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This Damned Blue Collar Tweeker
Citation:   Alien. "This Damned Blue Collar Tweeker: An Experience with Methamphetamine (exp838)". Jul 16, 2000.

  IV Methamphetamine
right now i am doing more tweek than i ever have. my doses are way bigger than what rich's expert eye ever scooped in to the cooker for our return to or revival of exquisite euphoria. (you don't actually cook this shit, by the way, it's just the cooker is the cooker and always has been the cooker, always will be the cooker, no matter what business it's being used for.)
it's true that that one time in that dark hollywood alleyway he scooped into the cooker such a daringly large amount... it was the atmosphere... when you're in a sketchy alley at 3 o'clock in the am in the sketchiest area of socal, risking your everything to get this done fast and un-copped, you're not about to let the anguish of going through all that to get a fizzle-cheap rush be an option. it's high or die.

and it's also true that he was always preparing the hits for both of us at once, and that takes a lot more of an eye than to scoop out a single serving. nonetheless, there are very few other times besides the above hollywood stunt that i ever enjoyed the shit to its extremer degree. one of those times was the Macabre show fix, which was the third time i'd ever self-injected... it wasn't luck either that i got the perfect amount and popped right on in the vein on first stab (eliminates a lot of unnecessary blood and frustration. my veins were a fuck of a lot easier to see, it was when the skin there was relatively virgin).

not luck but pure necessity. i flew all the way here to chicago to see them and i aint gonna let this shot disappoint me and inevitably put a damper on the whole experience...

so when i walked out of the near-the-metro (where they were playing) mcdonalds bathroom stall my vision was foggy and my hearing a little echo-y, and my rush such a sweet sweet rush.

another fond episode dates back to (not that long) before the macabre show. the initial hit of this shit from another dealer we'd never been thru before. the sack was suspiciously phat considering it was allegedly good glass... i am always very suspicious with new dealers and i don't settle for getting fucked over. it was pixie's deal but my money. we took the sack despite this raging distrust i was having for this meth, this huge bag of what, sugar/salt/broken plastic pieces/meth -- in that order? fuck this shady gutter punk. let's stick to our sell-to-friends-only-and-not-even-for-profit guy around the corner, our trusted late 20's tweekin' homo with porn all over his apt.

this was more intense than my usual distrust cuz it was coupled with that premeth anxiety. i am such a flat-out bitch to people, anyone, when i am consumed by this stage of the ritual. it's marked by the mental and physical readiness to get the shit into my vein, and the overwhelming fear of getting busted before i even get to have a hit.

so we save the sack till we get back to my pad, at my insistence, instead of getting busted rigging up what was prolly cornstarch cut with ajax in some sketchy restaurant who's policies about non-customers using the restrooms were modified after some unknown number of overdoses.

once here, the prep begins. they work quickly, seriously, and with the ease of experience. this was before i had the confidence that i, too, could set up my very own blast, and furthermore, administer it. yah, this was when i was still thinking i would never in a million years be able to do what they are such pros at. they really should get paid to administer shots at dr.s offices instead of those inevitable novice nurses that were never required to stick a needle in their own vein and make it work out.

so i sit there useless as a child, simmering in my premeth impatience for what seems like hours ... hours of imagined? real? footsteps outside the door... i have no lock, a parent just opens the door to whetever horror is concealed behind the 'just hangin' out like normal' act that we luckily never have to pull off...

my parents rarely have anything to say that can't wait till we run into each other in the kitchen or something. yah, i have fine privacy despite the locklessness of the door.

but all this is of no help in silencing what isn't even there. it's part of the routine.

finally we're ready, and we're listening to 'crazy train'. and pixie hits me like she always does-- with ease and skill and fucking right on every time, not a drop outside the expressway. and so i get my first glimpse into the potential of the high i thought i knew the limits to. i always assumed if you did too much, you'd experience that same high you always do, followed by a heart-attack or stroke. never did i read or hear that your vision could get foggy! and never could i have known that the surge of exhilaration could be this strong without killing you... or am i about to die? i am a little concerned about these indications that i am at the mercy of the drug, and i have no control over how foggy my vision gets or how much my heart will swell with the exhilaration... but only a LITTLE concerned, because i am higher than i've ever been and, look now, the fog has cleared, you're back on track, that was the greatest rush. i guess that punk wasn't so bad after all.

after some hours, we do some more. we don't do enough to get the same rush.
after some more hours, we do some more. same mild hit.

now it's 24 hrs after the first hit. we've all been awake and foodless.
i am getting off the phone with haley from a frustrating conversation where i let her know that the only influence on her life i could possibly have is negative. i made it clear that drugs were my priority and i was going to bring her down. i said she should hang out with like-minded, college-bound people, not me, cuz i would serve only as an obstacle to her school/career goals. she was miffed that i thought i would have that much influence on her. i've always, always seen in her this great interest in my interest of drugs.. but she is only interested in being able to say that she did this or that, she is into the glamour of it. she has the warped attitude, it's just a trend to be exploited, like lesbianism. i aint havin' no part in it.
it is suggested that we take another hit. sounds good... i have one request 'give me a fucken heart attack'.

so pixie is the chef this time. rich is too tweeked on the computer to pry himself away. so she goes on and does her thang, neither me nor rich are paying any attention.

finally she comes up with 3 prepared rigs. ok, the max is 50 units. that's a full rig, 50 units of shit. we usually do up about 10 units of solution each... you can have a lot of dissolved glass in 10 units. you can get kinda high, or you can get really high with 10 units of solution. there are ways of finding out how thick it is, but doing so never even crossed my mind. she knows what she's doing. i'd never cooked the shit up, so i wasn't at all alarmed that i had 30 units of solution to go to my head. they each had 25. my extra 5 was for whatever extra kick it could give. the way i saw it was 'ok this is 3 times that of a mild hit, and i can handle that'. i didn't know you could make a solution thicker or thinner. i was just a useless child when it came to syringe savvy.

ok, out goes my arm, no second thoughts. up goes 30 units of solution, of which how much is meth?

the following was written as soon as i could write:
the most unexpected high. the syringe was 3/4 full of this huge dose of meth. immediate cough and slow freeze spreads to toes, vision blurs and gets foggy white i cannot talk they observe me without speaking... wait a sec they look weird, like scared...i clasp my chest gasping for air am i going to faint? am i going to convulse? am i going to die? and the most disconcerting thing, my vision is so blurred, i'm seeing massive trails as if i were on acid! my hearing gets twisted, everything seems distant... i cover my eyes to keep from vomiting and i hear her coughing she did hers, yes, now she's out here with me and he hasn't done his yet 'don't do that much' i manage to say, pointing to his rig which was pointing at his vein... i want him to chill a bit until we're sure we're gonna survive this ... it's just too scary for us all to be so obliterated, but we're NOT, we're more aware than we've ever been, though my consciousness is getting compressed -- it's like reality is getting vacuumed into the core of my brain, which means i am on my way out, cuz i can feel it, feel it coming on and it's ok! it's crazy, but i am so prepared to deal with any failure of machinery... it just doesn't hurt at all, it's not scary at all. it's exciting. now what??

my arms keep moving about. oh, i feel it in my brain, i feel too much in there flooding my operating board now he's done his and we're all in the same place, with the same looks on our faces... mine is a bit more comfortable and at ease with this trip than theirs, they're still wondering if they made their final decision....... we're so gone we neglect the needles, sitting in plain view , i look from the rigs to the door and the infinite possibilities beyond the door, and although just a second ago i was ready to die, i am never ready to explain this situation... i'm the only one who has gone beyond the initial fear, moving on to exploring this incredibly psychedelic, very acid-like, yet very meth like reality... i really fucking like it, i smile and say, but my voice comes out all quiet and from some remote place inside my head, i reapeat it, looking at them with with happiness, joy, to convey that this is a good trip, not a bad trip like their faces were considering... don't you like it?? it's fucking great! what the fuck IS this?? put on system of a down and we feel it strong, all of us singing along-- try standing up! try looking in the mirror, can you handle your own reflection? we keep close eye on anyone looking in the mirror, although by now this couldn't be turned into a nightmare. i saw my eyes so wide, dilated pupils, like on acid, my skin was so deathly pale i wondered where all my blood went... to my brain or something, right? wherever it was, it wasn't tinting my skin at all.. and it's so hot and she's flushed and i can feel the meth seeping somewhat painfully (so much all at once) out onto my skin..... and my brain has got to be totally rewired by now. i wonder if there will be some major damage by the time this is done with me, but do i even care? this is the most awesome high, i've been rushing for 15 fucking minutes! my surroundings are seen tinted a shade of red then yellow then green, and inanimate/nonmoving objects have those acid trails, i realise cuz i am constantly rocking back and forth, can't stop moving, like my arms, they have to be motioning cuz the energy is too much to absorb-- it's sound energy, it got me like this on acid, too, if i stay still i am fighing the music and causing tension in myself, so i just give in, and let it do it's thing right through me.

my experiences have opened me up to what i deem a very advanced understanding of the world and especially the phenomenon of sound.

by the standards of the world i live in, i am 19 years old. but i feel that i am actually much older than that. i think the essence of this drug and what it does is best put by les claypool of Primus in the song 'those damned blue-collar tweekers', with 'now the flame that burns twice as bright/ burns only half as long'.

my attitude toward my drug use is constantly evolving. i am now at a point where i am at ease with myself and embrace my use in all its extremity. i used to beat myself up constantly about it, forever concerned about what other people must think. i now realise what a pointless, self-defeating thing that is to do. i now see that i can use drugs and still be successful in life, it's all a matter of maintaining a realistic grasp on things and overcoming those crippling internalisations of the views of the society i live in.

Exp Year: 2000ExpID: 838
Gender: Not Specified 
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Jul 16, 2000Views: 37,912
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Methamphetamine (37) : General (1), Addiction & Habituation (10), Small Group (2-9) (17)

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