Carolina la heroína (the Sixth Chapter)

Hola, maestro! As promised, you didn’t have to wait long to receive this e-mail. It’s just a continuation of the story of the night at the Six Motel with the man I found at the sex shop and the crew assembled around us. So with that, I’ll just pick up where I left off.

In any event, our conversations in the room were interesting, but Chaz, of course, had ideas to advance his concept that the meaning of life is in the reaction to experience. He invited some people over to see what would happen.

Frank and Caroline were a couple Chaz had invited into our room. Apparently, Chaz really wanted to distract me from Noah, or at least replace her with a woman he could provide. This was clear evidence that Chaz was nothing more than a simple drug dealer trying to win a client, or in my case, a servant. But this didn’t mean that my observations concerning the devil operating through him were inaccurate.

The situation had every look of a grand temptation. Caroline was incredibly beautiful. Of course, she was also addicted to heroin. Remember the point I made previously about acquiring a devoted woman by literally addicting her to me via a heroin habit? Well, this will be a story about how a situation like that can, and probably will, turn out in the end.

But first, I have another pattern of “apophenia” to share with you. At that time, there was a very popular song on the TikTok app that I use sometimes. People use this app to create very short videos, usually funny or sexual, thought they invariably fall short of pornography. Participants often put on extreme makeup, dress up, and say or do weird or interesting things, occasionally using an audio background of popular or weird songs, or songs that fit the themes of their videos. These songs are often the inspiration of the content of the video. Further, when a song becomes popular, many people try to create more interesting, different, or weird videos than others based on the same song. It’s a grand attempt by the community to see how many likes someone can get on their video using a popular song or theme. In fact, sometimes it’s not possible to find videos that don’t involve a particular song, and certain songs may be stuck in your mind for days when they are popular on TikTok. Scrolling through TikTok can actually get a song stuck in your head. That happened to me around this time, and I had been thinking of a particular song in those days about a crazy man in a mental sanatorium that had interesting lyrics:

I wasn’t always crazy
Till I met this bitch named Caroline
A lot of you might actually know her
Her real name’s, uh heroin

That’s All, Skitz Kraven

The song was excessively dark, and I had that stanza stuck in my head for a while during that time. For me this was more than chance. The first heroin addict I knew in 25 years had the same name as the character in a song I had stuck in my mind. But yes, maestro, I was very high. It was probably all apophenia. Or maybe all reality is my dream, as the Prince of my legend maintains. Or, finally, maybe all reality is a divinely inspired tale with deep messages from heaven. Frankly, maestro, I agree more with the latter explanation. But when life begins to involve huge numbers of thematically relevant coincidences, the former begs to be explored.

I don’t want to flood you with philosophy, though. I’ll just say that my phone malfunctioned when I tried to watch porn on it, my friend tried to sell me as a prostitute because he thought I wanted to be a woman, and I met the heroin addict from a TikTok song. Food for thought. In any case, I will continue my story. It’s getting weirder!

Frank was Latino. Puerto Rican. But he didn’t speak Spanish. I don’t know if he had even visited Puerto Rico. He had been the owner of some store of some type I don’t remember, although apparently he lost everything somehow. I think he was in his late twenties. Carolina was only twenty-two. She was absolutely and spectacularly beautiful. She had the body of a porn star. Her look was was exactly the type that would have piqued my arousal at that time: petite but athletic, with small breasts like apples, and a perfect gymnast’s ass. Every detail of her shape was perfect. Even her hands, her fingers, her collarbone, the musculature of her shoulders … everything. Her straight hair was the color of an expensive merlot. In fact, Chaz told me to be careful, because Carolina was a woman of a higher standard than most women in this world, and Frank could be very dangerous in defending his treasure. Unfortunately, I was very high.

Immediately upon arrival, the couple began to fight verbally. I don’t remember the subject. I think he wanted to know something, and she didn’t want to tell him what he wanted to know. I confess, maestro, that I did not know what Chaz had told them to convince them to come. I guess he told them something about a new friend with a room, drugs, and money to party. I didn’t hide the fact that I was carrying drugs, which obviously captured Caroline’s interest. We smoked a speedball. Suddenly Chaz and Melinda told me they were hungry. I didn’t understand at all how it was possible to be hungry after smoking so much speed. The drug is an appetite suppressant. In any case, Chaz announced that he could buy some food with his food stamps, but I gave him some cash and my car keys to take the stress out of his dilemma.

So there I was with Frank and Carolina. I was horny, even though crystal usually made me impotent. That’s how it was when I was young, anyway. Many people when taking crystal can and do want to fuck like bulls, but others can’t have sex at all, lose lose any desire to perform the deed. I’m in this latter group. In addition, a primary effect of crystal is that a person wants to think and talk. It was likely that Melinda lost any trace of an ability to shut her mouth because of the effect of the meth. Anyway, I was horny, but I didn’t want to have sex. I wanted to talk, of course, about this new life and the subject of sex is always fun. Especially with such a spectacular beauty in the room.

Despite this, however, the initial conversation was typical. I learned a few details of Frank’s life, like those mentioned above. I also discovered that Caroline had a son. He didn’t live with her, but with her relatives. That was significant to me. A mother should to be with her children. And children need fathers. Frank wasn’t the father of the son. I guess if Frank had been the father of the son, Caroline probably wouldn’t be addicted to heroin. It seems he found a pretty girl, probably at a bad point in her life. Remember Chaz’ statement: desperation makes people do desperate things. Frank was older, with a company and money. For her, Frank would have been an escape from a life with a fatherless son and upset and disappointed parents.

Naturally, Frank liked pretty girls. Me too. Who doesn’t? They are the treasures of humanity. And treasures from God. All people are. And for men, all women are. But the young pretty girl, well, maestro, you’re a man. You know what they do to us. Anyway, naturally Frank liked excitement, parties, and, apparently, drugs. Obviously Frank had discovered that a girl addicted to drugs can be very faithful. Frank was Latino. Latinos are jealous. Loyalty is very important for Latinos.

But something happened. He lost his company and his money. He couldn’t provide the source of his girlfriend’s addiction. She was pretty. Was she tempted to sell herself for drugs? No doubt. And of course, Frank would need to circumvent that somehow. He probably wanted to check her phone, her stuff, her schedule, etcetera. Maybe that’s why they yelled and fought over and over again. It didn’t take Caroline long to realize that I could maintain her habit. I also played innocent. I didn’t have to work at it, really. I was high. A man had tried to sell me as a prostitute and I was still hanging out with him. I even gave my cash and my car to that stranger because his hunger was stressful for me, and I wanted to be unencumbered to talk to that girl. As a woman addicted to heroin, perhaps she would feel more comfortable if she were controlled by a man she could also control in her way, with her beauty.

I remembered my conversation with Chaz about the ideal bride. But I had a dream about Noah and some kind of destiny pertaining to Israel. At that time I was really innocent. I was completely high, talking about a lot of things, but I had no plans whatsoever to steal her from her boyfriend. But yes, it was interesting that hours earlier it had come up that the perfect bride would be a heroin addict, and Chaz gave me a very beautiful heroin addict who fought with her boyfriend incessantly, and who showed interest in me.

It wasn’t long before someone mentioned sex, and I announced that I wasn’t able to have sex, but that I could watch and share and participate a little in a threesome if someone wanted to. Frank thought this was really weird. Of course, he was Latin. They are macho and jealous and all their fantasies involve many women, while the women have no other men in the scenario. My statement probably seemed weird to Caroline, too, but I could tell she wanted to use this information. It wasn’t long before she went to the bathroom with Frank, and I could hear them having sex there. She was very noisy. Frank was doing a good job. I admit it was fun listening to them. Obviously she was trying to flaunt her sexuality and drive me wild with desire. Eventually I got so horny that I wanted to look at them. The door wasn’t locked, so I opened it and there was Carolina completely naked, sitting on the toilet. Her body was absolutely perfect. She looked at me and gave a mischievous smile. But was interesting to find out that Frank wasn’t doing anything sexual with her at all. He wasn’t screwing his girlfriend. He was sitting next to the toilet, fully dressed, messing with something under the sink. When I opened the door, he quickly looked back to see me gawking at naked Caroline and slammed the door shut. Soon after, Caroline stopped her moaning. What was going on? Were they staging having sex so Frank could fiddle with the plumbing in the Motel Six? This would feed some paranoia later that probably ended up keeping me out of jail. But let me continue the story.

I waited until they finished. After they came out of the bathroom, Carolina talked to me while Frank did something near the other sink outside the bathroom. Carolina explained to me that sex was not really that important, that she preferred intimacy and trust. I thought she wanted care for my male ego because I mentioned that I couldn’t function sexually. But I was under the influence of crystal, whiskey and heroin. Some people do manage to perform under such circumstances, but no one could have had high expectations, could they? Therefore I was not in the least bit ashamed to mention my predicament. I thought it was right normal. In any case, it was obvious that Caroline wanted to change her boyfriend. She told me Frank never helped her with her injections. I replied that in the Army I had learned to give injections, that I could help her.

However, I asked her, “you’re constantly fighting with Frank. How do I know you wouldn’t constantly fight with me if I was your boyfriend?” She didn’t answer, but he gave a strange look. She had found my question interesting, but she did not have time to answer. Frank was listening and began a conversation about the relationship between them.

Frank wasn’t a dangerous guy. In fact, he had a sensitive heart. However, it was also clear to him that his girlfriend wanted to change partners. He was angry with me, but he didn’t get violent. He wanted to explain to his girlfriend and me that he had more money than I did when he had his company, and that my pension wasn’t that big a deal. I mentioned it wasn’t just a matter of money. Carolina had a son, and it was not good to spend the night in motels with drugs and unknown perverts like me while her son was with relatives. Frank told me that they had chosen the life they were now living, and preferred this life to any other. I thought that was a ridiculous answer. I asked Caroline, “why would you prefer me over Frank? For the money?” Of course no rational person would say, “of course, just for the money.”

Her answer was “you communicate, you’re expressive.”

I thought this was a genuine answer. That’s how I am. I explained that Frank was Latino and that Latinos were jealous, that they rarely talk about their emotions and feelings. Carolina said, “Frank isn’t Latino, he’s Puerto Rican.” I had to explain to them that Puerto Ricans were Latinos, like all those who speak Spanish and Portuguese. In fact, Italians and French are also technically Latinos because they speak languages that come from Latin, but with the appearance of the term “Latin America,” the word is more associated with people from the countries of the western hemisphere who are Hispanic, in addition to Brazil. They both looked at me like I was a genius.

When we were talking, Caroline prepared an injection from the heroin I gave her and asked, “who wants to help me?”

Frank saw the dose and told Caroline, “I won’t help you with such a big dose. You want to kill yourself?”

Caroline then looked at me and said, “can you inject me?”

I looked at Frank and asked if the injection was dangerous. He said it was. I remember thinking a dead girl could make the night go south very, very quickly. Why did she want such a big dose? And why did she want someone to give it to her? It was almost like she was baiting me to accidentally kill her. This combined with the bizarre scenario of Frank fiddling with the plumbing while faking a sex scene could certainly fuel a lot of paranoia. But what sort of agent would arrange a scenario for Jonathan Bailey to get stuck in a room having killed a heroin addict in a room full of drugs? Maybe the demons running rampant in everyone’s hearts who were not friendly to Jonathan.

“Caroline, sorry, I can’t give you a lethal dose.” from this point on, I think Frank and I had an understanding, at least to a point. The girl’s life was important to both of us. I do not know if she ended up giving herself an injection and what all was in any shot she finally ended up using. She didn’t end up dying, so I assume in the end he gave herself a small dose.

From there the dialog got really weird. Frank’s girlfriend had basically announced to everyone that she wanted to abandon her boyfriend because of a high stranger who just had introduced himself to her with words of kinky voyeurism. But we started to have enough familiarity and comfort to relax a little. We lay on the bed to talk more. Of course, seeing Carolina in bed was a splendid sight. We talked about relationships and, of course, about sex. I explained to her that, contrary to what she might imagine, I had no great desire to have a girlfriend. That I actually thought I might have a destiny in Israel, and that this destiny might have something to do with a teenager in that country. But, as I mentioned, I like to watch sex, so I suggested a show. I suppose I had an angel on one shoulder and a legion of demons on the other. Looking back on it, talking of destiny in the Holy Land and an otherworldly love with an image from some Spotify songs had absolutely nothing to do with shooting heroin and threesomes in a Motel Six. Totally nuts, really.

But with my request for some eroticism, Caroline moved toward Frank with an intense passion in her eyes. She was absolutely wonderful. She wanted to put on a show, but Frank was embarrassed. He said to Caroline, “He’ll see my tiny penis.”

For some reason I just said to Frank, “No problem. You don’t have to do anything awkward.” I didn’t tell him the size of his penis wasn’t important. I didn’t tell them that just seeing him kiss her would be spectacular. I should have reminded them that I myself was a limp noodle and that I didn’t understand why anyone would feel ashamed after everything had been said. I do not know why I did not say those important things. But with a sex show off the table, and we continue to talk about life and relationships. Maybe a night of amateur porn would have been fun, but in a few minutes Frank and Carolina back at teir bickering and fighting. Of course I tried to psychoanalyze their problems from a healthier, more balanced perspective. Yeah, right after suggesting I watch them fuck. I can’t offer any explanation, maestro. Drugs. Lunacy. Anyway, they both got mad at me. Suddenly they decided to just up and leave.

So there there I was. Alone. In a room absolutely full of drugs. There was cocaine in the bathroom. There were glass pipes. A syringe for heroin. And a spoon. There were drugs all over the room, plus various empty bags covered in white powder. Chaz and Melinda didn’t come back with my car. I couldn’t find my debit card. And my phone charger was in the car. The only thing in the room that wasn’t an illegal substance was a women’s T-shirt I found in bed. It had a single bold pink word written in front of it: “Relax!”

In that instant, I connected many points in my enlightened apophenia. The whole evening seemed to me a grand exercise in temptation. And if I did not fall into temptation, the devil would seek to destroy me. Why was it so important to watch porn on my phone? Why was Frank working on all the sinks? Why did Caroline want me to give her a lethal injection? It was as if the devil wanted to create a situation where I was high in a room full of substances with a dead heroin addict while there was pornography running on the TV. Eventually the police would show up, and it would be the end of the Jonathan the monk. And I was supposed to just sit there and “Relax!” It was all very obvious.

Thank God I didn’t give Caroline that big shot. I didn’t have to worry about a dead girl in the bathroom. But I had to do something about this drug den I was wallowing in all alone and out of my mind. Fortunately, people under the effect of crystal often clean things compulsively. They rummage around for hours cleaning every molecule of dust from a room. Crystal really is neurotic heaven. People can clean all day with just a little bit of crystal. So, I cleaned the fucking room. For hours. I pulverized the pipes and the syringe. I flushed everything down the toilet. I ran a rag all over the bathroom. And I checked the sinks where Frank had spent so much time.

I didn’t find anything special in the bathroom, but under the second sink I ran into a bag of meth. Maybe a sixteenth of an ounce. At least $60 worth of dope. I was stunned. Did I happen to have found drugs from previous guests? Or did Frank really try to plant them in my room? You see my dilemma, maestro? One would surely describe me as paranoid, but these bizarre things really happened, and I really did find planted drugs. Yeah, I was high. Could I have hallucinated these things? But very strange things, such as the inability to watch porn on my phone, occurred along with the finding of bags of drugs in places where people had been messing around under bizarre cirumcstances like faking a sex scene in the bathroom. I wish I had taken a picture of that bag, but I’ll swear to you it was as real as anything else I have ever seen.

You have to admit, maestro, that my “apophenia” seems to be a good thing, doesn’t it? Did you notice the patterns of this experience? Just like the perfect temptation followed by the perfect montage.

I finished cleaning the room about at dawn. I had no money, no car, and my phone was dead. I figured Chaz and Melinda weren’t coming back. I wanted to order an Uber to go to my parents’ house, so I left the room looking for power for the phone. In fact, I didn’t know where in town I was. I just started walking.

Within a few minutes I arrived at Fashion Square Mall, a prominent shopping center in Scottsdale, Arizona. Along the way I thought of Noah and the desire to alter reality with my mind, like the Prince. I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t eaten anything. And I had many, many drugs in my system. Everything was like a dream. I don’t remember how, but I got the idea that Noah would meet me at the mall. I walked around the mall looking for her, asking the employees if they had seen a tall, beautiful Dutch teenager. I even ran through all the levels of the parking lot thinking I’d see Noah any minute. At one point, a security officer told me I was causing distress to customers and that I had to leave the place.

I was so confused that I didn’t find Noah. I couldn’t think. I went to the street again to find a charger for my phone, no longer thinking about what had happened at the mall. At this point, the most important thing for me was the fact that apparently no one in Scottsdale was using Samsung. I walked into a lot of stores and nobody had a charger for my phone. In the United States, more than half of people have an iPhone. Eventually I found a restaurant where I could charge my phone. I explained to the bartender that I could pay for a drink with Samsung Pay using my phone. I needed time to charge it. After a few minutes I was able to turn it on, but I couldn’t figure out how to use Samsung Pay. My phone wasn’t working. Yes, maestro, I was very high and had been looking for a Dutch girl who lived in Israel in a shopping center in Scottsdale, Arizona! However, what I found odd was that the phone didn’t work. I was probably too intoxicated to operate it, but at the time I seemed to see a significant pattern in the rare functioning of my device.

Obviously I couldn’t use my cell phone to buy a drink, so I had to apologize and leave the restaurant. I kept looking for a charger because my phone only had a low percentage of charge. I went into a lunch café where I saw a group of girls talking at a table toward the front. Suddenly they all laughed loudly. I said something innocuous in surprise: “Wow, you guys sure look like you’re having a party.” With that, I left the place because they didn’t have the charger I needed.

Then, at another fast food restaurant, hoping to find someone with a charger that could save me, a woman walked into the restaurant and walked straight toward me. She said, “If you bother customers, I’ll call the police. People got really scared when you harassed the girls.” I didn’t know how to answer. I just said, “Okay.” But this was just bizarre. I should have said that I didn’t remember saying anything bad to anyone, just a general comment, and that on the contrary, I felt harassed by a woman who came to threaten me with calling the police. Why a threat of police for just making an off-hand comment quickly while passing by a table of customers on the way out of the café?

It seemed to me as if the devil knew that I was sensitive to the rejection of women. So he possessed this woman and drove her to haunt me and treat me like I was a pervert. Fortunately, the woman left after I said “Okay.” The owner and the employees of the restaurant may have thought the woman was weird too, because they were very kind to me from that moment on. They apologized and informed me that they didn’t have my type of charger. I thanked them and left the place.
I was thirsty, so I went to a nearby canal. I started swimming and drinking. Yes, basically sewer water. The temperature had to have been 35 degrees, and I needed to freshen up. Swimming in a sewer canal just had to be the best way to do that, right? Anyway, I do not know how many hours I was there, but the police saw me swimming around and came up to me with patrol car lights blaring and started asking me questions. They explained to me that what I was doing was illegal because the canal was sewage. Interestingly, they wanted to see my phone. Looking for pornography? I don’t know. I suppose the angels helped me because there was nothing on the phone. Maybe all the phone problems were the result of supernatural influences? It was also interesting that the police had the charger I needed. I guess they had all sorts of cords and chargers in order to do their job of investigating the criminals. Or it could have been that one of them had a Samsung, right?

I told the police everything. In addition to his jokes about chloroform, Chaz had sometimes joked about sodium pentothal, a “truth drug” used by the government during interrogations to motivate people to confess. During my interview with the police, I thought maybe Chaz had slipped me this drug in secret. He certainly would have had the opportunity to do so. At any rate, I didn’t hide anything. I gave them the room number at the Motel Six, told them about the drugs, even that I had destroyed all the drug evidence. The police treated me like I was a victim of some really bad dudes. Perhaps I was? They took Chaz’s name and number, asked me to report my car stolen, returned my phone, and ordered me not to swim in the canal.

The sun was setting. I went to an Italian restaurant. They ended up having the charger I needed. I approached the bar and asked the bartender if I could just drink water while waiting for my phone to charge to call my mom. He very kindly told me I could do whatever I needed to. I was sitting there waiting at the bar next to two beautiful young women. They were talking about transsexualism. I’m not lying, maestro. What was with this recurrent theme of transsexualism?

On second thought, at this point it seemed obvious to me that my personality was influencing my perceptions, but in a completely unbelievable way. For example, I’m hypersensitive to accusations of being a pervert. A woman chased me to threaten to call the police if I harassed the women in her restaurant, even though I had done nothing to anyone beyond uttering a short sentence. And now, after Chaz tried to sell me as a prostitute and treated me like a transsexual with Melinda, I had to hear more bullshit about transsexualism from these women in the restaurant again. I even believed that they were treating me as if I were a woman, a victim of the unjust circumstances of a patriarchy made by selfish and angry men. In my mind, confused and drugged, they were very nice until they asked me my name, until they discovered that I was a man myself! Suddenly, after I told them, “Jonathan,” and there was no doubt for them of who I was from my deep, masculine voice, with my man’s name, they instantly changed their demeanor. They were no longer friendly, and changed the subject to talking about their boyfriends and did not want to speak to me any longer.

Okay then! Luckily my phone was ready. I called my mother while looking at these women who avoided me and behaved absolutely differently because they knew my name was Jonathan. I was very, very paranoid. I has a fear Chaz could turn up at any moment to cause more trouble. Waiting for my mother’s rescue was difficult. Immediately when she showed up I snuck out of the restaurant quickly and without a word to anyone.

I jumped into my mother’s car like a bank robber flinging himself into a getaway car with a bag of money. I told my mom that my car had been stolen and that I had been at a party, with drugs, but I didn’t give her any more details. She was upset, but we agreed that I needed to recover.

Over the next few days I spent all the time asleep or watching TV, talking to the police about my stolen car and listening to more Noah van Ouwerkerk songs.

Maestro, this concludes the first of three drug adventures I had in Scottsdale between October and November 2019. The madness of that first event was greater than I could comprehend at the time. Any psychologist would only be able to describe it as a complete schizophrenic break with reality. But having experienced it, the whole interrelation of my personality with the behavior of people around me, possible hallucinations, all woven seamlessly into a “normal” human experience, I couldn’t get my head around what happened in the slightest. And in the end, an incredible curiosity and what I can only in retrospect describe as the poorest judgment that a human being can evince, I ended up doing these drugs two more times. It wasn’t my plan to do so, and I’ll explain in future mails e-mails what ended up happening. For now, I think I want to show you the things I heard in Noah’s songs. That’s what my next e-mail will be about.

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