Swan Song

The following is a dedication to Mary Jane. She was my mistress for many years.


Marijuana is a funny substance; can casually influence increased cookie in-take on my behalf. Mary Jane can do a lot for a developing human being- it has for me. I started smoking when I was fourteen. Back then smoking once in a week was an extreme quantity followed by hours of homework done under high amounts of felt guilt. I have smoked the good stuff while playing guitar, while walking out under a rarely-mild Chico sun, before chaos ensued at my parents house one weeknight (people dancing and thrashing to Charles and I rock out and Robert play with some flashing lights), I have smoked and then played basketball for two straight hours and I probably have toked a bowl or two with you.
However, lately I smoke on my couch. I hit the bong with some friends and roommates. We chill, have a few laughs, watch a bit of TV, and do nothing real exciting. This activity is slowly eating away at me. It seems, more often than not, that I find myself questioning this very activity that I engage in. I used to get so much out of pot. But it wasn’t just the pot, it was pot mixed with good friends, add in a bit of creativity or actual activity and wahl’la.
I doubt weather smoking pot is what I really want anymore. I smoke just about everyday, most days I don’t even plan on smoking but someone will end up offering me bud. The blast of it all is I have no will power to say no. I don’t even think, I just light up. Worst of all, marijuana gives me the feeling that I am compromising myself in some significant way.
To explain this phenomenon, you may require some backstory. I tend to gravitate towards things of intelligence. Movies I watch, music I listen to, books I read I will enjoy more when thoughtful. Its not that I am smart, I just like smart. And its not that I don’t watch the occasional “Dude Where’s My Car,” because I do. Smart girls get me going for instance. On the flip side though the wacky weed not only dumbs my friends and I down a notch, it hinders communication between us. Furthermore, the more I smoke the less I feel able to complete complicated philosophic homework. My love for knowledge and my desire to smoke presents a contradiction. How can I believe myself to be one who enjoys intelligence a great deal and still get high all the time? There must be a breaking point.

After Thoughts by the Fire place:
I might be a nerd who acted cool so no one could catch on to the real me- a bonified fucking nerd. I mean come on friends and those plotting my revenge and those friends plotting my revenge- I'M WRITING A FUCKING BLOG FOR CHRIST SAKES. More Evidence you ask- You got it home skillet… the great Mr. Nolan (sophomore English teacher) nominated me for student of the year because he felt that I try to hide my smarts behind a fake cool front. He was trying to force me into the academic limelight, but his actions have yet to result in something positive. But now I have come full circle back to my nerdy side; a man, without his pocket full of skunk bud. A contented man, none the less.


A note to the reader- B