Coke Time
"Dude, where are you going?"
"Dude, it's late, I've gotta work tomorrow. I've gotta go home and try to get some sleep."
"Come on, man, it's early! The party is just getting started!"
"Dude, it's not early. It's 3:00 am."
"Oh."
Time really flies when you're doing blow. One minute, you've just arrived at the apartment for a little "pre-partying" before heading out to a bar. The next thing you know, it's 3:30 am, you've been fast-talking about god knows what with 3 people you barely know for the last five hours, you've drank 9 beers yet you're not even remotely drunk, and you still think there's a chance you'll make it out to the bar. Yup, it's a typical coke night--told in "coke time."
One of the many of blow's stange effects is its ability to warp time. Once you've started doing it, you'll lose your ability to decipher how much time has passed since you started. Sometimes you could swear that you've been sitting around the table for 3 hours, only to look at your watch and be amazed that it's only been 45 minutes. Usually, however, it's the exact opposite--you think that no time has passed, yet you've taken 12 pisses and the sun is about to come up.
Sometimes, this is secretly a good thing. Once you realize how late it really is, reality starts to set in, and you can motivate yourself to get off the couch to head on home, take an Ambien, and cry yourself to sleep. Unless it's really the next morning though, it usually doesn't matter to you one little bit. That's the other thing about "coke time"--it makes you think that late hours really aren't that late. Even if you thought it was midnight and it turns out to be 3 am, you still want to stay up, keep doing more blow, keep up that prolific conversation about nothing. So you tell yourself that it really isn't that late, that you can hang out for a little bit longer and still not shoot the entirety of the next day to hell. Of course, you're always wrong, and end up staying in bed the whole next day, only to wake up to do it all over again the next night. But for those extra hours of "coke time," you really just don't care.
And by "you," of course, I mean "me."
"Dude, it's late, I've gotta work tomorrow. I've gotta go home and try to get some sleep."
"Come on, man, it's early! The party is just getting started!"
"Dude, it's not early. It's 3:00 am."
"Oh."
Time really flies when you're doing blow. One minute, you've just arrived at the apartment for a little "pre-partying" before heading out to a bar. The next thing you know, it's 3:30 am, you've been fast-talking about god knows what with 3 people you barely know for the last five hours, you've drank 9 beers yet you're not even remotely drunk, and you still think there's a chance you'll make it out to the bar. Yup, it's a typical coke night--told in "coke time."
One of the many of blow's stange effects is its ability to warp time. Once you've started doing it, you'll lose your ability to decipher how much time has passed since you started. Sometimes you could swear that you've been sitting around the table for 3 hours, only to look at your watch and be amazed that it's only been 45 minutes. Usually, however, it's the exact opposite--you think that no time has passed, yet you've taken 12 pisses and the sun is about to come up.
Sometimes, this is secretly a good thing. Once you realize how late it really is, reality starts to set in, and you can motivate yourself to get off the couch to head on home, take an Ambien, and cry yourself to sleep. Unless it's really the next morning though, it usually doesn't matter to you one little bit. That's the other thing about "coke time"--it makes you think that late hours really aren't that late. Even if you thought it was midnight and it turns out to be 3 am, you still want to stay up, keep doing more blow, keep up that prolific conversation about nothing. So you tell yourself that it really isn't that late, that you can hang out for a little bit longer and still not shoot the entirety of the next day to hell. Of course, you're always wrong, and end up staying in bed the whole next day, only to wake up to do it all over again the next night. But for those extra hours of "coke time," you really just don't care.
And by "you," of course, I mean "me."
posted by J at 7:19 PM
7 Comments:
web addiction's real, too, edgar. doesn't fuck up your nose, just your social life. look at all the freaks surfing all-hours, so many lonely hearts.
Dear Mr. Winter, first time reader&long time "in the know". Having lost most of my friends to drugs, I know first hand that absolutely nothing I can say OR do to make you change your life. Not that it was not my intention by writing to you.
I just want to say that I admire you writing about it all as it makes it easier for others to understand what an addiction really is. And not so many have the guts to write about their 'secret' lives so to speak, so once again my hat goes out to you. I enjoyed reading.
take care,
Ms.B
your posts are always so on point. damn.
ive stumbled across your blog and must admit we MUST hang out one of these days. get back to me if your into making a new lesbian friend who has much to contribute.
amm0niainmyeyes aim screenname
that is fucking amazing. you told my story...
You forgot to mention the opposite dilatory effect of waiting for the guy to call after he just told you, "I gotta stop by my crib to get some shit but then I'll call you."
The scariest coke time is when the sun's come up: 8am, 12pm, the difference is negligable once you're past a certain point.
Edgar, you still seem to have a semblance of restraint and control. I envy your clarity... love your commentary. But baggies are the way to go, hands down.
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