Archive - Jan 2, 2015

"Unknown"

As the needle punctures, a hole in my vein i get a momentary a shot of bliss. It warms your heart, it takes you away from the problems in your life it never fails to love and hold you. The needle is my god and the heroin is my gift, heroin is my kryptonite, it's my love.

My mind wanders go Ginsberg,

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,
starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking
for an angry fix,

It drifts to William Burroughs Naked Lunch. Over on Open Culture, I look at some Rare Footage of Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac & Other Beats Hanging Out in the East Village.

It was over fifty years ago, about the time I was born, and things have changed a lot since then. Today, the headline is Teen missing from Naugatuck after going out with man she met on social media.

The responses were predictable.

You should NEVER meet anyone in person that you talk to on social media. But if you do decide to, ALWAYS meet somewhere in public and with someone else. Never go alone…
I just wonder how many rocks these teens live under ? With all the media attention to this situation, what does teens not understand about meeting up with total strangers they meet on the internet?!! Parents, please stress this dangerous behavior or choices they are making.

When I read stories like this, I often wonder what the backstory is. Was this an innocent naïve girl who made a bad choice? What else was going on? Trying to get a more complete story, I searched around and found Unknown, the first four chapters of a story by a person with the same name as the missing teen. It starts with the needle puncture quoted above, and gets more raw as you read more.

Perhaps the missing teen is much less naïve than the commenters on news article believed her to be. Perhaps, she is much less naïve than the commenters themselves. The updated news story reports that has been found safe and unharmed.

I queue up Neil Young.

I've seen the needle
and the damage done
A little part of it in everyone
But every junkie's
like a settin' sun.

Perhaps the true story will remain, unknown.

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