Evening everyone :)
I have had a few reciprocal links to HG and I am so grateful for the exposure just because I believe my blog will give hope en masse to otherwise jaded mysteries.
Tonight I am in quite a broody mood, The Cure is playing and the moon is full and looming.
One of my favorite songs is The Edge of The Deep Green Sea .
I think everyone has the fallen love hero and for me , he was a beautifully tragedy that burst into my life in a explosion of drama and energy and burnt out, just as hard.
I call him the Ex for the purposes of this blog.
The Ex was highly instrumental in the experimentation of heroin. Not that I have ever resisted encouragement. Still, I was niave. It pains me to admit that.
The Ex was eight years older than me and had burdens of his own. Black sheep meets Black Sheep. A union of dysfunctional proportions.
But the bond we had was the most intense cord that bound us, sometimes in moments of unparalelled bliss or alternating with moments of the deepest despair.
It was heroin that leaded me into the industry.
The fact that I liked the opiate rush, did not mean that I had a personality and integrity transplant, like so many people ( drug addicts mainly) depict in movies and the like.
To me, I was not going to beg, steal or borrow. The amounts needed to sustain the both of us was in excess of a thousand dollars a day.
I remember my first brush with 'The Game'.
The Streetwalker had been working the game for over a year. This game seemed to have harsh rules. Winter chill with bursts of pelting rain then in summer the hard relentless sunshine beating down upon her as she worked in a slick on constant sweat. Her face unaturally weatherbeaten. Streetwalker lived in the rickety shack with The Man & Small Boy too.
Small boy was adorable and highly intelligent, something I witnessed was common amoungst children whose mothers who were addicts or methadone patients.
I would sometimes baby-sit him whilst his mother "entertained" gentleman friends in her room. The room was a damp and acrid alcove with strategically placed sarongs and some candles for light. I remember the client would slink out the door to his BMW, discreetly parked down the side street. Streetwalker would come out with a fistful of money to buy her family dinner and to also buy the next morning’s heroin. Sometimes she would have to work sick and I would run out and score for her - so it was ready when he finally had his fill and left.
I decided on my own after watching how "easy" this was , I was an attractive girl and (also not a bad little actress ) that I would start to help her out on her jobs. I remember standing on the roadside, my heart beating and my face as white as a sheet. I kept expecting The Stepmother to drive past and connect eyes with me. Sick and desperate eyes. She would drive past later, but she did not look at me, she just looked through me and kept driving.
Within one minute a grubby looking yellow car pulled to the side of the road. I jumped in and tried to ignore the rubbish and hamburger wrappers swimming around my feet. The guy was medium build and fresh from work, in a sweat stained singlet and beady, searching eyes. He placed a pudgy hand on my leg and tried to slip it up higher. Instinctively, I took his hand and returned it to his own crotch
Dam the BF just said bedtime.. GRRR
Ok will do the rest tommorow.