On being one of those JUST SAY YES kind of folk

     My communist buddy gets drug tested on his job, robbing him of the pleasures of smoking weed on his days off.  Let alone the rampant use of pot, and booze, that had once been the trademark of the railroads.   As a result of this infringement on his rights --- most studies show pot's only effect on drivers is that they go a little slower, and running a train is in most ways a hell of a lot easier than driving.  Regardless of all that libertarianish rhetoric, he told me that I should try this stuff called K-2.  His son is a big head and had switched to this legal stuff that he preferred to weed.

Of course, as soon as I had the money, I ran out to buy some K 2 at my favorite head shop, where I go to buy Tobacco tasting devices from a Saudi guy who likes to haggle, so I always get a break.  And today is that day.  I have the blueberry kind.  He had a bag of the various flavors and told me it is selling like hotcakes.  He bought 300 to start and was down to just a few.  He said most of his customers were repeat.   Sounded good.

I poured it all -- 3 grams for fifty bucks, down from sixty ---  into the tray usually reserved for my weed (yes, I picked up a dime of that, too, just in case this does not work -- yes, this is all fiction, officer).  The stuff has yellow bulbs, little stems, slivers of different beige and gray colors, smells like potpourri.  Weird.  I have taken my 'tobbaco tasting device' out of the weed drawer in my desk, which is indeed filled with various tobbaco tasting devices and stems to bongs, which, obviously, I also use for tobbaco tasting..  Trusty bowl in hand, I will now quit typing long enough to put on some music, wxrt, and pack a bowl.  With all the different weird bits of this and that in the K2, I suppose I will assume it is all smokable and pack a bit of this and that in there.  Harsh.  Holding that hit in for awhile... tastes, well, good.  Kind of like cookies in a weird way.   The taste is good, though weird.  Different than the tobbac. and weed I am used to.  I am anxiously awaiting the feeling, which I am told is creepier, meaning that after the hits, it just keeps getting stronger, rather than like weed, where you get stoned right thee and then, and if you are lucky, a heard rush as well.

Unfortunatly for this experiment, but fortunatly for me, I stopped by spike the dealer's to grab a bit of weed and he was almost out...  we smoked a few bowls, so I am coming into this with a tobbaco taster buzz... that crusty old cab driver was of course swilling a bud at 10am and playing internet poker.  His wife was pissed that he was drinking so early.  She claimed he was up all night and he claimed he slept on the couch but I knew they were both liars and it was best to believe neither of them -- their fighting has gotten to be a boring ritual with them.  Maybe a way to notice each other, provoke some make up sex, maybe... spike is in his early sixties, his wife in her late sixties.  He only deals weed to a couple guys, the two of us that it takes to keep his own enormous weed habit affordable, something his wife barely approved of, to say the least, but she put up with it to save money.

People liked my comedy better than my essay's.  Probably because of the lack of editing, or perhaps the lack of caring about reading the kind of poetic, academic rambling that comes from my mind as I hammer out my first drafts on line, and later cull out the best into books...  I rewrite and rewrite, changing the entries, sometimes just wanting to linger back in the feelings the poem evokes in me, like a separate world that I enter.  A self-referential universe of my own creation.   Complete with a God and an underlying battle between good and evil.

I realize from my numbers of visitors what is preferred by the public.  Sometimes I let that effect my writing, but other times I am just going where the words want to, with me alone at the helm, flying out where no man has before, soaring off on a path of my own making...  the Mormon fever dream of creating your own universes and becoming God...  their mocking of the idea that there is a power much greater than they, one who is the center of all things, leaves them unhumbled, prone to going off and inventing their own little mental fiefdoms.  

The K2 has given me a buzz, after smoking two medium sized bowls.  The high is certainly real and there.  The music sounds especially interesting, noticing that right away...   Uh, it is, as my commie buddy told me, a body high.

See, I came in here only to write about k2 but that proved almost impossible.  Everything is so damned serious in this world.


Later...  I have now given the K-2 to someone who does not smoke, and guess what?  She says she is going to get some.  She actually had a head-ache she said she had for a couple days, and it went away.  Well, so there is the K-2 report.  I guess I should also add that I personally will never try it again.  I just like to experiment, but this is a very unknown quantity, unlike weed, which we pretty much know about.  I can accept the slight damage caused when you smoke with a ventilator thing, which heats up the herb and releases no actual smoke, just chemicals.... my doc said they remove 95% of the bad effects of smoking;  which is good enough for him (ex doctor now, actually... and that bastard knows why).

So, kids, never use drugs because, uhmm.... well.....   they are bad for the environment and stuff.  Save a tree.  Or a shrub, or whatever.