I've been lax, but that's okay, it's a blog. A plethora of events have happened in the past week. I broke the virginity of my ski season at Steamboat with Mike and my brother and it was astoundingly good riding. The next day found me celebrating a birthday in downtown Denver, breaking fire code at the hotel, passing the pipe (marijuana, but I only watched and laughed at the mannerisms of my "high" friends), wondering around the sub-freezing streets of the 16th Street Mall, and dancing at LoDo's Bar & Grill. I'm scribing this entry from Fraser, CO at Mike's house, and we're cooking stir fry and rice. I'm so glad we were able to all come up here tonight, these hang-out times between friends in warmth and tastiness really drive back the drear and burden of the other parts of life. Incidentally we have Andi, Alyssa, Sean, Mike, Moxy (a beautiful shaggy mutt [Alaskan malimut/???]), and myself.
At the exact moment Moxy and Alyssa are cuddling up on the floor and the scene is quite warming inside (cute too, but ... ah, damn pre-conceptions of adult men not using 'girly' words, it's adorable!!).
Mike's house is an amazing place. Smallish and simply furnished, but not ascetic. It has a wonderful feel of memory, love, and time-tested need vs. want (as far as possessions go). The house's climate mirrors a character and lifestyle I find really attractive. I've been told from very early on to avoid materialism, mostly from my parents. The feeling has sunk in for the most part. I still get excited when the gift-giving holidays come around each year, caught up in the glamor of new 'things' to own and love and break. Yet, I am never satisfied. The transient "high" of acquisition always gives way to a depressing feeling of cheapness. My repeated disillusionment after getting new things has led me to develop a sense of detachment from the world of buying and throwing away and buying more. Songs like Five Iron Frenzy's "American Kryptonite" and Johnny Cash's cover of "Hurt" move me (bad-ass) in a similar fashion. My possessions are fleeting, and so are people. I've found relationships are the golden treasures of living and traveling is the jewel of waking hours.
Make lots and lots of friends, put all of your free effort into them, and go as many places (and learn as many things) as you can. The only thing I know of that can destroy these 'works' is brain-death (consequently memory loss) and I hope to avoid that (and that you do too!).
On and on, I've never tried mary-jane, weed, pot, marijuana before. I've been second-hand affected (a little) while standing right next to a pipe-toting punk-rocker at at Flogging Molly concert. I've been to several parties where I've sat around the people partaking in the act, but not inhaled myself. The singularly best marijuana experience of my short life was the time at Pot-Club with Brian, Matt, (old) Eric, Louie, and ... I don't remember the other one, in the small second-floor room of the infamously famous "Red House." I, again, did not smoke, but was given the Pot-Club name Pisces and promptly inducted into the group. Brian composed a song dedicated to the former source of weed for him and several other Mines kids: Lee. He called it "In the Days of Lee" and it was sad and comedic simultaneously, lamenting the loss of Lee and his pot to the local law enforcement while joking about how many 'twats' could be smoked before writing became impossible. Quite a wonderfully funny night!
Long way round, I've never smoked pot, and I'm not really sure why. I suppose I don't want to disappoint my betters by stooping to the level of 'drug use' but I'm not so convinced on the evil of marijuana. It looks (and sounds) like loads of fun and I've heard "stoned sex" is beyond amazing (and sex is pretty damn good). I bet the day will come soon when burning pot fumes will enter my lungs and I will, for the first time, experience the tritely termed "high."
SO, a short post tonight and all about my last week (a little) and a bit more about what's really important in life and the weed. Well, dinner and company are calling, so, no mind dump tonight. Farewell dear reader ... until whenever we next meet (does that statement make me eligible for schizophrenia?).
The surreal joy of Arent van Bolten's Grotesques
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2 comments:
Adorable, heehee.
I couldn't see myself ever being much for pot, but I could see myself trying it out of a combination of curiosity/right group of people. I have strong libertarian leanings, so I don't think of much as categorically "bad", but there are things I don't really see as having to do with me, or how I want to be perhaps. Variety of experiences, though, very important! So in short I don't know if it will ever happen.
It's been almost two weeks since I wrote that post and you commented on it. In that time, I still haven't come to any real consensus on what to do with pot. If I were offered it now, I'd refuse it purely because I don't know how to react to it with enough conviction to satisfy me. I don't like action I don't understand and avoid it as often as possible.
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