2006-08-29 - 6:58 p.m.
From : xxxxxxxxxxxx (my mom)
Sent : August 28, 2006 2:44:52 PM
To : ELOFTING@HOTMAIL.COM
(Editor's Note: I Don't Aspire to That in My Life will, probably, continue. I was sure that I had conclusions to draw will all that... The following is an excerpt of an email sent from my mom only five days after passing out at the OSF. I wonder if I should feel bad for blogging with this, which probably means that I should. But, I've found myself mentally composing the sort of response I would like to have sent her - very different from the response that I actually sent - since yesterday, and would prefer to spend my time thinking of other things. I document the following, in essence, to be free of it. And of this we shall speak no more.)
************
...Today I went to a Chrystl Meth workshop given by the RCMP. It was very, very interesting. What a huge problem this drug is! Erin, I know that Ellen listens to you and I would ask you to please tell her this one thing that I've learned today. Ecstasy often contains Chrystl meth; infact over 63% of tablets contain Chrystl meth. Meth leads to 3 things: jail, institutions and death. In fact the life expentancy of someone on Chrystl meth is 7 months. I know all this is very sobering and Ellen has not confided much of her substance disorder problems with me but I would be delinquent if I did not share this information.
Erin, I have another (less important) request to make of you. When we went to the S.A. Thrift shop they neglected to give me the needle for the Sony turntable. I thought I could just pick one up but it turns out it's a large problem. Could you please call them and either have them send it to me (because it was their mistake and I had asked "the boy" to insert the needle and test the turntable which he did not do)? At any rate, if they are unwilling to send it - is there any way that you could pick it up?
See you soon and thanks a lot.
Love, Mom
************
Mom,
Are you fucking with me? Did this email somehow escape from a different dimension, a path that always forked in the direction of things that annoy? Perhaps this is the work of aliens who are, for reasons only they could know, playing an intergalactic prank on me?
You passed out at the OSF five days ago, involuntarily humbled yourself, and stumbled upon an odd opportunity to be more likable than you have been in years. Are you really climbing back up on your horse already?
Your horse is broken. And you, wrong. My enemies are not meth, or meth users. North American nematodes with no imagination are my enemy. Ugly women with hard nipples who take it upon themselves to tell me that I shouldn't be on the sidewalk with a bike are my enemy. Men who call breasts a rack and aren't joking are my enemy. Meth and meth users are not my enemy.
And besides, Ellen isn't on meth. And besides that, she doesn't listen to me either.
And besides that, I am not a nematode without imagination. When given information, I expect it to be better than that which you have provided, which only tells me how little you understand of the world that surrounds you, and of myself.
You can't simply claim, for example, that meth users only have about seven months to live. I want to know where that figure came from, and who reported it. If we are talking about homeless meth users with any of the following problems: was beaten/touched by dad/uncle/stranger, are schizophrenic/bipolar, would work in a grocery store for life if clean, then maybe I can accept that figure. But I will not accept that a person trying to get ecstasy and getting meth will become addicted to meth and die.
Many drugs lead not to jail, institutions and death, but to being high, laughing, and fun.
And why meth? Many foods, soaps, and cleaning products contain ingredients that are known to cause cancer. The RCMP don't give workshops about it (why are you going to RCMP workshops?) but it is a scientific fact that has been proven many times. And yet, these ingredients continue to be used, and all sorts of other nastiness continues to happen because, basically, the world is a pretty nasty place.
The world is a pretty nasty place, and also a complicated one. One in which you can't just let someone tell you that meth is your enemy and then believe that.
Asking the Salvation Army for a needle for your record player sounds annoying, but I'll probably do it. It couldn't be any more annoying than listening to you make a fuss with the staff when you bought it in the first place, or listening to the fuss you will make if I come to Vernon with no needle.
(Editor's Note: I have since received yet another email from my mom stating that the needle had, in fact, been in the record player the whole time.)
-erin
