Black Tar Heroin

Ever thought about planning a vacation in Tenderloin, San Francisco, California?

You may want to think again.

That's where the heroin action is at, in the documentary Black Tar Heroin: The Dark End of the Street. Watching this documentary is almost a challenge, so unforgiving and straightforward and matter-of-fact and naturalistic and methodical is it in pursuing the ruined lives of black tar junkies in San Francisco over the course of three abominable years. It is a brave documentary, but only as brave as the audience that stomachs it.

The Buddhist equations of desire and pain always balance out. Heroin causes an incomprehensible hunger for that once-felt pleasure, and the pain it causes is therefore equally immeasurable. The damaging nature of the experience becomes irreversible with astonishing speed. Suffering co-exists with ecstasy in the life of the junkie in a way we cannot grasp, and yet suffering always wins out in the end. With the exception of death, of course.

I experienced several phases of reaction watching this. Cringing horror at the hell chosen by these individuals. Empathy that ripped me open. Then a calm, detached sense of observation. Finally, a sense of wishing for them to go even farther. At some point, why maintain the pretense of wanting to kick the habit? Free yourself of hope and admit you are going to shoot yourself up until you cease to exist. Resign yourself to this, abandon the facade, and slowly up the grams of heroin you do everyday until you overdose. Problem is, as it's been well-documented, the ever resilient human body develops tolerance for the poison really fast, so to do what I'm suggesting you'd have to up the doses so quickly you probably wouldn't last a year. And, from a practical perspective, you'd have to have money saved up for the escalating insanity of heroin abuse, which of course isn't most junkie's situation. Barring that, I'd think suicide is a good option. But do it right. None of this "I tried to OD" bullshit. Gun to the head or equivalent. If I sound cynical right now, don't judge me harshly for it. I am still exercising empathy, wanting to see the suffering end. If you decide heroin is the way to go and you cross the no-going-back line, what I'm suggesting will ease suffering, on the whole. The problem with this line of reasoning, of course, is that it presents a logical attack on the problem and, more importantly, involves courage, the courage of admitting to oneself you are self-destructing and will be saying goodbye soon. And when you begin the transformation into the stringy, lifeless hollowed-out heroin fiend, you will lose all reasoning and courage, making you incapable of choice.