I am a stranger in my own house. My brother is gone half the time, training to become the worlds best wrestler. My father, the ex-drunk just back from AA, sits at the computer writing his second book. And there I sit in my room alone with nothing but a computer, skateboards, and the superior plant. Smoking myself into oblivion only works half the time. Those are fun times because my mind is free to jump all over the place never staying on one train of thought for too long. All those argumentative strangers in my house transform into people that need to be avoided. No one bothers each other as to avoid unnecessary arguments which creates a tension that could be cut with a knife. This is the reason I skateboard: it allows my mind to rest and I can not think about anything else but about what is right infront of me. Its almost like a distraction from the past, present, and future. Everything else just fades away and physical tiredness takes over. I wish I could have inner peace without the use of drugs or extra activities, but I guess if it was so easy, it would not be worth it.
“In today’s climate, I hate to talk about drugs because it’s not the same. You have someone jumping on your head the minute you say anything, so I’ve taken to not trying to give my point of view unless someone really very much asks for it. Because I think the “just say no” mentality is so crazed. I saw a thing in a women’s magazine the other day: “He smokes cannabis, what am I to do. He laughs it off when I try to tell him, he says it’s not really harmful…” Of course, you’re half hoping the advice will be, “well, you know it’s not that harmful; if you love him, if you talk to him about it, tell him maybe he should keep it in the garden shed or something,” you know, a reasonable point of view. But of course it was, “No no, all drugs are bad. All drugs are bad. Librium’s good, Valium’s good, ciggies are good, vodka’s good. But cannabis, oooh.”
I hate that unreasoned attitude. I really can’t believe it’s thirty years since the sixties. I find it staggering. It’s like the future, the sixties, the sixties to me, it hasn’t happened. I feel like the sixties are about to arrive. And we’re in some sort of time warp and it’s still going to happen.”—Paul McCartney on the issue of Drugs.
This morning I was rushed away from her. With only a quick goodbye kiss, so passionate and pure, I got in the car and made the excruciating long drive back to LA. In the car I thought: What I would give to spend just one more moment with her. I need to caress her soft brown skin, I need to kiss her lovely lips, I need to gaze deep into her eyes, I need to give her one last squeeze. These are just a small number of the thoughts that filled my head during the trip home to a place without her. They will continue to plague my dreams until I am reunited with my lover, Miss Sam Bagels.