Thursday, August 27, 2009
New York City is a city of very busy, crack-addicted people. I am one of them.
And everyone has his or her own drug of choice. Or non-choice as the case may truly be.
The one lately that I could end up destitute in the gutter and whoring myself for two bits over just to get the funds to shoot up is Trader Joes "Frosted Maple & Brown Sugar Shredded Bite Size Wheats." That is a mouthful to gasp when you are on your last breath and need a fix, but I am powerless. So powerless I am working on an acronym to spread into the lexicon so I will be able to act faster when needed.
As many readers know, I have a huge ice cream problem. Sweet, creamy goodness is such a mother/lover replacement that its results on my waistline have kept me from at least the latter.
My methadone for this has been non-fat yogurt with raisins, walnuts and, okay, honey. Not much of a methadone, but it is in the right direction.
Then I housesat for my friend Sean. He stocks boxes of this Trader Joes pure rock maple/brown sugar drug. One night I tore in like I was taking pills from grandma's cabinet. The first spoonful (with non-fat milk, of course) made my eyes light up like there had been something missing all these years. I was hooked. It was if he were my dealer and I was given a personal-sized box for free in the playground. The rest was gonna cost.
I plowed through his two boxes and went to TJs just to get replacements so he wouldn't notice. (As part of my attempt at recovery, I told him about it.) I swore I would bring none of this filthy downtown drug (TJs is only on 14th Street in Manhattan) into my Upper West Side abode.
Then Sean, who turns out to be no friend at all, but my dealer slips me a box as a "gift." Since the night he swathed the vein on my arm with rubbing alcohol and gave me this stuff, I have kept it on my shelf and tried to keep it out of my mind. But it knew it was in. I was a goner. Today I broke in. If the photo above looks crooked, it is because I tore with such vigor that I ripped open the plastic bag like The Hulk would his t-shirt and the cardboard box split down the side. I was IN. There is maple sugary residue around my lips and my head is spinning.
I have no idea what I am writing. I am not accountable for my actions.