March 2006


I’ll tell you this… No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.

Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused One summer night, going to the pier I ran into two young girls. The blonde one was called Freedom. The dark one, Enterprise. We talked and they told me this story Now listen to this… I’ll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat Soft driven, slow and mad. Like some new language. Reaching your head with the cold, sudden fury of a divine messenger
Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of God.
Wandering, wandering in hopless night,
Out here in the perimeter there are no stars,
Out here we is stoned,

test 1 testing 1,2 testing its a goooo

Tuesday 14th of March, 1999 Opiated, cracked out mess…

It was just an normal day, routine pick up of heroin and crack and my running mate was known for his contstant OD’s and wasnt the best driver when loaded, duh’. Kristopher and I were driving the Volvo on the expressway we both already shot a few bags and were feeling good. I was riding shotgun and packing the rock pipe and was pretty geeked out. We were driving in the fast lane going about 70’ish [mph] when Kris started nodded off at the wheel, I nudged him and kept my hand on the steering wheel so we wouldnt veer off into the median. He woke up angry and ranting [as usual], he grabbed the wheel and didnt realize the situation and turned it hard right. As luck would have it we were right next to a semi-truck and our car veered to the right as the hood of the car went crashing underneath a semi-truck trailer. The front dash was pushed in far, the shattered but intact windshield was right on my face.

So here we are with the hood of the car lodged underneath the trailor and we are getting dragged down the interstate sideways stuck under a speeding semi trailor. Kris was alert yelling, What should I do? What should I do? I remember telling him to hit the brakes and whip the wheel, I couldnt think of anything else to do but thinking back we should have just let the truck slow down and stop. Although who knows what would of happened? As we spun loose from the trailor we spun a few 360’s accross the 3 lanes of traffic [how we didnt get hit by another car is a miracle unto itself]. We flew off the shoulder of the road and got stuck in a earth embankment.

Whoa… What the fuck just happened, I am in a state of shock and my hands are all cut up and blood is all over the place. I ask Kris if he is ok and all I get out of him is a breathy reply….

“I think so, I think so”…

I had to throw all my weight into the car door to get it open as the crash had fucked it up. I immediately ran up the hill and tossed all of our needles and pipes as far as I could took the dope and stashed it well on my person [stupid thinking back]. Soon the cops and an ambulance showed up and started asking their questions.

“Our tire blew and we fish-tailed uncontrollably and slid under the truck next to us, next thing we know were skiding sideways stuck under the truck”.
Was the excuse we gave.

The car was totalled and a complete loss, to this day I still think it was because the car was a Volvo that it withstood the abuse from the wreck. The cops were pretty cool, I remember them asking whats with all the loose brillo in the back seat they couldn’t get in any of the doors because it was all smashed up. All I said was, “I dont know”. The ambulance EMT’s bandaged up the cuts and scrapes all over my hands. After the police did a run on our backgrounds, we were frisked down but they didnt come close to finding the dope. Kris had an outstanding warrant and was whisked away in the back of the police car [what luck at least he was high though]. I hopped a ride with the tow truck driver and got dropped off at some impound lot, called for a ride and went back to my apartment. That was the 2nd car Kristopher totalled in a period of one week.

The second wreck was not quite as intense but still a stupid mistake on his part. He was doped up as usual and was buzy picking up the pieces of crack he spilled all over his lap. Not paying attention that he was approaching a tollbooth going easily 50 mph. Kris rearended some unlucky motorist stopped waiting in line to pay his toll. On impact the Lincoln Contenental [a large roomy nice car] just plowed into the stopped car. All his dope and gear went flying thru the air. That time he did get arrested for possesion as there was no time to clean up the evidence as the authorities were there in a heartbeat.

After totalling two cars with-in a week and getting arrested both times he was booted out of his house and of course I had to let him come stay at my place. Which was stressful as I mentioned above he was notorious for OD’ing. I would wake up in the morning and he would be up before me locked in the bathroom shooting up his morning shot. On more than one occasion I had to bust thru the door only to find him unconscious, blood still dripping from the injection site. He was one of those users that would get extremly grumpy after he got high, something I never understood. After slapping him around and giving him mouth-to-mouth CPR he would jump out of his overdose and start accusing me of trying to steal his dope. It started to bug me after awhile as I was saving his life and here I get some angry kid accusing me of trying to steal his dope when I had my own. Not to mention the fact of having to pay for the damages of breaking down MY bathroom door. It just got uglier and uglier after that. Soon I would come home open my pantry and see 4-5 purses stuffed behind some boxes on the floor. I told his come on, at least have the common courtesy of ditching the purses outside and not in my apartment.

It wasnt long before the police started coming by knocking on the door asking me questions. As on multiple occasions people say they saw him running into my apartment [a house 2-flat] with a couple of purses. Cops being the dickheads they are assumed it was me and soon there was a squad parked down on the corner most of the time. I was reaching my limits with him and trying to maintain my habits without the added irritation of constant police visits. Once I was trying to quit heroin using pills and meth-amphetamine and I was up for a few days with no sleep. The meth was distracting me from my the sickness of not taking heroin, but I was slowly loosing my mind at the same time. I would snort a line, smoke a few hits, and than spend ungodly amounts of time trying to register a hit with the needle. I was to sped up and just plain out of it to hit a vein let alone see straight. Than one day after repeatingly stabing myself at least 20-30 times trying to hit my veins, the doorbell rang. Not thinking straight I thought it was somebody coming over. Not this time it was the midddle of winter and I was wearing nothing but shorts, buckets of sweat dripping off of me. Who is at the door? You betcha the good old friendly police. The started questioning me about some car burglary that happened down the street. I said I have no idea what you are talking about, when they switched subjects and started asking my why I had blood dripping all down my arm. I was just gone, out-of-it, clueless to the fact that its 8 or 9 degress outside and I am shirtless, dripping blood and soaked in sweat. Trying desperately not to let my twitching jaw start rambling on about nonsense.

They left that time, unbelievably. Only to return a few days later to arrest me on 7 counts of credit card fraud, and 6 counts of some other felony relating to the credit cards. I was on probation at the time and I absolutely did not commit those crimes, that case went on for two fucking years before they finally dropped the case knowing they couldnt get me. Even though I was at work when these events transpired, even though a Private Investigator we hired tracked the time it would have taken me to leave work on lunch [as they claimed] and go make all the purchases which were time stamped because of the credit card usage.  It didnt help that I had lost that job because I was coming down from a meth-amp binge and up for a few days than shot a few bags of dope in the bathroom, woke up on the toliet a half-hour later and proceded to make it to my desk where I passed out face first into my keyboard [to be brief my former employer wasn’t too cooperative in colleberating myside of the story aka the truth].

Of course it turned out it would have taken me a good 2-2.5 hrs to commit all the crimes and get back to work but my work could absolutely verify I was gone that day for .5 or 2hrs on lunch, fuckers, err [see above as to why, thats another post another nightmare though]. They had a photoline up that they brought to each of the places I was accused of using the credit card to but such insane items as a door knocker, a bagel sandwich, a set a screwdrivers, a candybar, and one or two just as ridiculous purchases.

If I stoled a credit card I sure as hell wouldn’t be buying that, I probably would have went straight to the power tools and stocked up only to resell at a pawn shop. Of course this photoline up had 10 pictures total including me, my photo was the only one with a black background all the others were white background. After the Private Investigator got ALL the witnesses to recant on there statements and prove that the photoline up was completely unethical and borderline illegal. The store owners told the PI [which all the interviews were tape recorded] that the police held the photo line up to them with ther ebig fat pudgy cop finger pointing right at my picture, saying “Are you sure this isnt the guy?”. Still the state wouldnt drop the charges they were out for a kill or at the very least a plea which would involve me violating my probation and off to jail. We eventually had to hire a handwriting analysis to state that in no way were the signatures mine, they tried to get me to write handwriting samples at the police dept. which I outright flatly refused. Fuck you, prick do your fucking job. At that point after a 2 year trial the state FINALLY dropped the charges. They have been after me ever since. Again with these last cases I had poss. of heroin, poss of a hypodermic needle, DUI [drugs], disorderly conduct, resisting a police officers, etc, etc. they would not back down. I was caught pretty much red-handed but they still would not back down and wanted jail time, I am not in jail fuckers. Leave me alone.

Its unfortunate my record will follow me around forever, last count I think I have been charged with 32 felonies, and god knows how many misdemeanors. Fortunently I have only been convicted of 2 felonies one of those I had expunged off my record, and a handful of misdemeanor convictions. So when the fucking cock-sucking States Attorneys see my record they get a little pissed I have beaten so many cases and they come at me hard. This last case they brought up some bullshit about burglary in my bond call, a charge I beat yet they still brought it up to the judge, fucking me over and increasing my bond to 100K [10 thousand to walk], after a bond reduction hearing we got it down to 25K [$2500 to walk] but all those idiotic adventures and mistakes I made in the past will always be there to haunt me in my life. Good luck getting any kind of decent job with a background like that unless I have a good connection or I have own business. If I wasnt able to afford a lawyer and duly have good representation I surely would be sitting in a jail cell, like a handfull of my friends are today. Its boils down to having great supportive parents who hate the cops and the bullshit the spew out of there mouths, even though I have been a horrible son they have always stuck around to help me out. I don’t even want to think of the money they have doled out on Lawyers and Private Investagators and Specialists, Doctors, Shrinks, meds, and the list goes on and on. On legal representation alone we are pushing 30-40K easy, its not a subject I like to bring up as I am always reminded very quick what they have done for me.

The legal system is so corrupt and money orientated its disgusting, especially when your dealing with the Chicago court system one of the most corrupt state govt’s. in the country. Some of the sneaky tricks my laywers have had other people pull so there hands wouldnt get dirty are straight out of a movie. Direct cash pay-off’s, a wide circle of inside friendships with judges and other prosecutors, have kept me free and on the streets. I have used the same firm from day one and they are great to say the least, although I am a little pissed at my latest sentence, eh but what can you do? Its just is sickening to think what a little money can get you I feel so sorry for those poor, black, inner-city youths who are forced to use Public Pretenders who basically work for the State assuring that the subject will at least plea out, another conviction on the books and off the the state pen.

The county I am at now has a 90% conviction rate for felonies, and I read in the paper the other day the S.A. saying he wants to do better than that. WTF? I had a chance to beat my case but the odds were stacked high against me and if I would have taken it to trial [bench trial most likely, fuck a public jury] I most likely wouldnt have got the same sentence I recieved but they stack those odds against you so high that if you do take it to trial and you lose your straight fucked. I would either be in jail for 2-5 yrs. or I would have had a fenlony reduced to a misd. and have not even been placed on probation. It was so tempting to fight it as I had no heroin in my possession all I had was a tincan cooker which they swabbed and the residue came back positive so they charged me with poss. of heroin even though I had none. That would be like the State scraping a pot pipe and charging you with poss. of marijuana, come on.

Although it does get worse currently a friend who coincidently got a lighter sentence than me on the exact same charges I had except he had 8 or so bags of heroin in is possession, I am surprised they didnt try to charge him with ‘intent to dist.’ the fuckers. Anyways, he got off lighter than me and recently OD’d and somebody anonymously phoned in a tip to his probation officer that he over-dosed. Now they are charging him with a VOP [violation of probation] for the OD and get this charging him with poss. of heroin because it was in his blood stream. I mean get fucking real. We are not hardened violent criminals, we are massively drug addicted HUMANS who have a problem. It sickens me that they try to fix the problem by throwing us in a state pen, where is costs something like 30K a year to house a inmate. Where as placing a defendant in a drug rehab costs almost half of what it costs to keep him in jail. When will the govt. and state wake up and pull there heads out of there fat asses and realize that the world doesnt revolve around money and tax dollars, it revolves around caring, nurturing, and love. Doing whats best for your fellow man, its not coincidence that this country and its ethics are falling to pieces. Stop treating addicts like criminals and allow them the help they deserve, so what if its his 12th time in rehab. Addiction in my eyes is a disease and justly should be treated as one. Someday, they will see the light but I have a disgusting feeling it will be well to late as the world comes crashing down upon them. I am sure god will have mercy on those ignorant, greedy, people out there. It just saddens me so much the state in which our society is in, we are not going to last much longer if this keeps up.

Ok I went off on a huge tangent and skipped over alot that I wanted to bring up concerning the treatment of addiction and the choices available to the destitute in America. Just keep them confined to their neighboorhood or jail and provide them with cheap state funding for the syrup of destruction aka Dethadone. I wont even get started on that…

Just to let you know I plan on starting my detox off of Suboxone [buprenorphine] any day now and I plan on documentating it here, fully. Including my dose schedule, my taper, my supplemental medicines to help decrease my withdrawl symptoms. I am pretty well stocked on all my detox meds I just need to pick up some more clonadine to add to my cocktail. Currently I am taking roughly 4mg a day and that is spread out into 2-4 times a day insufflated. I wont get into that here as thats another post and this is long enough already.

Is this the answer to heroin addiction?
Copyright © 2006 Newsquest (Herald & Times)

In an overheated living-room in Bearsden, Barry, a 24-year-old kitchen-fitter from Kilmarnock is sitting awkwardly, one of his long, lanky legs bent up beside him. The heat has been cranked up in case he gets the shivers. He is pale and, initially, expressionless, his silvery skin almost translucent under the lights. There is a huddle of bruises on the inside of his elbow. He seems a bit uptight.

We chat for a while, small talk mostly just to get acquainted. After a while, Barry begins to relax. He points to a half-opened amaryllis sitting on the window sill in the evening sunshine. “You see that flower over there? That’s me,” he says. “It hasn’t blossomed yet, but it’s coming out, slowly but surely. By the end of the week, it’ll be in full bloom.”

Barry is 49 hours into heroin detox at the hands of Net, neuroelectric therapy. Transmitted from a small box the size of a pack of cards, which sits in his pocket and is wired-up behind his ear, Net supplies low-level currents to Barry’s brain. The treatment’s supporters say it is an alternative to methadone and want Jack McConnell to listen; its critics say it is a techno-fix, a placebo effect that has no scientific basis.

Barry says it works. Just into day three, and, although he’s not feeling great and has slight nausea and sweats, he says he’s not “rattlin” – the user-lingo for the overwhelming symptoms of withdrawal – like he has done in the past.


5:56 am tweeked, cant hit my veins I am shaking so hard from the coke, no benzo will help only a strong opiate.

Drug sluts all around wanting some thing.
Ballooned veins, missed shot madeness, rub it in.
Burned fingertips because you cant put the pipe down.
Stupid ass dumb shit.

Rake my crumpled body up with the cracked autumn leaves
Burn it and let some young kid smoking pot outta a pop-can smell my ash.
Hopefully it will spark a nostalgiK meaning for him, because its is all a puzzle with many missing pieces for me. What are those missing pieces…? and where did they go…? Is it in those days I dont have a sticky green bud in my coin pocket or heroin, coke, pill doper, methadone drinking basically insane mental, posssibly OCD, bi-polar, FREAK.  I gotta pop Mothers little helpers before I even need help, the delay in onset can mean a needle in my arm or a relaxing afternoon.

Hot late summer evening, smacked up and relaxed drinking hot chocolate with 3 sugars wearing a sweatshirt and watching the sunset into a palet of relaxation, my girlfriend begging for sex, I am to engulfed in the beauty of nature to care right now, maybe later honey, I dont feel like it, sorry.

19 yr old girls that purposely bend down in front of you showing of their ass, if I wasn’t so geeked off the nightmare of the dark cloud of insecerutiy. I woulda stopped those nice, innocent young cocaine non-stop talking mouths and stuff um fulla my cock or something like that. Weed huh, Blue label pour me a drink…

Lick, suck, fuck my dicks not hard. Why dont you suck on it for a bit, what pills are in your pocket and pass the remote while your at it?

The old New Balances hit the wet pavement and slowly shake and shuffle back and forth, as his hand extends the foil packets get delivered to there target. Bombs away…. Ahhh we got a miss-fire, you stupid fuck. Blame it on the traffic, blame it on the shitty tie-off with the seatbelt, blame it on the dull needle, shit blame it on me, but don’t blame your habit on me.

Wrapped up warm, waiting for the day when the blanket gets ripped away and forced to sleep on cold broken (probably like your mind) concrete again. Lick the sidewalk you like that, drool like the fool you are? Go masterbate on the public drinking fountain. While I take a pill, get stoned, and think about some girl in pigtails, multi-tasking.

Drugs my inner mind loves, the crack of the old oak tree, lick my face and sucka my balls. Man I am bored and tired of my girlfriend and drugs and endless miscellaneous bullshit. I am so addicted to the lifestyle of abuse, chemical that is. Cold hardened idiot, dope fiend, jail pasty boy, lunatic, or just the new messah to usher us into the the next decade of shit. Chicago has offically de-criminalized maryjane, about time. Bring on the medical marijuana next damn it. I’d rather smoke a joint than endlessly pop colored pills. Heaven forbid our govt. does something constructive.

Your face is pale it the opposite of that blottly injection on your forearm you just missed. itchy, itch rash.  They don’t call it the 1/2 hour rash for no reason. Does it matter though becasue your high and you could give a shit about a blotchy injection site. God I could ramble about stuip shit all night but I need to packer up, swing for the fences, fall down and just stare at the stars… not rock-stars not trax-stars, but outerspace shit. You know like when you were 15 yrs old droppin a postage stamp of grade A, blu blotter on your tongue having the whole world figured out, bliss in a hot-tub under the harvest moon

Silver space ships flying accross the sun,
what neil young?
I am perpetually young
forever young or forever insane or insanely stupid

No matter as I am not strung out today, I am saddened by many things I wont get into but what has become of me? Where did my dreams go when I was smacked out for 15 yrs. Is it all a big joke or is a planned event?  I’ll pray the rosary tonight, maybee a shaft of light will shimmer into my window…

Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know I’m gonna shine
My time coming, anyday, don’t worry bout me, no
It’s gonna be just like they say, them voices tell me so
Seems so long I felt this way and time sure passin’ slow
Still I know I lead the way, they tell me where I go
Don’t worry bout me, no no, don’t worry bout me, no
And I’m in no hurry, no no no, I know where not to go
Chicago, a prophet on the burning shore
Chicago, I’ll be knocking on the golden door
Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know I’m gonna shine

Not feeling all to hot, I couldnt sleep last night which is nothing out of the ordinary but I had a long day today. I can officially say I am through with any on-going court cases, thank jebus christ. It feels sooo good not to have jail time hanging over my head. Needless to say I fought the law and I won, again. Fuck off, fuckers. Today has been a warped day of reality thanks to a surprise of the ‘kitty’ kind, warble warble. This damn fuckning electronic home monitoring ankle braclet has been on for shit I dont even know 2 weeks maybe. I am drinking Pear necatar and loving the grittiness of the flavor, its says on the can it won the 2005 American Culinary Chefs-Best Award for “The best taste’. My stomach is upset in a way only a dissociative liquid turned crystaline stucture can bring. A feeling oh to familiar to that super warp drive bug-spray smelling drug can bring. I feel sick to my stomach its must have been something I put into my body, and I dont think it was those Sloppy Joe’s I had for supper. Sigh.

Finally its refill day tomorrow and I can finally pick up my amphetamines as I have been out far too long this month. 12 hrs. from now I should be feeling like a speed racer which is good as there have been a few things around the house I have been meaning to get to but haven’t because I am a procrastinator. I dont feel like writing about to much of anything tonight, instead. I think I will go take my dose of opiates and wrap my self in the comfort of a multi-benzo cocktail and go watch a movie. I think either Pepto-Bismo or a low dose of Compazine might be needed. I knew I shouldn’t have petted that kitty for the second time today. As my vision is blurred and my stomach is well a mess, but I am FREE. I know longer have jail hanging over my head I sucessfully kept two seperate cases from having to introduce one to the other judge or I probably wouldnt be typing this write now. I have been under alot of stress lately and I am so pround of myself I havent turned to the needle for comfort [in an opiated fashion]. What else do I have to say. Oh I wouldnt mind fucking my home monitor girl that stops by every other day to collect any info I have concerning when and why I left the house. Yes, I can leave when ever I want, either to look for a job [which I dont see me getting but it gets me out of the house for hours at a time] or to go to see my doctor [tomorrow thank god] I am well stocked on my legally prescribed meds except for my damn amphetamines, argh. Rubbing my eyes brings me into a multi-prismatic picture show behind my eyelids, the spectators are getting boring as my mind has been exploring.

I went to a NA meeting tonight even though I didnt feel like it but I am seriously giving this opiate kick a good run, I just havent actually started yet. Technically I have as I have been hitting quite a few meeting lately I have never been big into the NA/AA 12 stepping it stuff but something seems to be clicking this time and no its not just because of the legal system as I have tried to kick for them plenty of times in the past I am just getting bored with my drab amber pill bottle life. Soon I am going to start a detox at least for my opiate meds, I am leaving the benzos and amp’s stay seated for the time being, life is just so dull. I need to find some sort of spark and maybe it will be girl maybe it will be kicking bupe, slowly. Whatever it is I need some change. I am listening to ‘Old Crow Medicine Show – Wagon Wheel, next song is Jollie Holland ‘I Wanna Die’ just like some of my precious legal plants have been doing, and no its not neglect its just they are sick and close to the point of no return.

Ahhh… another sip of delicious Pear Nectar, mmm. THANK GOT THIS YEAR LONG COURT CASE[S] ARE OVER! I actually made out like a bandit considering my record they wanted me in jail. I am not in jail, HA. Ok, enough is enough. Its Xanax and HBO time and food to mend my dissociative issue. I have been cuttin back on the opiates [still dosing multiple time daily but I have but down]. Enough of this chit-chat its medication time again. I am just not up for writing anything else so deal with it. 😛


Bottoms up, pills under the tongue, set my alarm for Noon and send my doctor a email for a trial of Ambein CR, as I am sick of taking heavy sleeping pills to sleep even though Ambien doesnt put me to bed even in 80mg+ doses and a shit load of other meds that would knock an ordinary person out for at least 24 hrs. Shit its 1am. I am outta here. Food is what I need, you know you want to lick my body well to bad Ill spray paint you in a lime-green mist, unless your breasts are a handful and you have blonde hair and pigtail’s. I haven’t know what day it is all week, it doesnt even matter. You think you might know but you dont know me. I am an illusion of grandeur
Its me who you love,
You can turn to me when your homeless and sick.
I am the one that loves you.
When you wake up on the wrong side of the bed,
I’ll be there for you.

Wow… The S.S. Junky-Life Cruise-Ship is filling up. I hope we have enough life-preservers and ring-buoys’ to go around if we have a man/woman overboard. I’ll take care of the Emergency First Aid kit[s]. Don’t be trying to sneak any of my Morphine syrettes’ or else I wont let you dip into the good stuff. God forbid a shark attack and I have to break out the jug o’ oxymorphone. I am going to have a hell of a time reading and keeping up on all these new blog’s, let alone the older ones. [BTW this post took fucking forever to post, argh]. If you guys need any help figuring out the inner workings of WordPress-2 drop me a PM in the Junkylife forum’s or just ask. Renton do I know you from BL or are you a different Renton?

Well the ship’s headed out of Port Narcotik
Destination: unknown.
Enjoy the ride!

Welcome aboard matey’s…

Poppy Red


The Coroner of Lake County, Illinois [Dr. Richard Keller] was gracious enough to mention a comment I left him on his blog concerning a topic of his: ‘Heroin or is it…?’. In return he was nice enough to reply and link to some of my informamtion concerning the rash of recent OD’s of Fentanyl being passed off as heroin in the Chicago and the outlaying suburbs. He has an informative blog with a good medical approach, I have the link on the sidebar give him a visit.

It was late at night when I posted a comment to him as I have been meaning to do it for days since I read his blog entry. I wish I would have expressed or detailed the issues a little bit more concerning illicit Fentanyl production. It’s risks and the complex methods on how to properly prepare such a potent, illicit narcotic for street sales. This is not kitchen chemisty, in order to properly ensure that the active drug [in this case most likely Alpha-methyl fentanyl or 3-methyl fentanyl] is distributed in a equal proportions on its inert carrier takes skill and chemisty knowledge well above that of your average street hoodlum.

If something doesn’t change there is going to be a rash of OD’s this summer on the streets of The Windy City [Chicago]. As its obvious to me that they [dope dealers] have been slowly edging their way into the market place, testing the waters. Unfortunately with consistent and deadly results. I have a feeling its going to be a long hot summer.

Here is the link to his post where he mentions me: link

Joe Ortman’s drug use got so bad, it even alarmed a street dealer. But no one around him saw the danger.

John Keilman, Tribune staff reporter
Published February 26, 2006

When Joe Ortman began using heroin, the only person who seemed to understand the danger ahead was a dope dealer.

Ortman was a wire-thin white boy from Naperville, but he was nervy enough to buy drugs inside Chicago’s forbidding Stateway Gardens housing project. He’d even hang out after getting high, charming the gang-bangers with his playful personality until one finally gave him an exasperated scolding.

“Y’all coming up here every day!” he said. “You need to get off this stuff.”


Prelude [not not Preludin, you junkies]:

I was 19 at the time, I had a good job and it paided very well for my age [mid 30K’s]. I had plenty of cash and a methadone and heroin habit from hell. My boss knew I was a junky because of my 2 hr. lunches and well I looked like hell. It didnt help her son was also a heroin addict who I had hooked-up and partied down with plenty of times. So point being she stops over out-of-the-blue on a Saturday afternoon. I literally just got back from scoring and was loaded. She said I have to go to rehab NO QUESTIONS asked, “I am not stupid I know whats going on”. I was slightly relieved because I was sick and tired already, almost 5 yrs on the horse combined with couple years on deathadone. So I get put on medical leave full pay while gone and they picked up the tab for rehab 37-39K, I forget its pointless anyways except to show the insane costs of trying to get help. I called around to ask different rehabs to inquire on their usual detox meds and routine untill I found one to my liking.

The Story:

I grudgingly check into rehab with a half gram of heroin and a bottle of Xanax and Klonopin. They searched me and didnt find shit as I was prepared for the search. The half gram was gone by dinner time and I was freaking out filled with anxiety knowing I was dopeless for the next day, eventually passing out.

I was fiending bad at day break of day two. Of course the fucking nurses [no offense Soma] would come in to check my vitals at like 4:30 am, once I am up, I am up. Being up that early with the realization of where I am and what I am doing started to sink in. Extreme cravings, anxiety and sickness soon started to creep into the marrow of my bones. My cells screaming for heroin, oxycodone, hydrocodone, shit anything at this point. I talk myself into leaving and going to go cop some more heroin and started to pack-up my things. The counsellors had their little intervention with me and convinced me to stay. My family and boss drove up after the rehab called them saying I was leaving. Once they got there they all pleaded for me to stay, I turned my head the otherway, I didnt want to listen.

“Drew dont fuck this up you need help. Its gonna suck but you have to deal with it and beat this”.

I wish I would have listened to them than, damn-it, but I am a firm believer in fate, things happen for a reason. My stash of benzo’s were a safety net just incase I wasnt being medically detoxed to my satisfaction, which is always the case. That rehab trip [my first of many] I referred to the nurses as ‘Valium Vending Machines, VVM’s, ha’ or rather they referred to me as the ‘Pill Mongrel’. My detox meds at this point is 30mg of valium, QID [4 times daily], Catapress patch [clonadine], Compazine, [stomach tranquilizer], and 800mg Ibuprofen and sleeping med, [A small tiny orange pill. I still dont know what it was to this day and I usually always know my meds but I was in such a fog].

Some how I managed to make it thru my second day in rehab and my first day clean from heroin. As the w/d’s started to come on harder and more intense and my meds werent holding me like they should be in my opinion [if I am paying or rather someone else is paying major bucks for treatment I better be medicated to my discretion]. Things just start getting worse, none of my dealers would deliver to me in rehab and I blew the half gram I brought like a ice cream cone on a hot summers day, fast as fuck. I have needles and pills but nothing good to shoot and I definitely cant get behind ol’ nurse ‘vending machine’ to steal something.

Than I get the idea fuck it I am going to shoot up some of my Xanax, it was late in the evening and I was starting to lose it, only about 20 hours clean. Its not easy to get Xanax into a injectable solution. I know water isn’t going to work well, I know nothing is going to work well but I know acidic solution is better than nothing so off to the Dining room I go. They were closing up shop and one of the workers, some guy my age was cleaning dishes when I peeked my head in the backroom. I asked if it was possible to get a little vinegar? He looked at me like I was an alien. So I changed my game plan and asked if he had any lemons. Which I knew they had because of the lay out of the food when we would eat. So he gave me a chunk a lemon without questioning my intent and I hightailed it back to my room with a pop can and a lemon.

I crunch up 4mg of Xanax. Squeeze the lemon juice* all over the pile of powder and add some water mix and mash untill it was pastey than just added more water untill I could get it semi into solution and than sucked up a shot. Injecting and repeated adding more water re-dissolving the Xanax sludge and re-injecting. I probably got about 6 or 7 shots in me when some girl knocks on my door and asks if I am going to group. I yell from my locked bathroom, “FUCK NO” and shoot a few more shots somehow trying to feed my needle fixation with anything. After I was done shooting I chewed up 5 bars of Xanax and 6-8 mg’s of Klonopin, praying for relief.

The rest is a blur… I remember being in a half dream withdrawal from hell state. Sometime I got up in the middle of the night thinking I was in my house and left my room to go to the kitchen in my head. Only to be told by the late night nurse I am in rehab I am not in my house go back to bed. So I stumbled back into my room and got in my bed. I was having horrible shaking tremors, thoughts and images of street corners and dopebags flashed thru my head with a vengence. I curled into the fetus position sweating bullets, yet cold as a Chicago winter. I remember trying to get out of bed I kept on putting my feet on the floor but trying to stand-up I would collapse. I couldnt walk, my legs were jello, I was so sick. Some how I ended walking straight into the wall hard. I busted my nose open and it started bleeding all over, thats the last I remember.

I was awoken in the morning by the cleaning lady shaking me, next thing you know there are a couple nurses and few counsellors standing above me. I am sprawled out on the floor, passed out. My pills must have fell out of my pocket as there were like 30 pills all over the floor including a few needles. A big blood stain on the wall from where I walked into it and blood all over my face, dried and crusted. My eyes were open but I saw nothing but white haze, the voices were distant. They started asking me a million questions and my only answer is did I miss the morning meds? I longed for that little silver cart with mini dixie cups filled with a plethora of multicolored and shaped pills for each patient, I wanted to steal them all and down them like shots one, two, ten. All I could think about was getting my sick off and heroin. They were pissed to say the least but fuck I didnt care, I was hoping to get kicked out. Of course after getting long hard talk about how they will give me another chance, or was that give me another chance for you to keep getting your 1200-1500$ a day outta me?

* dont use lemon juice to inject substances, crack for instance as it can contain bacteria that can do some major harm. If you are looking for an acid solution use Asorbic acid [Powderized Vitamin C], Acetic acid [Vinegar] or one of the other semi safe acids. Shooting pills is extremly dangerous even with proper filters [micron/filter wheels].


I ended getting kicked out of the rehab as my insurance money started to near its end, and went back to the only thing I knew. Smack, White dreams, Narcotic stupor, High on anything, Drunk on pleasure, Blissed out, Irrational.

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