Akin to my Native American Heritage, I welcomed our new neighbors with an offering of the ‘peace pipe.’
I had wandered overly (slightly high)…wishing to get even higher with my new found friends. So with grace I packed my favorite bong and took flight. It is, of course, a right of passage for many pot smoker’s to offer up their common ground with one another.
Without a care in the world we passed the bong. They thanked me for my generosity. Thus, in exchange, another pipe was pulled out (much prettier than my bong) and again, we took in a round of tokes.
##side note: Have you ever notice how pot smokers compare their devices? Kind of like keeping up with the Jones’s…hippie style.
After several hours of not being able to end a thought or remember what we were talking about…I went home.
Yet, when back home…I worried about hygiene. ‘Oh fuck I just shared a bong and did it within 6 feet!‘
Naturally, the morning after…I researched pot etiquette during the pandemic.
And, the following is what I discovered…
I don’t know if I would have the energy to wrap my bong in a condom! Matter of fact, I think I’d be too lazy…after a toke or two…to switch my condoms out.
I did, however, discover a wonderful news article on the Do’s and Dont’s of getting high during the pandemic.
Start do-it-yourself projects, as well as enjoy some stoner entertainment to improve your mood.
Last night I dreamed I was plugged right in
To a bubblin’ hookah so high,
When all of a sudden some Arab jinni
Jump up just a-winkin’ his eye.
‘I’m here to obey all your wishes,’ he told me.
As for words I was trying to grope.
‘Good buddy,’ I cried, ‘you could surely oblige me
By turning me on to some dope!’
With a bigfat smile he took ahold of my hand,
And we flew down the sky in a flash,
And the first thing I saw in the land where he took me
Was a whole solid mountain of hash!
All the trees was a-bloomin’ with pink ‘n’ purple pills,
Whur the Romilar River flowed by,
To the magic mushrooms as wild as a rainbow,
So pretty that I wanted to cry.
All the girls come to greet us, so sweet in slow motion,
Mourning glories woven into their hair,
Bringin’ great big handfuls of snowy cocaine,
All their dope they were eager to share.
We we dallied for days, just a-ballin’ and smokin’,
In the flowering Panama Red,
Just piggin’ on peyote and nutmeg tea,
And those brownies so kind to your head.
Now I could’ve passed that good time forever,
And I really was fixing to stay,
But you know that jinni turned out, t’be a narco man,
And he busted me right whur I lay.
And he took me back to a cold, cold world
‘N’ now m’prison’s whurever I be…
And I dream of the days back in Doperland
And I wonder, will I ever go free?
Toss this piece of written nonsense. If it is a piece of paper…use it to wipe. Disregard it and hit the like button…As though you have read all of the blog, but indeed, did not!
Do with it as you please.
You, being, the fellow; blogger, reader, writer, artist…etc!
If I were in your shoes. To which, I have been…course, a younger version of my now ‘self’…I would have smiled, nodded and walked away saying,
‘Fuck that fruitcake!’
Course, none of what I would have just read, as youthful version of myself: Wouldn’t have been on something called, tablet, PC, laptop, multi media device. Every written item, by another creative writer, older but not as cute as I, would have been written, on a royal typewriter!
I held on this little shard of memorabilia. For obvious reasoning… witnessing the acme that now sits perfectly in the Bruce Willis jowls. Pretending that I am not only…post menstrual, but menopausal. Etc., etc., seems irrelevant to anyone under…49!
Yet, writing is cathartic!
What other up’s and down’s?
You gain weight. You cannot lose it in a nanosecond. The aches keep you up and the pills to take care of them…put you to sleep. You hope you see the moment where pot is legalized…before, the pills take your liver. You remember people who have gone on to greener pastures…with a song.
You get pissed with your spouse for jokingly saying that your feet…
‘Look like your grandmothers!’
Your spouse, also, recommends that you…
‘take it easy.’
After two hours of shoveling!
The list goes on and on…when This Is Your 50!
Therefore, for those who have gathered around my words…the two remaining followers who find this interesting…
I have developed a list.
A list I wrote on the way to the orthopedist…to schedule my fifth surgery in 1.5 years.
I will attempt to rate the following, as if addressing, my younger self. Because no one else should follow the examples of an old Hippie with an attitude problem.
When feeling edged out, attempt to not say things…you do not mean. Particularly when someone will call you out on…not keeping your side of the street clean.
Remember, every word counts.! Other than, can’t, won’t, shouldn’t.
Do one thing everyday that makes you feel uncomfortable.
Do not own it. If you did not buy into it.
Treasure who you choose to spoon with.
When adopting a four-legged friend…Do not pick them. Let them pick you!
‘I am Woman!’
The original version by Helen Reddy.
I have taken the liberty of providing it for you…
Sing it til your heart’s content. At least, once a month. Whether you need a feminist pick me up or not!
Buy a copy of Thelma and Louise and do not be afraid to cry at the end. I have also taken the liberty of providing a link of sage advice from the characters!
No matter your finances, save for that one item you have always wanted. Even if you can never afford it. The fun is in the joy of possibility!
Speaking of personal treasures. I finally bought my first moped about 12 years ago. I have graduated from .50 cc to 150 cc. I need a motorcycle licence so I can drive the big rig. 8 years ago…I blew a flat. The tire became stuck in the rear fender…And, ass over tea kettle I went. At about 40 miles per hour. I received a lot of physical damage and basically, shook when getting back on the bike, again, after the accident. No matter how frightening…if you fall off the moped…get back on!
Believe that there is a Higher Power for you…And, YOU, ain’t it!
Dogs really do smile.
Cats are some king of strange god…To which we will never fully understand.
Do not mask your truth with perfumes, dyes, make-up and unnatural colors. Wear you with dignity!
Hold your soul mate’s hand when they feel great. Have their back…when they feel small.
Always forgive those who have harmed you. No matter how long it takes. However, do not forget the hurt.
The hurt is part and parcel of who you are!
Make your own art. I had a friend who made decorations out of used soap. She sold the remnants online and boasted about cutting down on the ‘waste’…,cleaning up the environment! (no pun intended) I never understood the ‘meaning’ of her art. But appreciated the beauty of her dedication and imagination.
The hardest person to please is you.
The first person you should love…is you.
No matter how strange and unique you feel. No matter how alone your…particularly peculiar you is… After having lived 50 years and meeting many great freaky people…have great courage. There are more just as different as you are.
Never eat cheap Chinese take out and go on a carnival ride with an operator who weighs 500 pounds and has a t-shirt that says,
I Beat Anorexia!
Avoid using the word ‘hate’!
Better than purchased beauty? Free charisma!
Everyone has a story. Everybody has a badge of courage! Wear it with Pride!
In ending, or at least, until I hit 60! I have had to disconnect with a perpetually dysfunctional family. I have had to redefine what kindred spirits…I want in my life. For various reasons, a decision, with the help of my wife, to distance myself from karma that had bogged me down…most of my life. Physically, after all the surgeries, walking is not only a joy…it is a gift. Getting away with a day not blanketed in pain…is highly unusual. Yet, my writing, my photographs are inspired by the beauty outside my door…so as Gloria Gaynor puts it…
I will survive.
Enjoy the day, as if it will never come again…because it will not!
‘There is no rest for the wicked. But on occasion, it is okay to give yourself a break.
The sex? It isn’t always on a picnic table on top of New Hampshire’s tallest mountain.
However, the write-off is the gift. A gift that words cannot describe. A remembrance, a present, that there is a mutual acknowledgment between two people. An acknowledgment that nothing can replace what you have together! And, that nothing never will.