Waiting for the Men

All the traveling kids are sitting in our living with their dogs at their feet right now. 4 of them spent the night plus Kilo and Cannabis (their pups).

G and A are off to pick up an eight ball from some dealer downtown. R and I agreed it was best not to know where he lives or his number. Apparently he already left his spot so now they're eternally waiting in a bar for him to show. I have a belief that coke dealers take some deep pleasure out of making us wait--thrilled with the power they hold in their pockets.

G just texted me now that they're "getting things" and then leaving.

I'm slightly nervous. Last time R and I did coke it was from a dealer G knows down in Houston--it was too pure for my own good. I felt the world spin out around me, my stomach lurched into my throat, and nauseous spun to my head.

I was too fucked--how I imagine smoking crack would feel... aka unpleasant.

R won't do coke anymore. He's been having full on body tremors and muscle spasms, which we haven't found the cause of yet. He's stopped drinking too. I'm really proud of how much he's taking care of himself. He worries the coke will only cause them to get worse.