Thursday, July 09, 2009

Thursday night

Watching Anderson Cooper. All this stuff coming out about Michael Jackson's drug use. Reminds me a lot about B. I really didn't know about B.'s drug use until after he'd moved here. (They try to keep it a secret because they still want to be loved.) A few months after he'd moved in, we went on a cruise together. He was acting very strange, e.g., passing out for hours and difficult to wake up, which couldn't be explained by some beers and Grand Marnier.

At one point while he was passed out in the cabin (we had a nice cabin with a terrace, although behind some lifeboats), I went through his suitcase and found a Zip-Lock bag of various pills and flushed them down the toilet. Big mistake. I think it was the next morning, when we were getting breakfast before arriving back in Miami, he collapsed at the breakfast buffet and went into a seizure on the floor. He dropped his tray and everything, with all these people looking on. (A long story.) Then when we got back home to the apartment, he had another seizure. I had no idea what was going on. Then we went over to his "best friend's" (who I didn't know at the time was a drug dealer) and (unbeknownst to me) he got more drugs.

The drug dealer died eventually from an overdose (at age 50 or 51) and then B. had another seizure, at his place of business. (Another long story.) That's when he ended up in rehab. And then this new guy comes along supplying him drugs again... (Where he's living now.)

As much as I still care about B. (for no good reason, it seems), I'm just glad that this is no longer happening under my nose. It was very difficult to deal with. And I'd already dealt with my mother's bipolar disease back in my 20s and very early 30s, until she died. (I have lots of long stories.) (Including AIDS stories that were happening back then.) I was whooped already.

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