this is how the first time feeling high felt

everything's tingling. i haven't felt this floaty light sensation in quite a while. feeling stoned hasn't felt like this in the last few months.

i had a small fall a few days ago, and since then my neck and shoulders have been hurting more each day. i got three bottles of pain medication from my doctor today.

one is naproxen, which is an anti-inflammatory, and i haven't taken any.

one is a muscle relaxant, i took one about an hour and a half ago. i waited an hour and none of my muscles felt any more relaxed than before. so i then took the last med.

the last one was tylenol 3, aka codeine. i took two of those half an hour ago, because i was impatient with the muscle relaxant. then i smoked a bowl.

closing the door once i came back inside, it felt as though it were back when i smoked with p. how tingly i always felt. but i'm hating the growing spring breezes because that's when p disconnected with me. 

that's what i've been so upset about. i didn't like the feeling of approaching spring, but without reason. i now realize this is the first time i'm faced with this notion of spring, and of p leaving. i just wanted to spend the long, wet, lashing spring with p, the window opened...

somehow i drifted over to wikipedia, reading up on codeine, and found the wikipedia article on pms. the alternative views section is amusingly argumentative with itself.

the pain in my neck has returned

it's not even a metaphor. my neck really is killing me.

i've experienced this before, it's always brought on by stress. the neck is so central to our physical core that it's difficult to feel comfortable in any way i move my head and arms. i also used to have a physical reaction to stress in my left achilles heel. it made me gimp, and it still does if i stretch it too much in yoga.

it's sort of bizarre how the body breaks down when it's not functioning well. i'm having a hard time communicating effectively with people in my life, and i'm struggling to balance my needs and priorities with my responsibilities. because those are three mutually exclusive aspects of my life. my needs are not my priority, responsibility is not my priority, i'm not treating my needs as a responsibility (to myself), i'm not prioritizing my responsibilities.

i'm not prioritizing my needs.

prioritize my needs, prioritize my responsibility to fulfill my needs. i am responsible for making my needs a priority. 

that's what i'm trying to figure out. i've been sitting in this wading pool for a while now, and i'm anticipating a sting, a dash through the nip of cool breeze into a whole new pond all together. i need to decide what new pond i'm going to make my dash to. i don't want to lose my energy, momentum leeched by the weight of the chill. know your target and give yourself time to aim before you make your shot. decide, aim, shoot.

mmm toasty pb&j. 

the least romantic gift

i just came inside as my roommate was gesturing to open to the door to leave. i could see him when i was outside, but he had no idea i was out there, coming in right then. i think i startled.

he was holding a dozen velvety red roses, the least romantic gift possibly to give. the least creative. adherence to some mythological anatomical metaphor. deep red? what, is she completely engorged? you should be satisfied with a nice, round magenta, men, and the flowers should reflect that.

if you're a total douche.

roses doesn't even necessarily smell that great. but i'm not trying to be a flower snob here. i just think that a dozen red roses is about the most impersonal gesture ever. it says nothing about those involved, other than 'hm, i guess the status quo is romantic enough for me.' 'i'm not worthy enough of creative expression.' so many people get off the train so early in the journey. 

i want to watch the view for a while. i like scenes, i like studying and analyzing them as they pass by me. observation creates a type of intimacy - voyeuristic. yea, i guess i like to watch. maybe i'm just waiting until it gets really good and then i'll jump in.

i've just been waiting for it to get really good for a while now. waiting and waiting. not even sure for what, only with a sense that i will know it when i see it. the creates a great deal of impatience, from myself and from those around me, towards me. i'm just trying to let the right things come to me, i'm trying to keep a keen eye out. 

i can hear a squeaking or whistling in my right ear, faintly. i'm trying to understand what it represents. it makes me wonder if it's the breath of my cat, as it's more rapid than my breath. i can't tell if i'm hearing something that sounds amplified in my ear, or if i'm hearing something spiritually. 

what's a romantic gift - the answer is always something that suits the recipient. something personal. some of c's emails are treasures just because they're completely him, completely for me.

saccharine with bitter

i should write this down: we are all studying for our unique final exam for our life. we all need to learn things in order to clear this level, and we're all doing our own research. people research in their own ways: trough trial and error, observing others, through drama, sports, politics, literature, whatever. everything is a lesson in some way. achieving or losing, getting better or getting worse, manipulations. we all love stories because they're a great way to learn a lesson -- by not having to do it yourself! but it really depends on how much you really put those morals upon yourself. if you learn morals from stories, and apply them to your own choices, you win. yay. people are not necessarily that smart.

my neighbor boys are ridiculous. as i'm walking down to the park to smoke weed, they're in a running car, windows open, one of them coughing a lung up. as i near the car it slowly pulls forward to the t. i cross the street that they then turn onto. lighting and puffing and coughing down the street to another turn. give it about 78 seconds and around the block they come again, creeping along, lighting and coughing. and now i just heard them return, talking loudly and coughing.

oh, stoners.

i was standing out in the park, rehearsing a conversation i wish to have with two friends, about us traveling together some time later this year. i practice telling one friend in particular that i need to travel for a while and stop smoking weed in case i have to submit to drug testing once i apply for a 'real' job. because, i tell them, 'i'm a drug user. i'm a user.' it sounds hilarious now, but in my delusion i see it as the point where i publicly acknowledge i smoke too much weed and will make an effort to stop.

because i already know i should stop, or at least slow the hell down. i was standing in the park, looking at the shadowy trees, wondering where the people went that i used to see when i first started smoking regularly. in the beginning, i had amazing visions or hallucinations, i would see people in business suits sitting in the trees, all on phones and busy at work. the idea was that trees are networks, they have a team that's working together to arrange and accomplish things. these are sort of the 'worker' spirits, putting in their hours before they can because spiritual guides to incarnates. or something like that. but spiritual energy is everywhere. concentrated in some places, but as my cracky psychic reader said 'everything is alive.'

last summer, i would smoke in the park and sit there, looking into stars that expanded like the gaudiest florescent 80's colors, metalisized and crystallized, the raviest laser light show ever. i would follow the color's vibrations as they expanded outwards. let the light waves pour onto my eyeballs like melted chocolate or honey. i bet honey chocolate has never been made a traditional flavor because it doesn't taste very good. saccharine with bitter, no that doesn't taste good together.

i need to get in the shower and think

as i was outside smoking, again thinking of voldemort. not thinking particularly good things. but is this how i want to spend my high? the best ideas always come to me when I'm in the shower. so i'll go take a shower and see what brilliant insight reveals itself.

well, i just got out of the shower and stuck a little frozen burrito in the microwave. don't remember thinking about anything in particular in the shower. maybe paying attention to my tasks so that i didn't end up washing my face twice and forgetting to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. i've done that a few times already.

this bean looks like a potato inside. burritos are pretty damn amazing.

i hate knocking things over when i'm stoned.

obsolete

i can hear a little pipe playing. i can hear it in my right ear. it sounded sort of like medieval europe. i can hear little twirls, i can hear someone singing 'laaa la la' in my right ear. it's like i'm listening in on their party. it was actually just my headphones lying on my desk, the music still playing. but i heard the music as though it were right inside my ear. classic stoner ear.

i thought it were some fairies. little light-hearted spirits. everything really is alive in spirit, but right now i only feel that to be true of organically whole materials, nothing chemical. plants, animals, minerals, the earth, the sky and so on. i remember when p and i would smoke, i could see the little spirits whirling around, little sprints of silver light. i could see little windows when i was with p. smoking with someone can create some of the most intimate and isolated times of your life. when i smoked with p, i could feel his laughter in my core. i could taste the musk of the sweat on his duvet. any rebuffed gesture while stoned would feel as though we've been catapulted in opposite directions faster than the speed of light, getting further away for infinity. 

i believe p misses me now that he's gone, but i have nothing to prove that in sober life. maybe that's because i don't miss him in sober life. 

i was outside, smoking in the park, thinking about what is so hard about meeting a mate these days. for some reason i feel as though i'm practicing my answer for c's parents when i stay with them in a few months. 'so are you dating? are you interested in meeting anyone? do you want to get married?'

it will all just be out of the best of interests, but i couldn't possibly resort to bobbing my head and saying 'sure.' no, i don't think that would be an honest answer at all, for a very good reason!

see, as i'm being shown, through out our global culture's history, the value of women has been so miserably low in terms of power. but women's value has been rising steadily in the last few generations. the value of women is shooting up rapidly, this is the beginning of a very sharp upturn in value. good for women, we're doing very well in gaining person and social power. sadly for the men, their value has remained very even keel for quite a while now. men really haven't changed at all over the long haul. men as a group have not had to deal with this issue of suppression so that's why they stay steady as a power stronghold. now women are suddenly shooting past them. men have been asleep at the wheel for ages now and are being rattled by all this activity women are doing. 

whereas men had considerably more power in the past, women had the privilege of choosing who they thought was the most powerful suitor. women really depended on men. we all know that. now that we're approaching 'the future' as it was idealized in my childhood, women are becoming more than competent at independence, making men virtually obsolete. now we just choose men as nice playthings, we want them to be all things to us, whereas in the past marriages were needed to maintain religious and social order -- when men and women just had to respect what their options were because holding out for the best was simply not practical. 

some people hold out for the best in the universe, and some people don't really care to hold out past what's good here and now. how the hell else would you explain anyone who marries the person they dated in high school?

women are just working their asses off these days and do not feel that their peer group produces enough suitable (ick, i know) men for casual dating. as women's value increases while men's value remains the same, this will increase the competition for good men among women who just get better and better.

god, that's so depressing.

in my prepared answer for c's parents asking me if i desire a personal relationship, my bottom line answer amounts to the sad judgement that 'men are becoming obsolete playthings among ever competitive female hobbyists.'

wow, is that the truth? that men are getting harder to find because they're... becoming an obsolete part of a women's personal life? not that men are becoming obsolete at the need to exist, no men should still exist. i meant that the traditional need a woman has for a man is disappearing, making the role of a man in a woman's life obsolete. 

only because they're awful to date, not because they're bad people.

i'm so jonesing to eat something!

oh god, how awful a band is the goo goo dolls? jeesh.

rosemary herb toasted bagel, buttered, with a side of gruyere?

it helps me remember how my jaw works, observing all the work my mouth does to chew. you never think about your tongue managing all the food in your mouth. you think you only use your tongue when you lick something, or kiss someone, probably at the same time. you tongue is really shoveling it back there.

hm, bizarre. in my temporary imaginary world here, i'm thinking about how all words have originated from the sound made to describe an action. all words come from actions. and i want to know what action bore 'bizarre.' is that a french word, bizarre? the english language has always been a thief. english is the most successful con, ever.

perfect ending

sushi. that's what i'm treating myself to. is yam tempura the junk food of sushi? i love it so much.

my bath was amazing. a perfect life would be ending every day with a bath like that. get out and stuff big pieces of maki in my mouth.

i saw two shooting stars tonight

i am pretty damn stoned. 

maybe i'm taking too long to grow up. maybe i'm making immature decisions, just because. but not necessarily in the weed smoking. smoking weed keeps showing me things -- good things, bad things, future things, past things. but i do need to consciously chose to change. whatever it is i want to change.

whatever i'm blocking, to remove. yea, i can do it. i gotta do it soon.

mini honey mandarin oranges, nothing could be sweeter. the moon must have been a full moon a night ago, it was hanging low in the east sky, just missing the top horizontal slice.

i need to put trust into knowing that even though i want the best for myself, i don't necessarily see what's best for me, especially if i have a predisposed emotional reaction. i may want something, but i may try so hard to get it, thinking it will make me happy, that i miss sight of what i want and just keep down what is unfortunately not the best road. that's the honest to god truth.

i'm having these visions of engaging in a drinking contest with c, but for some reason i'm seeing us walking home after a night of drinking. he vomits and i am honestly concerned when i ask 'are you ok? you're too old to be drinking yourself sick.' i hope he doesn't have a drinking problem. 

to think about it, i'd be unhappy if he had a drinking problem... if he drank, in a pattern similar to how i smoke. that would be massively hypocritial. maybe i want better for him than myself. oh, how sarcastically alturistic that would be.

huff, the buzzkill just came home.

how is it that the tropics are so overwhelmingly beautiful in person, and so horribly tacky in photographs? with all their brights and pastels, their high cuts and low plunges. their raw sex, their flowing energy. spending time in the tropics did nothing for my libido but push it mercilessly over the edge, left still sputtering two full moons later. i'm thinking about sex, or thinking about when i'll have time to think about sex. anything about it. anything. it's driving me insane.

we all want surroundings that enable us to be ourselves. or at least get off.

i'm having these flashbacks of england

in the sense of having lived there in a previous life. i'm remembering the accents from around the island. i'm laughing as a middle aged man in a gravely  voice, something about 'and i could never understand scotsmen.' can't now, couldn't then. 

i'm thinking about england and it feels as sentimental as a golden summer dusk. as familiar as the soften touch ever felt. as home as this papa john's pizza is delicious.

it's real delicious.

i didn't mind standing out in the cold just now, i didn't mind my fingers going damp and cool. i didn't mind my little pipe in my hand, the warmth of the bowl was welcomed. it was as if i were standing in a dugout, eras and eras ago, surrounded by friends and sharing stories, laughs. the people you share stories with, those who allow you to take them on a journey, those people are worth your time. anyone who's not willing to listen to you is not worth your time.

communication is everything. because it's my everything.

for some reason i'm having this vision that jennifer aniston and john mayer have a child together in the future, and they name it delilah. delilah mayer, a dark haired girl. so i looked up the name delilah and it basically means 'bad' or 'poor.' hmmm. maybe there will be no aniston-mayer child after all.

now i'm trying to decide if i want to get up and smoke more weed. i'd like to smoke more, but i don't want to get up. stoner's paradox.

i saw pictures posted of p in a public forum, some unflattering pictures. it reminds me of exactly what p lacks. i find it very unattractive. except where p's face looks nice. p is just so much better in my fantasies.

sigh. it's terrible writing like that that's an indicator of a lack of pat in the system. i learned a few days ago that my friend calls pot 'pat' -- no real reason. when my friend said he called it pat, i asked, 'like, "it's pat!"?' remember 'it's pat!' from snl in the 90's? i guess that's what i thought my friend meant, as pat as action doesn't make sense.

well, i guess they call that other stuck smack for a reason. so on a scale of affect, heroine is like a smack, and weed is only like a pat. 'i'm gettin a pat.' hm, doesn't say much.

now i'm wondering if the recent decisions i've been making have been the correct ones. i'm hearing 'false lead!' and i don't know if it means for one thing or several. i don't like the growing paranoia of consistent smoking. now i'm thinking of things in particular, but everything is coming up as 'well, i don't know.' the growing doubt it annoying.

god, think of how cliche it is to want to be a writer. it's amusing to see what people enjoy. difference in perspective is fascinating. to hear someone describe what they like about something you happen to dislike -- everyone has their own path to god. everyone has their own system of progress, their own measure, their own terms of achievement and failure. it's no surprise how difficult to it is to find balance in the universe, with so many variations. everyone needs to figure out their own way of connecting to the universal pulse. there is a way of connecting to the universe as unique as every atom that has existed. 

we gotta cool down, babies.

dtr

i grew up with a friend who i could no longer understand after about the fifth grade. thinking back a few years, my friend informed me of a popular collegiate acronym.

dtr: determine the relationship.

all these years later, i'm resigning to the notion that, for some people, dtr'ing is not only possible, but required before 'making any promises' as such. as you kidding me -- determining a relationship is just something you do, like swatting away a fly on a rancid july evening, or picking up toilet paper on what other people might refer to as date night.

maybe that's the difference between that childhood friend and me; some people need things finitely determined, and others find determining anything in a relationship as appealing as slowly suffocating your partner to death. what's the fun in that? sounds like the best way to make life as dull as possible.

sorry old friend -- guess i didn't turn out dull.