so when i was a youngish 20-something, i went through the THC phase. it took a 2 day, 6'x6' concrete and cinderblock roomed, top bunk nap to snap me out of it, and i miss those days like nothing else. a dream to me would be to walk out of my house, tend to my green garden, and sit outside and smoke a joint without worrying about anything... maybe i should move to seattle where that dream is a reality. but here in 1870s Pennsylvania, its still kinda frowned upon.
during this THC phase though i had plenty of seedy seedy bags and i sifted them and pinched them and allowed the seeds to accumulate on the floor. and in my young post-teen years, my bedroom didn't get any cleaner. from laundry to trash to the day's purchases would end up on the floor and never leave it. but i knew where everything was. i can't say anything has really changed nowadays at 35, i just have a bigger expanse to throw stuff around now. but the place was a small room, like 10x14' and i had a foot of insulation from my own floor, let alone the second floor below. the bed was in one corner of the room and from the bed there'd be a small path through the filth to my computer chair on the other side by the window. when sitting in my chair, the 27" CRT TV was about 2 feet in front of me on the tv stand where my stash would hide, but there was a path from the chair to the door as well. the door itself was made in the 1900s so it was strong, and it had to be because to get into the room you had to bumrush the door to squeeze through the opening before the landfill pushed the door back closed.
i'd smoke and think about what i was going to do in my life, everything from figuring out how to fix all the worlds problems, what women would be right for me, organize a front to legalize maryjane, and of course do none of it and just smoke and watch more tv in my office chair. the only responsibility of the day was getting more MJ. and mentally it was the greatest time of my life, mostly because i forgot about my life previously, and nowadays, i don't remember much from the THC phase. so my twenties were lost to the sweet smell of numbing happiness.
i miss those days.
depending on if it was an election season or not, smokers know this as dry time, the great great stuff would come through my lungs and make me hallucinate so that i was seeing mice on my floor. but those who smoke know it doesn't make you hallucinate, it just makes you feel good. that realization of reality happened during one of my sessions and i actually saw the pet rodents. yet they didn't startle me. they just became something else to watch when there was nothing on tv. over the week that they lived with me, they did something for me. . .
a friend stopped by and we smoked a blunt and he said "what is that?" pointing at the one corner of my room where you could see the hardwood floor. i said "that's the floor!"
"no no no" he said "there's a pile of something over there..."
upon further review, it was a perfect pyramid of seeds piled by my little buddies. they sifted through the landfill of my floor and beyond ruining countless clothes, they found seemingly all my seeds from the years of bags i had let fall on the floor, and piled them as if they were civil war monument cannonballs. egypt gets too much credit for the pyramid shape anymore.
but it was remarkable. and funny, of course.
"that''s the craziest thing i ever saw!" he said. i agreed, and obviously it was amazing cause 10+ years later i am still thinking about it, and now writing about it.
but then came the demise of Mickey n Cheech.
i saw where they were coming in and out of my room, and using the natural path under my door where the smoke~barrier towel didn't reach left a mousehole of space. i placed a glue trap on the outside of it. by morning i was in mourning, yet placing mickey's face hard into the glue so he'd suffocate quickly was more humane than putting a hammer to his head. and the next night, it was cheech's walk to the chamber. he also found himself stuck like a deer in headlights, unable to move from the sticky tile from hell. a peep was in fact the last thing i heard of him before going to sleep.
brutal? yeah, but the fact was this: they had it made in my room for a week. if there was a mouse heaven, my place was it, plus they were able to enjoy the fruits of the earth and enjoy a bit of THC themselves. when they got hungry, they could munch on the crumbs of munchies i had left on the floor, then go back to the pile of seeds to get hungry again.
and no, after weeks, months, the pile remained. i think i finally vacuumed it up just before my parole officer was to check my room out just after the 2 day nap in the cinderblocked hell that was Dauphin County Prison.
beyond the mice and THC, drinkin became a whole completely new animal. and so became the new numbness of my later 20s. . . those realities of horror stories may come out. they may not. but i can surely say smoking is BEYOND less harmful than drinking. its downright as natural as oxygen. we humans even have cannabinoid receptors in our brains.
coincidence?
or evolution?
to heck with monkeys, maybe we evolved from mice.
III
