MUSINGS
By
Brian Moseti
Being high transcends us into vast worlds full of
illusion. We open the doors and lose ourselves to realms where people scared
out of their wits, of us, judge and point fingers and shake their heads. They
are lost in a quagmire they do not understand. They are terribly scared of us.
It puts us slightly above them in a confused ‘don’t bother me’ manner.
Sometimes one wonders if a moment can be captured; frozen
in to a picture moment. Ride the wave at full crest, chest bared, head thrown
back howling with the exuberance of the thrill, the winds rushing past and the
wave speeding up into the climax of the moment. A picture perfect world.
With weed, everything slows down; everything can be
frozen in tiny cubes tucked neatly in a perfect world. No stress. The brain
transcends reality, conjures up images of happy thoughts, warm images that linger
and swim in pink colored worlds. Ha, a lazy grin spreads all over the face.
Until one day, it adapts to the rhythm of life. In the process, our speeds get
altered.
Everything is a matter of speed really. Beyond the
third toke, beyond throbbing veins and rush of blood to the head, beyond the
sap flowing in the trees, birds gliding in the air, the electric train
thundering down the subway. Different dimensions. The speed of thought, which
flows in silk, multiple dimensions veiled in in speeds of immobility.
Never confuse eating weed with smoking weed, the disparities
are quite evident.
The smoker travels in dreams. The smoker slices time
into stoned and sober moments. The smoker waits for the high moments.
To
be continued…
@Mossetti
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