Where There Were No Doors

Follow your bliss and doors will open where there were no doors before - Joseph Campbell

Friday, April 01, 2005

Damn! Blast! and Bugger!

Sometimes I can be so fucking crap. There are certain things which, by now, you'd think I'd have mastered. Yet time and time again I find myself in exactly this situation, having failed once more to learn the lesson. And it's not like it's a difficult lesson to learn. But still I get it wrong at least 50% of the time.

Yes. You've guessed it. I've run out of pot.

You'd think it would've been possible, say a couple of days ago, to assess the remaining stash and conclude "hmmmm... this won't see out the week, I'd best score some". But no. For some reason, I rarely seem to make that realisation until I'm filling the very last pipe (as I was doing late last night). It's at that point that I think "oh bugger, only one left... better make a phonecall". And of course, there's always a day between the call and the score.

So as I sat down to chill out in front of a movie tonight I found myself silently berating myself as I gazed at the redundant bong. And I thought (as I do every time this happens), "next time I'll score when there's still enough left for a few days".

I won't though. Next time will be just like this. Sometimes I can be so fucking crap.

7 Comments:

Blogger Robin said...

The solution is to buy in bulk, keep the majority in the freezer, and score when you're down to the last half-ounce...

1/4/05 11:21  
Blogger Jim Bliss said...

Ahhh Robin, if only it were so simple. But the "bulk buy" option is a dangerous one. It encourages ideas like... "I wonder what it's like to cook a third of an ounce of skunk into chocolate and eat it in one go" (cue: inconvenient two-day psychedelic experience).

Besides, even if I had a chest-freezer filled with kilos of the finest bud, it would still be as I'm filling the final pipe that I first thought "aw shit, I better score". I'm crap like that.

1/4/05 12:22  
Anonymous the queen ov sheba said...

It's this kind of tragic situation that has given rise to the 'pot-smoking = apathy' misconception; it's not apathy, I'M WAITING FOR THE BLOODY MAN.

1/4/05 14:23  
Anonymous pixeldiva said...

At least you can get high. My ex tried to get me high for my birthday a couple of years back cos I hadn't had that particular experience yet.

3 hours and 5 joints later, I was all "um... am I supposed to be feeling different now?"

1/4/05 15:40  
Anonymous Ryan said...

What you really have to watch out for is the day when you pick up the phone and your dealer has left town, or his phone number just mysteriously doesn't work any more, and you can't get hold of any back-up dealer you may have, and days turn into weeks, and with every phone call your heart is leaping up into your throat, but no...
It happened to us. A dealer you have a good personal relationship rather than someone who just turns up in a car, grunts, passes you a bag and drives away, is what you need. Or you could, you know, attempt to survive without the stuff. Shudder.

1/4/05 15:46  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

http://www.seat61.com/Netherlands.htm

1/4/05 21:24  
Blogger Jim Bliss said...

pixeldiva, I have heard it said that some people fail to get high the first time they smoke pot. Always thought it an urban legend to be honest, but now I have a first-hand account. I can assure you, however, that it's likely to be a one-off.

Which is not to suggest you immediately hop on Seat 61 (see above); merely that it's highly unlikely you were born without the requisite neurobiology to get high... there's also the possibility that it was crap gear you tried (and your ex was just a lightweight who got wrecked on crap gear).

Ryan, for a moment there I thought you were serious (about the "surviving without it" thing). You're a card, really you are!

I thankfully don't have to worry about the "dodgy dealer" scenario. As with most things, I strive to consume local produce, grown lovingly and with pride, whenever possible (though my minor addiction to mango does make this difficult). It does mean I spend a couple of hours on public transport... two tubes, a train and a bus. And one does have to pay for quality of course (this current lot is the same strain that won last year's Cannabis Cup). But the convenience of having a cheap home-delivery service (probably touting dodgy soap-bar hash filled with adulterants... or 3 month-old dry homegrown leaf) could never tempt me away from good skunk grown with care.

There are few things more sensually satisfying than the rich, earthy scent of fresh skunk bud. Sometimes I think I prefer the smell of the fresh plant to the effects of the smoked stuff. Seriously. It's intoxicating in a whole other way. And that sweet stickiness as the crystals on the bud coats your fingers while you prise it apart into pieces small enough to place into a pipe........

it may come as little surprise that I have recently returned from a journey that involved 4 tubes, 2 buses and 2 trains. And now I'm going to watch a film.

2/4/05 01:35  

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