Citation: Sojournist. "Snow Blind: An Experience with Cocaine (exp43183)". Erowid.org. Feb 10, 2008. erowid.org/exp/43183
||(powder / crystals)
I tried cocaine blind. By that I mean I did it alone, without any real idea what I was doing. All I knew about coke, I'd learned from scenes in movies. I'm writing my experiences with the drug for the benefit of those that may try it while being as clueless as I was. I'm by no means an expert on the subject. Others with more experience may provide better insight. But I still belive that what I have to say may have value.
I'm in my early thirties. I'm a professional that makes a fairly decent living. I had a ten year break in drug use. I experimented in college and quit right after. I was in a profession that regularly screened for drug use. It wasn't really a tough choice to drop drugs for a good career.
Before cocaine, I'd used pot, LSD (drug of choice), pills, and E.
I never had any real curiosity about or desire to try cocaine. I'd gotten high for the first time in a really long time (the ten year break mentioned above). I'd been smoking a few times a week.
My bag was getting low, so I asked my dealer to hook me up. He brought me a package with a 'surprise'. There was the pot I'd asked for, a few doses of E, and some plastic bags with white powder.
I told him I wasn't interested in coke. It was a dirty drug. What I really wanted was some acid, but this area is perpetually bone dry. He told me to hold onto it in case I changed my mind. If I still had it in a few weeks, he said, he'd more than happy to take it off my hands.
I smoked the weed. I rolled. The baggies stayed on the counter, forgotten for awhile.
Curiosity did finally start to gnaw at me. I picked up one of the plasic bags. I didn't look like much. It was so little powder I almost had to squint to see the grains. Since it looked like so little and I didn't have enough to really do much with, I finally decided to give it a try. After all, such a small amount of powder couldn't really hurt me.
I poured the powder onto a dinner plate and used a credit card to shape it into a line. I rolled a C-note and snorted it without a thought.
BAM! It hit fast and like a train. I've never, since that first time, had it hit me like that. My teeth felt fuzzy. I felt the rush sweep over me. I got a semblance of sparkly semi-halucinations in my periphery. I felt powerful and strong. I could feel my breaths acutely when I inhaled. The high lasted twenty minutes. As I felt it recede, I followed it with the second line, the second rush. I decided I like cocaine. Alot.
I put in an order for more. My first time was an introduction, but I wanted to get to know the drug, learn it. I waited for the weekend and dedicated it to playing with my new friend.
I binged. I did a couple grams of coke that weekend. I did a few lines, then pushed it back to peak when it started to drop off. It was my weekend adventure for the next couple of months.
I learned a few things about coke, both technical and about its character.
(1) Straight razor is my friend. I was chopping with a credit card. I wasted a great deal of cocaine by not chopping it fine. When all the coke is gone, it's sad to think about how much of it clumped in my nose and was trapped in snot. I get more bang from my score if I take the time to powder it properly.
(2) Glass tables are cool. I don't need a mirror. I have a glass top table. Sixteen square feet of cocaine surface.
(3) Ritual is almost as much of the experience for me as the high. Emptying the bags onto the glass. Chopping the clumps into crumbs into grains into powder. Slicing piles of powder into long, skinny, perfect lines. Rolling a straw. Anticipation of the first line. Snorting.
(4) Cocaine feeds itself. This is the most important characteristic of the drug for me. The one thing cocaine makes me want more than anything while I am high is more cocaine. I've learned to never score more cocaine than I intend to blow in one sitting. Half a gram or two grams, it doesn't matter. Coke is my binge drug.
(5) I am aware of the false crash. Several hours into a binge, regardless of what of what Eric Clapton says, she lies. I have experienced the feeling of coming down almost immediately after snorting back to a peak. There is a distinct lucid feeling of more. I can fall into to trap of blowing more more and never getting back up. The clock is my best measure of when my brain is tricking me into sobriety. I ride her down a bit and wait for the second feeling of coming down. I can then hit it and crest again.
(6) Cocaine is my social drug. I like to do it with someone else.
TROUBLE IN WINTER WONDERLAND?
My circle of friends is not drug-friendly. They were not pleased that I was smoking, but tolerated it. When they found out I was doing coke (which I didn't try to hide), they were horrified.
My friends were telling me that I should stop. They told me it was a dirty drug and dangerous. They told me I had a problem.
I disagreed. It wasn't interfereing with work. It wasn't a financial problem. And I didn't need or crave it. I did cocaine (gasp) because I wanted to, because I liked it.
Altogether confident that I didn't have a problem, I quit using anyway. I figured junkies never thought they had a problem. When people started mentioning that they did, they always denied it. Some of my friends stopped coming around, stopped calling. I dug them more than the fun rush and artificial euphoria, so I quit. And I didn't have a problem.
I quit for six or seven months. I didn't look back. I was completely clean. I wasn't even smoking pot. I was considering getting a little bud and blazing, just for kicks. My girlfriend was against me doing any drugs at all. She'd never tried anything illegal--but she had expressed an interest in E.
So I tried to score some Ecstacy. Maybe if she'd tried E, she'd be receptive to lighting up. I told her that I'd give much more credence to her insistance that what I was doing was wrong if she'd tried it once.
I couldn't get ahold of any E, but I did get a little pot. The two of us blazed, and suddenly marijuana wasn't as evil as she first thought.
A second attempt to grab some E, netted me a gram of coke instead. She dug pot, but she really, really dug cocaine.
So I'm in the midst of my second courtship with cocaine. I keep it quiet, so as not to upset my circle of friends. She and I blow lines and lines, then drop it for awhile.
She is actually far more proficient in chopping and lining it up than I am. The ritual is what she is attached to more than the drug. She methodically bounces her razor off the table, pulverizing mounds of cocaine. That's not to say she doesn't enjoy the rush, and the powdered confidence. She does. But once she threw off the colored stereotypes of Nancy Reagan and saw it first hand, her perspective changed.
At the same time, cocaine scares the hell out of her. I know this is a good thing. She respects the drug the way a lion tamer respects the beast he works with. Cocaine is powerful, and not to be taken lightly. People get caught in the circle of dust that feeds itself, losing themselves. Never forget that while she is beautiful, she is dangerous. When you no longer respect her, she will devour you.
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