BAD ACTING

COCAINE

        To celebrate my gig with Diesel I decided I wanted to try cocaine for the first time. I texted David to ask him about locating some.

        Hey. Do you have a hook up for coke? Never tried it. Also the usual. Thanks.

        David: Yeah I can help you out. How much you want?

        I dunno, like $200 worth?

        David: Ok, Give me an hour. I'm going to stop by your place. Cool?

        That works. Thanks.

        David: No prob.

        David knocked on my door forty-five minutes later. Wearing an oversized black T-shirt, jeans, and a grey beanie, David walked into my apartment holding a brown paper bag.

        "Whoah, dude your hair."

        "Oh Yeah. They changed it for a shoot."

        "Cool. Cool."

        "You're an actor right?"

        "Um...not really. Not yet. Right now I just audition and model and stuff."

        "Cool Cool. I just got back from Lindsay Katz's house. Crazy party...like insane."

        Lindsay Katz starred on the most popular show on VID-TEEN, Rock The House.

        "Nice."

        "You know Lindsay?"

        "I know who is she is, but I've never met her."

        "She's nuts. So hot. Super hot friends. Insane!"

        Lindsay was fourteen years old.

        David looked around at the boxes of clothes crowding my living room.

        "You moving baby-boy?"

        "Me? Oh no. This is just crap from my last couple of gigs. I don't have room to put most of it."

        "Free shit, that's cool."

        "Yeah, I have some bigger sizes from a Diesel thing, you want anything?"

        "Sure baby-boy."

        I rummaged through a box and found a sealed bag of shirts with XL printed on it. I threw it to David.

         "Sick. Thanks. Oh...I got your stuff." David handed me the brown bag.

        "Thank you."

        "Anytime. Just be careful with the coke...people get hooked on that shit fast."

        "Ok. I won't, don't worry."

        "Ok, buddy I'm out, thanks for the swag." David and I attempted an awkward handshake-first bump motion and he left.  I couldn't figure out David's half flirting, part bro attitude towards me.  

        I locked the door and carried the brown bag into my bedroom and dumped the contents on my bed. A large bag of pot and five smaller bags filled with white powder. I did a line. I felt nothing. I did another line. Nothing. I did three more lines and I threw up in the toilet. When I lifted my head from the toilet seat I finally felt the coke. Amazing.

        I snorted coke alone in my apartment for two days. I danced, painted, wrote, mediated, smoked weed, and kept snorting those magical white lines. No sleeping. Higher than I'd ever been in my life.

*

        I continued to sketch my Arabian Night scenes, and I began to rip out all the sketches and tack them on my bedroom walls. Constructing a mural of sketches that bled into each other around the room. Standing back you could see a big magic lamp and flying carpet, but up close the magic lamp actually consisted of many different sketches of deserts and enslaved wizards. The flying carpet up close held secret doodles of gilded monkeys and crowded streets of a Bazaar.

        I continued to enjoy the cocaine and smoked weed while switching between dancing, drawing, writing pages of nonsense in journals, and sometimes just staring at the ceiling feeling the intense drugs swim through my system.

        The third day after my binge I needed to teach a dance class. Sleepless and high, I drove to the studio taught the class, and drove straight home. I wanted to continue and never sleep, but I knew what I needed to do. I crawled into bed and smoked weed until the uppers melted away and I finally slept.