people and social situations that I may have not noticed the small change that the weak cocaine caused.
What I noticed with these things my roommates introduced to me — strip clubs, drugs, alcohol — was that even if they affected me, in the end I would be the same person with the same problems inside. I decided that they wouldn’t help me become the person I wanted to be.
For example, I didn’t mind when others drank… I figured it made them exponentially more fun. But if I needed a drink in order to relax or to be able to enjoy myself fully, it would feel too much as though I were using the drink as a crutch to help me. I wanted to be able to enjoy myself whenever I wanted and according to my own will.
I knew that when I was experiencing the beauty of the world, I wanted to take everything in with a clear mind that was real, genuine, and 100% me, even if that meant enduring the pain of my personal demons alone.