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Bodhizattva420's blog: "Marijuana"

created on 05/23/2007  |  http://fubar.com/marijuana/b85302

Ghosts

It ain't easy being a ghost. I mean, being anything can kinda be a real drag, but being a ghost ain't all they said it would be. Ok, maybe I messed up. I saw the light. Beautiful, bright light. A beach! A white sand beach with a liquid light ocean. Think about a HUGE lava lamp with white, just about clear, lava. Man, it was ten times, no, screw that, a million times more beautiful than any scene you could put up, but for some reason.. I walked away. Been kicking myself in the ass ever since. Let me tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Greg Daily.. and I died two years ago. People had always told me to take it easy, and I did. Well, I tried. Living in Vegas does have it's health hazards, and I fell prey to the biggest one of them all.. excess. Little known fact, or it just seems little known because no one pays heed, is that if you do an excessive ammount of drugs.. you'll die. Not one of those cool deaths like in Gladiator at the end, but a death you're thankful you only have to go through once. Going on a serious binge after everything had gone down, I'd found out the deep end isn't just a place in a pool. No wife. No children. No residence. Hustling for what I did have, which wasn't much more than a hotel room for one night, a bottle of pills, and a quarter ounce of fine flour. My boy Q is the one that hooked me up, well, yeah, it actually went more like this. We'd been working on a big deal with some out of towners, so Q and I thought hey, this is our break. Get the money and get the hell out of this place. This town'll suck you dry. Anyway, I get to his house cause I'd been trying to call him and find out what the hell happened. Turns out he was screwing my then girlfriend and quite possibly gonna rip me off and him and the bitch take off to wherever they were trying to go. I say trying to go cause dead people don't go anywhere. Whoever did this was pretty pissed off. That or just twisted. Jessie, hot little dancer chick I met and thought was my girl, now corpse laying naked in a pool of blood on the bed in bedroom, and my bro Q, nah, just Q, shot so many times in the head that I didn't even know who he was at first, was tied up laying in the other bedroom. The drugs were gone except for the bottle of pills and the snow I found in a spot under the floor. Didn't think to call the cops when I left either, but did wipe my prints off the door handle. My room's what I bought with the last on my money, hell, the last thing I'd ever buy.. God that's sad. Anyway, I take everything and begin to get dizzy. The room got fuzzy and began to shake. Then the shaking got more violent. Imagine being the liquid inside of a pop bottle when you'd shake the hell out of it when you were a kid. Yeah, like that. The room went dark, not black. Just got darker. My heart was beating out of my chest, then it slowed down. I remember falling back and looking at the ceiling and thinking, this is it. A pain hit me in my chest harder than I'd ever felt and my breath left me. Then the pain went away, and all of my feeling. Starting as pins and needles in my toes and going numb as it went up my body. The light was blinding. Florida at noon bright. Standing there on the shore and looking out into the skyline, a crystal blue skyline, my eyes finally adjusted to the light. It was beautiful, man. F*cking beautiful. Now, maybe it was just stupitidy or something, but something said not yet. You gotta go back. Turning from the liquid light show was harder than turning down a free shot at a bar, but I did it. Coming back I found out quickly that there are more of us than I knew of. Mostly people who just can't let go of their humanity because they thought they were so great, and no, I didn't see Elvis. There were others like myself that came back just cause. It's funny. Even in death we weren't done living. I'd walked around for a while, not totally realizing the extent of my deadness until a group of children ran right through me. Had to sit after that one. "You'll get used to it," an old man's voice says from my side. Turning I see this old man, with a smile that made me almost smile. He had a bald head with like a half halo of white hair connecting to a white trimmed beard. Standing, his white robe barely touched the ground where his feet were comfortably in brown sandals. It felt to me like he was a giant even though he was about my height.. and his eyes. The same color as the sky. "Are you.." "No," he says. "I'm not I AM, but we are part of him. Her. Whatever your perspective is." They begin walking the boardwalk. A few of the people notice them and wave clothed like and clothed from a time before. "Are those.." "Yes, they are," he says as we walk through a busy intersection with cars passing thorugh us. "You never finish a question do you," he says bursting into laughter. "I don't know how to take all of this." "What? The fact that spirits or ghosts are real," he asks walking through a car where a girl is servicing a John. I had to stop and look. Man, I'll miss this I thought. Him clearing his throat from behind snapped me back to the subject at hand. "As I was saying," he said standing in front of me, "Our world exists in connection to the living world. There are those of us that are here for good, and those here for evil." "Duality. What about duality?" He laughs at me and begins walking. "All duality is, is the realization that the two sides have to work together to make one." "So the one has to come from two." "That's right," he says. "Well where does the One come from?" "I can't believe someone as bright as yourself died the way you did," he says as we make it to an old abandoned building. "Take this," he says handing me a card. "It's an old friend of mine. She can help you out getting adjusted," he says walking through the door. As I try I slam into it. "Why can't I walk through?" "This is my domain," I can hear him say with his voice trailing off like he's still walking away from me. "Read the card. Good luck kid." The card read: MADAME BUTTERFLY'S HOUSE OF UNDERSTANDING.. and below it: INTRODUCTIONS, DISPLACEMENTS, AND GENERAL KNOW. Didn't sound too bad I thought. As the sky got darker it was more apparent who were ghosts. There was a slight glow that surrounded everyone, but surrounded us with more light as I walked the busy streets. Making my way to the house passing places I used to go to when I was "alive" I notice a girl about my age outside of the Madame's house crying. With the glow around her I knew she was a spirit. "It isn't fair," she says with her face in her hands. "It wasn't supposed to be my time." "Is this the Madame's house?" Looking up at me her look changes and she runs the other direction. What the hell was that all about I ask myself walking up the steps to the front door. It opens by itself, which is kinda creepy, even with me being a ghost. The inside reminds me of a cross between a museum and the inside of the house from Psycho. Weird objects, books, and other things sit motionless in glass cases scrawled with some language I've never seen. "Can I help you?" a woman's voice with an English accent says from behind me startling me slightly. When I turn I see the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She's slightly younger than I am, burnt organge brown hair just past her shoulders, and a body.. good God what a body! Something else.. she's not a ghost. What would a ghost need with sunglasses and a seeing eye dog? She senses me looking her over and clears her throat. "Sorry, old habit." "While you're here there are rules. You can't get past the steps to the upstairs," she says as her dog walks her to the steps, "so no more thoughts like the one's you were having.. and no peep shows," she says following the dog up. "What do I do?" "Wait til morning," she says. I check out the grandfather clock in the living room to see time is flying by much faster than it was when I was alive. "Good night," I hear her say and a door closes. "Get used to it, mate" a man says behind me. For me being a ghost, people seem to just have the drop on me no matter what. I turn and see a man wearing a black suit and black boots, kinda like a mod of the early Sixties, and haircut to match. "I've been trying to get up there for a long time. My name's George," he says standing extending his hand. "You mean George like.." "No," he says smiling and shaking his head. "I did die just when they became famous though." I sit on the couch and look around. "So what do we do?" "Could play cards, let you in on what's going on around here, and what we do," he says walking to the wall, "or," he says reaching into the wall and pulling out a bottle and two glasses, "we can get drunk." "I thought you couldn't drink or eat when you're dead." "That's what I thought," he says handing me a glass and filling it. Filling his he quickly toasts and downs the liquid. "I learned otherwise," he says filling it again and toasting me. This time we both down our drinks. Many hours, laughs, and drinks later I was no longer scared and it felt like I passed out. The afternoon came and the next thing I knew the curtains were being thrown open. The sun was a bright as it was on the beach, except my head didn't hurt. "I want to thank you two for keeping me up all night," she says opening another curtain with agitation sending blinding light in to further make my head throb. George groans and rolls off of the other couch to the floor hitting hard. "I didn't think I could get a hangover.." "You were supposed to have been told that and other things," she says angrily, "but seems you are in death what you were in life." My head pounds as I get used to the light and look over at George pushing himself off of the floor. "Ava come on," he says to her as her and the dog walk quickly to the kitchen. "I'll make you both some tea," she says stopping. "George, now is the time to tell him about what you two and the others are." "Yeah, yeah," he says sitting on the couch. "Just give me a minute." She walks out of the room and I look at George weakly who has layed back down, feet up on the arm of the couch. "Why do I have a f*cking hangover, George?" "It has to do with residual energy," he says. "Things that I can't get into right now." "Cause you don't know?" "Cause my f*cking head hurts," he says and I laugh. Then we both begin laughing. "Oh please, don't make me laugh," he says sitting back up. "Just because we don't need to doesn't mean we don't do it. The only consolation is you don't have to die again." I exhail hard and stand. "I gotta go talk to her." "Good luck on that one," he says rolling back over. I walk through the door into the kitchen where she's washing a plate and a dish that was left in the sink. "You don't have to apologise," she says knowing he was there. Looking at her up and down in her pale yellow sundress I shake my head and imagine what I could do. "What's wrong," she asks turning off the water and turning toward me. She dries her hands and begins to move them slowly over her body. "You don't think I know what you're thinking?" "It's just that you're so damn beautiful. A beautiful woman surrounded by the dead." "You don't have to worry about the ghosts of those passed trying to hurt you," she says almost letting me know what had happened to her. "Well, they can hurt the living, but I know how to protect myself.. and I've got Dylan here to watch out for me, ain't that right," she says petting the dog. "What do I need to know." "Come with me," she says.

Marijuana is Benign

In the dictionary under benign it reads, 'Of a kind and gentle disposition.' Now, when I think of pot or marijuana I can't think anything bad.. except jail time. Jail in any form will have some kind of health hazard, and I don't want to even think of prison. Yes, smoking pot does have some side effects, but so does drinking a pot of coffee. Driving in the other lane of traffic is a serious health hazard, so is eating shards of glass and throwing yourself into a wall.. but you could hardly compare any of these to smoking pot. In most cases, the marijuana is smoked in a pipe or rolled. Smokers like myself like a good joint to relax instead of drinking a beer, which by the way is physically addictive and the number one killer along with tobacco, but mostly we smoke out of a pipe. When you smoke out of a pipe you cut out the chemicals burned in smoking a joint. As the paper burns, it's almost like smoking a cigarette, except in this you're actually getting something out of it. Some friends of mine use a vaporizer in that you don't even use a flame. In comparison to other THC delivery methods such as ingestion, vaporization offers the advantages of rapid onset, direct delivery into the bloodstream through the lungs, and the possibility of gradually increasing delivery until the desired level is reached, enabling more effective self-dosage. There are a lot of people out there that want you to believe that smoking pot is the most horrible thing you could do.. and I've heard it all. It'll take away your drive. It'll make you lazy. It's addictive. It'll ruin your life, but let me ask you this. Under who's perspective do all of these things happen? Pot for me has been a life saver and without it I'd probably be some zombie taking pills for my Bi Polar disorder instead of smoking pot and helping my self more natural. I don't know what the hell the put in Zyprexa, Depakote, or any one of the myriad of pills I took until they found that Lithium is what I needed, and a few bowls for the rough times. Marijuana has been at the forefront of a Drug War that is only getting worse. While people get hooked on crack or cocaine or even pills marijuana is consistantly brought up as the "Gateway" drug. To me, knowledge of drugs is the gateway. If you think about it, what made you want to smoke pot or try a line of coke? You found out that there was something out there you could injest, snort, or breathe and it would alter your world view. Some enjoyed their time and came back with positivity in understanding. Some stayed on the boat a lot longer than they should have. In the end, though, it's all about truth.

He Must Be A Madman

Look honey, I don't have time for this shit!" the man screams into his phone as he quickly walks down the street. He bumps into people and looks at them as if they're the ones with the problem, "You feel like giving me some sidewalk! Thanks a lot!" Getting to the corner without being beaten, the man too busy for manners sees an old bum in tattered clothes pointing at him, and laughing. A very chilling, slow laugh. "Who the hell are you laughin at you old bastard," the man says through his Hugo sunglasses and thousand dollar suit. "You haven't got much longer.." the bum says through missing teeth and laughter. "You're.. you.. do what?!" the man says dumbfounded at what this man just said. "You haven't got much longer.. Frank," the bum says no longer laughing. Now fear comes over Frank. The phone gets closed without another word being said, and the glasses come off. "How do you know me?" Frank asks the bum. Walking closer to Frank the bum emanates a smell combination that includes cheap wine, bad breath and body odor, trash, urine, and quite possibly shit. It almost knocks him to the ground, and for some reason time slows. A dark cloud comes over them. "The vast majority of human beings dislike and even actually dread all notions with which they are not familiar... Hence it comes about that at their first appearance innovators have generally been persecuted, and always derided as fools and madmen," the bum says clearly. As if someone had posessed his body. "Wha.. what? What are you.." A flash hits him and he sees several weeks prior. He sees himself walking down the street and sees the same bum sitting and laughing at a man somewhat like himself. Business oriented, nice suit, and sunglasses. An asshole. Expendable human.. just like him. The bum shakes his can at the man and he spits in his direction, splattering what change he had with saliva. The plastic human laughs as he steps from the corner.. without looking. He is hit immediately by a big truck which smashes him into oblivion, and the noise of his body being hit and then crushed by the truck has women screaming and some men puking. So much for the suit. "Time ends for everyone," the bum says straightening Frank's tie. "I hope you used yours well. Watch your head." Suddenly the man is back on the street and the bum is gone. The sun hits him in the face. Temporarily blinded he steps forward and is jerked back just as a cab misses him. The driver yells something and hits his horn, taking a hard turn around the corner. Looking around for the good samaritan he finds there's no one there. He calls his secretary and cancels his schedual for the week. Several days pass and nothing happens. After about three weeks Frank's back to his normal horrible self. Walking down the same street he sees the bum laughing at him sitting on the ground with his back against a wall. He shakes his can at Frank. "Look, go fuck yourself! Nothing happened, and ain't nothing gonna happen!" Frank yells at him. He clears his throat and spits. Just as he does, a glass truck looses control and hits the pole just in front of him sending a huge sheet at him. Ducking the sheet just misses him and shatters. He looks over at the bum who is still laughing and begins laughing back. "Ha! I watched my head you stinking piece of shit!" he yells at him. Just as he turns he fails to see the other glass sheet just behind him and walks right into it decapitating him. His head rolls to the other side of the glass as his lifeless body slumps to the ground. "Not all who laugh are madmen," the bum says and laughs walking through the crowd that has gathered.

To smoke or not to smoke

It's so hard to believe in this country we're being told for us what's bad and what isn't. A plant, for example, can get you thrown in jail, and in some countries, the transportation of it can get you the death sentence. I'll write more later.. too fucking tired
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