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A short little background before I full immerse you in the world of the poppy…               
Snowflakes from above… Smack, Blows, Wraps, Bindles, Bricks, Jabs, Packs, HEROIN. 

 

It all started in the summer of my Freshman year I was a tender 14 yrs old and was already ripe for picking in illicit pharmacology, a proverbial drug dust-bin.  I attended school in an affluent suburb of Chicago drugs, booze, and girls were the norm [isn’t that what high school was all about?].  I planted my first pot plant at the age of 13, there was always a steady stream of psychedelics spinning off one of our connections and the many Grateful Dead tours [fall, winter, spring and summer tours].  My first job consisted of being the ‘clean-up’ boy for a local Mom & Pop pharmacy.  They gave me the key to the store and every Sunday morning I was to bring in the newspapers and wash the floor prior to the other employees coming to work, I went to the library and checked out ‘The Little Black Pill Book’ which was layman’s guide that warned of the most abused pharmacutical drugs.  After that I was leaving work with a ziplock half full of all sorts of goodies, mainly it was v-cut valiums, vicodins, codiene formulations, syrups, and other downers and uppers [this was before the whole ADD/ADHD mushroom growth].  School turned into a blur and the downward spiral started its slow [at that point] descent.  Anyways…

Onto the dope business…  Up, Up, and Away

So it was a typical hot summers afternoon, I was chilling at my best friends house killing the day with bong-rips and Thrasher magazine.  We got a phone call from a friend telling us to come over he had something ‘new’ for us to try.  We kick-started our bicycles and started peddling over, when we got to his house he was out in the garage with his girlfriend.  

"Whats the deal…?"

I got some stuff that makes you feel like your floating in the clouds, its great.  We pushed him a little harder on what the actual substance was and he replied ‘China’.  In our young minds that answer seemed to fit our questions but looking back I didnt piece 1 and 1 together and I didnt realize I was about to do heroin.  So out on the top of his Weber grill he dumped out one tinfoil of a off-white powder and cut it into 2 lines, a little sniff, sniff and the job was done.

Slowly the dope was kicking in and I wasnt to impressed, so we left to go on a bike ride which entailed laying snow-angel style in the long summer grass staring up at the clouds imaging we were floating in the clouds.  That quickly turned into projectile vomiting and soon we were alternating between fetal positions and non-stop upchucking. Fun, fun, fun till daddy takes the T-bird away.

I was slightly turned off by the negative side effects the heroin had on my body and it took me another couple weeks to have the courage to do it again.  The second time the same deal: puking, sweating, and the ultimate euphoria.  I was floating in the clouds, I was in Heaven.

That summer my use was sporadic but my body slowly became acclimated to the effects and a 1/4 of a bag would send me sky high.  There were many nights explaining to my parents why I was dripping sweat and taking up residence next to the toliet bowl with my pillow.  Later my Mother recounted to me she thought it was just typical teenage drinking, oh how wrong she was.

Sophmore year started and I was already becoming a mess: 3-4 v-cut Valiums to start out the day only to leave me in a haze by 3rd period.  By the time I was 15 I already had a good hunderd lsd trips and 30 or so mushroom trips under my belt.  We were scoring 1/4 ounces of coke for $250, and selling a little on the side netted up a free 8ball.  Soon snorting became dull and boring and we were introduced into the world of freebasing [Crack was always around but powder was more abundant].  So soon our Weekends consisted of copping a few bags of dope and rocking up a ball and smoking in exteme paranoia that our parent would hear us, staying up till Sunday afternoon and coming down with some good ‘ol fail-safe smack. 

The age of 16 rolls around and our pockets are stuffed thanks to a steady conection of $50 dollar sheets and $400-600 books [blank 8×10 inch white paper, occasionally with a odd sheet thrown in depending on strength] [books = 10 sheets/1000 hits] and the heavenly ‘Bibles’ [100 sheets] which was either needle-point or white fluff crystal [Average prices, quantity prices varied wildly on connection].  Bought in SanFran in gram[s], it was than flown by carrier 1rst class to Boulder, Co. where the lsd was laid and sent out by mail to Rainbow Family connections in Chicago.  Grams were going for 3 grand [last I heard (2002’ish) and this was for TJ/Tornado Juice, too bad contacts dried upemoticon].  Swirls and mindfucks were abound in plenty, to put it bluntly we had FUN.  I was still using H which was delivered to my hand I never had to cop at this point, I was using at a frequency of 1-3 times a week ontop of all the other madness that was going on.

By the time I graduated HIGH School with honors I might add, how I cant tell you.  I was a Catholic and I was Confirmed under the influence of lsd, I scored great on my ACT’s and SAT’s high on mushrooms, drugs were an everyday part of my life.  I had a habit not quite everyday usage but I happily filled in the void days with handfuls of prescription pills.  Gulp.  My parents we pushing me to go to a nice college but I had other plans which consisted of hitting the road and chasing the dream of hippydumb.  I toured extensively with The Dead and than after the demise of Jerry with Phish.  We used to chase the H van around in the parking lots or we would roll into the ghettos across the country sniffing out the now booming heroin trade.  Philly, Baltimore, D.C., NYC, Boston, Chicago [Sweet home Chicago]. 

Psychedelics started to wear on me once I lost track of the number of trips [900+ lsd and 100’s on mushrooms, the occasional DMT blast, cacti mescaline beverage, or the rare (back than) Tihkal or Pihkal substances DOM/DOI].  It wasn’t soon that the needle entered the picture. 

 

"Click, flashblade in ghetto night, rudies lookin for a fight"
"Rat cat alley roll them bones, need that cash to feed that jones" – Grateful Dead

 

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