Color Me Hippie!

I think I miss marijuana. I haven’t smoked in what seems like a very, very long time. All around the house, I seem to have blunts, and papers in various drawers or boxes. And I know for a fact that there are bags of weed hiding somewhere, I’m just not too much of a pot head anymore to turn my apartment upside down to look for them. I went back and read whatever I wrote about my days as a supreme weed head. Yesterday I had a conversation with a shawty about the days when weed was good to me. I was talking about the days of body bag, Cambodian, chocolate thai. Sighs, the good old days. I remember when I was attending school for audio engineering in NYC, if I had the loot, and I didn’t have any one with me, my ass would hightail uptown to go cop.

There was this one spot called choco chips. All they sold was chocolate. Nickel bags of goods. I would always by at least 15 bags, and keep at least 4 for myself to smoke. It was a spot that you had to walk down the steps to get into. The concrete top was low as hell, and everytime I walked in or out, I would hit the top of my damn head. I would be so dizzy, that I was standing at the counter dazed, and couldn’t remember what the hell I was doing there in the first place. There was 4 year old chips and candy behind the plexiglass, and I would look and say to myself; “they would hit the spot, if I had the munchies” and then OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, I’m here for some herb.

Yo, short term memory is a real damn thing. That coupled with the fact my head was split open two times within two years in the same spot. That explains the migraines I still get from time to time, I suppose. The earlier part of my life, I can say I was a bloody mess growing up. I spent a lot of time in the emergency rooms of new jersey. Hell, when I was a kid, there was some hot chicken grease on the stove, I don’t know, or remember too fond of how it happened, but I have 2nd degree burns on my chest from that episode. Its healed and barely visible now though.

But, back to the weed. The other day I was on my way to an interview, or job, it was one of them, I forget = short term. So, I go into my bag to get one of my books out to read while on the train ride. I pull out the Mis-Education of The Negro, and voila! A dime bag of weed pops out, and into my lap. The train was crowded as all get out. A nice older black lady was sitting to my left, and I kind of felt her eyes were cutting through me. It wasn’t one of those moments where time stopped, but it seemed to slow down a tad.

I quickly threw the bag into my bag, and went on business as usual. I couldn’t help but notice the white folks looking at me. I guess I was wondering, if they were wondering if I was going to roll the shit up, right there in front of them. I am not that crass. Hell, I would have gone in between the cars or something. After all, I am a gentleman and shit.

But, the whole day, I couldn’t stop thinking about that weed in my bag. There was a part of me that wanted to just spark the shit up after I left where it was I had to go. It has been so long peoples. I am probably more carefree or less intense when I smoke, to the point that I am aloof to the things that I care about when sober. I don’t know when the last time I smoked and wrote something. If I weren’t trying to do some things now, I swear I would be sparking up right now like no one’s business. I know that the longer I keep this bag sitting around, the more dry it will get. It will be like trying to smoke a dry lawn. However, when all of the bullshit is over, I am ripping the bag open, getting some ez wider, and I am going to toke like there’s no tomorrow. Shit, I deserve it.

I have plans for weed too. Forget all the nonsense this time around. I am looking for nothing but quality. I mean I am a high quality motherfucker, and I deserve the best in all walks of life. And that my friends includes weed.


FUCK IT…..IM ROLLING THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!