Recovering I suppose.
An email from today suggests that I bought The Beatles Anthology on DVD from half.com for $37.98.
My Facebook status for today reads:
one more week of overnights on Grundler Bend. Sleep dep is like being a functioning heroin addict without the perks of heroin.
For the record I've never tried heroin.
However, I got as close as you can without even trying.
It was a strange day in 1997 that I will tell you about.
That summer I worked as an order picker in a suburban warehouse that distributed indie rock LP's, CD's, cassettes and VHS tapes. I had just moved back from the desert and had been living in the suburbs with my parents for a few months.
One night I went to the city to hang out with some old desert friends that had moved to Chicago.
Steve and Meritxell.
They were a married couple that lived in a basement apartment in Ukrainian Village that they called their Laverne & Shirley apartment.
They were also recovering heroin addicts.
They had introduced me to screwdrivers and we would drink a lot of those.
I liked hanging out with them.
That night I drank too many screwdrivers so they let me crash on their couch.
In the morning I awoke with a throbbing headache.
It was 7am and I had to go to work.
Meritxell made me a delicious fried egg with bacon.
Steve offered me an aspirin.
"It's a Tylenol with codeine," he said.
Ooh, that sounded good.
"No, don't give him that," Meritxell protested.
Steve brushed it off.
"Don't worry," he assured.
I didn't need too much coaxing.
Codeine sounded a lot better than the swollen pulses of pain dizzying my young, dumb skull.
I took the tablet.
Meritxell shook her head.
I paid them adieu and began the long commute out to Hanover Park.
"Now I see why people call it Hangover Park," I muttered to my head.
It was the longest commute of my life.
The weight of my eyelids lost to the sticky rush hour grind.
My bobbly noggin nodded around like a Led Pumpkin.
The morning sun attacked from every direction.
A sheet of bright, hot, angry ice.
This Tylenol was really strong.
It took an hour but I made it to work.
My muscles had caramelized.
Each step through the warehouse was a spongey one.
I schlubbed a tub with US Maple CD's and LP's, new 7"s by Superchunk and Lambchop, the 764-HERO EP, and...
And then I walked to the loading dock and threw up.
Meritxell's delicious breakfast spilled over the weeds sprouting through the cracks in the industrial park.
It was time to go home.
I crashed hard on my parents' couch.
It was 9am.
I remember stretching a lot.
Like how a cat stretches.
Each time I stretched there would be a different TV show on in the background.
It moved from game shows to soap operas to talk shows and back to game shows again.
My mom woke me up.
"Someone's here to see you."
Whut?
I shooed the cobwebs off of my face and groggily stumbled to the door.
It was Vicki.
Vicki from work.
She was a picker too.
We had a conversation.
During the conversation, it occurred to me that it was after 5pm.
So I had slept the entire day away.
Wait.
How did Vicki know where I lived?
Also wait.
What were we talking about?
I think she was inviting me to do something.
I don't remember what I said.
Whatever words happened probably had a staggered, downward inflection.
I would later find out that Vicki had a thing for me.
But after our conversation she no longer had a thing for me.
So Vicki left.
And I went back to the couch.
The next morning I woke up.
I was still on the couch.
I felt refreshed.
I felt alive.
I felt like I had been given a fresh new set of muscles and skin and hair.
All I knew is that I wanted to do it again.
And that I couldn't do it again.
Because I would do it all the time.
Holy shit.
Tylenol with codeine.
Who knew?
Later that week I met up with Steve and Meritxell.
Steve was laughing.
He asked me how that day had gone.
During my story, Steve laughed and Meritxell shook her head.
At the end, he revealed a twist.
"That wasn't Tylenol. It was methadone."
Whoa.
Mertixell spent the rest of the night apologizing.
Steve patted my back and laughed.
Considering no one got hurt, I thought it was funny.
We drank screwdrivers all night.
For safety though, I drove home drunk this time.
I don't remember anything about today.
Other than I didn't get to enjoy any synthetic opiates.
Verdict: Loss
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