IT’S A GOOD THING MARIJUANA IS…
…not habit-forming because after nearly 50 years of it, it’s time to give it up, should be a piece of cake…hah!
…don’t ever let anybody tell you it’s not a habit, it’s a habit, first it grew from getting high as a youth when life was fun and full of promise, all through the intervening years (which put the lie to those two early promises; Golden Boy disappeared in a rush…) until now when it’s practically a mind-set, is a mind-set, okay…frantic when there’s no bone at-hand; to a large degree I’ve got to lay off on weed for the condition of my ruined lungs, for the fact I am a lunger about to croak…in tandem with Jameson’s and Guinness, why, Reefer Madness and they were An Item, were the yin and yang of a symbiotic relationship wrestling kindred spirits, and of course in concert with them I’ve squandered a fortune, largely not mine, and ruined a number of great relationships…other than that it’s been fun…irony is a specialty of mine…
…it’s late in the game, too late, too late, too late to rectify the wrongs…brain cells disappearing, cut down by a lethal sickle in half-circle swaths, a life of indolence, insouciance and neglect is coming to an end…hopefully not today though, Dude, I mean Man I got plans You dig? I got me another bottle of Korbel champagne to introduce to my Florida orange juice and we goin’ to party ok Big Fellow, Y’all come back another time…
ONE OF MY TWO, LOVING SISTERS…
…is named Gay, Gay Ann Ward originally. As I write it is her birthday. When we were kids – the 1940s and ‘50s – gay meant happy, fun loving, cheerful, and so she was; over the years the meaning of gay has changed, although it still means cheerful, happy and fun loving it also means, well, gay…okay that’s that part of this…
…if you smoke and/or drink and go to bars or visit other friends’ homes and smoke and have a pop here and there those Bic lighters are forever getting left behind, lost, mistaken by someone else for theirs (that’s a good one)…pretty much Bic is ubiquitous…(What I wouldn’t give if only there were a –c- in ubicquitous! Anyway, where was I…o yes…)
…on one holiday occasion or another my darling sister Gay’s husband Lenny gave her a dozen white Bic lighters with lettering embossed on them which read ‘I’m Gay!’ She told me they never mysteriously disappeared off the bar and if you left one behind So and So would call next day and say so…I haffta laff…you don’t get your Harley-Davidson lighters back…
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I had to drop the pot to have the job I have. They test before hiring. That was 9 years ago. All that cranberry juice I had to drink to get it out of my system before the blood test almost made me piss red.
Some years before I ended the daily "drag", I stopped to pee and it DID come out red. A polyp in my bladder broke. I asked 'why' at the hospital. They asked me if I smoked (they meant cigarettes). I said 'yes' I had, but that I had stopped 10 years before that. I didn't tell him about the pot. Great - cigarettes were to blame. Gosh, I'm glad I gave them up. The daily drag went on - powerful stuff from NYC.
The next year I had a follow-up exam. That damn thing they stick in you to see what's going on in there ain't fun. You kinda get used to it after awhile. Oh, no! Another polyp growing in there! Out-patient surgery. Recovery. Gosh I hope I don't get another one. The daily drag continued.
Two years later, another one. Out-patient. Recovery. Continue the daily drag. Guess what on year three?
Then I dropped the pot for the job.
Nine years no drags. Nine years no polyps. Most of the time I don't miss the daily drag. There is life after the daily drag.
B
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