He was a saint when it came to joint-rolling. The process excited him and he desired to share his gift, his talent. The station was set up there in the open and a blind faith in strangers became evident. The thinking being no one would steal what is already openly shared. Joints rolled and passed out. Animal Collective and the Beach Boys on vinyl in the background. Classic movie posters hang on all walls. The joints and the five bedrooms. They smoke music and write great harmonious pot. "Smoking out of a pipe is so unceremonious," is what the man said. He explained that in order to fully appreciate and take pleasure out of smoking (rather than sniveling in a ditch with a dirty pipe, hands shaking) one must anticipate the blissful release of that first exhale.. One must be patient in the presence of the joint roller, who considers it a perfected art to execute the architectural design of a spliff in the presence of loud music and crazy antics, it is a place of worship, a moment of zen in the face of sheer terror and absurdity. Everyone gets more comfortable while awaiting that blissful release. It is something more tantric especially for those who depend on the intoxicating effects of THC in order to survive a day. This life is crazy. We all need something. Some people need the self-assurance that they do need anything to get through. Some people like the self confidence and their own personal decision making abilities. Some people are boring.
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Fire, fire, fire. We swept ourselves off of our feet and fell headfirst into fish tanks. We quickly evolved gills on our throats and joined the bloated goldfish floating cross-eyed at the frothy top like a poorly poured beer. The fish were wearing scuba tanks on their backs. We swam gracefully, singing like deep ocean whales in love. I wonder what it would be like to be the biggest animal on earth... completely misunderstood.
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Mechanical noises and groovy beats. An hour out. Wearing sunglasses on cloudy days and feeling the cold breeze from a nearby heart grace the back of my neck, sore from beatific esplanades and silent study sessions where collaborative work is lauded but we fear change like we fear the enemy. I witness beauty sipping coffee and attempting genuine interest in medical textbooks. College students. I sense their identity crisis. I sense their intelligence and the alcohol on their breath. Good luck my friends. I must move on now.
