The first thing to go was the door. “This’ll burn for heaps long!”, Gordy had exclaimed. As such, whenever he needed anything else from our unit he could only lean in through the splintered doorframe and call, ‘Knock knock!’ ‘Don’t mind if I take this camera, do ya?’ ‘Got any moisturiser? Hand cream or that? For the Missus, I mean!’ – Etcetera.
It was a strange time.decolony
"You can't fake heroin withdrawal," she said. "It's a bit more than red eyes and itchy fingers."
"I quit smoking. How hard can it be?"
He'd been buying from Brightsides almost eight years now. She wheeled the streets with a backpack stuffed with pot and speed and MDMA and the occasional downer for when he needed to be especially morose. She'd once sold him a double-hit of LSD that he tongued while touring the Detroit Sweeps. That was killer; Sylvia had called him a "post-societal neo-anarchic hero," and squirreled into his bed not once but twice, as if his neo-anarchic power would spread to her via shared fluids.the king
“I know a Buddhist,” I started.
“Spare me that bullshit,” she snapped.
“No, all I’m saying is it’s really easy to get rid of your stuff these days. EBay and that. If you go you should sell everything and just go, just go with your jeans and passport, you know? I’ve thought about that. Hell, if you do it like that, I’ll come.”
“Sure. Why not?”larvae