I'm so unbelievably high right now.
You heard me.
At least that's what it feels like.
I'm high from the chemical release of endorphins that come with realizing that life just got infinitely simpler.
There are bars on every corner.
There's a bunch of coffeeshops.
And when I say "coffeeshop," I'm talking, of course, about little stores scattered about Rotterdam (where I'm on tour with The Young at Heart Chorus) that sell some of the best weed available anywhere.
And I don't have any inclination to buy any of it--any of it. Not even a little.
Funny how these things happen. When I was here back in 2004 it was the first, last, and only thing on my mind. Whoo boy, I just had to get me some of that crazy weed--every kind they had: Hindu Kush, White Widow, Dynamite, Blueberry, Purple Haze #2, 3, and 5 (I think). There were ten or twelve more. I have them all written down in my journal from that section of time somewhere. You gotta preserve these kinds of journeys, at the very least in a notebook.
But I took care of the essentials toot sweet five years back. I bought myself a little pipe, and a pack of screens, a lighter, some papers, and four or five samples on my first stop. It was awesome, I must admit. Although, I remember the weed being so moist and sticky that it became glommed onto my fingers when I tried to break it up. Then it got stuck to the back of the rolling paper, then to the lighter, then to my lip. There was just sticky weed everywhere! It was so wet it was hard to light, but that's because they mix up their weed in tobacco over here. They don't just eat a half a pound of roast beef, as it were, they put it between some fresh bread and add a little lettuce.
Let's get one thing straight right off the bat: I love weed; I always will. But I don't love it so much that I will let it clutter up my organized head. I just don't have the time or energy to restore it to order if it got messed up, so to speak.
And when I realized that I can do anything--anything--I want, but choose not to, it gets me loopy out of my head like a four star gram of Hindu Kush #2, stuck inside a croissant and washed down my gullet with a tall cup of Americano.
But I sit here in Rotterdam, on my bed, sober.
I just picked up two pairs of slacks at the tailor that I bought yesterday; I may very well get a haircut, too; I'm going to buy a nice present or two for my amazing girlfriend; and I'm sure I'll end up at the flea market, head angled like the corner of a coat hanger, staring at all the foreign clutter.
And I'll probably do that, or I won't. But maybe I'll just fall asleep. I could do that, too. It's all up to me.
When we take the seemingly monstrous task of staying sober--of avoiding voluntarily grasping any number of objects with our extremities (those things that are on our addicts checklist) and we break it down to just that--doing or not doing--it becomes as easy as buying a beer ... or in this case, buying a few grams of hydroponic weed.
It's that easy ... for real.
Believe me. I'm doing it. And if you want to do it in any country, you can too.
I don't agree with the traditional recovery program on many points. But one platitude I can get with is "keeping it simple." Because therein lies the serum. Therein lies the antidote. Therein lies the amazing answer to the question that actually is the question. It is the freaking question! Because how did this all start? How did I get in the position to have to stay away from certain things in my life that could signal sure catastrophe?
Because it was simple.
It was right there in front of me.
I wondered how to do it and somebody said, "Oh man ... it's a cinch ... come here and take a drag ... now hold it ... hold it ... there you go ... "
And it began.
It didn't take a 12 step program to get me my first bag of weed. It sure became that way after I realized I wanted it all the time and so did my friends. That was a total bitch, driving around Fall River, stopping at the street corners with the hoods congregating, ending up getting ripped off on occasion, but more often than not getting a bag of weed.
But that all came after the easy part.
And I have made a conscious decision to keep my life as simple as I can. And that means being open to a million things at once.
Because we are all falling towards the ground, slowly, from the day we are born. And along that arc is a limitless number of gradations--of lines on an infinite drafting compass--and I'm somewhere in the middle right now. And that, dear readers, means I have a clear view of what came before me, and what's in the distance.
And the view I have right now, in all its infinite simplicity, looks downright amazing.
Thanks for reading,
PS: for those of you who are so inclined to view some of the pictures I've taken so far on this trip, follow this link to my Facebook page:
Dank U vel.