A few years ago I made a weed based aquaintance at work. I'm not really sure how the connection started but for some reason my radar sensed that he was a smoker like myself. A friend who sometimes bought through him asked me if I could spare a couple of buds of homegrown for both of them until their regular supply resumed. I was secretly quite proud of my produce, and at the time was experiencing a post harvest season of plenitude, so I was only too happy to share a bit with them. I didn't want to sell it though, because I did not want to become anyone's direct supplier except for myself. Also, if the shit were to hit the fan one day, I could honestly claim the supply was purely mine. Whether this would have any bearing on things in court, I doubt, but it's a conscience thing on some level. I don't break the law in any other way except with regard to weed, and occasional exotic powders from China.
Anyway, I would occasionally buy through him for the few weeks between running out of one grow and harvesting the next. I usually bought a decent chunk to minimise running around and visiting dubious locations. I didn't like to score and run tooabruptly, it seeming like bad manners, so we would often share smokes and chat for a bit. I got to know him reasonably well through these small sessions, and from a shy start, he began to tell me more and more about himself.
He lives with his mother in a spacious semi not too far from me. When I visited his, his mother would usually be talking at a quiz show on the tv, while smoking fairly rank smelling superkingsize cigarettes. She appeared to pay very little emotional attention to her 37yr son except to tell him when she needed him to pick up groceries, lend her money or provide her with a lift. He told me that they would move house every few years after a few renovations, and downsize to free up capital and service her debts. She rarely worked. Some of her time was spent painting or pastelling rather kitsch pictures of peoples pets, or idealised animals which she sold from time to time.
The two of them coexisted in this situation, she tolerating his weed smoking in order to keep him at hand, mainly for practical and economic reasons, although he confided in me that she would probably have some kind of neurotic crises were he to leave home. He stays for a variety of reasons. He obviously has a feeling of loyalty towards her despite her generally abrasive attitude towards him. It made economic sense for him while he spent large amounts of income on marijuana. However, his weed habit has made him slightly insular, and his confidence is not great on a social level.
As he bounced his thoughts off me about such matters, he disclosed details about his parents' split up, his lack of significant other for over a decade, and various other things. I'm not a bad listener, and tried to make encouraging noises. He also told me about his fairly unpleasant dental problems originating from a nasty kicking he received in his early twenties. These also contributed to his poor confidence.
Last year, his dentist referred him to a dental training school where he might receive free treatments that would usually cost a fortune to comission privately. He wasn't convinced due to the fact it was a teaching college rather than normal dentist, but I nudged him towards taking the opportunity and he went for it. He was convinced after his first appointment where they perhaps dazzled him with plans for what might result. Also, the student whose case he would become was a beautiful young Asian girl, with whom he was quite smitten. He confided that he was unused to a woman smiling at him while looking at him directly in the eye. I worried that he might become too attached, but kept my counsel. He is utterly polite and despite his at times disheartening biographical details, is actually quite well adjusted overall. Some people become mysogynistic, violent or cynical through parental difficulties such as his, but he is a gentle man of considerable integrity and decency.
One of the first demands of his treatment was to quit smoking. Obviously, this is no easy task, and is maybe doubly hard if you are partial to weed. I was massively impressed that within a week or two he had made the decision to quit, and proceded to abruptly do so to a large extent. A first move is too get rid of toacco (and weed) from your lifes routine. Not easy with his mother chainsmoking consistently, and actually offering him cigarettes! I couldn't help thinking that the beautiful trainee dentist was somehow at work here. He asked me if he could occasionally join me for a smoke sometimes, and I agreed recluctantly, in the sense that I did not want to erode his resolve, but I could see how it would be hard to completely give up weed.
This is how I subsequently obtained a new buddy who thus began to come round on a weekly basis to share a joint with me. I didn't mind paricularly to start with, but as time passed, it became a twice weekly session. My problem was that he would install himself for a couple of hours on an evening, wanting to browse eBay, and chew the cud, with a few smokes. A lot of my free time is spent practising guitar, making music or reading, and of course smoking. The smoking, we had in common, but as for the other activities, well I began to resent a little my not being so free to indulge in them when he was round. I wasn't bothered about sharing the weed too much, until my stash began to run low, but he was happy to score for me when I did run out, and gave me a generous quarter bag as recompense for what he'd smoked of mine. It was the time thing. Also, we smoked in my converted garage/shed/studio/hydro zone, away from my Mrs, and frankly, I wanted to be around her more often. I realised I was not managing the situation well when I started ignoring afternoon phonecalls in case it was him wanting to visit. One afternoon, the phone rang four times from him. I had dropped 20mg of 2CB and was not in the right frame of mind for providing the usual therapy. I then proceded to shut downstairs curtains and creep about until my Mrs returned from work. Stupid, I know, but it's how I'd got with it that afternoon. I was glad that I have no mobile phone, or I would probably had little excuse not to answer. At least a landline means I have a few possible excuses for unavailability.
One particular Saturday mid summer last year, again when my Mrs was going away tok her sister's for the night, I decided to have a bit of a blow out with myself. I had obtained a good quantity of Methylone and been using it while composing/recording music on an evening at the weekend. I had used moderate doses (for me!) of 150-200mgs to give me a nice euphoric stimulation that gave me a kind of methodical but freewheeling frame of mind. During these music sessions, I recorded some covers of classic blues tracks that I'd always liked. I had got to the point where I had pretty decent realisations of the originals, only lacking vocals. Now I'd put down slide guitar, normal guitar, organ, bass, drum parts etc, but I am not a singer. I can pitch and hold a note, it's just that my voice sounds riduculously Yorkshire, and makes 'Good Golly Miss Molly' or 'Shake Your Money Maker" sound preposterous. That particular Saturday I lined up two biggish doses of Methylone, to be ingested once an initial 15mg 2CB dose had made itself known to my synapses. I had finished work at 2.30 pm and was looking forward to having a looser and more uninhibited shot at singing. I'd done instrumentals of Canned Heat's 'Going Up The Country', Fleetwood Mac's take on "Shake Your Money Maker", the Creedence version of Little Richard's "Good Golly Miss Molly" and en epic take of Led Zeps "Bring It On Home". I planned to get really high and tackle them all. Cont. . .
Anyway, I would occasionally buy through him for the few weeks between running out of one grow and harvesting the next. I usually bought a decent chunk to minimise running around and visiting dubious locations. I didn't like to score and run tooabruptly, it seeming like bad manners, so we would often share smokes and chat for a bit. I got to know him reasonably well through these small sessions, and from a shy start, he began to tell me more and more about himself.
He lives with his mother in a spacious semi not too far from me. When I visited his, his mother would usually be talking at a quiz show on the tv, while smoking fairly rank smelling superkingsize cigarettes. She appeared to pay very little emotional attention to her 37yr son except to tell him when she needed him to pick up groceries, lend her money or provide her with a lift. He told me that they would move house every few years after a few renovations, and downsize to free up capital and service her debts. She rarely worked. Some of her time was spent painting or pastelling rather kitsch pictures of peoples pets, or idealised animals which she sold from time to time.
The two of them coexisted in this situation, she tolerating his weed smoking in order to keep him at hand, mainly for practical and economic reasons, although he confided in me that she would probably have some kind of neurotic crises were he to leave home. He stays for a variety of reasons. He obviously has a feeling of loyalty towards her despite her generally abrasive attitude towards him. It made economic sense for him while he spent large amounts of income on marijuana. However, his weed habit has made him slightly insular, and his confidence is not great on a social level.
As he bounced his thoughts off me about such matters, he disclosed details about his parents' split up, his lack of significant other for over a decade, and various other things. I'm not a bad listener, and tried to make encouraging noises. He also told me about his fairly unpleasant dental problems originating from a nasty kicking he received in his early twenties. These also contributed to his poor confidence.
Last year, his dentist referred him to a dental training school where he might receive free treatments that would usually cost a fortune to comission privately. He wasn't convinced due to the fact it was a teaching college rather than normal dentist, but I nudged him towards taking the opportunity and he went for it. He was convinced after his first appointment where they perhaps dazzled him with plans for what might result. Also, the student whose case he would become was a beautiful young Asian girl, with whom he was quite smitten. He confided that he was unused to a woman smiling at him while looking at him directly in the eye. I worried that he might become too attached, but kept my counsel. He is utterly polite and despite his at times disheartening biographical details, is actually quite well adjusted overall. Some people become mysogynistic, violent or cynical through parental difficulties such as his, but he is a gentle man of considerable integrity and decency.
One of the first demands of his treatment was to quit smoking. Obviously, this is no easy task, and is maybe doubly hard if you are partial to weed. I was massively impressed that within a week or two he had made the decision to quit, and proceded to abruptly do so to a large extent. A first move is too get rid of toacco (and weed) from your lifes routine. Not easy with his mother chainsmoking consistently, and actually offering him cigarettes! I couldn't help thinking that the beautiful trainee dentist was somehow at work here. He asked me if he could occasionally join me for a smoke sometimes, and I agreed recluctantly, in the sense that I did not want to erode his resolve, but I could see how it would be hard to completely give up weed.
This is how I subsequently obtained a new buddy who thus began to come round on a weekly basis to share a joint with me. I didn't mind paricularly to start with, but as time passed, it became a twice weekly session. My problem was that he would install himself for a couple of hours on an evening, wanting to browse eBay, and chew the cud, with a few smokes. A lot of my free time is spent practising guitar, making music or reading, and of course smoking. The smoking, we had in common, but as for the other activities, well I began to resent a little my not being so free to indulge in them when he was round. I wasn't bothered about sharing the weed too much, until my stash began to run low, but he was happy to score for me when I did run out, and gave me a generous quarter bag as recompense for what he'd smoked of mine. It was the time thing. Also, we smoked in my converted garage/shed/studio/hydro zone, away from my Mrs, and frankly, I wanted to be around her more often. I realised I was not managing the situation well when I started ignoring afternoon phonecalls in case it was him wanting to visit. One afternoon, the phone rang four times from him. I had dropped 20mg of 2CB and was not in the right frame of mind for providing the usual therapy. I then proceded to shut downstairs curtains and creep about until my Mrs returned from work. Stupid, I know, but it's how I'd got with it that afternoon. I was glad that I have no mobile phone, or I would probably had little excuse not to answer. At least a landline means I have a few possible excuses for unavailability.
One particular Saturday mid summer last year, again when my Mrs was going away tok her sister's for the night, I decided to have a bit of a blow out with myself. I had obtained a good quantity of Methylone and been using it while composing/recording music on an evening at the weekend. I had used moderate doses (for me!) of 150-200mgs to give me a nice euphoric stimulation that gave me a kind of methodical but freewheeling frame of mind. During these music sessions, I recorded some covers of classic blues tracks that I'd always liked. I had got to the point where I had pretty decent realisations of the originals, only lacking vocals. Now I'd put down slide guitar, normal guitar, organ, bass, drum parts etc, but I am not a singer. I can pitch and hold a note, it's just that my voice sounds riduculously Yorkshire, and makes 'Good Golly Miss Molly' or 'Shake Your Money Maker" sound preposterous. That particular Saturday I lined up two biggish doses of Methylone, to be ingested once an initial 15mg 2CB dose had made itself known to my synapses. I had finished work at 2.30 pm and was looking forward to having a looser and more uninhibited shot at singing. I'd done instrumentals of Canned Heat's 'Going Up The Country', Fleetwood Mac's take on "Shake Your Money Maker", the Creedence version of Little Richard's "Good Golly Miss Molly" and en epic take of Led Zeps "Bring It On Home". I planned to get really high and tackle them all. Cont. . .