The One With The Pot Journal

So I’ve still got this cold and it’s relentless. It keeps mutating and turning into other colds as yet unclassified by science. I knew I never should have played with that damn Outbreak monkey! I don’t get sick too often, and when I do I tend to kick it pretty quickly, but once in a blue moon I get these unbeatable colds and it gets to feeling like I’ll never be well again. I thought of that earlier today, and it reminded me of another time I had a condition that I thought I’d never shake.

I’ve tried pot… well, I couldn’t say for certain how many times, but surely no more than I could count on my fingers. I’m terrible on pot; I’m the quintessential paranoid stoned guy. And once in I while I think I’m not, so then I smoke, and every time it’s Jesus everyone is looking at me and my mouth and SO DRY. I haven’t said a word in about an hour and a half and people are gonna think I’m nuts if I don’t say something, anything, right now. Okay—now! NOW! Shit, I can’t! I’ll say something stupid, that’s all I’ll do, so I should just keep not speaking. I keep making this smacking sound with my mouth that is SO LOUD and I’m so thirsty and EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT ME!

Anyhow, the time that sticks out in my mind more than any other happened in fourth year. I smoke a joint with my friends Pat and Babs, which was probably my third time ever. A few things in particular made this occasion noteworthy. First—and I’m not exaggerating—the three of us shared one joint, and I was stoned for about twenty hours. Went to bed stoned, woke up the next morning stoned, went to all my classes stoned. And it freaked me the fuck out. I was convinced I’d never be the same again. I’m not sure what exactly made the joint a superjoint. I remember that it was the last bit of what had been a modest amount of pot that Pat had stored in an empty pill bottle, so maybe there was a bit of Ritalin or a laxative mixed in there. Whatever the reason, we were high in a way that seemed magical. Stupid shit—like Pat standing up on a chair and handing his cup of water down to me—blew our minds; no moment had ever been like that moment.

The second item of note—that may actually give you a sense of how we were—was that we wrote about the experience while high. We’d been forced to keep up a journal for our Creative Writing prof, and I think sitting down to journal that night was my idea. I won’t preface the material any further, because I think it speaks for itself. I’m not sure when the names were added, but probably not until the next day.

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Dave — Post pot journal: this is absolutely the strangest I’ve ever felt in my entire life. The living room, — ! Evrything was completely surreal, and people would act outthere, and the talking made sense, but the fact that it made sense made it more surreal. What else did Pat say? He’s like the pot guru! I think I can enjoy this next time. It’s just that I’m afraid of giving up that much control over my thoughts

Pat — Just the simple act of sitting down in front of the computer seems to stretch out like cosmic nylons until I am forced to go back and read just words before already it happening! Where is Dave? Where is Babs? Dave is back back back back...What will we think later on? Dave tried to run from it! We have our babble recorded here

Will it get to Dr.D intact or be deleted, will

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt

make it to the professor? Eh?

Time slow. How long?

Love the shall I say, pussy?

Babs — Iamjust hanging out with Pat and Dave and we’re just hanging out you know. Yeah. We smoked a joint, babe, and man. Man. Man. If I think too hard I will sotop myself from tying because it’s really hard to hit the backwards kee[ when I tryi to write good so I wiont be able

Pat — Well, that’s Babs for ya. But were learning here. That means that there is no right or wrong answer. There is only the experiment of the thing-in-itself!

Dave — Every time that I’m quiet for a couple of seconds (Pat is the Ken Kesey to our Pranksters right now) and then talk, I feel like I’m breaking into a movie and that I’ve delivered the first line wrong. Wow, I can’t believe that I got that whole thought out. I don’t think I can keep a whole thought going for more than thirty seconds without the computer.

Babs — Yeah. So I feel a little bit smoother now and Pat is in the room now “I nneed a little water” the damn backwards key is hard to get atr again and so my hands feel like they are clenching up hard to type yea what Is Pat singing ddave lagughing hysterically .