I could write this story really good, or I could just write a jumbled up mess, and maybe thats for the best, cos I don’t remember how many years it went on for or how long it took for me to get from A to B. The story begins and I’m stood at the roadside in the pouring rain, its night time, about 6pm, but its winter, so its dark, I’d already walked several miles in the blackness of it to get to the main road where there might be a bus, so while I wait, I got my thumb out and a luxury car sweeps up to a standstill and I run after it and climb inside where its warm and dry. First thing I notice, the guy driving is off his head – this was unexpected, there’s a huge spliff burning in the ashtray, For Gods sake I think to myself, is everyone on it, or what? Well I know I was, back then, everyone else seemed to be. This must have been 93 or 94 or something, John Major was on the throne, the grey man, no one cared about anything, drive through the countryside at night in the cold rain with the heater blazing – pick up a hitcher and put your foot down why don’t you? It crossed my mind to ask him to pull over and let me out, the guy was obviously a lunatic, but it was cold and wet out there, and warm and dry in here – I was going to have one when I got home anyhow, so he’s a kindred spirit I suppose – I didn’t want to trust him, but fuckit, I might as well.

Well thats pretty much how it went on after that – I lost that job, cos my bike had broken down and there was no bus to work, I didn’t want to carry on in that job anyhow, so I thought I’d just hang out for a bit, and make a come back at some other point down the road. 

I remember finding myself one summer, in this field of mushrooms, magic ones no less, the guy who took me there didn’t want me to know the location, he’d have blindfolded me if he could, cos it was a big secret, so there was this field, and we spread out and walked about heads down looking for these sacred items, after a few hours had passed it was time to go home, but no one could find J, he must have eaten what he’d found and crashed out in a hedge or something, so in the end we went home without him – what a character he was! A few days later he turned up and said he got bored looking for mushrooms and went down the pub, god knows what happened after that, but he somehow got back to town – we were quite worried about him, cos he was using every known drug to man at that time, always had been, it was just a matter of what he could get his hands on. 

Some time passed, and he was found dead in the street, there was a picture of his jacket in the paper, asking if anyone knew who he was? Well, I was very upset of course, but because my friend T had died the week before, I couldn’t really process the death of J properly, T I had known for loads of years, he was a good guy, steady as a rock, but he’d had some problems with depression. My friend C said he’ll be dead in 6 months, it was a wake up call to me, and I was determined he was going to live. I did everything I could to see to it that T survived – he wasn’t eating, so I would get his diner for him, I became T’s no1 buddy, cos he’d been ok with me, and he only lived down the block, so it was easy for me to look in on him. I phoned the doctor, and T told the doctor to fuck off – well, that was ridiculous, but depressed people do strange things – under the cut backs, the doctor just chalked self neglect on it, and went away. It turned out T was suffering from multiple Sclerosis, he drowned in the bath. I found him dead, what can you do? I had arranged for someone to come and see him, besides the doctor, but the appointment was still weeks away, too late – I phoned his brother, and arranged for T to spend xmas with him, surely he would notice things weren’t right, but T decided not to go, so I guess he must have died in January, or Feb. J was found dead the week after, I couldn’t hardly compare J’s death to T’s, cos ultimately, T’s death was tragic, as was J’s, but J had brought it on himself, while T, well he had just been very unlucky.

Now then, what else happened? H died the following year, cos I remember it was xmas, M, who I’d known since I was a boy was there when H died. He was the one in the last blog that come round and told me H was dead, he was H’s lover, and it was at that point that he told me he was also hooked (as H had been) on heroin, M had no intention of stopping his habit, and it was quite unhinging for me to watch his decline, having been pals for so long. I happened to move into a place next door to M about that time, people he knew were dropping like flies, while I was next door studying art. 

There must have been a gap of another year or so, during which I was wandering about thinking about the lady of the lake and the dreaded walking dead brigade – M had a heart attack and nearly died, but recovered saying he’d seen the other side and it was fine to take even more drugs – it was totally out of character for him, and I did wonder who it was I thought I knew so well. They fitted a metal heart valve, but he eventually passed away about 10 or 15 years later due to a pickled liver.

I remember one time H who was living at my place had these 4 or 5 visitors who were so dark looking they could have stepped out of a gothic horror story, they seemed to be under a death sentence, all of them. I felt like a child, while the adults talk about some serious situation, the outbreak of an epidemic, or war or something? I was asked to leave them to talk, and was very glad to not be a part of whatever was going down there – 

One time, years ago when I was a teenager, I was in the pub and some guy came in asking if anyone in the pub took drugs, cos this guy wanted to do some, but he didn’t want to do it on his own. He looked like some sort of rock star, all in leathers and lace, well someone said to ask me, cos they knew I was into anything like that – so I was like, yeah, ok, strange question, but if its free, yeah, why not? I thought the guy was a bit of a weirdo, but what the hell? So I went to his car and we smoked some weed or something. Years later, I met this guy again, in town, he’s long dead now of course, or I’d assume so, he had black eyes, he didn’t look at you, he looked through you, same as those other guys H was hanging out with. Heroin sure is weird, its not something I’d ever want to try – you got to be barking mad to mess with that. Its one for the rock stars I suppose, if they’re that desperate, I’ll read the stories. 

I miss M, he was a very smart guy, strange that he was so suicidal really, he was always cheerful and intelligent when he wasn’t being taken away by his drug habit, he should have kicked it, but I think he felt that life was barely worth living without it, its so harmful – the drug I mean.

Anyhow, I was doing art, so I was done with the drugs at that point, its like the song, where the drugs don’t work, they just make you worse – I couldn’t concentrate when I was smoking weed, or whatever.

I remember when these guys moved into my place, I had this flat, which I shared with various other characters who passed through, these guys showed up and their eyes were like saucers! Not black like heroin users, sparkly, like I don’t know what! I assumed it was coke, but later they told me it was “Fuck-Buckets” Well I asked them what that was, and one night they said they were going to a party, and there would be fuck buckets, so would I like to come along? Of course I said yes! 

So anyhow, we had a wild night visiting all these contacts they had, buying and selling, then got round to the fuck bucket! You get a bucket, half full of water, and one of those big plastic bottles of coke (empty) with the bottom cut off. Sink the plastic bottle into the water, neck end upwards. Then you get this tray thing, and burn some ganja – we always had solid stuff back then, Leb (from Lebanon) or Rock (from Morocco) we rarely had weed in those days. So anyhow, you burn it and all the smoke is sucked into the bottle, cos you raise it out the water, then you remove the burning tray, and put your mouth over the bottle, and plunge the whole lot into the water – that pushes the smoke into your lungs – you got to relax, cos it literally inflates your lungs! LOL Its like being ventilated with cannabis!

I have to say, I thought that was super fun, we used Fuck-Buckets quite a bit after that night, it seemed to take you to a next level, I can’t say where my mind went when we did the buckets, we probably ended up inhaling quite a bit of melted plastic, why do people do the things they do? 

During my years of dabbling with drugs I lost a lot of people, obviously that wasn’t good, and I sometimes wonder if the whole thing was just rather silly, but I met so many interesting people, its like a gambling casino, you put your life on the line, its exciting and crazy, things become surreal when you do stupid things like that, it becomes a way of life – are you in on it? I myself would never gamble in a casino – or anywhere else – I hate the goddamn lottery! I’m actually quite a down to earth person, but I’m warped! I was gambling my intelligence, not my life, but when one begins to take over the other, you had it already.

Anyway, I’d had it with drugs, and went off to college to study art, I do miss those crazy people, sometimes I think its boring without them, even though they got on my nerves a bit at times, it would be fantastic if they hadn’t died, I suppose if there was no death, there’s be no life huh? Still crazy tho 😉 

ps: I’m not actually going anywhere – I just like the song “Goodbye Yesterday” 😀