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The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
In general, the smoker stops seeking healthy outlets of social interactions, opting instead for a tight circle of fellow users.
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.
Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
You just can’t admit that there are some real losers in your ranks.
Or maybe you’re the skeez we’ve all been talking about? “Let me lecture you about how weed is less dangerous than alcohol…” Oh shut up!
And if– and this is meant as a speculative hypothetical for you potheads reading this– if I ever wanted to try your wonderful Mary Jane, why are you damn niggardly about it???
I thought you people were all about good vibes and sharing? Maybe it’s the social isolation, or maybe it’s the first signs of schizophrenia…
If you honestly believe that the only avenue of mental enlightenment is through coughing your lungs out, then you’re an idiot. Even though they talk about themselves for hours on end, they seem to lack basic self-awareness How can you be so incredibly hip to yourself and yet fail to notice that you’re still talking long, long after everyone else in the room has tuned out? Concerts, museums, movies, nature hikes, sunrises, sunsets, intimate intercourse, etc. When they’ve somehow been conned into experiencing these things sober, they’re anxious and distracted, dreaming how much cooler it would be if only they had that little one-hitter. There’s nothing less fun than a condescending, derisive prick of a pothead. They’re not as intelligent as they like to believe Intelligence comes from reading books, applying yourself to learning and actually facing life challenges…
It does not come from watching back-to-back episodes of Breaking Bad for five hours straight while your buddies giggle like Cindy Brady. The coughing, the spitting, the stale bunghole odor that hangs off their bodies…
Yeah, go screw yourselves you cheap, selfish bastards. Whatever the case, potheads are strange, strange people!
The sad thing is that they have no clue just how weird they really are… They’re dishonest How many of you are going to read all this and still try to say, “But I’m an artist who reads books and loves my family and my family is so proud that I got a 4.0 GPA and then became the CEO of my own company and I can really take a break from my reefer addiction whenever I want but why would I want to when it’s the most amazing thing in my life?
The result is an introverted, anxious person who has begun to look sallow and wane.