Chapter 39 - Nimbin Again

"Synchronistic events provide an immediate religious experience as a direct encounter with the compensatory patterning of events in nature as a whole, both inwardly and outwardly."
C.G. Jung

April 2005
Its been nearly fours years since I got out of gaol. I made some massive changes in my life, got off the heroin and found a career as a career counselor. They say those that cant do teach and it seemed very apt that someone so confused about his career should become a counselor to others. But the deeper reason behind this career choice was to find my purpose, why was I here what did I have to offer, what was I called to do.

Elliot Smith committed suicide or was he killed. No one knows for sure he was stabbed in the chest by someone, maybe he did it, or maybe he was innocent, whatever the case he wrote some nice songs. Baby Britain was a favourite of mine as was miss misery.

But now as I find myself going through the process of breaking up another relationship I find my self thinking of Nimbin and oblivion. Pamela and I have been together for four years, we have had our ups and downs, and this year we became parents to a beautiful baby girl. The sexual fantasy party four years ago was a distant memory.

But I am not working, I resigned from my job due to personality conflict, wrote some books started my own business and let it fail and now find myself registering for unemployment.

After Hannah out baby was born I lost my job and spend most of my time smoking dope and playing Battlefield 1942 a computer game. It was the only thing I seemed to be able to control, I escaped into the game world to escape the reality of my failure to succeed, in reality.

Spawn camping, capping flags, and getting frags, an orgy of death in an online fantasy world, I escaped into this world where I could be a winner, where victory could be mine, it was clear and unambiguous.

I became one of the disappeared. It happens to all men when their partners give birth. The child is the centre of attention, the man is pushed out of the picture to the extent that he disappears. Is the mum ok, hows the baby is she alright……You have to agree that the baby is of prime importance but this does not deny the fact that as men we feel rejected.

But it just made things worse, Pam and I stopped having sex, I slept in a separate bedroom, playing games into the late hours of the night only emerging for more cones and food. I was totally disconnected from my real life, a life that had failed, but while I was online I was winning.

We have just broken up our relationship died a slow death, like cancer it gradually consumed the ties that bound us. I find myself thinking of ways to deal with the break up, and my mind goes back to memories of the past. Thoughts of heroin fill my mind, its been 4 years since I had a hit.


I pulled over and parked the car outside the Nimbin Centrelink office in the main street. Standing outside was a lightly built guy in his late twenties with a sparse beard, missing teeth and a hat. It was like he had been waiting for me.

As soon as I got out of the car our eyes met and I walked over.
“You wanna score some nice buds?”
“Nah I wanna get some harry”
I can see him thinking, he glances into space and then “Yeah no problem, what do you want?”
“Ah just a fifty”
“Wait here I’ll be back in a sec”

He comes back a couple of minutes later and tells me to follow him up the main street. A few tourists stroll down the street, people sit in the Rainbow café drinking lattes and smoking joints. We go down into the car park and he gives me a little tiny plastic bag with a quarter of a gram of heroin sqashed up into a ball. We shoot up in my car and then Ben and I have a beer in the pub and he tells me a little bit about his life. We chat for a while and I head off to do some exploring.

In the park I see Tonto near a park bench, he seems to be working on something. I walk over to have a chat with him, its been a few years since I last scored from him. The heroin has removed any sense of self consciousness and so I casually stroll up to him like an china plate (mate).

“Hey Tonto how are you dude?”
He looks at me suspiciously, not sure who I am or what I want.
“I met you years ago dude, you scored for me remember,…”
He continues to stare for moment then lowers his gaze and nods weakly, “Yeah I think so, whatch ya up ta?”
"Just in town hanging out and scoring drugs the usual......"

We have a long chat about drugs and Tonto tells me his life story...........

“Yeah I was adopted, they told me when I was young, they said ya know your adopted son, but they were alright, strict, dad was a builder.”
“You got kids Tonto?”
“Yeah a boy, but he’s in gaol, youth detention you know, fuckin drugs and the usual bull shit, haven’t seen him in years.”
“I came to Nimbin about 18 years ago”

“You play guitar man, we should have a jam sometime yah know…I love ta jam, I got heaps a mates that fuckin play all the time, been jamin with em heaps.”
“Well funny you should mention it but I have my guitar in the car.”
“Fuckin great man, we can go down to the café at the end of the street, theres a mate of mine there he’ll lend us a guitar to jam with, come on man lets go”

I went to retrieve my guitar and met Tonto at the Café on the edge of town across from the local primary school.

I sat down and tuned up, Tonto went into the Café and I could see him chatting to this guy who was quietly strumming on a 12 string.

“What can ya play?”
“Mostly play lead, do some rhythm for me mate”
“Alright”
Tonto began to play the first few bars of Wish You Were Here, I joined with him and together we filled the cool evening air with the melancholy sounds of the Pink Floyd classic.
Although we were both pretty wasted it sounded good, although I wasn’t in a fit state to judge, no one at the Café seemed to complain so it cant have been too bad, but we enjoyed ourselves, drifting into the groove.

I ran into Rusty he is gone grey now but has maintained that same intensity.
“hey Rusty, its me Dave”
He stares at me as though he doesn’t recognize me, “Oh yeah Dave, welcome home mate, its been a while.”

I see Michelle sitting in a café, she looks the same, but a little pale I haven’t seen her for 8 years. She is sitting with a group two other girls and guy intent on their conversation. I don’t want to talk to her, but I do, I am a little confused. I have never bumped into her since we broke up years ago, it seems strange to cross paths again today.

Tonto asks me”You heading back to Brisbane now, ya reckon ya could give us a lift to Lismore, I’m gunna catch the train to Sydney, buy some fuckin rock and bring it back ere.”
“Oh, I dunno man “ I have a quick flashback to the day I met him 15 years earlier and our little journey from Lismore to Nimbin.
“Look I ‘ll give ya shot of speed, yeah, its good man, come on dude, do it for an old mate…”
“Ah alright, lets get going hey, you got some picks?”
“Nah we’ll have ta stop at the hospital.”
“OK”
So I drove up the street about 100 metres to the hospital that was in the same street as the pub and all the other shops. Tonto hopped out of the car and hobbled in his soiled rags that hung from his body, his matted long hair cascading over his drooping shoulders.

We booted up the speed and he was right it was good shit. I was awake alert and ready to go.

After what seemed a very quick trip from Nimbin I pulled into the train station at Lismore and Tonto says, “Do ya wanta drive me ta Sydney, we could make some tidy cash mate, I’ve got more go-ee here it’ll get us all the way, I’ll pay half the petrol and well score some wicked smack when we get there, I know this chick shes on the game, but she’s pretty fuckin hot ya know, well anyway, well be scorin some rock from her. Bring it back to Nimbin and double our money, no worries, just sell a few fifties they’ll be gone in a day easy, come on mate it’ll be a fuckin blast.”

His enthusiasm was infectious and the speed affected my judgment and at that moment a drive to Sydney seemed pretty manageable so I said,” Aright lets do it!”. He gives me some speed for the drive and off we go. We shoot up more speed as we go, I feel like I am flying, driving to Sydney, fucking no worries.

“The cops just think I am the town drunk, and fuckin dero, but little do they know what I’m really up to.” , Tonto hiccups, looks at me and grins, displaying his bright red gums and black gaps where his teeth used to be.

During the whole trip Tonto keeps telling me when we are going over the speed limit. He replaces the bulb in the headlights that has blown.

We pick up two hitchhikers one is a young murri guy and other is a chubby guy in his early forties. Tonto insists that we pick up all hitchhikers, it seems like a good idea.

Driving through Grafton we do a loop around the gaol and he tells me “they look after me in there, yeah I got plenty of mates inside, not like that for other people”

We eventually arrived in King’s Cross, its about 5am its cold and dark. By this time I had come down, being in Sydney didn’t seem like such a great idea, I just felt burnt out and vulnerable. I began to think about getting out of there. While Tonto went to the ATM I went to a newsagency to find a street directory, I knew that I would need help to get out of Sydney alone.

Tonto went to use a pay phone to call his contact. I watched him as he fumbled with the phone, his filthy fingers struggling to find the right numbers, he paused and stood there, nothing happened and then he put the phone down. “No answer, its pretty early though, we’ll go score off the street and then wait till she’s on.”

Tonto staggered down the road and wandered up to two dark figures, a scrawny women with frazzled bleached hair and bloke in a black trench coat. The coat looked cheap and he was wearing worn joggers.

After chatting for a moment to them Tonto came over to me, “This chick can score for us, but we need to go for a drive. “
“The chick can come but tell her boyfriend to wait, only room for one”

I didn’t like the idea, all the bravado had been sucked out of me by the speed, now I was just a weak lost little boy, with no fucking idea, I didn’t like driving with people I didn’t know, but scoring seemed like the next logical step.

So we drove round the block, she used my mobile to call her dealer, and within about 2-3 minutes a dude appears up the street, wearing a sweatshirt with a hood, he moves with a steady beat, he looks fit. They call him the boxer.

He walks over to the car, “150”, he says
“For a quart, no way man, you said 130, “, Tonto looks to the women in the back of the car, she looks stressed

“Just fuckin take it, he won’t fuck around”
“You want this or not”, the guy in the hood doesn’t wait for an answer and starts to walk down the street.
“I fuckin told you, you should have just paid him, its fuckin rock man.”The women shrieks
“Go after im” Tonto hands her the money
She glides out of the car and scampers after the disappearing figure. She catches up to him, he stops they exchange things, he continues on and she heads back with a bounce in her step.

“Lets go have a taste,” his face has changed, he is clear and energized.

“I cant do this again man, I wont do it, what the fuck am I doing in Sydney. I don’t want be a fucking junkie, Oh god what am I doing,” the reality of my situation dawns on me, as the first rays of light illuminate the dirty bodies sleeping on the church steps.

With reluctance and in a mild mannered yet forceful way I said “I have driven you to Sydney man, now I need you to get out of my car…”
Tonto looked at me, with an incredulous expression, he hesistated as if he thought I was joking with him.

As Tonto steps out of the car he says “Now don’t make yourself a stranger, we could make beautiful music together……”, the absurdity of his comment fails to brighten my mood.

There was no way I was going to do it to myself, all the memories of pain and despair came flooding back, those dark moments in gaol, alone, I could never go back, I had to escape.


So after spending about 30 minutes in Kings Cross, I panicked and spent the same amount of time trying to get out of the city. Even with the street directory I had purchased I could not seem to navigate. I was caught in a vicious circle of one way streets, that seemed determined to capture me. My brain was fried and would not compute, error, beep, beep, beep. An all pervading power took over “Alright get him out of there the system has broken down, hes fucked up, lets get him outta here.” So they did.

“Pam its me”, sob,” I am in Syndey?”, tears are flowing down my face
“What are you doing there”
I didn’t want to admit my mistake I wanted sympathy support and so I said “I tried to kill myself with an overdose.” Maybe it was a subconscious suicide attempt.
“What! How did you get there? Are you OK?”
“Yeah I am now”
“Christ Dave, what are you doing to yourself.”

When I got back from Sydney there was a note on the table, “Dear Dave, I am sorry that I cannot be here for you, but I am concerned about the safety of myself and our child, I have gone to stay with friends love Pam”

I had mixed emotions about the note, I felt deserted and outraged, as if I was a threat to anyone other than myself. I was horrified that she taken our child and refused to tell me where she was.

Four days later she returned while I was smoking cones in my room.
“Oh you are still here, you said you were going to leave.”
“Yeah I will, but it takes time, you can’t just turn up here and demand I leave.”
“I told you I would be back today and you agreed to be gone. “
“Well I will but I need more time.”
“I want you out now, for mine and our child’s wellbeing , your not in a fit state of mind Dave, you know that”
“Well you are going to have to wait, I don’t have anywhere to go or any fucking money.”
“Dave get out now or I will call the police.”
“And say what to them, dob me in for smoking pot, I am not doing fucking anything, I am sitting here on the computer smoking pot, with the door closed and you come storming in here demanding that I leave.”

The only form of interaction I received from government was a child support form while I had no income having yet to receive sickness benefit. So distressed by the break up I could not work.

The Red Cross rang I got a job, its nice to have time to myself again, and my publisher likes the book maybe its going to be ok.

Sexuality is created and molded by society to suit the prevailing trends of the time. I feel at ease with myself most of the time, I don’t want to kill myself because I have an ambiguous sexuality by today’s standards, but other people might wish to kill me because I bore the shit out of them. But really I have now come to see how truly distorted and depraved are the popular conceptions of sexuality that are promulgated by the media.

Furthermore, I accept and embrace the fullness of my desire and if I shall wish to bed a woman in the morning a, transsexual at lunch, a young man in the afternoon, a couple of lesbians in the evening, then settle down for a snooze with my mistress, perhaps including a horse for afternoon tea and a small hamster on the weekends then that’s just fine so long as both the horse and the hamster are fully consenting adults. But really, animals dont do it for me, they may be cute, they be fluffy but thats where I draw the line, but hey I don't mind if you people out there get into this stuff its just not my cup of tea ok, so yo know cheers.

The following quote refers to a concept that allows us to move beyond a straight dichotomy of sexuality to a continuum through which we can all move at any time.

“Pansexuality (sometimes referred to as omnisexuality) is a sexual orientation characterized by a potential aesthetic attraction, romantic love and/or sexual desire for anybody, including people who do not fit into the gender binary of male/female implied by bisexual attraction. Pansexuality is sometimes described as the capacity to love a person romantically irrespective of gender. Some pansexuals also assert that gender and sex are meaningless to them.”

Chapter 23 - Falling asleep at the wheel

``As a net is made up of a series of ties, so everything in this world is connected by a series of ties. If anyone thinks that the mesh of a net is an independent, isolated thing, he is mistaken. It is called a net because it is made up of a series of interconnected meshes, and each mesh has its place and responsibility in relation to other meshes.''

Buddha

Feb 1999

I was woken up by a passer-by who saw the accident. When they found me, I was unconscious and leaning against the steering wheel with the horn blaring. The car was written off, but I was unharmed yet again.

The witness called the Police and a tow truck. I was off my face but the car did not look badly damaged. Still smacked out I sat down and started playing my guitar as though nothing had happened.

I denied being under the influence of anything other than my prescription medication, Serzone, which is an anti-depressant. To my utter amazement they seemed to believe me. I knew that my eyes were pinned and I was sure that I had probably slurred a few words but for some reason the copper let it pass.

(Who ever did the programming for the copper really screwed up because in real life there is no way he would have missed my pinned eyes)

The copper took me to the Nimbin hospital so that they could take a blood sample. They breath tested me, but I refused to have blood taken, so they asked me to urinate in a bottle.

One side effect of heroin is being unable to take a piss, so I stood in this small room for 15 minutes trying to take a leak.

They must have got bored waiting because they decided to just let me go. I was very lucky again.

The tow truck driver gave me a lift back to Lismore. He attached the wrecked Commodore to the truck and we drove down the main street of Nimbin. It reminded me of an old western with the villain being dragged out of town by a horse. I felt foolish, only a few minutes before I had arrived in town to score and now I was leaving the car a total right off. I was sure that Tonto was watching and laughing.

Chapter 21- Nimbin Take Two

" You are alone now. Last man. You are lone ranger."
Tonto

Feb 1999

Dad was often overseas working and travelling so to get some privacy and a break from mum I stayed at his Main Beach unit. He was still working in Saudi Arabia he had been there now for nearly 20 years. He was in Dhahran at the moment working as a Flight Surgeon and so I had the use of his apartment at Main Beach and the Commodore.

The phone rang and I was woken from his slumber it was 2am.

“Hey Dave, got some bad news for you man, the cops called here looking for you yesterday. They want to question you over some stolen computers. I told them you were on a fishing trawler up north. “ Jeff spoke with a rapid pace and I could hear him smacking his lips as he uttered each syllable. I hated that sound it made me angry. When ever Jeff took speed he always made the most annoying lip smacking sounds. My Dad used to make the same sound when he had a lolly or was eating, I would have to leave the room until he finished.

Jeff was a friend from University, a fellow psych student who I had shared a house with and introduced to smack.

“Oh fuck that’s great, just what I need, “ I realised that Jeff was trying to help me by ringing and warning me, but I wished that he could have waited until the morning. I lay awake for the rest of the night agonising over the call.

The cops were on my trail. They knew I had been involved in stealing the computers it was only a matter of time before I was caught. Then there would be gaol, pain, humiliation and withdrawal from heroin. The thought terrified me and I had trouble getting back to sleep.

After last nights message I woke up feeling like a hit. No cash though, so I visited the pawn shop, and hocked my guitar. I had hocked it so many times, and I had lost so many other things, but somehow, I always managed to save the guitar at the last moment, I kind of thought of it as my Yamaha Express Card, always there when you need a hit.

Lee wasn’t answering his phone so I decided to take a little trip to my favourite tiny little town in the hills, Nimbin. The idyllic setting with lush green trees and rolling hills were a perfect location for a nice little fairy tale. But on this day like many others I was drawn by the easy availability of heroin, rather than the scenery.

The environment is very beautiful and it does make a great setting for getting wasted. I would often drive out of Nimbin and shoot up in the local cemetery. The cemetery overlooked the main road and was only a fairly small plot. I would park the car under a tree and have a blast. I loved the excitement and the risk of being a junkie. Going to Nimbin for a junkie, was like going to Mecca for a Muslim, the Rainbow Café was like the Kabbah, a central hub around which the drug dealing action revolved. You could pick the pilgrims by their demeanour, reverent, observing all the action with bemused yet fascinated expressions.

If you wanted to score smack in Nimbin it was important that you arrived before about 11.30 -12.00 in the morning. Pot was available pretty much all day but heroin was a bit harder to come by. Most junkies really hang out in the morning so everyone rocks up to score from about 9.30 – midday. If you go any later most of the dealers will have left town and it’s hard to get on.

I had been thinking about Kurt Cobain and how he was a junkie and he killed himself. Part of me wanted to die that day too. But it was self-indulgent, self pitying bullshit, wrapped up in romantic crap about suicide, why did I do this to myself, was it just boredom or stupidity. I mean it makes me sick to think what a fucking pathetic fool I was. I put Nevermind on the stereo and enjoyed the cool ambience as the excitement was building and Nimbin was getting closer.

Driving into Nimbin I pulled up in the main street near the school. Down the street I saw a few familiar faces and one in particular caught my attention. It was Tonto, a bloke I knew from many years before. My mind drifted back 10 years, to a cloudy afternoon in Lismore.

“Hey where the fuck, are we going ta score in Lismore?” I asked Sebastian.

“Just do a blocky and we’ll see who we come across”, Sebastian scanned the streets.

“Hey look, see that dude with long hair dressed in black, I’m sure I’ve seen him in Nimbin, he looks like a smoker, we should ask him.”

“Pull the car over and you go an ask him.”

“Lets both do it”

“Ah alright”, I parked the car on the side of the road and we both walked over to the bloke.

“Hey man, how are ya doin, we are lookin to score and were wondering if you could help us out?”

“Yeah I can score for ya just drive me ta me mates place, me names Tonto “He slurred and without an invitation staggered into the back seat of the Datsun 1600.

I wondered if that was his real name. He did look a bit like an American Indian, albeit a skinny drug fucked one, and for a moment I had a vision of the Loan Ranger and Tonto shooting up smack together. He had long dark hair and large wild eyes with chipped and missing front tooth, dressed in black jeans and t-shirt and boots, his body emitted a foul odour of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat.

“How far is your mates place?”

“Ah its not far, mate, you’ll be right, I’ll get some real fuckin good shit man, trust me.” As he spoke a fine spray came from his mouth and a trickle of drool dripped down his chin. He wiped it away with his hand and took another swig of bourbon.

Tonto was holding onto a bottle of Jim Beam and took regular swigs as the journey progressed, guiding us out of Lismore on the road to Nimbin.

It took about 40 minutes to get to Tonto’s mates place along winding country roads. At last we pulled into a dirt track and Tonto directed us to a small shack. We were now just a few kilometres from Nimbin, a bit further than we had planned to go.

“Jus a sec”, Tonto got out of the car and went inside the shack. He came out with a skinny pallid woman and small child in his arms.

“This is me wife and kid, me mates not here, and I need to get ta his place so I can score for ya” His wife looked at the ground while the little boy squirmed in his fathers arms.

“Ok lets go”

“Nah you have ta stay here, look just lend me ya car, and I’ll go score for ya,

“That wasn’t the deal, dude”

“I’ll be back me wife and kid are here for fuck sake”, he gestured to his wife and child now huddled on the ground.

“Man I’m not lending you my car, “

“I ‘m leaving me wife and baby with ya fa fuck sake, I mean jeez, what more can I do for ya? Do you wanta fuckin score or not?” Tonto threw his hands in the air.

“Well I can just drive you myself”

“Nah, no, fuckin way, that wont work, the dude I score off don’t like strangers it’ll freak him out, he lives way out on one of tha back roads”

“Man I am not going to give you my car, that’s bloody crazy. I can drive you or we can forget about it.”

“Ah fuck ya then, go on get fucked you stupid little cunt. You fuckin are really missin out man, you’ll be back”

At the time I had felt a mixture of revulsion and fascination with Tonto.

I came back to the present, and I realised that Tonto was right I did come back. I had a Celestine moment, it was one of those coincidences James Redfield spoke of in his book. Tonto and I were connected in some way through the expanse of space time.

Tonto had not changed at all he looked exactly the same as he had ten years ago, long straggly black hair, filthy black jeans, grungy sneakers, and vacant smacked out stare in his eyes. I thought it was funny how I had become, a scamming junkie like Tonto.

I was in my Dad’s commodore and had just scored the usual process. I decided I would drive out of town to boot up. So I took a turn off the main road and drove down a twisting dirt track. I pulled the car over to the side of the road. With the engine still running I mixed up and injected my fix, I waited a moment to feel it come on and then I started driving down the dirt road. As I was driving I nodded off.

Then what do you know the bloody light again, being drawn upward, a feeling of peace is giving way to boredom, I mean the first time it was pretty cool now it’s just mundane.

Chapter 12 Nimbin

"I watched the needle take another man."
Neil Young
(The Needle and the Damage Done)

April 1994

After the break up with Michelle, I had found another reason to use heroin. No longer was it simple experimentation rather it was the powerful mind numbing effect that I craved. When Michelle left me it felt like I had lost part of myself, and the only way I felt that I could deal with this was to use heroin. But this was just bullshit because I needed an excuse, some sort of justification for my fucked up actions and this seemed like a pretty good excuse.

We kept seeing each other briefly every few weeks or months opening the festering wound that was our relationship. One day I bumped into Michelle in the city and we spent the afternoon together, and had sex in the bush at Mt Cootha. I had a great time kissing, fondling, and fucking her under the stars I didn’t want it to end. As we parted she told me, that we could never see each other again, the words, shattered my mood and set off a cycle of fear, anxiety and pain. I relived all the horror of the original break up again it was like listening to a CD of Lennard Cohen and Nick Cave duets on stuck on endless repeat, ohh the humanity.

Every time I saw her I had this faint hope that we might get back together. And every time that it didn’t happen I felt heart broken again. When ever I got depressed about this situation I would seek the warm embrace of heroin. Today Nimbin was on the agenda. I think I wanted something to feel bad about just that I would have a reason to use.

It had been a week since I had ODed and went to the hospital.

As I pulled into the sleepy little town, I saw the copper’s four-wheel drive coming towards me. It was just my luck, I was driving an unregistered vehicle and there were warrants out for my arrest. They were only for unpaid traffic fines but still I didn’t want to have to spend a week in gaol and miss out on my taste.

I pulled over onto the soft edge of the road. As I did so I watched as the copper’s car slowed, did a u-turn and came back my way. While this was happening I stashed my wallet down the front of my pants.

The Nissan four- wheel drive came to a halt. It was a cool morning and we stood in the shade of some trees.

“Good morning sir, I notice that you don’t have a current rego sticker, “the young copper said.

“Its not my car mate, it belongs to a mate of mine Dave, I just borrowed it for the day, didn’t realise it wasn’t registered.”

“Ah ha, you say it’s not your car, ok, so what’s your name?”

I tried to think of a fake name, “ah …. John Connors.” I had been watching Terminator 2 last night.

“Your address John?”

“22 Bunyip Lane Wilston Brisbane”

“and the full name of the owner of the car”

“Dave Hawkins “

“Can I see your license John? “

“Nah I left my wallet at home”

“I‘ll have to search you sir”

The copper patted me lightly on the body, avoiding my groin where my wallet was stashed. He found nothing.

“Can you please open the car; I’ll need to search it”

The cop rummaged through the car, opened the ash tray and pulled out a small bag of pot. “This yours” . I nodded

The copper tipped the bag upside down and emptied the contents onto the ground. He did this without hesitating or acting as if this was unusual. In a town like Nimbin pot was everywhere, and mostly the cops turned a blind eye. They didn’t worry about small amounts, it was the smack dealers and blokes who sold the pounds of pot they chased.

“Stay away from this shit mate. OK, now I’ll have to radio in to check your details.”

The copper went back to his car and turned on the CB radio.

While I did this I felt the tension building inside of me. If they figured out I was bullshitting I was busted and that meant I would miss out on my hit today.

“Base, this is unit 34, need to confirm some license details and rego details. Can you check on a Queensland license for John Connors of 22 Bunyip Lane Wilston and the rego details on a green Mazda 323 license 345 EWB.”

He waited for a minute, “Roger Base out”

“John, couldn’t find your details but confirmed the car is registered to a Dave Hawkins, how long have you had your license?”

“I just got it”

“That must be the reason why you’re not on the system. Oh, anyway I ‘m going to have to fine you for driving an unregistered vehicle. “ The copper was rather blasé and didn’t seem to care. He proceeded to fill out the infringement notice and handed it to me.

“You will have to leave the car here mate.”

“Ok.” I replied, and thought to myself, yeah like hell mate.

We parted company.

As the cop drove off I counted my blessings. That was close, now I was really hanging for a hit.

I walked up the street to the park across the road from the pub where I would usually find someone to score from. As I approached I could see Jamie sitting under a tree. Jamie was about 35, but looked 55. He had long hair, a sparse beard and the rotten teeth common to junkies. He wore old stubbies a t shirt and thongs. He lived in a tent at the edge of town.

I had scored from him before. Jamie was on the methadone program.

“Hey Jamie, how you doin dude”

“OK man, watch yah up to”

“Lookin to score”

“Ganja”

“No harry man”

“Oh ok, bit the old horse, hey. Jus hang here for a sec while I see wot I can do”

I planted my arse on the grass and sat back to survey the scene. It was a sight. The park was dotted with a variety of social misfits and oddities. In the centre of the park stood an array of modern sculptures, some still under construction. Small groups of people sat drinking casks of wine or stubbies and smoking cigarettes. A few mangy kids chased each other round the park while their parents chatted.

Young locals waited for tourists to wander into town chasing what Nimbin was famous for, drugs, specifically pot. After checking you out to see if you looked like a prospective customer, they would casually ask you if you wanted some good buds.

Jamie sauntered back into view, he walked listing to one side, like a battleship that had taken a few too many hits, but in his case it was a few too many hits of heroin. “Yeah, man I can score you some shit, how about giving me a few bucks for lookin afta ya. “

“Yeah no worries man, here take 10 bucks”

“Hey ya don’t have any durries on ya, do ya?”

“Yeah, grab a couple”, I said as I offered the packet to Jamie.

“Now, how much do ya want, quarts are $140 or I can get ya a fitty?”

“Make it a quart hey” I handed him the cash.

“Give me five minutes”, Jamie said as he wandered up the street.

I saw him walk to the other end of the main street and sit down next to a woman. They chatted for a moment, Jamie passed her the money and she gave him the shit.

By this time my heart was pumping as the excitement was building.

“Here ya go,” Jamie handed him a small piece of paper wrapped into a triangle shape.

“Cheers man”

I now tried to contain myself, as I skipped down the road to my car. I had to drive; there was no public transport in Nimbin.

I just hoped that I would get out of town before the cop noticed me. But as my luck would have it, the cop was driving past in the opposite direction as I was driving out of town.

The cop saw me, flashed his lights and slowly turned to pursue. There was a distinct lack of urgency in the policeman’s actions.

“Oh fuck,” I shouted out loud. Then thought, this bastard is not going to stop me from having my shot, and with that I planted my foot to the floor. The little Mazda lurched into action.

I had a head start on the cop, and luckily for me, the cop was driving one of the four wheel drives which were not as fast as the normal cop sedans, besides the fact that the cop obviously didn’t give a shit.

About 2 kms out of town I took a side road, and hoped that I had lost my pursuer. Not willing to wait and see I took another side road that went off the bitumen and onto a dirt track. After driving for a few minutes the road came to an end.

My heart still racing I turned the car around and left the engine running. Fumbling through my bag to find my fit pack, I grabbed the orange container tipped out the contents and began to hurriedly mix up for a shot.

Nervous hands scraped some of the precious white powder into the spoon. I mixed in the water, sucked it into the syringe and drove it into my arm.

The warm glow, settled my nerves, but I was still freaked out.

I drove back out along the dirt road all the while worried that the copper would appear at the next bend and have me cornered.

But as I drove on it seemed that I had escaped. I continued on my way home sticking to the back roads. To celebrate my escape I decided to have another blast so I pulled the car over to the side of the road, mixed up another shot and proceeded to inject it. Waiting for a moment I felt the rush and then decided that for safety sake I had better keep moving lest the cop catch up with me.

Off I drove. As the car travelled down the road I felt my head become light, and my stomach getting ready to puke. A light touch on the break, I opened the door and spewed while the car slowly rolled forward. Pressing the accelerator I continued with my journey approaching a corner in the road, and just as the car came to the bend, darkness enveloped me and I blacked out.

A bright all encompassing light draws me forward…………………………..