Lines

Apprantly wanting something is not the same thing as liking it. This great article in Elle, with a fascinating study on dopamine in rats (Elle - Vogue for science majors!) described how it's so hard to consciously differentiate between the two but they are not nearly as correlated as you'd think.

Coke is exemplary. Not that I don't love the actual high from coke, the way you can feel it in your bloodstream in the front of your face, the way your mouth feels with the powderey residue on your gums, etc, dude you know what I mean. But god, I love the buildup.

Before spring break my friend Paul came to school. He'd dropped out a while ago, he's the friend you have that is your Drug Friend, and he might be the sexiest guy I've ever seen at that school. after talking to him about getting coke, I went to the apartment where he'd be. He was playing guitar for hours in another room, but the time I spent making half-assed small-talk made me so much more excited when he walked in the room.

Paul always wears silky pajama pants and a loose fitting shirt of a simillar fabric in mismatched prints. From the neck up he looks like the Gucci guy, if the Gucci guy was robotripping.

He lets me know he's ready to get in to it. "Do you want to go to your place?" "Um....." my hesitation is not based in that kind of anxiousness about being alone with him. Yeah sure, the Gucci guy is gonna try to get with me. I'm simply embarassed about the state of my room. Nevermind that Paul has been living out of his car.

We end up busting into our respecitve half-gram bags in the apartment of our mutal friends. I make long, impossibly skinny lines; many of them. Between turns we pass around a bowl and a bottle of Jack Daniels and I smile because I love college. Each time, I shake out a small pile of coke and I make 3 razor thin lines along the back of a psych textbook. "Sarah, are you gonna take those lines soon?" Yes, soon, but come on, look how inviting they are! I like to draw out the time between lines. I love thinking about how much I want it before I can have it. I like watching Paul do his lines, too. I like watching Paul light his cigarettes when we go outside for one and I very much enjoy when he, or any beautiful boy, leans in to light my cigarette.

Around 8 am I figure out that I should leave. Stoned as hell, I walk out with Paul and pass him a cigarette. He says, "Thanks, love," in dead-on Jack Sparrow and I hug him goodbye. For a awkwardly long time. And I try to walk away but he pulls me in tighter and runs his hands down my body. He tries to kiss me and I turn my head. (did I mention how sexy he is? wtf?) Maybe it was the weed but I think in some cases it's more fun just to want something.