crack rock city cont.

i believe your status in society should be determined by how well and how quickly you can find and buy certain kinds of drugs in a city completely unknown to you. That would straighten things right out. when i roam the streets for drugs, in any city, it is as if my entire body and soul are transformed. my sense of sight and hearing become more and more acute. i walk by other pedestrians as if they are shadows; insignificant and harmless forms. and while walking across streets, through alleys, and looking behind dumpsters, i come across a tiny clear plastic zip lock baggy. i reach down to pick it up and open it. i lick my small finger to catch up the residue from inside the baggy. i taste it. so from this road sign i cotinue on, knowing that i am ever nearer to ecstasy. a rush of adrenaline courses through every vein and capillary in my entire body. my pace quickens. i cross another busy street and scan every person on the other side. it is then that i see someone, make eye contact, with someone just like me. he asks me the time. i busy myself by looking at my cell phone; every motion as spontaneous as if this weren't planned. and yet somehow it was and is. we make eye contact and we both know. we walk in the same direction with purpose, as if we have known each other for years. because we have. we each have played the opposite role more times than we care to admit. i've played the role i'm playing today even more. more times than i have shat even. and yet i still cannot slow the adrenaline and excitement. i am helpless to this rush, this chase. and that makes me more adept to the subtleties of our friends and enemies all the same. that is why i act instead of just reacting. when i act it is instinctual. thought is not required and is dangerous. it is dangerous because it is much too slow. we retreat to a nearby park which is adjoined by a catholic cathedral. this place is cool, he says. after all mike had been running these streets for 37 years. mike insisted on rerolling the joint i had rolled and ready. he told me as he rolled a "super joint" that his wife was home with his 3 week old baby boy, and his 3 year old girl. he tried time and time again to sell me some of the crack, cocaine, or lsd that he had so he could pay rent this month. his 1300 dollar a month rent. he needed only 17 more dollars, he told me. and he could give me a good deal on 10 or so tabs of acid. well shit, i thought. what could be better than doing a highly dangerous and potent psychedelic drug and roaming these fine shit-filled streets?

i awoke sitting on a velvety heart-shaped red shag couch. there was a small asian person of indeterminable sex talking harshly to someone somewhere nearby. i think the asian was a waiter or butler of some sorts. the asian person kept saying, "now who dumb, you muva fucka!" and whipping a man harshly with a switch of some sort. now the asian person went into a tirade about ordering drinks, i think, i couldn't make out most of what it was saying. my head was surprisingly light. i wasn't seeing any tracers, however, and i was somewhat puzzled by that.