Nationally, it looks like heroin use has stayed relatively level, but use of the drug on my front porch has skyrocketed 100 percent during the past 24 hours. My roommate found a dirty syringe on our front porch yesterday afternoon. The experience apparently left him shaken enough that he lost all standards of cleanliness, picked it up, walked in the front door and asked somewhat rhetorically: “Does anyone know where the fuck this came from?” I haven’t noticed any track marks lately, so barring some seriously closeted heroin use in the household, it’s safe to say some dirt bag has been using my front porch as a spot to get his or her nod on. My neighborhood isn’t even that bad — not that good, either — but definitely not a spot where one would expect to find a dirty syringe on one’s front porch. Then again, the couch on our porch — to use the really obvious pun — is waaaaaay dope.