stoner.

Funny to think, I remember when I had the thought to write this little bit.

I wanted to do so blazed out of my mind, but perhaps it’s better I get this out while my sobriety still has somewhat of a chance.

I remember when we first met. I mean when we really met.

I had fooled around with her cousin, Spice. (I was a dumb fucking 21 year old, okay? I thought at the time I was going to grow up and become a police officer. Now I see what that shit has done and still continues to do to people. Poison.)

I called my friend and asked him if he could get us together, and I could hear his smile all the way on my side of the phone.

Him: “What do you want? 20?”

Me: “Fuck dude, I don’t know, I guess!”

Him: “Alright, see you in 30?”

I remember being nervous.

A thin layer of perspiration on my hands even.

The call came and I met up with my friend.

He handed me a small ball of tin foil and said, “have fun.”

I made my way to another friend’s house, one who hadn't smoked for a while and had agreed to participate with me during my first time. 

We sat in his room while, with somewhat shaky hands, I opened the small package of tin foil. The little green bud which sat in the palm of my hand was a dark, forest green. It had dark little hairs that came off all sides of it and looked as though it had been sitting out in a frost overnight.

I couldn’t believe the odor coming off the little piece of plant.

It was kinda like a skunk fart, but in a good way. (and now this smell makes my mouth water.)

My Friend: “That looks like some pretty decent stuff! Stinky too!”

But I had no clue.

(Since then, I’ve realized that all these little characteristics can somewhat help you judge quality.)

Neither of us were smokers (yet), which meant we didn’t have a piece or pipe to smoke from, so if I’m remembering right I’m pretty sure we used an old pepsi can.

We passed the can back and forth as we stood in the garage at my friend’s home, taking our turn, lighting the herb and inhaling its smokes.

I had been high before (a la the sinister bitch, spice) but it hadn’t been like this.

Clean.

Whole.

Pure.

I can’t remember what we did that night (how many movies we watched, or video games we played, or snacks we ate) but goddammit, it sure was fucking fun.

I’ve been smoking ever since; day, night, morning and evening.

I don’t regret it either.

Marijuana has made me a thinker. A dreamer. And at times, a doer.

Your what-ifs become expanded in the haze and your mind is able to see situations from all angles.

Inspirations fly from your mind, and if you’re lucky enough to catch some they’re gold.

Marijuana has made me a more tolerant person.

Smoking makes you more open to others and their ideas and ideals.

This has carried over into my everyday life.

I’ve realized that despite how fucking incredibly different we all are, we all have thoughts, emotions, ideas, etc running the tracks of our synapses and that in the end we are all playing the same game.

Marijuana has made me more confident.

Ever heard of stoner charm?

It’s a real thing and it gets me free little goodies every once and awhile.

I honestly don't care what you think about me or what I’m wearing.

(Even when I’m not stoned!)

I realize I look like some sort of gothic spy wannabe, but who really gives a fuck when it comes down to it? Imma do me, so please please please do you boo boo.

Sure there are the occasion hang-ups for newbie smokers.

- The “too-high” moments.

- The “convinced that I am never ever coming down from this and that this will be the state of my mind for the rest of my life” moments.

- The “I think the couch is looking at me funny and the toilet is talking shit” moments.

I think a lot of people get turned off of pot because of these incidents.

But people must also consider dosage, as they do with liquor.

If you’re a newbie drinker you don’t slam a 40oz (unless is pledge week, in which case you slam the 40 and then sit on the bottle), you take it easy.

Slow and steady wins the race.

The same goes for marijuana, take a few puffs and give it 30 minutes and then if you’re up for it, go ahead and have some more man!

But there are also SNAFUs as a seasoned smoker.

Once everyone knows, they know. And they’ll let you know that they know by saying something lame to let you know that they think you’re always too high and that you must be losing your mind and that you couldn’t put one foot in front of another if you had to even if you were sober.

Motherfucker can you rip through traffic and pedestrians at 25-30mph in on a fixed gear in the middle of Friday rush night after toking down a fat bowl or two and come home without a scratch? There are many that can, but many, many, many more that would end up as a greasy fucking spot on the pavement.

So when it comes to functionality and marijuana, I say “bitch, be quiet” to those that think stoners are all drooling idiots, incapable of normal speech and etiquette.

I guess I wrote this to share a side of myself that I don’t normally put out there.

It’s not that I’m embarrassed to smoke pot, I just feel like it’s not necessary to make it a major part of who I am. Some people like to come home, kick off their shoes and pour up a nice glass of whiskey on cubes, whereas I like to come home, load up a bowl and make music/write/read/what have you.

We’re all allowed our little vices and I would like to think that smoking pot is mine (in addition to the many other vices I have that don’t count while I’m writing this).

With all that being said, let’s smoke sometime?