Sam Paul - Why I Committed Suicide

“YES! ACTUALLY HE FUCKING DOES, HOW ABOUT I COME OVER TO YOUR HOUSE AND BUGGER YOUR FUCKING WIFE IN THE ASS!”

But I kept my mouth shut after that and when we got back to the cell, the Mexican who spoke English told the other Mexicans what happened to me and they all laughed. He actually turned out not to be so bad of a guy, while he was waiting to be set free we talked for a bit and he said he was getting on a bus and headed the hell out of town. Apparently he was only here to see his mother and he really had sold his blood last night, he just failed to mention to the judge that he used the money to buy the beer that got him tossed in the pokey in the first place. He told me I needed to calm down towards these people and try to gauge what they are about before being so vehement. “They are just doing a job. When you lose your cool, the other person has control and when they know they’ve got control and you try to get it back, they’ll fuck you.” He told me “It’s better to stand against the wall and watch everything first, figure out the motivations behind people’s motivations and keep my mouth shut,” then his Mexican Zen-ass got released and I was stuck with the stainless steel table and a growing twingeof sickliness from not having had any smack recently. I get minor withdrawals now when I haven’t used it for a day, nothing too bad but uncomfortable.

I kept trying to call Jenifer and when I got through to her she said she finally had the bail money together and was on the way to the bond person to get me out. She said the bond person was surprised at my bail being $1,500 instead of a thousand and that I must have done something to “piss the judge off.” I never did mention that she got popped a few weeks back with Donut for shoplifting and that I had her bailed out right away. The “man” gave her the kind of cakewalk probation where the charges get expunged from your permanent record if she acts right. Hopefully I’ll get the same thing.

I told Jen I was getting sick and she told me she was planning to drive down to Dallas while they were processing me out of there. It took forever and ever and my stomach was starting to turn by the time I got out in the evening, wearing the same clothes I had tried to go and work in the night before. Jenifer wasn’t there though and I really didn’t know what to do. I walked around for a while and then sat down on the curb and waited to see if she would show up. When she did I could tell by the look in her eyes that she had gotten really fucked up down in Dallas and the time had just kind of floated off for her while I was sitting on the curb spitting green bile and waiting. I told her I needed whatever she promised to get me and she handed me this dull syringe filled with blood. What the fuck is this? She had cooked and done most of the shot that was supposed to be for me which was why she was so loopy. I didn’t care, I shot the bullshit into my arm in the hopes it would make me feel just a little better so I could go get some of the real shit.

I mean, what could I say? I was pissed because she knew I was hurting but at the same time, She came up with the bail money and SHE drove down to Dallas and SHE was the one giving me a fucking ride back down to try and score. I was thankful but my stomach was in knots and she kept getting sleepy while driving so I had to grab the wheel a few times.

Eventually after a bunch of bullshit it all worked out and I made it home. Now I have to sort out this mess that’s going on in my life.

I’ve been using the Tomato more and more to support my dope habit since I quit my job at Swensen’s. Jerry was already gone and the red haired manager/ owner there started freaking me out a little since he was going crazy watching his business slowly fail. The demand for good ice cream is on the decline these days. My Thursday and Saturday shifts at the Tomato are critical to me now in order to get enough money to make it most of the way through the week. The rest of the time I’ve been out stealing clothes from J.C. Penny or other places to return to the store for cash or credit.

Damn I want to do right but I am really hooked on this stuff. I can’t even believe it myself when I think about it and I have no idea how it started. No, rephrase that, I have no idea when I started needing it. I have no idea when it crossed from a casual occasional hobby to an “I need this to make it through the day” kind of thing. I know better and I can’t fucking help myself, it’s as if I’m outside of my body watching myself do all this crazy shit and getting away with it most of the time.

The other day Donut and I walked right out of Montgomery Wards with a huge stereo system still in the box and even said “hi” to the clerks as we were headed out the door. By the time the stereo was hanging out the back of Jenifer’s hatchback, a security guard was running out the door after us asking to see our receipt. Donut saw him coming while I was still pushing the stereo in the back and he jumped in the car and told Jen to “GO, GO, GO!” Since she thought I was in the car with Donut when he yelled, she took off and left me standing there with two security guards running up behind me.

I’ve learned a couple lessons since my first walk around the shoplifting block. One is to use electrical tape to alter the letters on the car’s license plates so that the numbers and letters look different; another is to run like hell until they actually get the cuffs on you. You still might get away even if you’re wearing Birken-stocks and a big yellow hat. So I tore ass. I kicked off my sandals and ran over the hot gravel and broken glass with one security guard right on my butt while the other one was looking for a radio to call for backup. I’m juking and I’m jiving and the guy is staying close to me when a big gust of wind blew my yellow hat right off my head. I really liked that hat, so I ran through a row of cars, circled back towards the store and grabbed it off the ground, a foot away from his grasp, before he could figure out what I was doing. Then I sprinted towards the highway until I thought my heart would burst, circling as best I could around the mall, trying to stay out of their line of sight. I hit the high way access road and started hustling along with my thumb out, knowing if I didn’t get the hell out ofthere soon the mall’s security or police were quickly going to navigate through the parking lot and pick my ass up.

It just so happened that this girl from my old TV class was driving by and recognized me; she picked me up, asking why I was out of breath and had no shoes. I didn’t have any good answer or lie that I thought she wanted to hear so I talked to her about school and got a ride back to Jen’s apartment behind the house. I waited and waited and waited there for Jenifer to show up and finally she did, her eyes wide with happiness that I got away. She said Donut told her I got busted and she truly thought I was in the car when she drove away, and from the look in her eyes I knew it was the truth. They had gone ahead and went down to Dallas, fenced the stereo and got us some drugs so it was all ok in the end. Just another day at the office. Damn! I’ve got to get out of this shit soon.

There’s another big thing that’s going on. The house is finally disbanding. Jerry is moving in with the sorority girl he’s been shagging for a few years and they look like they’ll get married at some point. Dan is getting out of town for a bit and Kirk is moving in with Bryce since David’s shit is all fucked up with smack right now too and Bryce needs a roommate who can pay rent. I’m moving into Jenifer’s apartment and sadly I already know where the extra money we save on rent will be going.

Adrenaline: In some animals it makes them stiff with fright, with others it delivers bursts of action and activity. Humans are a combination of both; our brain is trained to overrule our instincts. The rare form of the athlete is applauded because he focuses his mind into utilizing the power being generated by his own body. There are other athletes that merely surrender to their primitive brutal urges, tapping into the same energy but not as formally or even intimately. The difference is comparable to drinking a rich wine where the grapes have been carefully tended, prepared and aged in just the right fashion, or drinking a gallon jug of hooch. The energy source being tapped into is the same and the results are often comparable, but the crowd always senses when it’s “on” in the mind and body of the athlete. That’s why all of us wait. That’s why we are bored by the rules, angered by the referees and also why our emotional lives become wrapped up in competition. We want a show. We want a display of skill; a POP of surprise and excitement that makes us light up with smile or grimace in horror.