Archive for the grunge Category

The colored houses

Posted in adventure, grunge, insanity, life, philly, Uncategorized with tags , , on July 17, 2008 by staticity

color was thrown around like an ecstatic lie to cover up the dark quiet that bleak situations bleed. Orange. Like careless finger paints splattered around on the floor. Purple silk scattered bathrobes tied tight to the morning. Yellow sun. Move just a little slower.

Late night hope still clings on to fun. A few pocket dollars and a rude hour. No one will see. Color drains. From the bath tub to their faces. The night still sucks sweet.

A jungle of houses depart from the ground. Lifting up, up, and away like a pigeon trying to fly. The stoop is still planted and the vertical apartment houses sway with the wind. Almost. Railings throw their arms up to the red city sky. Begging or praying for something above. Windows gasp and cough to breathe the fresh air. Hoagies. Stumped cigarettes. Plastic bags mistaken for tumble weeds.Everything keeps rolling in a  siren silence. Drifting down broken streets with thoughtful names.

The large woman across the street escapes from her children with white, wild, eyes. Laughing loud and shrill. Frantic and alone, but not for long. The moments can barely be counted when stray cats are the only company. Her hair strings out like wire on an electrocuted sound. She looks fast with darting eyes. Wider. Wider! Wild!

Traveling down empty power lines, every lonesome window can be heard. Howling. Crazy laughter from somewhere off in the distance. Houses roll by in a slow dilopidated depression far from the screaming children of fire orange and silk purple stuck in between a licourice mood.


17th district

Posted in grunge, interactions, philly, values with tags , , , on June 25, 2008 by staticity

I live in District 17.  Here is a news report:

On 05-29-2008, at approximately 4:00 AM, a woman was walking in the 1500 S. 21st Street when she was approached from behind by an unknown B/M. The male grabbed the victim by the neck, punched her in the face and then forced her to the ground. At this point, the offender pulled a condom out of his pocket. The victim kicked the offender and she fled on foot. The male ran after the victim and began pulling her hair. The victim continued to fight and scream causing the offender to flee the location on foot.

Officers stopped the male at 21st and Tasker Streets based on the flash information. The victim was able to positively identify the offender as the male who had assaulted her. The offender was placed under arrest by officers from the

17th District.

There is a sense of pride as people talk about the 17th district. It’s not quite in West Philly, but close enough for me. A neighbor comes in sometimes to sit in the living room and chat with my roommate. He is constantly talking about some kind of violence and with a smile, he always tells us about the times he wins the fight. Rarely will he tell us about the times he got mugged or punched in the face.  I hear kids playing with toy guns on our block. The parents laugh and pretend to arrest them as they squeal with laughter.

Late at night the district rolls over. The kids are asleep or crying in their cribs and the parents aren’t so different from the alley cats. I find dark faces creeping along the alleyways, hidden in doorways, asleep in a corner. People watch guard of their corner as big drug deals come in. The men playing dice on the corner laugh loudly and whistle at the girls walking by.  We shut our doors and roll over.

9th day NA

Posted in adventure, facts, friends, grunge, insanity, interactions, Narcotics Anononymous, relationships, success, values with tags , , , on June 5, 2008 by staticity

Today is my tenth day clean. I hate today. There’s nothing more that I want to do right now than go down to 5th and washington.  but no.

Yesterday (9th day) I went to a different meeting in center city this time. There were a lot more younger people there and I felt like I could relate more to them.  A guy named Jack picked me up before the meeting and we got coffee at the old cafe steph/eric/I used to go to.  Jack lived in south philly his whole life. He used to live in the same area as I do. “Back when there was a baseball field and not a basketball court.” Apparently things were safer then than they are now. It surprised me. Everyone I’ve talked to in NA can identify with where I’m living in some way. Most of them say to think about moving because it’s a real hot spot. Needless to say- I don’t walk around at night.

Jack is one of those big Italian Catholic men who has the accent. He talks a lot, which I like in a funny sort of way. He’s charming in an honest way. He plays hockey and he was wearing his jersey to the meeting.  He told me to find my higher power and rest assure that this was not a cult. I could hear my mother’s voice in the back of my head saying “Rebecca, you’re not dumb. You can be kind of naive, just remember to stay away from all those cults.” I smiled, fading back into the leather of Jack’s big SUV.

The speaker was really good last night. A lot of times they get really animated and into what they are talking about. (Rightfully so) This one was a tour guide and had to put up with cranky old ladies. He was going over the sixth step which is something about ”personal defects”. I don’t like thinking about my shit qualities as defects. It makes me feel like some sort of robot that is supposed to be perfect and ”illiminate the defects.” or something like that. We all have shit qualities. We can tone them down, but they’re never going to disappear.

So far–I’m doing what I should be doing. I need to stay clean for about a month before I can start working on the 12 steps. I feel so ridiculous going to this stuff. Hugging. Talking about higher powers. Chanting prayers. It’s weird.

This morning I was so close to calling someone for dope. I got out my suboxone medicine instead. I don’t know if that’s good or not. Suboxone is to help get off heroin and I was prescribed to it by my doctor, but I had been on it for four days and decided to stop. The past couple of days have been nightmares though. I get these wicked cravings. My doctor said I should stay on it for two months, but I don’t want to get addicted to suboxone. What’s the point in that?

any suggestions?

The Bathroom

Posted in adventure, grunge, interactions, life, philly, relationships with tags on May 23, 2008 by staticity

The basement was flooded with sewage. The toilet wouldn’t flush and the corner stores did not have public bathrooms. What was one to do? I waited for as long as I could, but when nature called there was nothing I could do. Peeing was not an option.

I walked next door to the woman who often sat on her stoop. She would joke with the neighbors and say hello to everyone that lived in our house.  I found her sitting on her stoop, drinking lemonade.

“My bathroom doesn’t work and I hate to ask you this, but do you think I could use yours?” I had only said hi to her a few times and she didn’t really know us. Her smile flashed broad and white as she nodded her head with a knowing smile.

“Of course honey, these old row houses always have plumbing problems.”

She led me through the front door of her identical looking house. The outside was a mirror to our house, but from inside it was a different world. The furniture was mostly broken and the floors were half way ripped up with un-finished wood pannels. A narrow stairwell led upstairs to the single bathroom.

“Just don’t flush, I have to jiggle the handle afterward.”

I didn’t know how to explain to her that this wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. The bathroom was a small room with only a bath tub and a small toilet with a metal chain attached to the handle.  I sat and looked out the window into the back courtyard.

“Thank you,” I said again as I left the house.

A few mintues later I saw the woman throwing my shit out her window. Her toilet didn’t work either apparently. She must have not wanted me to know that it was broken. How long had her pipes not been working? Her smile was big when I asked if I could use her bathroom, she never hinted that she had the same problems and maybe a similar money situation.  Through pride and manners, she never said a thing to me about it, not then, not ever. I am eternally grateful.


Dr. K called me the other day and reffered me to someone who is willing to prescribe me suboxone. I’m ecstatic. I called him today but the earliest time he has for an appointment is two weeks away. God give me strength.

In cabs

Posted in adventure, grunge, insanity, interactions, life, philly on May 17, 2008 by staticity

Philadelphia is raining again. It starts every night a couple hours after dark and doesn’t end until early morning.  I watched the rain from inside a cushy cab to the bank. One of those creepy guys in their forties who always look nervous, was driving slowly down Washington ave.

“Oh I miss my wife.” He met his wife two years ago but they deported her to Albania a year after. This june was supposed to be their anniversary where he visited her in Europe, but his mother died and he had to stay in the U.S. this year. Do I work? He wants to know because HE works all day and night to get some money for his wife.

“She tells me that she loves me and she knows how men have….” he looks in the rear view mirror. “needs. so she says to me that I should go out and get a girl.” he laughs weakly as I watch the chinese food stores roll by. Wet people loitering around the laundromat held their heads to their shoes. Pacing.

I smile politely and the driver continues to tell me that he is a romantic. His wedding anniversary was now on  Valentines Day.

I finally re-appeared on Opal street where I found the jem house with the missing box.  I was lucky.

under water

Posted in grunge, holidays, insanity, life, Philadelphia, philly with tags , , , , , on February 14, 2008 by staticity

Dear God I just don’t know if I can do it.  I woke up dreaming about a house in the forest with a few other large houses next to it. There were a lot of glass windows and sliders. I was walking around the woods one afternoon when a group of prisoners took me away. I was headed for jail but we were sentenced by guards to cross the mountain.  Coyotes. Guns. Rape. It was terrible and so real. Nic was looking for me, I could tell, but I didn’t know where to find him. The prisoners and I ended up in a big house somewhere remote where a prison guard pulled a giant switch on one of the walls. The entire house was plunged under water.  Somehow I got out and started running back to the house with glass windows.  Days and days later I made it.

The last part of the dream was me looking out the sliding door at night and waiting. I knew they would find me and bring me back, but I had no other place to go and I didn’t want to leave anyway.

I can’t stop crying. This is terrible. It’s valentines day and I want to call my mom, but I know if I do, I’ll end up telling her everything and she’ll get worried and I just wanted so bad to be alright. I wanted to move to Philly and prove that I could hold my own.  I hate myself. I hate every part of me.  I hate my hair. I hate my shoulders. I hate my brain.  I hate everythig. every goddamn last thing.  I don’t think things are going to get better. I thought about ending it. I always fuck that up too. I thought about going home.  I fuck that up too.  There’s nothing left. nothing except a house underwater.

No, Rebecca. Remember the first day was worse.  It was colder. You were sicker. There was less to eat. Now you’ve got to get up. Put on your makeup. Brush your hair. Clean yourself up. I know no  one is home now, and it may feel like you’ve lost your support group, but this is the time to prove that you can be alright.  It’s valentines day. You’re going to make it.

I hope so.

I know so.

The First Day Successes

Posted in adventure, art, facts, gross, grunge, insanity, interactions, life, Philadelphia, philly, relationships, success, values on February 12, 2008 by staticity

Today was hell. I figured I should write it down before I either explode in silence, or pass out from exhaustion. From six a.m. to two p.m. I started feeling the symptoms.

Cold sweats. Hot flashes. Aches. Vomiting. Depression. Coughing. Dizziness. Exhaustion. Confusion. And just an overall unpleasant feeling.

From two p.m. I staggered out of bed naked from last night. I desperately wanted to use the bathroom but to my luck, our pipes broke and the toilets don’t work. I grabbed a thin bathrobe and made it to the shower. My first success. About twenty minutes later I hobbled back to my room to try and turn on the space heater, but it sparked off (which means I have to unplug it and wait for a half hour to turn it back on.)

So then I cried for a little while. (The space heater was a big upset as you can see) I tried sleeping but dreams consisted of a whore house with flashing lights leading to mine and a friend’s arrest for using dope. After that I didn’t really feel tired.

Upstairs to Joe’s room it was. This was the second success. I couldn’t find the hair brush under all the filth in our room so I just left it wet and tangled. I listened to MFDoom and Michael Jackson records with Matthew and Joe and Joe’s new girlfriend. I smiled when Matthew started dancing to ‘PYT’. That was my third success.

Someone asked me why I was so sick. I told Matthew what was going on and he was really really supportive. He wasn’t upset at all and it felt so good to have people that knew and were really genuinely concerned let me hang out with them. That was my fourth success.

Then. Came the unimaginable. Matthew suggested we go out for pizza. The weather must have been negative with wind and I was already cold, but I knew I had to get out or I would start feeling worse. After about an hour of procrastinating and listening to more records, we left the house. It was bitter frozen. The winds were hitting the alleys like boxers. Mad boxers. Maybe as mad as Mike Tyson himself.

At a slow group pace, we gradually defeated Mike Tyson one step at at a time and made it to 7th and Carpenter. I bought a a big pizza for everyone and ate about half a slice before throwing up. We talked about the stupid news that was on the pizza parlor tv. I laughed when we all made fun of the chickens that were ‘running ramped in a PA middle school.’ That was the fifth success.

We ate and talked for a long time. I got to use the bathroom at the pizza place. Sixth success. I bought something to drink and as Matthew and the gang went to the library, I made it home with out any lurking pedestrians asking me if ‘I was good?’ Seventh Success.

I was approaching the stoop when a terrible thought crossed my mind. What if the door is locked. Now, I did have my keys around my neck, but I am a frequent worrier and one of my problems is opening locked doors. Sure enough the door was locked. It must have been a test of God. I finally found the latch to my necklace (were my keys safely rest) and with frigid fingers got the keys to miraculously fit in the door. Eighth Success!!

With an adventure accomplished and a small amount of food still in me, I went upstairs and lied down to watch cartoons for an hour. I went back downstairs to socialize with the roommates and watch a movie later on tonight. Ninth success.

So far, it’s eight thirty p.m. The vomiting has subsided and although there is no toilet, I think I can wait until tomorrow.

Today is the first day.

Tomorrow is the last day.

Wednesday is a break day with two lines.

Thursday is the first day again.

Friday is the last day.

Saturday is break day with two more lines.

Sunday is the first day.

Monday is the toughest day.

Tuesday is the last day.

Wednesday is sanity again with two lines.

I can do it. Today was a success. Tomorrow comes later.


Two days ago was the start. This was the look of things.