Lucid in London

How to Become a Stoner

Posted in Brainburp by It's Lucy! on May 26, 2011



The summer between elementary school and high school make a deal with your BFF to smoke your first joint behind the shack at dusk. Feel excited about the fact you are about to do drugs for the first time ever. Feel like you are ultimately sticking it to your parents who are keeping you trapped in a upper mid-class cage with no imagination, and demand you to go to school, do your chores, visit grandma with them ON THE VERY DAY, Stacy’s parents are out of town and everybody is hanging by her pool. Mean parents. THIS will teach them! Feel like a rebel with a cause. You are so fucking cool.

Meet your friend and observe carefully as she rolls a joint. Your first joint. Her final product looks nothing what a joint should look like, but you don’t know this yet. It’s kind of like your first sex will not really feel like sex, you know, not really, but you won’t know that until you’ve had it at least with three different people.

Take your first drag and cough out your left lung. Regain your composure and soldier on with it. Feel a little queasy, kind of like you just smoked a Marlboro Red really fast. Continue passing the joint back and forth until you finish the last of it. Feel weird, but not really good weird, just WEIRD weird. Say “I’m so stoned.” although you have no clue if what you’re experiencing is, in fact, stoned. Go with your friend to her house  and watch TV with your other friends and boyfriend. Feel uncomfortable because you feel like everybody is staring at you. Make an excuse about not feeling well (hey, it’s true!) and walk home. Decide that weed sucks and you are never smoking it again.

In high-school, fall in with the crowd that visits rave parties and have drugs become more than just random cameos in your life story. Enjoy popping pills and really enjoy getting wasted from Friday to Sunday but always say no when somebody offers you a joint. Keep this up until the end of your freshman year of high-school then get really trashed in the park with all your classmates. Meet a dangerously drunk boy who tells you you have beautiful eyes right after you introduce yourself,  all the while keeping his eyes glued to your boobs. Sit on a park bench with him and watch him light one up. When he offers the joint to you, you are already too whatever the fuck you are right now to understand what’s happening, so you grab the joint and drag. And drag. And drag.

Notice the world spinning around you. Tell your new friend you need to lie down for a second. Stretch across the entire bench and force him to stand up. Hear him say something to you but don’t care. Just look at the sky, look at the clouds, the sun, wow, all so pretty. Close your eyes and notice your whole body feels light, almost weightless.Enjoy that feeling. Smile. Be like that for two hours. Throw up three seconds after you stand up. Take the bus home and look at yourself in the mirror. Be all green in the face. Think you look like death. Decide that you were right and weed really is bullshit and this was the last time you smoked it. Like, for real this time.

Smoke it again about a year later with your best friend, who is now dating a stoner and is starting to suddenly advocate the drug. Enjoy being stoned with your best friend. Say stupid things and laugh about them while eating him out of house and home. When you wake up the next morning, decide weed sucks because it makes you hungry like an animal. You have an eating disorder and weed seems to make you loose control over yourself. Tell your friend you’re never smoking weed with him again. Smoke it again about a month later and drink loads of green tea so you don’t feel hungry. Discover there is a way to suppress hunger on weed and feel happy about that. Listen to Painted Black on your walkman as you leave your besties house and feel like you’re listening to a completely different song. I mean, you liked this song for as long as you can remember but OH MY GOD, it’s like you’re really hearing it for the first time ever! Think there must be something to this weed thing after all.

Through your senior high school year and your freshman year at University, smoke regularly, but only with your best friend. This is your thing now, a thing that only you the two of you share on special occasions. He is also your only remaining friend, because after you decided to stop doing drugs and start doing your school work, all your party friends dissolved. Your social life now consists of going to the movies with your best friend, taking road-trips in his beat down car and talking about the future with him on long walks around town. Sometimes there’s weed, sometimes there isn’t. You don’t really care.

In your second year of University move to a student dorm. One  day, when you will be standing in the kitchen boiling spaghetti or opening a can of tuna, a tall skinny and funny looking girl will barge into the room. She will say:”I’m your new flatmate!” and you will instantly like her. She will keep on making jokes, will have a distinctive unique style and she will put a massive poster of Bob Marley on her wall. She will seem to take a liking to you too. This is the person with whom you will smoke many many joints, only you don’t know this yet either. Smoke your first one later that evening.

Grow closer to your new friend. Eat lunches together and hang out in her room because you are sharing yours with a fat bitch who likes to turn the lights off at 8:30, right after she’s finished her obligatory bag of chips for the day.  At the pre-Christmas dorm party, tell your new friend  you feel as if she is an older sister you always wanted. Hug it out and leave the party to go smoke another  doobie in her room, because the music at the party is stupid, and all the bitches have blond hair. You have blond hair too, but it’s alright, your friend says. You’re cool.

Have people move in and out of your flat and never really like anybody. Laugh about how you scare everybody away with your friend. In May, you will get another newbie:  a girl with a very pretty face but a very timid voice. Be nice but think she is a mouse who will never fit into the cool gang that runs this flat and consists of two members: you and your stoner sister. Get drunk with the new girl the first chance you get and realize that she is by no means a mouse but she talks and talks and talks, makes jokes like it’s nobody’s business, and hey, she likes weed too! Group hug! Besties! Wickeeeeeeeeeed!

Share the flat with these two girls for three years. Become really, really good friends with both of them. Share secrets, gossip, meet the parents, party together, laugh and cry, go through midterms and finals, see one another through losses of boyfriends and grandparents, take care of each other. Love these two girls to death and beyond and know you will be at both of their weddings, watch their kids grow up, and smoke joints over a game bridge and Mai-Tais at the wrinkled age of 68.

Never ever stop smoking joints with these two. By now, you’re probably smoking at least one a day, once in their room and once in yours, which is now yours alone. Slowly have weed infiltrate every aspect of your life. You are now the person who always has weed. You smoke at parties, after parties, on weekends and weekdays. You never say no anymore. You love it and you feel it mellows you out so much. You are weirded out by people who never smoke weed. They just don’t get you can live a life without a stick up your ass. Befriend more and more people who get the weed life philosophy. There isn’t a social event on which you are not stoned anymore, because everybody you hang out with loves to be stoned just as much as you do. No haters allowed!

After University, the tall skinny friend will move out, and there will only be the two of you left. Get a good job at a media company and hook up your friend too. Your boss is the guy you did coke with at music festivals the previous summer, so you know the dude is drug friendly. Sometimes smoke a joint before you go to work, just to see how it feels. Realize it dosen’t feel all that great to be the only stoned one in the office and decide to never do it again. Do it like three times again before finally quitting.

After work, go home with your friend. One of you cooks dinner and the other one makes a joint. Smoke the joint, have dinner and then watch Entourage back to back and smoke more joints until you both pass out. Cherish this. You will look back at this summer as the hazy summer you didn’t do anything else but smoke weed and got a little fat.

After that summer, feel there is a need for change. Move out of the place, move to a different city and get a new job.  After two weeks at your new workplace, somebody will start calling you “Stoner Face.” You will burst in to laughter and say:”It’s funny because it’s true!” You will share  a joint with this person in a weeks time.

There you are. A bona-fide stoner at 25. You know this. You own it. You don’t care. You’re far too mellow for that.

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