The singed eyebrows, the same dirty pair of cargo shorts, and Ray Bans; this is my uniform. Ever-present Visine in my pocket, a can of Axe in the car, and a packet of that orange Trident gum that one can smell five feet away; this is my equipment. A goofy grin, non-sequiturs, and music; this is my setting.
At least that's the way it was...
Now I sit, Marine Corps haircut and tucked in shirt, polished shoes, and tie; this is my role. I am an actor. I acted in high school, college, and now I'm acting again. I have to pretend I'm not a weed-warrior, that there are actually things I'd rather do than get high. But the truth is there isn't.
A recent surgery sidelined me during the summer and gave me time to catch up on reading, relaxing, and smoking. All good things must come to an end however, and now I have to travel and study somewhere I am not comfortable smoking.
How will I cope? I am not certain. I plan on exercising more and reading. This is not goodbye; rather it is a mere "cya later." I will smoke again; I will take my place on the mountain of smoky enlightenment... I miss it already and still have my last emergency bowled packed for right before my flight. Pray for me, I'll pray for you. I'll pray every day until this struggle is won; till the sick can smoke and feel better and then eventually everyone will. Weed will save the world one day; we'll look back collectively and laugh... or cry. Throughout the centuries we re-invent ourselves as Americans. We jettisoned slavery, then prohibition of alcohol (which is a much more dangerous drug than cannabis), and then segregation. I am hopeful for our future. Someday maybe we can be like our Dutch brethren who make billions dealing in tulips and wooden shoes while smoking. Instead of invading countries, paying tax dollars for F-22 Raptors (when Al Qaeda has no air force), "no child left behind," and the war on drugs, maybe we can pay for better weed. We would be too sleepy to fight, too well-fed to complain, and constantly having great sex. This is my prayer. Amen.
DeliciousToast Reviewed by DeliciousToast on . Losing a friend The singed eyebrows, the same dirty pair of cargo shorts, and Ray Bans; this is my uniform. Ever-present Visine in my pocket, a can of Axe in the car, and a packet of that orange Trident gum that one can smell five feet away; this is my equipment. A goofy grin, non-sequiturs, and music; this is my setting. At least that's the way it was... Now I sit, Marine Corps haircut and tucked in shirt, polished shoes, and tie; this is my role. I am an actor. I acted in high school, college, and now I'm Rating: 5