Happy Trip

there was once a day
when they all smoked up and died
and then they went to heaven
in the inner reaches of their minds.
they floated among their neurons
on little sparks of light
they spoke with random electrons
on the definitions of wrong and right
they understood complex algorithms
and the continuity of space and time
they executed mind aerobics
that they were sure were one of a kind

they discovered their inner Einsteins
the analyses that Freud had missed
they saw the world like clockwork
and where every little part fit
they knew then at that moment
that true enlightenment had come
the ultimate truths of the universe
were a fingers breath away
to be slowly grasped and absorbed
to be digested one by one

But then the storm clouds gathered
and ambiguity spread
confusion and emotions arose
their high was almost dead!
they now had to fight
to keep the demons a' bay
they had to protect their wisdom
they had to safely take it away
across the dark of a black lake
to Earth, to home to mama's tea
where ignorance, fear and disbelief
swam and got in your way

'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet'

Went under the influence again. Picked up the ganja boy. He took us to this location in Wellawatte. Gall Road. No weed there though. Too bad.

Came off disappointed and when to location number 2. Place down passing Williams. and this time badu had.

Came to my friends place at bamba. wrapped it. 3 packs. 6 joints and enough left over to fill up a cigarette.

Started smoking.

First, the paranoia spreads. Ado what r we gona do if the cops walk in? it's not like the cops randomly walk in, or have ever walked in, into my friends house. but we were smoking in the garden outside, with some soothing music on, and number one topic of conversation was how to get rid of the leftovers from the whole process of wrapping and preparation. flushing wouldnt work, too many floaty bits. Cant walk into the road and throw it out. Cops might see you and get nosy. Cant chuck it in the drain. What if some shithead saw it falling into the ocean. Dude the cops could come up the drain and attack us from behind! Laughs.

The rest of it is hazy, and the smoke didnt help either. I hate the moments of remarkably truthful insights that hit you when your high. the truth hurts. but most of its not negative, though you dont tend to notice the positive much cos your feeling good most of the time. so you only tend to notice when the good thoughts give away to something extraordinarily sharp and piercing.

Clichés are flung around with reckless abandon. All their clicheness disappearing in the mass of original thought trains reaching their culmination. Making every single statement an end of a journey of independent thought;

'Whats ina rose?'

Blank stares.

Er, I mean, 'Whats in a name?'

Long pause for effect. Then,

'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet'.

Profound silence.

That sort of thing.

Weird snatches of wisdom, that had to have been documented then and there to be thought over later in order to be made sense out of. Sinhalese proverbs translate to english.

'Tree fall man bull prick'

'Twig break, chair make'

and...

'(pointing to shoulder) here wait, ear eat'

the smoke. Its all over the place. The stuff was alright. There is a nursery in my friends house. and in the hall there is a playhouse. I go in there and chill out. listening to some music. It's Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin.

Went back in time to finish the last bit of the little cigarette (that was not). Then sat back and wrote a poem.

Its 1.00 am. we are going to pilla to get some food. I call a cab. to go home. got a meeting in the morning. He drives fast. im scared, then thrilled, then bored, then i forget all about the van until he asks me 'how much more to go sir'?

Just a little bit more. Ate. Slept. Its been a good few months since i did this.

Under the Influence

Oh yes, it has overcome me once again. The Urge. The urge compels me. Need to smoke, need that sweet release, need it. NEED IT!

A cigarette won’t do. No, my addiction is far more adventurous. Cigarettes are mundane and every day things. What I need is something much better! Aahh, I can imagine it now. Lighting one up, perhaps sitting here. Slipping back, relaxxxing, letting the smoke float away into the still evening air. As I feel myself giving up the weights that are holding me down, a sensation of freedom takes over. It is hard to explain if you are not experiencing it, but I will try here. It is like a sinking sensation inside you. You feel all that is negative and forlorn in this world seep down through your body and earth itself through the soles of your feet. You are left with a free head ready to explore the very corners of the universe and appreciate every single blade of grass on this earth.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

I don’t know if I was addicted. But there was a time where a weekend would not be a weekend without a trusty Mary Jane to burn. That was a long time ago. It’s been a good few months since my last toke. And I have passed up several opportunities to smoke up during that time period. It’s not like I quit. Cos I don’t think I have, and it’s not like I stopped temporarily, ‘cos I don’t think I have. It is just that a part of me thinks that the influence of this particular drug creates adverse affects on my mentality.

When you do it for a while, you begin to notice changes in your psyche. You start living the week looking forward to that weekend toke, you think of the freedom in your mind when you are high and you stop giving a rat’s ass about the world around you. You live a calm life and chill out while the world rumbles on all around you. You sink yourself in your comfort zone. And you don’t want to get out of it. That’s the kind of lifestyle that got me thinking that I would be perfectly happy somewhere smoking up and running a dive shop on some exotic beach somewhere surfing my life away.

And I would have been too.

But then reality took over, and the desire to ‘make – it’. , ran into a better job, got a girlfriend (although I don’t think that affected it much) and slowly became aware of the opportunities out there. Well, I quit smoking every weekend but still earned a reputation for a ganja boy. Had a bit of a bad ass ring to it. I loved being the sole smoker in a group who liked nothing better than to get drunk and get wasted. While I sat and Observed.

Now I’ve moved on from that and I don’t want to be too presumptive but maybe I am a changed person. But the Urge comes and goes now and then and who knows, maybe on some dreamy day somewhere when Mother Nature surrounds me at her most beautiful and I am surrounded by some good friends, maybe then I’ll have a few puffs again.