Days Between

I got viral meningetis. No antibiotics, just ride out the course of the virus. It feels like a massive hangover in the head and your body feels like you've been hit by a car, sore all over. Good news, I'm out of work using up my sick days and all I must do is pain management.
The virus put me in the ER as I was truly down for the count. They gave me a big shot in the butt in the ER that made me flash to Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. True to good drug form I threw up 30 minutes later. No more than two hours later I was dismissed and they gave me two extra strength Vicodines for the road. My perscription was for Hydrocodone along with suppositories to relieve the nausea associated with the Codone,...ah no thanks, bonghits cure nausea just fine! Two days later I'm complaining to this new doctor about the Codone being a little weak, he then hooks me up with Hydromorphone and an additional week off work! Now my wife is regliously serving me up two pills every two hours, even in the middle of the night!! Needless t0 say, I haven't been too active with my writing. I'm jotting down funny shit but just this is maxing out my time sitting up.

Glass Part 420

So I puff a bowl and go to the local head shop to buy another glass bong. This is not easy for me, for starters I'm somewhat high profile in the community (no pun of course) and secondly, the store sits in front of a very busy street in town. Also, I feel a bit weird inside head shops because I'm a bit older, it feels like the play area at a fast food restaurant, you want to, it's fun, but really you are too old to partake. It's almost like I'm old enough and straight looking enough to work for the DEA or something. None the less, I park out in front of the store and study the flow of traffic, hoping to bust out of my car as soon as the coast is clear. Then a big truck parks in back of me blocking my view, I say fuck it and just make a run for the door.
Once inside, I make my way straight to the back knowing the generic design of just about every head shop. This college aged woman employee comes over and ask if she could help me. I proceed to tell her the story of my bong breaking and that I'm looking for one just like it. She has this very sad look on her face and says, "Well if the bong has sentimental value we do offer a repair service and for a break like you are describing it would cost about $100." I quickly figured out that if I wanted to fix it it would cost more than a new bong,....It's not that sentimental. I said, "oh no thanks, it's just a bong, nothing is permanent." I selected a nice glass bong and then she suggested that if I were going to spend that kind of money for this bong that I would want to consider the "glass on glass" model. "Glass on glass" is superior because there is no rubber and the connection while hitting the bong is far superior. While it was cool to hear how bongs evolved, I was thinking of all the chokers I've been able to achieve with the traditional rubber parts. She then started to dry hit the two bongs to demonstrate. I was still thinking of the sentimental value of a bong. I started creeping out thinking about this sales clerk dry hitting every bong in the store at one time or another. Meanwhile, this guy (another salesclerk) starts puffing tobacco out of this hooka. He comments what a fine African tobacco it is as if to justify the store's tobacco water pipes. I panic and say, "I'll just take this one please wrap it up." As the woman is packing it up, she says that because I bought a bong today I will be entered in the drawing for this bong valued at,...$420!! She points to this case and sure enough, there is this huge glass bong with all kinds of bells and whistles on it. The raffle will take place on 4/20, we are having a free BBQ and then doing the raffle. I fill out my name and then she says, you must be present to win. I visualize being at a head shop on 4/20 surrounded by other users celebrating a user holiday, hoping to win a bong that is at least 4 feet 20 inches tall!! I take a deep breath before I open the door, with my bong wrapped in a large black garbage bag in one hand, I dart outside to my car, no eye contact, bong close to my leg, I jump right into my car,...Operation complete.
I go home a try out the new bong and tell my story to my wife who is encouraging me to go to the BBQ. I tell her that I would go only for the story in hopes of some day creating a picture book about what everyone does around the world during 4/20.
I ponder the whole sentimental value thing and come up with the following vision:
When your bong breaks you can take it to me and for a small fee I can crush the bong into a fine powder of glass and then return it to you in a nice container that you could put above the fireplace. During anniversaries of your bong breaking you can set small buds out next to the container as an offering. You would even have the choice to have your bong crushed solo or with other bongs for the more economical option. I think I'm on to something bigger than pet rocks, it must have something to do with me being born at 4:19pm.

Glass

No one could have predicted when it was going to happen, but it was certain that it would happen eventually. My extended family had just left to go back home, my kids were coming down from a morning full of Easter candy, and my wife cranks up Sublime and requests that I clean out the bong and pack her a "freshy." Blurred with ganja butter, I proceed to smoke up the rest of the packed slightly burnt bowl. Towards the end of the bowl my bong hits are making me feel like I'm going to blackout, my knees go weak, vision goes black, it's feeling like nitrous without the sound effects. The room is nearly hotboxed, I crack a window to let the smoke out, as I come out of the room with the bong in hand, the wind from outside blows through the window and pushes the smoke out of the room into the hallway. I'm traveling with clouds of herb smoke down the hall, when I see the bathroom door, I entered and proceed to clean out the bong in the bathtub. Typically it's done in a sink, but it's a slight pain managing a tall bong in a small sink. So with the freedom of space in the tub I quickly clean it out, so freely I move, then, boom, I hit the side of the tub with the side of the bong. Glass bong that is, or shall I say was. I'm left holding the thick stem and I see the rest shattered in the tub. I thought of all the mileage I've had with that bong, if it were a car I would have put on at least 350,000 miles in the last year and a half. I considered a big ceremony to rest my bong but because it is glass it was best placed in our recycling bin. There it laid next to the Mud Pie box and the two bottles of Gamay Beaujolais. It seemed so peaceful and appropriate to be there. No words were spoken, I busted out my bubbler backup and puffed steady throughout the rest of the night.

Uncle Jah Jah

My nephews are spending their spring break with Uncle Jah Jah. With a cup of green butter in the fridge and a bong in the back I have been in the best of moods. I took them out to Mt. Shasta to go snowboarding and they loved it. After Green Toast, a quart of Green Tea, and a shot of ginseng, I was high flying while both nephews listened to their new ipods. New ipods with Uncle Jah Jah music (they have no access to get music other than me and my computer), Lee Scratch Perry, Dylan, Dinosaur Jr., Marley, Neil Young, Pink Floyd and the playlist goes on. At lunch a pound two beers and eat more butter. Funny thing about new ipods you always want to use them. and if you are 11 and 12 years old and listening to Embryo by Pink Floyd or You Can't Blame the Youth from Peter Tosh for the very first time, you might as well bail on any quality conversation time. I just drove and boarded the entire day with dark sunglasses and a perma-grin pasted on my face, while I listened to the conflicting sounds of my nephews ipods bumping out Spearhead and Dylan at the same time.

What makes one sick makes another one better

Two days of pure non-stop partying while calling in sick did not result in me getting sick at all! I even called late last night to say, I'm not coming in, but in the morning, I couldn't even remember what I had said! I've been hitting the butter and Jager and wine while countering it with tons of green tea throughout the day and hits of ginsing just for the head rush effect. Meanwhile, I've been having the best days of my life creating memories that will last forever, losing track of stress and other bullshit.

Hip Hop Hippie

So I have this tough time calling in sick for work. I have a hard time lying. As a result I have 20+ sick days which will be of no value once I leave my job at the end of June. So last night I tried my best to get sick by drinking down a whole bottle of wine with my light weight wife. I proclaimed, "If I'm going to call in sick I'm trying to make it truthful!"
It didn't work, the wine and bonghits just made us crank up Rapper's Delight at 10 pm and dance crazy playing the song over and over until someone got hurt. It was a blast but this morning I fine totally fine, so I'm going to wake up my wife to call in sick for me!

Guys Night Out

It all started with the word that the guys would have the night together. Guys night out for married men with kids is huge! I'm thinking mass consumption while we talk about how not to beat our kids. One of the guys is my spiritual friend who leads our Dharma group and I admire him because he has the ability to get present without smoking herb, he mediates and chants daily. Heals people for a living and will occasionally smoke herb. My other friend is the guy I recently turned onto my man. I'm amazed to discover he smokes twice as much as me. My wife says I would probably smoke that much if I stayed at home. She is probably right. He is a stay at home dad who is working on his PhD. Goes out occasionally getting paid top dollar to make a presentation all of which automatically exempts him from all kinds of negative judgment.
I arrive pretty stoned at the house to discover that we weren't planning on going out, instead my friend has a nice fire blazing and wants to stretch while we hear from the Buddha friend. He asks me what I feel like doing. I say,"I would be happy with bonghits and green tea." He smiles a replies, "our Buddha friend wants it to be herb free and I want to respect that." I think shit man I got to get outta here! Buddha arrives shortly after and we share a little about how our weeks have gone. No alcohol, no herb I'm going crazy thinking about how much of a jonser I am. I was plotting my get away when suddenly Buddha says,"I thought you guys might want to partake in some herb, so I brought some." He reveals this dank homegrown red/green bud. We go out to the garage and puff steady while it's pouring rain outside.
Your life is a movie and it's anything you want to create, you live your life in co-creation,...After one hit himself the Buddha man is spilling massive wisdom and insight to the point it made my head hurt. My other friend keeps packing as if to get high enough to understand and fully appreciate the teaching. And at that very moment, I see myself in each one of them. Two paths to travel one leading towards spiritual enlightenment and the other towards stoneful ignorant bliss. We end the evening going back into the house and listening the Buddha stories in between jamming on guitar and drums. I couldn't believe it was already midnight, I tried to judge the evening but it just was,...Free of mental concepts. I was baked and enlightened all in one.

Wobbly Balance

After a weekend of being high, Monday morning brought me much introspection. On Saturday, I drank some poppy tea and took some ginsing tonic, Sunday I ate ganja butter all day while drinking tea, ginsing tonic and about three shot of jagermeister. It boils down to not being able to achieve that blissful feeling without mass consumption, and when I'm not consuming I'm grouchy as hell and not fun to be around. I've lost the "balance" picture, and have the abusive relationship. It's odd but I'm ready for a change,...an action plan,..to get out of this alive. Transitions are a part of life but this seems to be a transition that I'm stuck in. No promises but the simply the desire to get back into balance.