XV. smoke, n, the visible vapor and gases given off by a burning or smoldering substance
Okay, so, update on my life, anyone? Since I don't seem to be keeping a very good record anymore, as I hardly ever post here anymore and have stopped writing in my paper journal altogether. I know, I suck. Maybe I'll manage to keep an intense chronicle of my four years at the University of California, Berkeley. Along with all the other crap I'll be doing daily, like homework, and eating three actual meals, and getting exercise... My life is just too unorganized still, what with going back and forth between my parents' houses every week and the fact that said parents are insane. I can't wait to share a tiny, poorly heated/air-conditioned room with a neat freak and/or a total slob just because, for the first time since the age of eight, I will have all of my things in one place.
Actually, perhaps that's not very nice to say about my parents. They've been great this weekend. They all let me drive-- even my stepmom, who has a new(ish) car! My mom and dad both came to see me in the play I was in as part of an evening of one-acts at the school this weekend, though naturally not on the same night. And tonight, my dad and I went to see
,
who was truly superb. It was my birthday gift to my dad, the purchase of our tickets. (Ira Glass hosts "This American Life" on NPR, for those who, unlike myself, are not rabid public radio listeners.) I dunno... The things he said about using American broadcast journalism as an outlet for stories, just stories (the ones that make us cry and laugh and don't portray their subjects as deities or demons or specimens) reminded me of how much I have truly enjoyed the work I've done in radio. By the way, if you're interested in hearing some of my radio work, there are links to be found here.
Oh, and now the drugs I guess...
Friday night, we went to the Landtrust, and I got high as fuck. We got this wicked craving for pizza, so we walked to the newly reopened Fellini's, where I, ahem, ran into the father of an old friend of mine and was sort of coerced into talking to him for like five minutes, all the while trying not to seem strung out. Then the other kids we were with left, so it was just me and Nat and this kid I used to know when he was in Boy Scouts with my brother. Well, Nat and the boy were being gross and on each other, so I walked ahead back to the Landtrust. I sang, "tears and fears and feelin' proud..." But I don't know all of that verse. I was thinking that in the swing watching the train go by waiting for no one to come and wondering why they call it being baked if you can go back because isn't it a chemical change? Yeah, I get melancholy when I'm drunk/high sometimes. But I was also thinking about beauty and independence and... It's hard to explain. Anyway, I wasn't sad, really. A little pissed at my inconsiderate friends, but ey. You do what you gotta do.
And then last night, I was chillin' with the kids (the animals? I need a name for them that encapsulates their awesomeness), and they decided to smoke salvia-- a sort of legal weed-tobacco hybrid which isn't really like either of those drugs at all, but that was how they described it... It was the funniest shit I've ever seen, and the scariest. But mainly the funniest. Man, they were tripping balls. They all went to "another world" almost immediately after taking a hit. And this other kid was tripping on shrooms. I might try that this summer.
Incidentally, I told my mom about smoking weed, and she said, "Now you know why your brother does it so much." How fucked up is that?
Actually, perhaps that's not very nice to say about my parents. They've been great this weekend. They all let me drive-- even my stepmom, who has a new(ish) car! My mom and dad both came to see me in the play I was in as part of an evening of one-acts at the school this weekend, though naturally not on the same night. And tonight, my dad and I went to see
,
who was truly superb. It was my birthday gift to my dad, the purchase of our tickets. (Ira Glass hosts "This American Life" on NPR, for those who, unlike myself, are not rabid public radio listeners.) I dunno... The things he said about using American broadcast journalism as an outlet for stories, just stories (the ones that make us cry and laugh and don't portray their subjects as deities or demons or specimens) reminded me of how much I have truly enjoyed the work I've done in radio. By the way, if you're interested in hearing some of my radio work, there are links to be found here.
Oh, and now the drugs I guess...
Friday night, we went to the Landtrust, and I got high as fuck. We got this wicked craving for pizza, so we walked to the newly reopened Fellini's, where I, ahem, ran into the father of an old friend of mine and was sort of coerced into talking to him for like five minutes, all the while trying not to seem strung out. Then the other kids we were with left, so it was just me and Nat and this kid I used to know when he was in Boy Scouts with my brother. Well, Nat and the boy were being gross and on each other, so I walked ahead back to the Landtrust. I sang, "tears and fears and feelin' proud..." But I don't know all of that verse. I was thinking that in the swing watching the train go by waiting for no one to come and wondering why they call it being baked if you can go back because isn't it a chemical change? Yeah, I get melancholy when I'm drunk/high sometimes. But I was also thinking about beauty and independence and... It's hard to explain. Anyway, I wasn't sad, really. A little pissed at my inconsiderate friends, but ey. You do what you gotta do.
And then last night, I was chillin' with the kids (the animals? I need a name for them that encapsulates their awesomeness), and they decided to smoke salvia-- a sort of legal weed-tobacco hybrid which isn't really like either of those drugs at all, but that was how they described it... It was the funniest shit I've ever seen, and the scariest. But mainly the funniest. Man, they were tripping balls. They all went to "another world" almost immediately after taking a hit. And this other kid was tripping on shrooms. I might try that this summer.
Incidentally, I told my mom about smoking weed, and she said, "Now you know why your brother does it so much." How fucked up is that?