I am glad to think of myself as a distribution agent for fun and excitement. The paradox of having none of my own seems funny. The only real fun or excitement I get is when I get high. The problem with the carnival always moving around is that any connections any of us get, we do not have them for long, and by the time we come back the next year, they could be dead, gone, or arrested. Drug dealers do not exactly have a record of long life expectancy.
Most people forget that.
That the very folks that deal pleasure and excitement, that feed their cravings and their minds, are the very people who are going to be found dead in the gutter in a matter of months. I like to think of the unlucky people sometimes. I try to not consider myself unlucky. I think I come out pretty good. The only time I really ever looked down on myself since I hooked up with the carnival is the time I got the shit beat out of me.