Brush your fingers down my inverted spine, draw my hips to you and pull me close, folded in threes onto your lap where I sit curled in the delightful smell of your cigarettes and whiskey, nuzzled against your chest with my fingers in your hair, falling into the sleep of an overdrugged insomniac — the sleep that is the eyes closed, the body without moving, but still the mind races and nothing relaxes into a restorative sleep. This is how we will have to spend our nights together, now that I am coming down from my Ambien addiction.
I had been taking it every night for three months, starting at 10mg a night, which knocked me into a blissful state of unconsciousness, sleeping finally for eight hours a night. Then it got harder to fall asleep. Up it to 20mg on weekends because I exert myself more then and need more sleep. Then, during the week, I could not sleep without 20mg. In the past two weeks I have taken two, wake up after three hours, lie staring at the ceiling for an hour, and then take another. 30mg of Ambien a night for two weeks. Recommended dosage is 5mg a night, every other night, for ten days. I have far exceeded this. A few weeks ago when my medical care was in limbo, I ran out of Ambien. I did not sleep for two days. I guess you could say I am addicted, like my previous addiction to Ultram, which had me popping 100mg four to six times a day. Recommended dosage is 50mg twice a day. I guess I get a little carried away, but after a while, it stops working, and I want that initial feeling again — that sleep, that lack of pain — and to get it, I need to take more. Then try and take it away from me, and I get ill.
I am an addict.
We all knew this.
For some reason, though, the doctors want to keep giving me addictive drugs. Reliant is one thing, addictive another. They put me on addictive sleeping pills, narcotic painkillers, and now — here\’s the great one — they want to put me on morphine! Either the patch or the drip. Maybe you did not hear me… they want to put the former dope head on a heroin derivitave. I can soon be getting my opiates legally. Oh oh oh oh OH I think that was the sound of me coming and then leaving towards the doctors office to get me the hook up. Hook up without gear, junk without the junkies, amber golden feeling sweeping through my body, numbing me, and it will be legal. Oh, holy motherfucker. I told my doctor I did not want to do this, that I thought it was a bad idea, what with me and my addictive, drug abusing history. (If the patch comes in a pack of 12, I will have all 12 on my arm or wherever within a week.) He told me, this is something you\’re going to have to get over if you want to get better — your fear of addictive medicine is hindering you. Do you want to work or go to school again, or don\’t you? You are in chronic pain and spend most of the week in bed, so we have to try these painkillers in order to get you to function. Are you going to be difficult and resist them?
Well when you put it like that… NO! SHOW ME THE DOPE! See that bruised, swollen vein? (\”Why are your track marks on the wrong arm? You\’re the dumbest fucking junkie I ever met.\” \”Uhhh… but how many dumb junkies have you fucked?\” \”What?\” \”How many?\” \”I don\’t know… a few?\” \”You\’ve got AIDS! Hahaha\” \”Shut the fuck up, I do not.\” \”Yeah, when was the last time you were tested?\” \”Never. Everyone I\’ve been with was clean.\” HAHAHA Never believe an addict. Never never never never.)
A drink for one is never fun
I say it deadens the pain
She\’s sick of games and learning names
She puts her black book away
He scans the place for a friendly place
Suddenly everything\’s changed
He took a chance on romance
Without knowing her name
Knowing her name
So he moved in on a whim
And now her house is their home
She forgets the days of her drunken haze
And waiting by the phone
They lie in bed with nothing said
As she gently falls asleep
He thinks about how life would be if they didn\’t meet
The doctor and the dj
Took it all in stride
I hope that she know\’s she\’ll make a beautiful bride
It\’s funny how life can change
At the drop of a dime
All it takes is a little faith
That everything is fine
So I raise my glass to better times
I\’m glad that I didn\’t miss
A chance to see and to misery
Doctor and the dj
Took it all in stride
I hope that she knows she\’ll make a beautiful bride
I am listening to Home Is Where You Hang Yourself by her space holiday.
Halleluljah for sleeping pills
Amen for a good stiff drink
I know that I can\’t sleep
So why should I try
It\’s been this way for years
You\’d think by now I\’d know why
Halleluljah for long shot dreams
And Amen for the perfect life
I know that I can\’t wait
So why should I try
It\’s been this way for years
You\’d think by now I\’d know why
The little Ambien I allowed myself tonight already has my head swimming, my vision blurring, my life falling through a tunnel and the world getting smaller and darker, not unlike a K-hole.
I listened to this album a lot this past fall, when \”A\” lent it to me. September, October. I think we were still fucking then. I played the hell out of this album, and it lead him to erroneously believe that I like slow-core, shoegaze, indiepop. Hrm. It\’s just a good record to fall in love with, that\’s all. Listen to this while you\’re falling into someone, and it accentuates it. So I\’m reliving that feeling tonight, because that feeling has come back, but directed at someone else. It\’s good, at times, to gather up all the love you have ever had, boil it in a spoon with a lighter, and then inject the sticky substance directly into your heart. Joy junkie. Love junkie. Sluts and addicts and ethics. \”That\’s not polyamory, dear, that\’s being a slut.\” \”Well what\’s polyamory?\” \”When you have committed relationships like primaries, secondaries, sometimes tertiaries, but it\’s all committed and those are the walls you stay in unless there is an agreement between parties for other activity.\” \”Oh. Well uh…\” \”When you have eight women that you\’re fucking, and some of them don\’t even know you\’re seeing other people, then you\’re a slut.\” \”But I\’m committed to them all! I care about all of them, it\’s not just about sex. And it\’s not eight women, anyway.\” \”Commitment, my dear, means you\’re committing to the future, saying, this is good, and even if there are problems, we\’ll work them out, because we want to be together. That\’s commitment. Commitment is not committing to seeing someone once a week and then at the slightest thing, no longer seeing them. That\’s being a slut.\” \”Oh well… okay, you\’re right, I\’m a slut… but I\’ve been thinking about that, and those other women aren\’t working out and I like you the best and we have such a connection that I haven\’t had with anyone in a while, and I\’ve been thinking about that, and maybe exploring that.\”
Commitment involves two people committing to each other.
I\’m falling off my chair, whacked out on Ambien, falling, falling, falling, and pouring the truth out from my fingers which are quickly losing the blood flow and are turning blue. The screen looks like a squiggle. But I have to get the words out. Tonight I have to talk about…
BIRTH CONTROL
That is if I could get my head to stop swimming.
So here it is, the latest \”adventure from life as a gimp – gimp, gimpy, gimpier, gimpiest primate with a backache on medicaid with stories to trade\”, now move your ass over before my little wheelchair cart knocks your dumb \”We need eight bags of Doritos before the snow hits because we are fat, unhealthy Americans who couldn\’t even find the fresh produce aisle if you pointed us in the right direction.\” And if they did get there, they wouldn\’t be able to tell the difference betwen Romaine and Ice Berg, and they wouldn\’t know what a mango looks like (those are the ones that smell blue in the smelly markers, right?). America is on dope and it\’s called SUCROSE, LAXTOSE, FRUCROSE, DEXTROSE, GLUCOSE, LEVULOSE, ACROSE — SUGAR. Fat. Startches. Fat. More fat. Oh, and artificial sweetners, caffeine, super sizes, and SALT. WE ARE THE FUCKING MOST OBESE COUNTRY IN THE WORLD. Why doesn\’t good old George just round up a bunch of the fatest of our fat asses (I volunteer my entire family and their three boxes of chocolate chip cookies, bag of super size Lays, bag of Tostitos, three boxes of Cheeze-Its, an entire cupboard of processed soup and other such goodies… WE ARE FAT. Volunteer us to drop out of planes like bombs, be caught in heavy duty nets and placed in HumVees, the only vehicles capable of supporting our obese asses, tracking down Saddam and then have us SIT ON HIM. He\’ll be crushed by the weight while being forced to smell all the nasty processed junk food we\’ve eaten that day. We\’ll have to sit there for hours, while we fart and defecate and piss the all too saccharine and sticky piss of someone with a diet that is high in sugar. THAT should be Saddam\’s torture. Leave the good ol\’ American troops at home and send in the REAL people of America. If America has to be defended, let the general populace do it. Our gluttony will be our biggest weapon!
But actually, I was going to write about birth control.
I went to the pharmacy today to get four or five prescriptions filled. No real problems there. Then I handed the lady at the pharmacy my selection of the individual disc packeted 6 pack of condoms by Lifestyle. They are being discontinued and are CHEAP AS FUCK right now. Go stock up, because you never know when you\’re going to need an individually wrapped rubber in a protective case. At least, I hope that opportunity is available to you all. Mad fucking should be going on right at this moment because really, that is all I can think about. Drifting off into this heady bliss while somebody… maybe a neuroscientist… bangs the fuck out of my nearly sleeping body. In my fantasy, I fall asleep right as he finishes, and his convulsions make me smile in my sleep and wrap my arms around him, where we stay for the rest of the night.
Wait, wasn\’t that last week?
So yeah, the pharmacy… I handed over my condoms to the young girl at the counter. Her face immediately gets a little flustered and she stops making eye contact with me. She goes to ring them up but I say, no, no! My health insurance covers these! The girl has no idea what I\’m talking about so she walks up to the pharmacy elevation, hands my condoms over to an even younger girl and asks her if she knows if Priority Partners pays for me to fuck safely. The girl starts to giggle, waves down the pharmacologist, Bobby. They must all be just out of school — they look so young. Bobby comes over and she shows him the \”problem\” and they both start to smile and laugh about condoms.
Because, apparently, kids, sex is embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as I can make it for you if you\’re already uncomfortable.
\”Ma\’am, we\’ll have to run these through to make sure your health insurance covers them.\”
\”Oh, you mean the condoms?\”
\”Uhhh…. yeah. I\’ll be right back.\” Younger girl number one disappears into the back, and the three younguns begin to laugh hysterically, glancing down at me with an embarrassed look.
Finally, one girl calls at me over the counter, \”We tried to uhh… run it through the computer, but it won\’t accept it. You need a prescription.\”
\”But my healthcare plan specifically states that it covers all birth control except for birth control pills without a prescription.\”
Everyone behind the counter looks embarrassed. Finally the pharmacologist, Bobby, who is 22 if anything, says \”You\’ll just have to go to your doctor and get a prescription.\”
\”A prescription for condoms? Since when do I need a prescription to not get knocked up? I suppose my insurance company would rather pay for my pregnancy and then put another child on the welfare system? Should I bring my plan up here and show you that I\’m entitled to this?\”
\”Well it\’s just that we\’ve never heard of this before.\”
\”Uh huh.\”
\”Why don\’t you call your insurance company and find out what to do. Maybe you have to pay for them and then they reimburse you.\”
\”No, I think the point is that we, the people on welfare, don\’t have the money to buy a $15 pack of condoms (those 12 packs only last a weekend! sex is expensive!) and they don\’t want us to breed more little sniveling, money suckers for the system, so they want to pay for our birth control.\”
\”Uuh. Okay, ma\’am, well, please call your health insurance agency and see what their policy is.\”
\”Okay, thanks.\”
\”And did you… uh…\” he starts to giggle. \”Did you want these anyway?\” He points to the condoms that are on the hidden desk behind the wall.
\”Oh, you mean the condoms?\” He flushes at this point. \”Sure, I really need them this weekend. Your stock is low, by the way — all the flavored ones are gone. It\’s good to know that so many people are having protected oral sex these days, isn\’t it? When do you think you\’ll have more flavored condoms in?\”
Bobby is as beet red now as he can get. \”Uh, I have no idea.\”
\”Okay, thanks.\”
I turn around to find a line of about ten people, uncomfortably shifting on their legs, trying to distract their kids, several faces flushed and no one making eye contact with me.
In a loud voice as I walk away, \”I hope these are ribbed for her pleasure.\”
I\’m an asshole. But you know what? Some forty-year old is going to give me head this weekend, so it\’s all good. And when that\’s done, please don\’t let it be followed with one of those \”we have to talk about committment\” talks.
I have a man. He is a good man. But he does not need to be my man exclusively.
Or does he?
I was just thinking… \”I still want my doctor\” but then realized, shit, he has a PhD in pharmacology and is a neuroscientist. He is a doctor. Perhaps we should take it all in stride, then.
What am I, thirteen years old, getting advice on how to continue with life from song lyrics? I guess I never really stopped doing that. When Ice T said \”Fuck Tha Police,\” well, first chance I got, I did. When… well shit, just thinking about it offhand, I guess perhaps I do try to subconsciously live out lyrics. Lately I\’ve been working on doing this one…
If you’ve been hiding from love
If you’ve been hiding from love
If you’ve suffered enough
If you’ve suffered enough
I can understand what you’re thinking of
I can see the pain that you’re frightened of
And I’m only here
To bring you free love
Let’s make it clear
That this is free love
No hidden catch
No strings attached
Just free love
No hidden catch
No strings attached
Just free love
I’ve been running like you
I’ve been running like you
Now you understand why I’m running scared
Now you understand why I’m running scared
I’ve been searching for truth
I’ve been searching for truth
And I haven’t been getting anywhere
No I haven’t been getting anywhere
And I’m only here
To bring you free love
Let’s make it clear
That this is free love
No hidden catch
No strings attached
Just free love
No hidden catch
No strings attached
Just free love
Hey girl
You’ve got to take this moment
Then let it slip away
Let go complicated feelings
Then there’s no price to pay
We’ve been running for love
We’ve been running for love
And we don’t know what we’re doing here
No we don’t know what we’re doing here
And I’m only here
To bring you free love
Let’s make it clear
That this is free love
No hidden catch
No strings attached
Just free love
No hidden catch
No strings attached
Just free love
This one:
Ando tanto tempo a perguntar
Porque esperar tanto assim de alguém
Percorrendo espaços no mesmo lugar
Não sei a quanto tempo estou a te buscar
Num segundo eu vou
Sabendo e percebendo o seu sabor
Sem ter medo estou
Correndo contra o vento sem nunhum rancôr
Ando tanto tempo a perguntar
Porque esperar tanto assim de alguém
Sem saber
Sem qualquer medo de vêr
And some fucking COLTRANE, man. And now the last train is out of here, choo choo, the little engine that could but didn\’t is toot toot tooting off to bed.
2 points for incoherency
2 points for no point of entry
2 points for helping me to get to sleep
2 points to you if you know who the last song is by
Oh yeah, and another thing… this album is too good. I\’m going to cry. Now I have to go listen to Tom Waits and make it worse. Love is always, just shows different faces after time.
