Tag Archives: stimulant

Jamba Juice (the junkie way)

Time for a story!

Circa early- to mid- 2005.

the JUNKIE way

Pretty new to Los Angeles and new-ish to relative sobriety (the first time), your author, in an attempt at some sort of fidelity, creates a new habit. Jamba Juice (the junkie way). Maybe that’s weak… but, then, it’s weak. I worked at my first ever talent agency during waking hours and a west coast version of The Olive Garden on weekends (some nights, possibly)?

Meth is a stimulant. And all of the sudden, I had to be on time and on the ball, constantly. And all of the sudden (well, less suddenly than that)… I did not have Meth.

In a time of getting high (or rather, trying to be functional) in a legal manner, I improvised. I took 2 psuedofed in the morning. You know, the stuff that they use to make meth. The little red pills that are literally just psuedoepinephrine. And consequently is now behind the pharmacy counter. Boo!

One down.

I didn’t enter Jamba Juice one morning looking to get high. That’s comedy. But like bad comedy. In any event… it was on my way to work and, again, in my search for some sort of fidelity, I’d become a bit of a minimalist when it came to meals. I thought health… juice… on my way to work… try it.

Now, in 2005, the Jamba Juice offerings were much slimmer. So, I choose from what I can. Always a small, the base was a “classic smoothie” called Peach Pleasure. Okay, fruit blahblahblah, no bananas… whatever. Smoothies are misleading… they can often be crazy-ass sugary calorie-laden concoctions. But, this was great. safe. no bananas.

“You get one free boost with that”.


I had yet to become the ADD-fueled morning person that I would. So, it’s a bit fuzzy.

But, what isn’t fuzzy is “the boost”. This is the gateway to Jamba Juice (the JUNKIE way)!

I look at the menu or the board all confused-like (as is sometimes my default disposition that I am trying to shake). The disposition that I have no idea where I am, what to do, that this question that I’ve been asked is possibly high-level mathematics related and I could never even conceive of it’s existence, even.

But I digress.

“ummmmmmmm….. how about Energy boost?”

And a habit is born. So, this altered smoothie with Energy Boost and 3G Charger Boost (though I’m sure it was called something different at the time) plus my psuedofed plus the office’s coffee. And I am good to go. I eventually ask if they sell the “boosts” in powder form separately. They do not.

I achieve something very similar to a low-high.

But it is great! Not because I achieve aforementioned low-high in order to achieve some sort of high, but precisely the opposite. I am an adult that has a day job with a dress code. I have vacation days. Health insurance. Overtime pay. I am never late. I own a car. All this is possible. I am a contributing member of society (somehow)… furthermore, I am actually a functional human being. My one-time faraway mostly theoretical wish of walking amongst the normal people in hope of one day becoming one is not only possible… but actually happening.

So, that’s the story. This only lasted as long as I worked at the company. The head of the company is crazy and tends to clean house every two years… give or take word of an agent interviewing elsewhere*. In any event, with no agents, I really had no one to assist.

*yeah, I hate to say it… or maybe I don’t care… but “Entourage” does not get anything incorrect. People are FUCKIN CRAZY!!! And I kinda love it. I mean, not to say that my judgement is the best… but WTF?! Tens of millions of dollars are based on crack headed decisions… eeek. But that’s what I love!

And the laying-off was catastrophic because it wasn’t really about the job… it was the entire idea that I had assimilated into society… that I could do it. Of course one really doesn’t directly have to do with the other, and everything ended up being okay… sort of. Hysteria.

I never really did go back to Jamba Juice.

Such is the mundanity of dysfunction cascading as sobriety.

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I got nothin’.

My current main conundrum remains an ever increasing uncertainty.

A failure to thrive… is the term they use. But that’s not completely accurate.

I believe that I’m far enough away from the smash/bang/pingpingping of daily meth usage that I’ve been rendered a different person. But, you know, that’s what I may have always thought. …in intermittent periods of limbo.

Just, this time… it’s different somehow.

I mean, it’s exactly the same. Maybe it will always be exactly the same…. I think the passage of time has continuously molded the period “AM”… After Meth.

So, it’s time and experience… not the drug. Whiplashing for a prolonged period off the drug will always be the same thing. Always. It’s just with each successive go-at-it, the whiplashing and the limbo have evolved into a different experience. Objectively always the same.

I mean, objectivity doesn’t exist. But my reaction is the only thing that has changed.

And so, this time, though I feel like maybe, ‘this is it’ in the best possible manner. ‘This is it’, in a ‘the end’ of drugs manner. I feel thoroughly dissatified. An ennui. Some sort of mid-float. Some sort of indifference. To everything. Hidden affect.

I don’t think that it’s lost. Just hidden.

And, of course, this is expected. …with the surrender of a CNS stimulant… dissatisfaction, loss of affect, blahblahblah… but this is the steamrolled version. The invidious version.

I believe I’ve reached some sort of optimal point wherein denial can no longer accept itself as it’s own means of survival. Meaning… I’ve done this shit too many times.

The drug binge that lasts years.. then the mild fall-out. Then the ultra-directed meth binge that lasts two plus years, and the yummy syringes and crimson cloud… followed by the painful psychological fall-out. And then the cut. The decision to not think about it, not do it, like ‘spaces’ on a mac. One stops using space #2. Completely. Done. What was that?

Mac ‘spaces’ are discontinuous. And therefore, rendered completely different animals. Disconnected. An intellectual awareness of exactly what went down. Vivid pictures. An absolute ability to recall the fine details of all past. Laterally.

You know everything. You can describe these past events in the most specific of detail. You can even describe how you felt. That you knew that you felt a certain way emotionally.

But somewhere, somehow… it all became merely intellectual knowledge. Even the emotional.

As in, you know you felt these stringent, specific feelings. You can describe them to a T. But somehow, you, right now, in this moment, are sooo detached from these images and emotions that you can describe and understand so well.

And, so… you know things in your life… in your head. but for the life of you, you cannot feel them.

See, I told you… I got nothin’.


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