Some days I miss getting baked, stoned, high, whatever you call it. Smoking the pot. marijuana if you will. Smoked so much pot in my past, I'm good for a while, like, waking up before work (5:30am) taking three breaths and hitting the pipe. Actually packing the bowl and placing it on my bed side table with a lighter positioned beside so it was very hanky, convient if you will to wake up and smoke it. Going to work. Smoking more at 10:00am, back to work, again at noon, then at 3:30, on bus home. Then hitting the hot knives (a method in which you head up butter, or steak knives on a element or torch and pressing them together when they get red hot with a ball of marijuana) all night long, going to sleep and doing it over again... Repeat that for months on end...
Got off the pot now for almost three years ish... Except for that time we made quinoa muffins with marijuana. A few months back, maybe 6 months actually... Don't really remember, it really doesn't matter.
I haven't been much of a druggie in the last 5 years, I even scored a gram of hashish and took it with me to my buddies stag party and gave it out to whomever wanted it, didn't have a single hoot. Still have a little bit left in case I ever decide to shut off my brain for a few hours.
Come close in the last little while, but I take pride in knowing that I have a streak alive and it's a decent stretch. Oh yeah. The title is a line from the movie Dazed and Confused.
No comments:
Post a Comment