that parents start facebooks for their kids and that their kids might eventually take control of those accounts. Thus, a persons entire life, from start to finish, could potentially be recorded on the internet.
So this is when I was still new to smoking. Mind you, most of my friends were already pretty used to weed. So this friend of mine, let’s call him H, came over one night and wanted to smoke.
and I’m wondering when I’m going to stop. Maybe when I’m dead. I don’t know. It’s strange to think that this digital imprint of myself could be what lasts when I’m gone. What persists.
Which sucks because all everyone wants to do is talk about basketball during March. I want to watch it all, I want to be in to college basketball, but I can’t get into it.
Drinking there is a huge past time and the local beer there that’s the most popular is 7% abv. I know that’s not a crazy amount, but 7% abv is (in my opinion) the baseline alcohol content for most IPAs.
Theism: God exists.
Atheism: God does not exist.
Agnosticism: God could exist, but God could also not exists.
Ignosticism: What is God?
I had planned to write it all down. To share it here. But it’s such a huge chunk of writing that I don’t even know where to start.
As far as I know, weed is highly looked down upon/super illegal, so everything I write will be completely sober. Unless I happen to get hammered, but that probably won’t happen given the nature of my “work” here in the first place.
Something on the order of months. Anyway, my buddy came over and we smoked out of a waterfall and he brought his eight week old puppy with him.
No we didn’t get the dog high. It’s an eight week old puppy for God’s sake.
10.2 grams of exquisitely cured west coast marijuana given to me absolutely free.
I lol’d/rofl’d pretty hard and told them we should go get our lips pierced.
This story leads me to my next point, which will be me-on-a-political-soapbox, so get out while you can.
I’ve shot a few guns; a civilian AK-47, Armalite, a Glock, a .22, and a little snub nose revolver. Yesterday, after going out to the bars with my buddy, we went back to his place and his girlfriend was cleaning her Glock.
One in particular, Marjorie Sandor, is the professor who gave me the confidence to keep writing. I have no idea why. I’ve reread some of the short stories I submitted to her and they were horrendous (keep in mind this was only two years ago).
Allow me, if you would, to share with you an excerpt from the very first short story I submitted to her. I pick this particular paragraph because she had marked that it was a particularly interesting choice of words.
authority is important. It creates some sort of order. It can lead to harmony. But just because you’re granted authority doesn’t mean I’m going blindly obey you, you badge-waving-mother-fucker.