This is the bite. I become anxious, jumpy, I want a drink, there’s an insatiability. If the experience stayed this way, I wouldn’t want to partake in it again. But it won’t stay this way. The edge will smooth out. This is probably what I’ve gotten wrong when eating mushrooms. The bite hits and I turn to cannabis and alcohol to smooth the edge. They accomplish that but I don’t experience the mushrooms like I otherwise might.
Yeah. See? The bite faded, the vise loosened its grip. I managed to get a few small tasks completed. Moved an item back into the attic, did a few dishes. Talked to myself. Talked my ear off at the sink. What was I talking about, to whom?
Oh, yeah, I was talking about driving. I was imagining a conversation with my wife about making the drive to Tucson with a group of people instead of just the two of us. How soon could we get from St. Louis to Tucson with four drivers, trading off? Twenty-four hours? Drive straight through? It’s a full day of driving but at the end of the day, you’re there.
I need to take a shower. I haven’t had a drink yet. It’s 3:30. Laundry after the shower. My thought for dinner is to put that spicy lentil soup on top of a box of mac and cheese. Maybe cook up the rest of the brussels sprouts from my Farm trip. And I need to pack for Belleville. It’s only one night but I want to be ready to go early in the morning so I can run at the high school when I get over there. Bit by bit, I’ve been getting back into running. That’s the best way to do it. I still run slowly but I don’t care much about pace. I just want to get out there and feel myself moving.
This has been a good smoke. It’s Me-So-Hi, by Keyway. Terrible name for a strain. It had been on the shelf for a while, according to the package date. I got it from Pecos Valley Productions in Ruidoso, New Mexico. The people working there were really nice, in good moods—jocular.
The Me-So-Hi didn’t taste like much. It’s supposed to be a cross between Red Headed Stranger and Durban Poison. It’s a sativa. Red Headed Stranger is indeed named in homage to the 1975 album by Willie Nelson.
This flower is old and it doesn’t taste like much but here I am once again with pen in hand and paper underneath. I am remembering again how this used to go. In my mind I travel back two decades, to the years right before law school, which weren’t any of my most productive years but I was keeping journals then, I was writing. And I made it out of those years with what would become my marriage still intact.
Weeds of Grass 