Art. Music. Life. Et cetera.

Ahhh, Iron Maiden. Sonic healing. It is better.

Someone posted that Fear of the Dark is about heroin withdrawal in the Youtube comments. I don’t have any idea if they were serious or trolling, but it’s hilariously dumb either way. I giggled for a good couple of minutes.

I mean I’ve suspected Adrian of doing a bit more than beer, but the rest of the band? I love Bruce but he’s basically a giant nerd with a great voice. I doubt he’d know how to score weed, much less anything else. And Steve Harris? I just can’t see it, somehow. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but he just doesn’t strike me as the type. Then again, who knows. You never know. A lot of the most successful drug users are invisible precisely because they know what they’re doing.

Beyond all that stuff though the song just doesn’t make me think of withdrawal, at all. There are plenty of other songs that do, including a John Lennon song whose name I forget right now. But not this one. I can tell you that the times I’ve been in opiate withdrawal I couldn’t sit still long enough to watch horror movies, worry about the unknown, or go outside long enough to worry about being followed. I was too busy… being in withdrawal.

I’ve never liked heroin much, in truth. If I could get it clean and pure I’d probably like it just fine, but street shit has this weirdly distinctive grossness to it. If Werewolf: the Apocalypse were real I’d say it registered to Sense Wyrm. You can feel the grossness in you when you use it. You can feel it come out of you when you’re sick with it.

None of this is the fault of the drug itself, but whatever shit it’s cut with or contaminated with, of course. Can’t get around or escape it though. Not without really pure shit, clean as it gets, which I’ve never seen and probably never will.

Of course, you don’t have that problem with morphine or oxycodone. Not the same way, that is. Because the binders in real pills aren’t much better than street cuts, if you ask me. They only have to meet a slightly higher standard of non-dangerousness, after all. Still, the weird binder feeling isn’t nearly as sickish-feeling as the heroin feeling.

He’s been mooning about heroin lately. It’s a little frustrating. But only a little. I find it difficult to care as much as I know I should. It always has. I’ve run with drug users a long time. I guess I’m just used to their ways. On some level I even sympathize, even if I choose to do things differently.

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