Me & My Monkey
Confessions of a White-Collar Dope Fiend
Cover Story
®MDUL¯Where is the cave where the wise woman went
And tell me where is all the money that I spent?
I propose a toast to my self-control
See it crawling helpless on the floor
Someday there'll be a cure for pain
And that's the day I throw my drugs away®MDNM
--Morphine, ''Cure for Pain,” 1993
Sunday afternoon, June 6. I am going to kill myself. No kidding. This time I mean it.
I'm sick. So sick. My last fix was 45 hours and, let's see, 20-odd minutes ago. Ancient history. Not a wink of sleep last night. Jumping out of my skin. No way to get comfortable. Every hour is a day. Every minute an hour.
Marrow sucked from my bones. Ice water in there now. Aching legs flailing. Why do you think it's called kicking? Snot streams from my nose, tears from my eyes. Rancid sweat pours everywhere. Shivering. Shaking. Every hair standing on end. Goose bumps on my goose bumps. Why do you think it's called cold turkey?
Sick. So very sick. Something even sicker? One shot, one lousy shot of dope would set me straight. OK, six hours later, I'd need another. Then another. Then another. So the dope-fiend day goes. In Junktime, though, six hours is a lifetime.
Stack of 20 twenties on the kitchen table. Too fucked up to go out and cop. Just crapped my pants. Third time since sunrise. An hour ago--five hours ago, I don't know--lurching into the john. Another bout of heaving. Didn't make it. Burning stomach acids spewed all over the hallway.... Continued
This week's best in Arts and Entertainment.
Enter a keyword, select the type of event, and the particular day this week below.
Submit your event to the City Paper's Event Calendar.
Enter a restaurant name, or select a cuisine and neighborhood below.
Select a movie theater in the box below to see a list of all movies at that theater.
...Or view a full list of theaters, films, and showtimes.