Another Weekend Has Passed.

And nothing of much consequence occurred.

Well, almost nothing.

I had to laugh, because this is so crackhead. About 6 or 8 weeks ago I was ripped off by someone who was supposed to be getting me some crack. In some circles it would have been enough to get the shit kicked out of you. Actually, I have seen people beaten up for much less.

At the time I left an voice mail for this clown telling them to lose my number. I erased them from my phone's contact list as well. Good riddance, I thought as this person was just your typical, stereotypical crackhead type character and I was no longer comfortable with them in my house.

Yes, I broke one of my own rules about allowing crack smokers in my house.

Well, what was done was done and I thought I wouldn't hear from them again. At least part of me thought I wouldn't hear from them again. The crackhead in me knew that at some time in the future, when they needed money or something other from me they would call or show up.

Crackheads are so predictable.

So the phone rings and after answering this person says, "Hi! This is H_____, my guy from Ohio is in town and he has FIRE!" It was a call designed to plant a seed or strike a spark to get me on a roll. This is also a ploy used by some dealers to get some business going.

It's also a tried and true tactic of mainstream sales people to get sales.

To get action you have to make something happen. Create some excitement, generate some interest, catch a crackhead jonesing and let word of mouth do the rest. Merchandising, marketing and salesmanship cuts through all segments of society and all goods, whether they are illegal or not.

My response was "I'm broke for two more weeks." The call was terminated before I could flip my phone shut. I had to laugh, because the caller never even acknowledged the previous rip-off. To them it was like the past was forgotten because we have got fire today.

It also showed the desperation they felt, as the stuff, where ever it came from had to be good and they wanted to get more. They had no more money so they wanted me, or you or whoever had some cash to buy them more crack.

While the "beast" had some regrets that no money was available, I on the whole am happier today for that fact.

I think...

One other thing. I watched a movie online that shook me to the core. The movie's title is "Cracked Not Broken." It's what they might have called a trigger movie in one of the numerous rehabs I attended. The film is about young woman who was in the crack trap. She threw away her good job and white picket fence existence for this drug.

The film portrays a happy ending, with her being clean and normalcy restored to her life. The part of me that knows how that shit works doubts she is still clean.

I pray I'm wrong.

The part of the film that disturbed me was the fact that I knew that girl. Not that individual in particular, but that woman and the lifestyle she was pursuing in general. The hotel rooms, even in Toronto, were typical crack smoker's dens. I've partied with these women, gotten to know some pretty well and we have exchanged our little stories with each other.

After checking our cash, our stash of dope and all of our valuables, we've parted in most cases friends. There have been exceptions to that, but those instances have been a small percentage.

The other part of the film that disturbed me was her manner of ingestion. She was an IV crack user. Some of you are going, "Huh?" The fact is that there are some who go through the process of converting the crack back into cocaine so it can be injected.

Yes, I know the process, but it will not be described here.

Watching that movie and her poking and digging to find a good vein had my stomach in a knot. Not that I was triggered to use from that, but from having witnessed first hand that continual jabbing and stabbing to find a spot to get a hit dredged up memories I would rather have forgotten.

I have good veins and plan to keep it that way. That needle shit is too much work and creates too much damage. And all those tissues with all that blood is beyond unsanitary.

Just put the fuckin' rock on the pipe and hit it. Done!

If you want to see an example of the happy, carefree lives of crackheads just click the title to this post. It should be noted that Harm Reduction programs are alive and well in Toronto.

For me, that's not my life today and better is better.