Vape This!
Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?! (a humorous meta-nonfiction)
Maybe Just Not My Drug Of Choice
I smoked pot when I was a teenager and a bit longer. My primary appreciation in response to smoke>lungs>bloodstream>hippocampus was while listening to music—it seemed to add an amazing extra dimension. As I got older and was not as appreciative of the drug’s other effects, especially in social settings, I had to slowly train myself to not accept a joint when it came around. It took many misses, or rather—hits, to break the habit.
I had truly enjoyed that communal sharing aspect— but then there I would be, two tokes later:
1) Misunderstanding what people around me were saying—the guy on the record couldn’t be singing she’s my peanuts in blue cheese.
2) Catching bits of profound and enlightened conversation: Bob Dylan wrote “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” in 1966 but the term 420 didn’t show up until 1971. But 12 x 35 = 420. And the chorus is “Everybody must get stoned.” Man, it’s like prophecy.
3) And then I would wonder if what I had just said, like: what is the address?—was what others heard after my voice traveled across the room. Did they maybe think that what I had said was: want us to undress? And hence their strange looks.
Those were strange looks, weren’t they?!
Pot did however seem to provide a certain expansion of my…
