A Tribology:
Crack Øff Cra©k

picking up lengths of thread in a screem y

special cry. com(mercial at the top level)

Hey, look!, I'm back! Long time no see. Over three weeks, to be inexact.

Day One of the new crackfree life. Hope I like it. Hope I make it. Gonna see how high (or not high, per se) we can make that number. I want to infinity. In honor, or similacritude, I'm starting a new reflective AA prac.:
+1 (days, that is, not bags)

Making a rule to come here every day. Not to waste (cyber)space for fill it,,but as a sort of personal accountability scheme. PostPerDay. Do it in the morning, on the pot, if you have to kind of thing.

It's a hard life, a hard life, a very hard life. A hard life wherever you go.

The devil's doing a two-step jig around me as if I'm the fire. I want to buy a coupla dubs so I can work on ON legally. In fact, I've thought of that as the new strategy: Friday's after work, until midnight as the one and only weekly legal time. Not only legal but planned on and for. Foolhardy folly, but very attractive. Hey, make Rich happy this week, too!

Picking and chewing at the callous on my thumb. It's making a big hole in the skin over my inside knuckle, like open pit mining. It's a touch sore. When I sneeze my hand gets a gloob of gray matter with black speckles. My back hurts. My energy is low. I feel old.

Rich is still calling periodly. Poor boy. Wants this white boy to buy his wares. I shake my head. Let it go.

Damn near got fired today. The phrase "last straw" was used. They've got some legitimate complaints, I won't deny that, but the woman I had the conversation with said "your work product is good" and that is true. So, what's the problem? It irritates them to no end that I'm tired at work. "Droopy eyed" has been cited. And there's an agitator in their midst. The Creative Director is a talented guy. He can be cool, for sure. But he's one of these types that's very opinionated and cranky, and it turns out—come to think of it, I've posted about him here before—he keeps an eye on me and reports back, presumably in bitter and whiney tones. A bit of a thorn in my side, and furthermore, makes the whole atmosphere there cloudy with tension. I try to speak to him in friendly and chipper tones but he's cold as hell, and I think it's easy for him to be, the way people can be so judgemental about people they don't know or aren't involved with or deal with or see more than one side off. Today we had to work together on a little Flash piece and everything went well, and then he was warmer. I was yawning in that process (several nights of 9, 10, 11 hours of sleep will not overcome a sleep deficit equal to the national spending deficit) but he had it put in his face what I was actually doing work wise, rather than some droopy-eyed veneer.

The other thing that bugs is that I was there before a lot of people today and was the last one to leave. That's never mentioned. I'm kickin' booty with a few of these clients and taking on increasing responsibility and getting things done to the clients' satisfaction. That's not considered.

I did forget about a client meeting on Tuesday—yes, a real no, no—but understandable considering it was on my radar for a total of the 5 seconds it took to accept the emailed meeting request (there was no other talk of it) last week well before a three-day weekend, and there was no real effect as I was there and available to attend it, but they said I was under-dressed for it, which is unfair because I was dressed as well as I have been for other client meetings. Turns out they've had a problem with that but haven't said anything until it was too late and I was in trouble for it. Boiled down, the problem was that I was wearing sneakers (brown suede sneakers). But I have no other shoes, being fresh back from 10 months of human rights work in the jungles of G. These shoes are new. Had I remembered the meeting, like I said, I would have been at work at the same time with the same clothes.

So I, over IM, as these things weirdly and awkwardly occur, tried to say that they should have said something if they hadn't been satisfied with the way I was dressing, that I figured that being between his (bossboy's) tie and C's (Creative Director's) jeans, was fine (yes, this guy goes to meetings in jeans and his gloves with the fingers cut out and a sweatband around his forearm and that whole bit). He (bossboy) told me that C was playing the creative card. Hmm. Okay. But I'm supposed to know that. But I'm not allowed to address it, because he (bossboy) got a little snippy there over IM and told me he didn't want to discuss it. It's no big deal he said. You forgot. Period. I don't want to discuss it. I wanted to say that his not wanting to discuss things was a major part of the problem there. I've posted about it before, how their lack of expectations setting has put me at an unfair disadvantage. I'll do what I'm supposed to do if I know I'm supposed to do it. AND, it did turn out to be a big deal as it was brought up in the other IM conversation today. I was told she and he (bossboy) were mad about it. Beautiful.

Again, I'm not denying my role in it—I've been totally, painfully honest here—but other people do seem to be denying their roles in it.

Had a rough morning this morning, but coming out of work I was feeling okay, dare I say, good...ish. Venturing back into a sense of real world (how I hate that phrase) productivity...

{RW, as opposed to Crackworld Productivity, which is a) real [just different], and b) a productivity I very much value, which is one of the reasons why livng crack-free is/will be difficult;:I get stuff done when I'm on crack that I never get done otherwise, and for the most part it's done well, and furthermore, those things that get done are often the things I value most, and the things that far too often get pushed aside or to the bottom of the list. And, all of this--this parenthetical tangent here--speaks to one of my aims in this little goofball crack project: to give people a broader more complex view of crack, drugs, the world. Yes, crack's bad and we should all live without it, but not admitting or dealing with it's positive aspects is a denial like any other and will not help us get there. 'Nuff said.}

...and on the heels of that recognition came rushing a feeling of danger. When I'm feeling good phnysically and mentally, and a little bit accomplished in turning my back on my vices, having put a little (how ever little) distance between them and myself, and confident that the distance will grow and their hold over me further disintegrated, that's when it all gets shot to hell again, and I go and I do. That's when I go and hurtle myself off the wagon, ejecting myself from the hayride of life. And so, in a sort of maniacal nod to that pattern, I sang to myself, walking down 23rd street mind you, AC/DC's "I'm On a Highway to Hell." (I should point out here that my mother's making me return the Back In Black 8-track I bought as a youngster did not protect me from the evils of AC/DC.)

I got what has turned, of late, into an afterwork tradition: a "nutty cone" from the Mister Softee truck parked by the entrance to the F train and I descended, another kind of delicious white vice in hand.

On the other side of that ride I came out of the train on the platform and was about to ascend the stairs when my selection came on my iPod: Curtis Mayfield's "Move On Up." What a great song (though I must admit that I first listened to The Jam's version of it, back in 1984). Well, the song hit me like a metaphor, as songs are wont to do, especially to me, their easy target, their willing victim. I believe there's plenty of evidence of that right here on OFF and over there on ON as well. Suddenly, with a little grin grunting through my grim lips, I was feeling not on a grind to grayskull, but, well, that I was moving on up toward an as-yet uncertain destination of sane and sober creativity, and that my peoples will eventually understand (this?). Here's the head-to-head:

In the 1st Five Hours of Work:
1 cup Twinings Lapsang Souchong tea
1 can Everlast "Extreme Energy"drink, citrus flavored (Red Bull equivalent)
1 can YJ Stinger "Extreme Energy" drink, "Sinful Citrus" flavor (Red Bull equivalent)
21 YJ Stinger "Extreme Energy" mints, cinnamon flavored (1 cup coffee equivalent each)

Result:
Still fighting off sleep.

Dealer Rich called twice last night and once again this morning. I do not answer.

Well, that was a 5-day jag of wakefulness, and I'm about to end it after a post and the kebbeh that's waiting for me, cooling by the second. I've been absent here for 10 days. The bender and the recovery leading up to it. I'm going to try to avoid that this time. My body is beat to hell. It was shutting down today. I'm not overselling it. It's more important than ever that I cover my mouth when I cough, like my father and mother taught me to do; otherwise, large globs of gray-black sputum fly out and plaster themselves in uninvited locales. I feel weird vibrations in my thighs. I'm not kidding about that. Odd, no? Eat now. Sleep right after now.

[ed. note: The following is quite foul and inappropriate, and yet appropriate considering.... It should also be known
that it follows a previous, very ironic post in which this Indian Muslim developer is commenting on racism, and had me playing the role of the African American. Thus the seemingly unfounded and (on the surface but, again, highly ironic) racist comments.]

Session Start (me:developer): Tue May 31 16:32:38 2005
[17:21] developer: yo, what can i open a pcx file with, ho
[17:22] me: hmmm
[17:22] me: you don't have photowhore?
[17:23] developer: nah i have photopimp and photocrackcunt
[17:23] developer: but no photowhore
[17:23] me: mmm, I like crackcunt
[17:23] me: Like eating a sloppy joe
[17:24] me: spicy, messy, cheap, and good
[17:24] developer: BLEH
[17:24] me: yup! i like me some crackcunt
[17:24] developer: yeah, u black ppl sure do
[17:25] me: you know how we do
[17:25] me: Word
[17:25] developer: go get ur crackcunt on bitch
[17:25] me: oh, you mean hot crackwhore on crackwhore action?
[17:25] me: they got that on the latest crackwhores gone wild!
[17:26] me: have you seen it?
[17:26] developer: nah, but i did see crackwhore does dallas... mmmmm
[17:26] developer: so about pcx files....
[17:27] me: yeah, the other one I like is "Crackthroat"
[17:27] me: oh
[17:27] me: yeah
[17:27] me: word
[17:27] developer: thats ok.. but did u see part two --- Crackthroat-- goes anal?
[17:27] me: no, man
[17:28] me: that's just too much
[17:28] me: that's going too far
[17:28] me: don't you have any morals?
[17:28] developer: well no, im muslim
[17:28] me: oh, i heard about you guys.
[17:28] me: you the crazy muthafuckas that don't wipe yer asses, aren't you?
[17:28] developer: yeah.. did J. tell u?
[17:29] developer: oh we steal pens too
[17:29] me: figures
[17:29] developer: u think photoshop can open it?
[17:29] me: probably from honest, hardworkin americans
[17:29] me: bro
[17:29] me: Word
[17:29] developer: aight.. ill try it.. thanks G
[17:30] developer: u mah nigga
[17:31] me: Aww, you're soooo sweet! Listen, I know Photoshop will open it because that's what I used, but I feel like maybe Word will open it
[17:31] developer: WORD!?
[17:31] me: now you're catching on
[17:31] me: but do you have photoshop?
[17:31] developer: i thought u meant "WERD"
[17:32] developer: yeah i got it
[17:32] me: oh. then why didn't you try that in the first place?
[17:32] me: (and yeah, wasn't that a great segue? saying werd like I was yo nigga and Word like I was your PM)
[17:32] developer: cuz i didnt know what pcx was, boyeeee

now back to the propagation

Last night I dreamed that I was sitting at a table with Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel. I love that guy's words, his genius creativity. His song "Two-headed Boy" is my personal anthem. He had a "nervous breakdown" he calls it. This morning, as is frequently the case, I'm thinking about getting myself a woman. That'll fix me. Thinking about getting myself a motorcycle. That'll fix me. Thinking about getting myself to the top of El Cap. That'll fix me. Having children—can you imagine anything scarier? A crackhead, who's barely holding down a job, raising kids?—that'll fix me. On the platform, in a rider's hands, I see a newspaper headline: "2-Headed Girl's Ma Claims Miracle." Yes.

Dreams are bad the first night or two after a sleeplessness in Seattle. Monday I think I was too tired to know, feel, or think anything. But Tuesday night when I laid down, I heard the footsteps of some animal running past my head, as if a heavy rat was running across the head of my bed. I think I had some physical struggle and that classic needing, wanting, struggling with all my might to yell thing. But it was a dream in a dream, where I recognized that the struggle was in my sleep that so I raised myself up, to wake myself, and come out from under the elasticky, stringy, sticky bread dough that was binding me and pulling my limbs and vocal cords in tight to my body, but even that was a dream, and finally I was able to get out a moan, and a feeble groan and realize almost simultaneously that it was early—9 or 9:30ish—and that the walls were thin—I could hear people just feet away out in the hall—and that my neighbors must be taking note of my behavior and wondering and judging. The whole thing seeming, finally, a metaphor for my life and current situation and feelings regarding it. And it reminded me of the time H and I went on a 3 day coke binge in early December after my ex left me, and how finally Sunday night I settled down into bed, after that big blow-up with A, and she and her boyfriend were in the next room, and I woke myself finally with a break-out cry, a wail that I had been trying to get out in my sleep and when I finally did, did it good, and then realize I just screamed out, and that A and her boyfriend heard. Embarrassing. Later, she told me that she thought I was just being weird and trying to fuck with them, or being a psycho asshole somehow. That's about as weird—thinking that—as it was my doing that.

[ed. note: very next IM from same woman]
Session Start (ME:SHE): Thu May 19 14:25:26 2005
[14:25] SHE: btw - you're really pulling through this week - j's eaten it up (as am I cause it's one less worry)
[14:25] SHE: THANKS!
[14:25] ME: thanks for the comment
[14:26] SHE: my pleasure - well deserved on your part - I really really appreciate it
Session Close (SHE): Thu May 19 14:26:46 2005

Session Start (ME:HE): Wed May 18 17:54:31 2005
[17:56] HE: fyi.. i think you did a great job today... seemed like you were really on top of stuff.. thanks!
[17:59] ME: thank you for the comments
Session Close (HE): Wed May 18 18:02:04 2005

According to that IM conversation, I'm one of the highest paid in our little company. I don't make that much money. It's hard to believe. In any case, we just got paid so I just went to my bank and credit card accounts online to make payments. I added them up. I'm over $3K in debt. None of that money has gone to clothes, furniture, entertainment...nothing except crack, three books, and a thimble for my mother on mother's day. Three thou may not be the world's all-time drug debt—it strikes me as very little, in fact—but relative to what I make, how much rent I pay (very little, relatively, renting a mouse-infested room from an Israeli guy as I do), and the time it took to accrue—few weeks—damn. It represents a decent burn rate.

Session Start (ME:SHE): Tue May 17 11:02:17 2005
[11:02] SHE: hey there
[11:02] ME: hey
[11:02] SHE: so C. saw you sleeping in the meeting this AM
[11:03] SHE: that's really the biggest problem right now - the sleeping/sleepiness/tardiness
[11:03] SHE: anything we can do to fix that?
[11:04] SHE: i feel like if you didn't look so tired all the time (and looked more engaged) they wouldn't be nitpicking on the other stuff
[11:10] ME: just to clarify slightly, I didn't do any sleeping in the meeting, but yes, I was struggling. i'm sick. I've been trying to deal with it since I started here.
[11:11] SHE: yeah, I know - I know it's not a lack of respect, but that's the way that it's being perceived
[11:11] SHE: have you been to a doctor?
[11:11] SHE: tried taken anything to help you sleep at night?
[11:12] SHE: (perceived by others, not by me)
[11:12] ME: i do feel bad for the way it's been received. I went home yesterday with my goulash and went right to bed
[11:12] ME: and honestly, a feel super bad that you recommeded me for the job
[11:12] ME: and I've let you down
[11:13] ME: i know i could do well at this job under other circumstances
[11:13] ME: now i'm wondering if i need to just leave now
[11:13] SHE: no! I want you to stay - I want this to work out
[11:14] SHE: if you go to the dr. today, (ie, left to get medical attention) do you think it might help?
[11:14] SHE: i know it can work out if you get better
[11:15] SHE: I wouldn't have recommended you if I weren't confident in your abilities
[11:15] ME: that's how I feel about it, but it's taking more time than I thought.
[11:16] ME: in the meantime it's hard to work when I go to smoke and C. I hear saying to Other C. how horrible i am
[11:17] ME: which is only to say that it's awkward
[11:18] SHE: yeah, I'm sorry - he's frustrated... honestly, you are one of the highest paid individuals here - you negotiated real high (the partners sacrifice a lot for the employees)
[11:18] SHE: so there's resentment about the sleepiness - lack of energy
[11:19] SHE: partners make a LOT less than you... so understand that they expect a lot from you
[11:19] ME: i understand.
[11:20] SHE: and at the most basic level they expect you to be engaged... so the falling asleep thing is problematic from a perception point of view
[11:20] SHE: are there any pharmaceutical products that the dr. might be able to recommend to give you a little more get up and go?
[11:21] ME: no, the issue is bigger than that.
[11:22] SHE: would a leave of absence make sense? go take care of your health and come back when you're feeling better?
[11:22] ME: that might make sense
[11:23] SHE: because I know this isn't you - you're not yourself
[11:24] ME: i actually really appreciate hearing that.
[11:24] SHE: and if working here is making you more sick (or dragging out the sick)... then I think you should think about taking some time to get healthy - that is totally a viable option
[11:26] ME: ok. I'm not sure what i should do.
[11:26] SHE: okay, I have to run to a rider meeting
[11:26] SHE: but think about it - we can talk more later - but if you think that given time, you'll get healthy, then we should explore that
[11:27] ME: ok. thanks for being cool about it. i really do feel bad about not living up to your expectations
[11:27] SHE: I'm not sure what's wrong - only a dr. can really help some up w/the solution I suppose
[11:27] SHE: seriously - my pleasure - I'm here to be the D. cheerleader, supporter
[11:28] SHE: don't feel bad - just get better!!
[11:28] ME: you're sweet. i'll work on it.
[11:28] SHE: thankee
Session Close (SHE): Tue May 17 11:29:10 2005

On my way to work this morning, I so didn't want to go, didn't want to be there, didn't want to deal with any of that stuff. Uninteresting. Bullshitty. I'm tired. I feel like I'm in a fishbowl.

We have the weekly project status report meeting in the morning. During that, like during everything, I struggle to keep the eyelids from droop droop dropping. After, I'm going out to smoke a ciggy in the open stairwell. C & C, both partners are out there ahead of me. In the hall as I approach the door I hear C say something like "...D, he's horrible!..." I pause at the door quietly and listen, naturally. I hear something about how he IM'ed J about it, didn't you see it? The other C says no, he was facing M. I didn't get all of it but I didn't imagine it all paranoid drug addict like, and I pieced enough together to figure he was talking about about me sleepiness. I flush and turn to walk away, but I want a cigarette more than ever then, and I wanted to face them, not say anything or confront them, but just show up and see the reaction.

It was cold. I lean on the rail and look down the 7 stories to the sidewalk and street below. You know how you might imagine killing yourself, either for no reason but just to imagine it, see how it might feel, to understand it, to let yourself be real in life? And maybe sometimes a little more because you're frustrated and sad and upset and embarrassed and angry or just one of those things, and so you picture it as a way out and imagine the aftermath, imagine how people would say they had just seen you and you seemed fine. How you had never said anything. How you didn't seem the type, they never imagined, and the people closer to you, your family, your mom especially being angry at you, angry at God, bewildered, sad, fucked up for life if you're egotistical enough. But you never really really think about it seriously seriously. Just a thought. A way to explore living. Well, I've had a few more of those over the past weeks than normal. But still I'm not suicidal. Just open to options, options that I consider and weigh, then throw out or adopt.

They kindly wait for me to finish my cigarette before going back in. I thought that was nice.

Back at my desk, it's all confirmed. M says C saw me sleeping during the meeting. Jesus Christ, it felt like third fucking grade. The little tattle tale. Remind me tomorrow, I'll post the transcript of the IM rather than rehash it here. I think it's worthwhile for any number of reasons. Every line she typed over I stared at, running through responses, considering the suicidal but relieving one—"truth is, M, I'm a crack addict"—and wait for the shock, anger, and sympathy to roll out. Instead, I pick at the painful, scaly, hard skin on my thumb where lighter after lighter has chewed away. I say, "I'm sick." And I don't think I lie. And then a great irony, "Is there some pharmaceutical that will give you a little more get up and go?" Ha ha fucking ha ha.

But I was fighting back tears during a decent chunk of that long IM. I finally told her, as I'd wanted to for a long time, that I feel really bad that she went to bat for me for this job and I've let her down. I do feel guilty and terrible about that. She said she didn't think I've been myself. I felt really good about that. I'll let the rest speak for itself...

Later in the day, I wrote C a friendly FYI. I tell him that I've overheard and been told about what he's been saying, that in case he didn't know I've been struggling with a health issue that can really sap my energy, that I pop the caffeine mints, stand at my desk to type, bounce my knee in meetings to keep the adrenaline flowing...that it's not because I just don't give a shit. And finally, if there's something I'm overlooking on the X account, or something I'm doing that he disagrees with, etc. please let me know about it. I thought it was direct but very nice. Not defensive. Not passive aggressive. Not whatever. He didn't say anything to me. Not even when the SOW that we worked on together was finally signed (when we were told it wouldn't be) because I reached out to the client today to follow-up on it. $15K of work. Most of which I will do. Not a huge task order, but I reeled it in today. He can be a little bitch, I guess. Funny too, how we had a conversation back in our friendlier days about how a tenet complained about the smoking in the stairwell and how C disapproved because the tenet went to the property manager instead of just talking to him/them directly. He specifically said he didn't like that the guy wasn't adult enough to handle the problem himself. Hello hypocrite!

Well, that's how we are, we humaney beings. We're full of it.

And I'm already eating more. Intake calories instead of intoxicants. Hit Shake Shack after work and then picked up some steamed cabbage and a veggie patty at the Jamaican place around the block after getting off the train. Going to watch the prime time movie. Convalesce. That's not me. I'm not a fan of TV or sitting at home watching movies. But I'm tired. Still so tired. And I need to rest. To be entertained. To watch other people besides myself for a change. To believe in some other fiction than the fiction I've been telling myself.

12 hours mas o menos into the crackfree (but not carefree) lifestyle

1st night in a long time I haven't copped

and it's not yet full of rewards and good feelings

finished a couple of beers this morning around 6:30 and fell asleep for an hour before my phone sounded. god the dizziness, the impossibility of movement. Almost fell from the shower onto the toilet before a last second ballarina's righting.

fell asleep on the train passing my stop to times square, jumped on the southbound train—noting that the platform said "manhattan, brooklyn" mind you—and ended up on an express to queens, goddammit. was an hour late by the time I walked into work. sounds like a stupid cracked out thing to do, but you don't mistake seeing the sign like that. must have been a re-routing. what luck! what timing!

hardly had I settled into my project management when i got invited to "go for a walk" with two of the partners at the office. busted. right there in beautiful madison square park—my favorite park in new york, on a gloriously sunny day—i'm told "nobody's been impressed with your performance" and put on 1-month probation. next time, they told me, it would be termination.

nice way to start off the up and up. the new life. on probation. and with hurt feelings...they said lots of things but who says "nobody's been impressed" under the guise of professional civility? hey, crackheads have feelings too, you know. even crackheads get the blues...

i have some issues to discuss here about this transition. certain roles and utilizations...

but i'm tired...really really tired...

Consider this your after-school special.