Journal #64

It's really, really windy today.

I was just thinking about how some of the nicest people I've met are people that work at dispensaries and sex hotel desks or are homeless. Like obviously not everyone that works at these places or are these are gonna be friendly, there are always going to be cruel people out in the world so don't go looking for em. These types of exchanges sort of have a way of finding you anyway. I've been craving weed so I had a weird dream last night where I got ahold of a FAT fucking blunt. Now this thing was stuffed so full and rolled so wide I could barely get my lips around the end. I'd walk outside my bedroom to the back porch (which is odd because I neither have a way to access the outside from my room nor a back porch) and I'd sit around with this small group of boys that were around my age. They'd all bum cigs or beer off each other, but we respected each other's presence and no one forced conversation, it just seemed to happen naturally. I got the sense a lot of them were dealing with things greater than them so I wouldn't push. I'm not talkative anyway. Now, I would pop out every now and then, sit down on the edge of a step, and inhale like I'd been breathing water and I'd finally gotten oxygen. Then I'd exhale and smoke would waft up into the clear night sky. I kept getting interrupted by people in my house wanting me to do shit and I constantly had to perform like I wasn't high which was the frustrating part. Then finally, everyone else in my house went to bed and it was just me and these boys. I settled onto my step and took several drags of my blunt and then the cops showed up and everyone around me fled. That's just how it ended and now I want to go to the dispo for edibles. I'd get caught smoking.