Wow! What an awesome and amazing day in every way possible. It started with me waking up to the sight and sound of wonderful rain, which we haven’t had it seems in weeks! A____ stopped by, ready for her interview with the old dentist. We shared a 15 mg shot of morphine, and the found out that doc was sick today, so we decided to make our own fun. We went to A____’s house and scored some really good weed from her dad’s bag. We drove around and got really high; it was so much fun, a really psychedelic experience–I loved every minute. I went shopping with her and then we hooked up with J____ and scored 90 mg. I shot her with 45 of it and she got a really good rush; she turned completely red, like she had a sun-burn. I shot my 45 after she left and just sunk into a semiconscious euphoria driven by the weed but softened by the incredible hit of morphine I had. The time went so quickly, before I knew it I was at work, which was also awesome. I was treated so well by M___H and the rest of management. They re-did the schedule, and I got all of R____’s hours! He’s f**king gone, and I’m GLAD…that I never have to see his mean, ugly ass ever again at work. I feel so much happier at work just because he’s gone now. I don’t have to deal with his immature, hateful, lazy, lying, stupid personality anymore! I’m going to try and assume his role in the kitchen, move up that ladder in short fashion. I think it’s possible, but I’m holding my breath because I can never quite tell what management is thinking or doing. I know I can run that kitchen a thousand times better than R____ ever could. I’m glad he’s gone now.
I got home from work and scored another 60 mg, got a really good rush, but now I’m into J____ for $100; that’s way too much, but I’m sure I can deal it down with valium, I hope anyways. I have all day off tomorrow. I think I may be able to chill with A____ again, maybe smoke a little more. Going to shoot some more morphine for sure, but I have to kick my habit down soon, for R____, for myself.
Intake: smoked great weed, 120 mg morphine IV
( So that you can keep the initials straight, J___ is his dealer and A____ is the dealer’s girlfriend. R____ in the last sentence is a girl Matt knew since middle school, not the coworker he ranted about above. He was very good friends with her. She’s not a user of drugs. They always did have a bit of romantic attraction but seem to always be involved with someone else during the other’s single status. Just so strange as the two really made a great match. I would say that out of everyone in Matt’s entire life R____ was the steadiest true friend. In the end, he moved to be closer to her. She made the last weeks of his life the best weeks of his life, truly.
As for Matt’s good-day journal posts like this one, they always remind me of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan or Keat’s La Belle Dame Sans Merci because the pleasure is just a trap, a trap he willingly enters. Doubling pain and disillusionment always follows the exuberant pleasure in time. Keat’s poem follows:
O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms!
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look’d at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
“I love thee true.”
she took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.