As illegal drug use becomes an increasingly important part of our social and cultural identity, growing numbers of people depend on their stash to do more than get them high. Whereas a well-stocked medicine cabinet once simply meant you were sickly, today, in some circles, it's an arena for social one-upmanship. Like fine wines and expensive cigars, the contents of one's stash can signify wealth, connections, a refined taste, even scholarly erudition.

I had never thought about this until I went to visit Om today. Om is one of those people you grew up with, who then vanished and suddenly appeared with a new girlfriend, new car.. and believe it or not- new house. Apart from the goatie and height the only other changes are the drugs. What ever happened to downing a couple of largars at the bar and calling it a night mate?
"Try a little snort of this Number Four Chinese buddy! My dealer assures me this is strictly for personal use and rarely sold to the American hoi polloi"

The WAHHAT?

Om lives in a house that looks like that guy's from Boogie Nights with the kid that throws firecrackers in the house and always stops you when a song he knows the words to comes on. Come- to think of it, he looks a little like that too. His girl is hispanic.

I'm afraid you've been taken for a fool Om. It's just regular Afghani smoking base. Too much codeine by-product and heavily adulterated. Note the bouquet of crushed Veganin - I bet it produces a nasty aftertaste.

I've worked on flicks about drugs and believe me, the research is just as detailed as being a drug fiend yourself. His girl eyes me with that why-don't-you-just-join-in-instead-of-being-such-a-fscking-whinyo look. Yeah I know that look, I got it about 10 years ago from a girl when I was in Mombasa and had the chance to boink her on the beach, only I made up this exuse about having to meet up the fellows early for dinner. Yeah I know, it's fscking pussy shit, but I ended up boinking Charlotte the class hooker later that night at about 2am so I still emptied my balls. I'm a choosy fsck what can I say?

Om isn't happy. I try and get him to go out for LUNCH with me.

SNIFFFFFFF...

Why go out? Estella can heat up some microwave dinner for us man... I tell you...
This is where I drift off. Where the whams and slangs become a galaxy of hazy nebula falling into themselves in space.

Estelle brings me a soda, I make some phone calls- I even go outside for a while just to relax. Waaaa dude, you've turned into a fscking junkie.
Across the street teenagers serve up three gram-bottles of fluffy heroin for $50 a pop. I know Om will get some later- hell; that's what he looks like. I'm going for dinner. LUNCH stank.