November 10

April 16th 1998: Macao, Withdrawals, the Kiss

We packed our bags and we were off. I went to Macao for a short vacation with my mother, sister, Janice and my sister’s friend, Sarah. It’s been enjoyable enough; we’ve been Shopping, Sightseeing and Swimming, the three S’s of what people are supposed to do on a vacation.

Well enjoyable for everyone else I guess, but not me. It had totally slipped my mind that we were even going, so on the morning that we left, I found that I only had a little smack to last me the entire weekend. Now this was a dire situation, this residual stash, it would maybe last me through the day but it sure as hell wasn’t going to cut it for three!

The first day there was no big deal, we left, checked into our hotel, settled and went to eat. About halfway through the day, I went to fix and surprise, surprise, I only had enough for one. What was I to do? I had planned to make this last for at least two days. It was already the early evening and I was starting to feel lethargic from not using all day, I held my breath and I fixed… I was going to feel this in the morning, oh God, I going to feel this in the morning.

And did I! We all started off the morning with a nice little swim and sunbathing session, I of course didn’t swim. And that’s when it started. Just a little lethargy, the little aches and pains would sort of creep up on you and you could shake them off, a little disorientation but nothing much more than really ‘uncomfortable.’

The trip continued. We all ventured around Macao seeing the sights going here, there etceteras, etceteras and then it hit, like an explosion, BOOM! Wrecking havoc throughout my entire body. The pain was creeping and crawling through every single muscle in my entire body. They say there are 205 bones in the human body and believe you me; I could feel every single one of them as pain started seeping into them. And there was not a single thing that I could do about it.

I was at least 50 miles away from anywhere where I could possibly cop, it might as well have been a million because there was no way that I was leaving this island before tomorrow. As our troop waddled along the streets, I ducked into every single pharmacy that crossed our path, seeing if maybe they had something… anything, for the pain, maybe some panadeine or maybe even some old school paregoric, anything with some form of opiate in it. But no such luck seems that you need a prescription for anything that contains any kind of opiate in this city, backward ass, motherfucking place.

The rest of the little entourage forged onwards to dinner, I instead opted to head back to the hotel, leaving my mom, Pilar, Janice and Sarah for a ‘girls night out.’

During the cab ride home, I passed out in the back seat, leaving the cab driver to yell and prod at me back to consciousness when we reached our destination. And as I stumbled back up to the hotel room, I crashed once again as I caught sight of the bed, not bothering to remove any of my clothing but instead focusing on drowning out all of the heroin induced pain that ravaged my body, with sleep.

When I woke I found myself feeling better, not a whole lot, but at least I could move without anguishing pain. Also, my mother has left Macao to head back home, leaving just ‘the kids’ alone. With the parental supervision, gone, the rest of the group began to cut loose. We headed out to a bar across the way from the hotel, a quaint little dive, trying to be more than it really was. As soon as we got there I tried to pump in as many drinks as possible, to try and relax, note the emphasis on the word ‘try.’ When the first of the drinks went down, I started to ease up a little; I started to forget about the pain that was burrowing its way into the deepest recesses of my body. I sat down with yet another drink, whiskey if I recall, and just listened to this blues band play.

The girls were playfully flirting with the bass player, this gargantuan of a black man, an oddity out here in China in general and especially over here in Macao. Graciously acknowledging the girls’ playfulness, the bass player kindly paid for all our drinks. I, of course not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, ordered up, adding more drinks to my increasingly high tally.

Finishing up our drinks, we all headed outside to the beach. There, Pilar and Sarah started setting off fire works, leaving Janice and I to sit in the sand, talking with each other. That’s when it happened…the two of us were just sitting there, talking, nothing special, and nothing out of the ordinary. I looked at her and she looked at me, she moved in, she kissed me. I was shocked, what was I to do? The only thing I could do, kiss her back, relishing in the thought of my dreams coming true as we made out together. After only a short while, a motorcycle passing by interrupted us. As our lips parted all I could do was let out a “What was that?” immediately, she turned away apologetically, letting out a number of “I’m sorry-s.” She got up and ran over to the other two girls, leaving me to sit there, contemplating what just took place. I was happy, actually I think ecstatic is a better word, because “maybe she did have feelings for me after all?” but at the same time I couldn’t help but feel angry about it. I mean here I was, I had practically spent the whole last year trying to get over her and think of her as just a friend, like the way she says she feels for me. But if her feelings were stronger than that, I had to do something about it. Now here I was, all locked up in this dark cell of confusion, with shards of anger and joy shedding light, periodically. Worst of all, I was really starting to feel sick now!

Back at our hotel room they all decided to call it a night at around 3 AM, I though, couldn’t sleep, this pain which now controlled my body, rendered me unable to sleep. Leaving me alone in the darkness with this God-awful pain and this shitty fucking Asian MTV as my only company.

The sweat was practically pouring off my body by the bucket-load, my sheets got so wet that I just threw them off the bed, bad move on my part, cause now the mattress was wet. Every muscle in my body was exploding in exquisite, excruciating pain. I was freezing, wrapped in a sweat drenched blanket in my best impression of a fetal pose, my whole body was shaking, I, going along with it as if trying to shake out the pain… it didn’t work. I smothered my face in the mattress, trying to distract myself from this agony, which has full control over my every muscle movement. I felt like I had been lying there all night, but each minute passed as if hours if not days. I knew that time hadn’t passed that quickly though, for the damn Asian MTV had only gone through about their fifth God-damned Backstreet Boys song.

“I can’t stay here any longer” I get up, trying to walk, or at least hobble, off this pain. I go to the bathroom, I repeatedly masturbate, my own ejaculation, one of the only things that took away from this suffering, if only for a few brief seconds… and at this point, every second counted.

Between each ‘session’ I crawled backed to the bed and tried to get some sort of rest, all in vain. Each time I closed my eyes, I honed in on every single burst of pain rampaging through my entire body. I tried, I desperately tried to sleep for I was painfully tired but the pain would not let up, not even for just a second, neither would these mother-fucking Backstreet Boys!

I continued to toss and turn in my bed; nothing was the slightest bit comfortable, until I gave up at about 6AM. At that time I knew that every single one of my efforts to try and get some sleep were completely futile. I threw on my sweaty three-day old clothes and wandered upstairs to the Sports Club. There, I made a useless attempt at breakfast, after poking at a piece of French toast, I pushed away my plate in complete disgust. I proceeded to the Men’s changing room, where I spent an hour in the hot tub, where the steaming hot water slowly relieved some of my torturing pain. As much as I was enjoying the hot tub, I left after I accidentally threw up in it.

The whole time, when I was trying to sleep, in the hot tub, bathroom, throwing up, I was still thinking about the kiss, still in this utter state of confusion. I didn’t have the slightest idea of what I was going to do. I was insanely confused and dope sick. There was only one thing left for me to take comfort in, we were already on a bus, making our way to the ferry back to Hong Kong. And back in Hong Kong, I could put an end to this horrifying misery.

So as the sounds of Operation Ivy’s “Sound System slightly calmed my nerves, my face drew a sickly smile… only five hours to go.

 

November 12

April 19th 1998: Lost Enlightenment – Talk of Kiss

I don’t know whether it was out of obligation, boredom, or maybe something deeper but went to church this morning. Yes, I’ll admit it, I’m a Catholic – baptism, communion and confirmation and apart from the last two years or so, I went to church almost every Sunday since I could remember. And I hated every second of it.

Despite my animosity towards the physical act of going to church, I still somehow found a certain level of comfort there, you know? A kind of ‘everything will be alright’ feeling, I know I couldn’t appreciate that when I was younger, but now amidst the turmoil and confusion that is my life, I want to see if maybe its still there. Because I’ll tell you, right now whatever it is that I have that passes for a life these days seems to be coated with complete and utter chaos. All the dope, the petty crime, turmoil with every single person I come into contact with, and now, as I think it has always been, I realize how much I truly despise myself and the things I do. So this is it, this is why I decided to go to mass today; ‘cause at least it might be some place where I find a little serenity.

So, I sat there for an entire hour, I really wanted to give this a shot, I took in every word of the sermon as if it were oxygen, essential to living. I nodded at the gospel; I stood when I was supposed to stand, kneeled when I was supposed to kneel and sang when I was supposed to sing.

I gave it a real, honest to goodness shot, and after that hour of religious bombardment was up, after I put my donation in the basket and made the sign of the cross at communion, even after I prayed to God like a mother fucker to “Please, just let me have some peace” What did I find? NOTHING, not a goddamn thing, no spiritual enlightenment, no sense of comfort or even hope, nothing, just complete and utter emptiness like I have always felt.

It made me sad, very sad, the feeling that there was nothing, not a goddamned thing that would make me feel, just a little, more complete, not even church. I was disenchanted by the whole ordeal, was God not there for me? Had he given up on me like all the others? He couldn’t have, I mean even when everything around you has been turned to shit and you don’t know where you stand, at least God is supposed to be there… right?

Oh God! There really is nothing left for me. Before I went to church I thought I had some spiritual enlightenment to eventually look forward to but was more lost now than I was before. I bolted up out of my pew, pissed off and disappointed, I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry or to scream “FUCK YOU!” to the altar. So I forfeited the decision making process and headed to the men’s room, and fixed in church.

I sat alone for the rest of the day, just kind of reflective, I was still really confused about this whole Janice situation and despite how much dope I put in myself, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that God too had abandoned me. I just sat there for hours staring off at a blank wall as if what I had that passed for a thought process could somehow make everything be okay. Needless to say it didn’t work, nothing became okay, it just got worse and my drug soaked brain ran circles around itself on the issues at hand while I realized that I needed to decorate my walls, they were looking desperately desolate… much like everything else in my life.

As much as I could try to talk to God, it didn’t seem as if he would answer me any time soon. I talked Janice so that I could hopefully get at least one of these issues resolved.

She called me, which is odd because she hardly ever does these days. We proceeded with the typical ambiguous chit-chat. Then after a while, I couldn’t help but to talk about what happened this past week. I really don’t have the energy to get into the specifics of the conversation but it really wasn’t the cathartic experience that I was quite hoping for. She dodged the topic as much as she could then just made vague statements that hid what she really thought about the situation. I understand that it may not be the most comfortable subject to talk about so I just kind of dropped it after I saw that she really didn’t want to get into it.

I don’t know maybe I’m just old fashioned you know, I’m not really hip with the times I mean I still have the same music in my CD player since 1993 for Christ’s sake, but to me kissing stands for something, its not a completely plutonic thing unless its stated as so. You know, I’ve had my share of drunken female encounters but I was the only one in any form of drunken stupor that evening. Anyways, what I’m really trying to get at is that I just want to know if it meant anything. And if it didn’t, great, but please tell me why then, was it out of boredom? what?

We both just agreed to leave it at that and kind of bury it right then and there. It really wasn’t the closure I sought but I just didn’t have it in me to be pulling fucking teeth this evening. There was more chit-chat and eventually I just trailed off. Yet again I was lost and confused, twice in one day on two paramount matters. I told myself “I don’t care” and fixed to try and realize that thought before I passed out in my chair.