Wake & Bake Sunday

It wasn’t a strict “wake & bake” since that would mean sitting up in bed and taking a bong hit before doing anything else. Which I’ll have to try sometime. Right after I buy a bong. I had one in Roswell for a while, but I had to throw it away because Roswell sucks. But now, since I’m an MM patient, I think it’s time to buy myself a new bong. A man and his bong can form mighty strong friendships, and forge many new adventures.


I got up and had some errands to run, but once the driving was done and I was home for the day, I loaded up my favorite weirdo hippie pipe and took a little hit of Cherry Glue, my favorite low-THC strain specially grown by a local distributor.

It was the best thing I’ve done in years. There was a magic about it, even before I took my first puff.

I remember as I picked up the pipe and started loading the bowl, I could feel something different in the air, as if the Spirit were near, a great friendly force the presence of which I hadn’t felt in many years…and a song came on, something by REM from back in the day, and I smiled, because it was as if the words were being spoken to me.

It was a nice mellow high. A slow onset, which I prefer. I felt a nice buzz after fifteen minutes, then I was pretty much “there” in half an hour.

While it’s fun to just get high and philosophize, it’s best if one does something creative while they’re in that humor. So I picked up a pencil and started to draw my next painting. It’s based on an old vintage erotic photograph. I’ve found they’re the most fun to paint. They’re a little naughty, but quaint enough not to be dirty.

While I didn’t do a great job, I didn’t do bad.

There’s something about drawing. I’m convinced that it’s good for the brain. It’s a form of meditation. Because in order to draw well, you not only have to look at something, you have to “see” it. While turning on the right side of the brain, drawing shuts off the left side of the brain, and we come to find that there is more to the thinking process than words alone, and that’s hard to admit for a poet such as myself.

It’s very difficult to draw and talk at the same time.

People who can draw have a special intelligence. Some of the most incisive political commentary always comes in the form of a cartoon. A pompous, thousand word article by the editorial board of any large city newspaper can’t hold a candle to a simple, sarcastically perceptive cartoon.

I took the hit at around nine in the morning, and it lingered well into the afternoon.

At one point, the negative aspect of my mind started running amok, saying nasty things and being hyper-critical of myself. I don’t know where that comes from. Some latent self-destructive cynicism from my past. In part, it’s probably from my father when he was sloppy drunk, or my aunt when she was thoughtless, or a sadistic teacher, or some asshole classmates.

It got so bad that at one point I went to the mirror, looked myself in the eye and said “Stop it! Stop it right now! You be nice to me. Be nice to me right now, because I’m all we’ve got.”

And it worked. The snide voices evaporated, and I enjoyed the rest of the morning with a newfound sense of serene confidence.

It gave me hope. Helped me look at the bright side of things, even though there is so much darkness in the world now. I was suddenly able to “see” all of the good things in a world of endless potential.

But I also realized that in order to defeat evil, we have to see where it is.

Asshole Republicans. Asshole, lying, greedy, controlling, stupid piece of shit Republicans. They’re ruining everything. But they’re not everywhere, all the time, and we can beat them yet.

Some people are saying that since Biden won the election, we should stop calling ourselves #Restisters and start calling ourselves something else.

To that I say, it’s altogether premature to think we’ve beaten the likes of the Trumpies just because we won the election. Some of his feircest adherents are already screaming about impeaching President Biden, and he hasn’t even been in office for a week.

The #Resistance can’t end, because Trumpism hasn’t ended.

The #Resistance has merely changed form.

It has stepped into its second stage.