who didn't smoke pot?
All right. I admit it. I experimented with marijuana from time to time in the past.
"Why?" you ask, "Why, Larry, did you never tell us about this before?"
Because the results of my experiments were inconclusive...
The Lancet turned me down flat. The New England Journal of Medicine scoffed at my slipshod approach. Georgia Strait snubbed me. And High Times said, "Get a life, Larry..."
"Guess I showed em all..." (says Larry bravely as he gazes through the bars of his tiny, yet poorly-padded, cell in Z Range at the Yoni School.)
I thought at first, "I never did!" But then, that is wrong. For once, way back, when I still lived in New Brunswick, socializing with the jobless,living from robbing stores, g.e. cartons of sigarettes they then under sold, socializing with them, I got passed on grass to puff and pass on again. I puffed and puffed, and saw everyone around me go glossy eyed, and get silly, and here I was, unaffected, bored with the whole situation. Same as that I never got drunk. Not for not drinking all night at a party or dance. I always wonder if that is high tolerance or just the fact that I never planned to be out of it. I often think that people who get altered by pot or drunk by alcohol, need to get up courage or need to forget and therefore believe in the drug they are using and psyche themselves out.
Why I don't really think I have high tolerance is that once travelling along, and near, the river Rhine, in a a mountain cafe, outdoors, I drank whine and was swaying not trusting myself to get back on my bike for quite a while. It ook me by surprize. I as quite off balance, but not actualy drunk, I don't think. At least I didn't get grumpy or break out in happy singing, or start sobbing, telling my pathetic life story, as I have seen drunk people do.
Nobody may read this confession. As this subject is way down on the list of blogs already. Haven't checked for a while.
Ha, you make me laugh WWT.
Your experience wid da weed is not unique. I have heard from many people that they were unaffected. Sometimes it took more than one exposure. I vaguely remember myself that the first couple o times were nothing much, but then...some specially potent stuff was had by all and there was no doubt after that. I sang grumpily about sobbing for quite some time.
Then I started a blog.
Ah sjee, the uniqueness dream taken from me again. And I thought that I was a special daughter of my father who never ever got drunk no matter how much alcohol he downed. The man was a starving pianist for lack of conservatory education which his depression effected dad could not pay for. So he played nights in cafe's (pubs, but more like the cozy British kinds)He had to accept drinks, like gin, to be a sociable pianist. Could lose his job if he didn't go along with the gang. I've never even seen my Daddy with watery eyes, ever. On vacations we stopped off at roadside inn for soft drinks, he always had a tall glass of beer with a thick layer of foam on it. Then he could just mount that bicycle again. No danger to the bicycle traffic. No police after him for drunk driving, ahum, riding.
So I though, I can hold my alcohol, just like my daddy, so maybe I can hold my grass, like not my daddy, for no one as I know had heard of smoking marijuana then. Tobacco was the thing. In the pipe, cigars, and later when the war was too stressful, cigarettes, like chain smoking.
When you said, "And then I started a blog," that reminded me of when we said, "En toen zong ik een liedje." which means, "And then I sang a song." Sort of when you didn't know what to say anymore.
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