Monday, January 17, 2011

Theoretically

My mama brought me up to ask questions. To be curious about life, death, anything that came to mind. She believes that if you're not determined to discover something, the answer will never really be important.

 I thoroughly enjoy the company of those that stay up all night contemplating irrelevant facts while passing round the blunt that seems to make you more intelligent. Yet I find most of my theories remain stranded on the island of brain cells inside my skull. It's true that the more weed you smoke, the smarter you feel. It isn't necessarily a good thing, but it is definitely instant entertainment. You get mind fucked after spending hours conversing about one particular idea that you know is absolutely unnecessary.


Personally, I think you have to have a few screws loose to go from inhaling the fumes of a plant to shooting heroine into your blood stream. I do believe it is a gateway drug, however, in the sense that it opens up your mind to the possibilities of life. I'm not talking about other drugs, I'm talking about all the questions weed makes you ask, all the ideas and stories you come up with, the burst of creativity you indulge in. These are the things missed. And of course you don't have to smoke to be curious, but it definitely doesn't hurt. Theories are just questions waiting to be answered.


<www.hightimes.com - Pix of the Crop 12.17.10>

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