  last of the great hunters pouring into another night moonless,  engulfed in the sickness in oakland and drunk triumph,  carries me on the eighty two to east oakland and carries me proud dope money a mammoth a mammoth taken when the tip of a ciggarette is the sun setting in the desert or rising over salt flats on a sunday morning,
holy and warm , there is an unparalelled and childlike lust for even the smallest fraction of this to be some kind of truth. truth in anything but the jagged funhouse reflection of weathered self, framed and cinged on alluminum. this is the dichotamy of heroin, smoked alone by me in a dimly lit shithole last june. back when brian bounced up from shattuck to telegraph with the black shit, before it butterflied from its cocoon in a clear plastic baggy to meet its end on a piece of tin foil or in a spoon.
 my journey into the abyss, that is berkeley's dope scene was accompanied by two north texas junkies on their second tour of the east bay by the names of shane and lindsay. shane was a wirey half iranian half el salvadorian dope fiend with an obbsession for making role playing games. he was a great artist but his ego was bigger than his skill at this point and his addiction towered both.
to give you a better idea of him ill tell a very short story:  once, when i hustled some idiot out of a shitload of powdered mdma( ecstasy) and abused it to the point where i was no longer entertained,  i kicked it down to shane who shot it up with speed and managed to become the only person i know to throw up while smiling.  lindsay was a friend of shane's who shared his addiction and wanderlust but was sent by god to keep his ego in check.
she was a wonderful and selfless creature.  my roomaste at the time tried to keep the room we shared a" hangout"  spot. this pissed me off because i lived in the" hangout"  part of the room. the situation came to a head when everyone started shooting crack, while in the same week i was diagnosed with pnemonia. i kicked everyone the fuck out except of course for my roommate and decided to start using coke instead of smoking heroin.  before i started to use heroin, i tried to stick to just alcohol and pot, which worked for almost a year.
 that year was preluded with a bunch of trips to vallejo to buy coke off a small time drug dealer who managed to charge less than anyone in my shithole town.  if you were to ask my family, friends or therapists why i started to use heroin again they would all give you separate answers. i will tell you the real story but first i have to shower 
