Play by Play
Oh he’s holding up a J for me. It’s nice to see someone holding up a J just as you walk into a room. Such a blessed Friday. 15 minutes ago when I was leaving the room he was rolling one. Looks like he has rolled two, because there’s one in his hand too. Hmm good thinking. Bravo fella, you never fail to amaze me.
Ah there’s the seat. I think I’ll sit down right over here. That way I can see the TV.
Hmm feels good. I’m tired and this will do … oh… I forgot to get the lighter. Ah OK got it. Feels good. OK now hold it close to the J, keep it firm in the mouth.. and there.. ah light up! OK now it’s just about leaning back and cruising. Mmm this is good. Good shit. I like good shit. And it’s all mine because he’s smoking up the other one right now. Personal J’s. Ahh personal J’s. Has such a nice ring to it.
Hehe. Hehehe. Hehe.
Why do I have to watch a bloody rugby match while tripping. I like rugby, just not when I wanna trip. Shit can’t tell him to switch also, so into the game. Hmm shape shape. Loku ekage aasawa ne. I’ll just roll with it.
Time for another puff. Wait how many puffs did I take for now? Because I think I can see the good place up yonder. Ah yes there it is, my island in the sun, with a shady place for me to trip in. Because I don’t think I’d love to be burnt by the sun right about now because I’m really tired ne, that’s why.
I like my TGIF getaways. Right after work I hit the herb. Just to clear my head off a week’s worth of corporate bullshit. Project management, time management, marketing tips and all this unwanted crap. Damn people where’s the fun in life huh? What happened to just winging it? I think we all need to just stop, and take a chill pill. Fuck work, I mean fuck it right? This shit keeps me sane, when the crazy work bullshit piles up, it’s really hard to live. Damn this shit is good.
I should get the ashtray onto my lap, so I don’t have to lean forward each time I try to ash the thing. Ahh now all I have to is just look straight ahead pretending to myself that I’m interested in a rugby match where two teams of big burly men, scramble for a ball. Guys, did you notice that the ball is odd shaped? You did, oh ok just checking. Carry on.
Why the hell do these people who go to watch games, wave at the screen when they see the camera being pointed at them? I mean we can see them facing somewhere else and waving right? You idiots its over here. The camera is over here. Wave at the camera! Bloody retards. Err.. am I making sense?
Fuck, the last bits of the J, must drag it in carefully. Wait, must put some spit around it. To slow the burning. Ah there you go, my baby, there you go. Shit that bugger’s smoking at a rate. Man, he’s is almost over. Bloody hell. Oh wait mine is almost over. Oh wait I just noticed that a moment ago, ne. Tsk tsk.
Woah what if when I get high, I suddenly start to become afraid of heights? What’s gonna happen to me then? Shit, I shall not look down then. It will make me dizzy, and that not something I want when I’m airborne.
Oh, my mind’s starting to talk bullshit. I think I’m just about getting stoned. Start the tripping, yo!
Evelation
I mean, elevation. Well, when I first thought of the word, my mind said evelation (Card! Card! Hyok hyok).
Jeez!
Flashback to 8 hours ago…
The sun is sinking lower and the glare is gone, the sky is just right. I take off my shades and lean back. The Papare is in my ears, and the cheers and the jeers are everywhere. The hash is working into my system, slowly yet efficiently, doing wonders to my head and vision. I’m loving this shit right here. People having fun everywhere, I’m having fun right here. Thoughts enter my head. I cant write them down during the big match right? I mean wouldn’t that be pretty lame? I don’t know. I’m too lazy to write it anyway. I focus on memorizing, knowing very well what happened last time. Worth a shot anyway!
The heat gets to me, still I’m feeling good. Better than I was 10 minutes ago. It was a small J. But good things come in small packages. Sometimes. Pretty glad it came this time. Smooth, yummy and effective. Everything a J should be eh? What do you say? Yeah I’m asking the rest of you shameless stoners! Yeah that’s you, in the corner, and you in the spotlight, losing your religion. Do you agree with me?
I glance around at the chick situation. Hmm, tomorrow is the day my head gets into table fan mood. Swing left, swing right. Swing left, swing right. You get the drift. OK for those of you who don’t know, chick situation at the big matchis basically like this;
Thursday – Good chick very rare. Rare chick very bad. (If) Good chick, is with boy. That’s why she is here on the first day. (Aaah nods of comprehension)
Friday – Ooh mama, you’re so fine, looking good from behind. Can I get your number baby… blah blah blah.. lame ass sewalayas ruining the fun for us folk who like to sit back and observe things of beauty.
Saturday – Oh baby, come to papa! Oh baby, yes you baby, and you baby, and you, and you…. * goes on*… and last not but least, you baby.
So yes I hope you understood the chick situation there. Now back to my evelation elevation (Drat!). Yes so chick situation is a bore. But I’m happy, cause it’s nice to be happy, sha-la-la! I burnt my lip on the last drag. It hurts 
, yet it was worth it. I feel myself soaring, just rising above ground. This was just the right amount to keep you there, gain sufficient altitude and maintain. Everything is good but there’s no way to increase altitude. I felt like kicking myself for only having one J with me. But tomorrow is another day, so tomorrow will be more J’s. Hell yes. My chickah is coming and we can get high together. If she’s not in the mood, I will be, and I can get high. Sha-la-la! I can’t wait for tomorrow. The chick situation will be better, the crowd will be better, and the Papare will deffa be better. I hope the game goes on for 3 days :S.
OK got to go prepare for tomorrow, where is my rolling kit?
*whistles and sings*
Pa-rappa-raa-ra-raa- -pa-rappa-raa-ra-raa…
There was a man from Sauket
Who flew to the moon in a Rocket
The Rocket crashed
His bottom smashed
And he found his balls in his pocket
Gimme A Break (I Mean Like, Come On..)
Machan, what is up with you? Why did you get into weed so much? You were never like this before? Seriously I’m worried about you.
Yes sweety, you need to go easy on it. I don’t want you to become all distant and all. And you are not who you used to be. You have become a totally different person.
Machan sirawata, mokada wune? How did you change so much in such a short time?
Aiyo, seriously men, you were so level headed and now I can see you falling!
I feel like I don’t know you anymore.
**
Yes you don’t know me, you never did! Hence you misunderstand me. When everyone else around us (including you) is drinking and smoking like chimneys every single day, it is just plain normal. You stagger home, puke, are carried home sometimes, get hangovers, have to be taken care of all through the night, but still that’s ok.
When did you ever have an arm around me, supporting me to walk home, because I was stoned out of my mind? When did you ever spend a whole night with me, without going inside a party because I was puking from the weed and needed help? When did I ever smoke up like a chimney, alone at home? When did I ever stop helping you and change just because I light up occasionally? Have I ever needed to be driven home because I was too stoned? Is it wrong to indulge in something? If so, aren’t you guys being proper hypocrites about this whole issue? When little ol’ me lights up a blunt, the world has a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys care and I love y’all to bits for that, but fuck it, its time you cared enough to take a moment and understand me and believe in me, without being apprehensive of every move I make.
Come on guys, gimme a break. I deserve one.
Chaa Scenes
An hour ago on my way home from a fun activity, alone in my vehicle a volley of thoughts came to me. So many little creative ideas that I followed until I saw the potential of it to become a great perspective in my intoxicated state. There I was smiling at the dark empty road ahead of me, thinking these thoughts, waiting till I got home, so I could tap them into my virtual errr.. what do I call this thing, journal kinda thing (Pretty lame labeling don’t u think). Well so yeah I was making little mental notes of all my ideas so that I won’t forget them. I was happy, my mind was flowing, with positive and negative thoughts, but yet I thought of the negatives in a positive way. Perhaps because I’m fucking high right now!
Now I’m here in front of my PC finally, waiting to tap them in and I’m shooting blanks (from my head ok, nowhere else cheee…). Where did all those cool-ass thoughts disappear to?
Traitors, Backstabbers.
They swore they’ll stay with me forever. They promised. Now I have no option but to post a lame-ass post like this one right here. Blah! I’m feeling floopy today.
Oh well, my apologies.
Rolling Stoned
(See what I did with the title there?) 
Have you ever rolled up when you were completely and utterly stoned? I did it today. Man it was hard. I got some weed, and some paper and I rolled one up and smoked it up alone in my bathroom. The roll wasn’t that great I guess, because it tasted a bit harsh, and I didn’t really feel that high afterward. So I was a bit upset, and I contemplated on rolling up another one, just to get the proper high and finish off with satisfaction. After about 15 seconds of thinking I started to roll another one. I got my pack together again sat down on at my desk and started crushing and cleaning the weed.
I thought I’ll listen to some music and put on Aqueous Transmission by Incubus, which I believe is definitely one of the best songs to get high to. It should be named the number one song to get high to instead of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb. Don’t get me wrong I do love the Floyd song to death, but I think Incubus just takes the high to another level. It’s the soothing music, with the sound of that Chinese Pipa and the melodic voice coupled with the croaking frogs in the end that does it for me. It’s a masterpiece of serenity.
Woah kind of lost myself there in the song. Where was I now? Oh yes so I put on the song, and was crushing the weed with enthusiasm. And then suddenly I was like Daaaaimn! It hit me. The high had arrived. It was a “Thapalen waduna” (Translation: The high took time to come – Came slow like in the mail) scene right there. Ok right now I’m just laughing at my own translation, about the high coming in the mail. Subscribe me for that one please. So mata thapalen waduna. And I guess the mail service was DHL or something because that high did come quite fast compared to the time I smoked and the time I got it.
So I’m rolling and rolling, and my eyes started getting fuzzy and the weed in my hand felt so soft and nice. I wanted to roll myself in it. Reminded me of the giant bag of weed in Harold & Kumar. My actions got slower as my muscles eased up. I felt the usual spacey feeling. Let me describe my exact spacey feeling, because I don’t know if all stoners get the same feeling. My one is where I first feel like I’m running in slow motion. I feel colors all around, but I don’t see them. I just feel their effervescence and I know they are there. I feel happy, because the colors make me happy. Then I feel like I’m slowly lifting myself off from the ground. Yet, I still feel the hard ground. It’s basically like, my brain is a kite, and I’m sending it out into the sky, with a string, and I’m slowly tugging on it, letting the wind smoothly blow it here and there. I guess that’s the best I can do in describing my high, I will focus more on it next time, and try to give a more detailed description. If not, don’t worry about my high, try to figure out yours. Jeez.
I was so stoned once the weed was cleaned. So I took the paper out and started to roll. Oh how I struggled to get that roll together. My fingers were trembling and I couldn’t get my mind together. So I gave up. I actually fucking gave up. Some stoner I am huh? I’m pissed off at myself right now, but I’m stoned so I don’t feel that angry. When I get back to earth again, I’m going to get myself for whatever I did (if I still remember it).
I’m floating down the river….
Smoke Up’d
Reader: No shit dude. You smoked up??? Naaaaaaa Sirawata. You start a blog called The Stoned Age, about your life being a stoner and you put up a post called Smoke up’d. Wow mara scene no?? What a surprise that is, Captain Obvious!! I hope everyone else is as surprised as I am.
Me: Yeahhhhh man yeaaaahhhh……….
Thud.
That’s all folks.
Bad High | Good Low
What do you call it, that negativity that settles in sometimes when you are high? You smoke up to rise up, otherwise we would just call it smoke. But the keyword here is up, and when you smoke up expecting the high, sometimes you are surprised by the broody thinker inside you. It is he who sometimes wakes when you are just about to soar and grabs you by your wings and whispers in your ear that it is not the time to be flying. Get yourself back down to earth and think about your life. Where is it going? What are you doing? Define the wrong from the right?
Fuck. When I’m high, I’m good after I define left from right, and up from down. All I need is a sense of direction and I’m good to go. But the little brother in me, the depressive Emo kind of being kicks into gear and takes me somewhere else. Somewhere I never wanted to be. A flurry of thoughts, about right and wrong and all the moves made in life are questioned. Are you happy with who you are? Are you trying to change yourself for others? How do others look at you? All these silly, superficial questions arise in my head. This makes me loathe myself as I try to be poised with myself and don’t give a fuck about the society. But there is that part of you, whispering into your own head that maybe you are wrong, at least on some level, be it superficial or subliminal.
I try to shake off the feelings because I’m here to enjoy myself. I don’t burn my brain cells for this. I know that I’m doing some unhealthy shit, but I like to enjoy while I’m committing my slow suicide. So how can I do it? How can I get rid of this bad high or good low (I don’t know what to call it) whenever it hits me. I wish I knew so that I don’t waste my thoughts on negativity. The intoxicated brain is a far superior weapon of mass distortion and is ready to fight any intellectual battle (except this one of course). I need to find a way to stop these bad highs. It’s not that I hate it per se, but when you got negativity in your head while your head is in the clouds, it feels quite odd. Fucking odd I must say.
I don’t like odd.
Random fact 1: I get horny when I’m stoned.
Random fact 2: I’m off to do something about it.
More about that later.
Stoned. Out.
Five Guys, Good Weed and a Bathroom
3 joints rolled perfectly, big, firm and full. A stoner’s dream come true. Waiting for the right moment was a bitch. It had to be after dinner and when the owners of the bungalow were asleep. When we entered the place our predetermined idea was to take a short walk around the estate in the dark, sit by a nice clearing and smoke up freely. However we were warned against going out in the dark due to threats of hump nosed vipers slithering about. So the final destination for our little adventure was a bathroom.
It was nothing spectacular, just a regular bathroom with facilities to do everything you need to do in there. But we decided against doing the regularities and making this a bathroom for special purposes. The other bathroom will be used for the usual purposes. This bathroom was going to be our hallowed portal, our gateway into the higher realms of life. An IPod dock was setup to provide us with some groovy tunes and we were ready to go.
Dinner was served and eaten with gusto. A chat with the aunty and uncle who had graciously allowed us under their roof was in order and that was taken care of impatiently. Then we bid goodnight to them and slowly went inside the room with the sacred bathroom. We waited for the lights to go off in the rest of the house and then entered the bathroom one by one.
*****
Five guys, cramped in a small bathroom, the air filled with smoke of cigarettes, chatting softly about life and everything else that mattered at the time. It paints a beautiful picture in the mind, doesn’t it? After the first round of cigarettes, the first joint was lit up. I watched as each one took two puffs each, eagerly waiting for my turn. It came and I held my little friend between my thumb and index finger. I looked at it closely and smiled. A joint should be treated with utmost care and respect. It should not be mistreated and handled roughly. The air filled my mouth and I felt it burning down to my lungs. It felt good. In the perfect weather which was not hot and not too cold, Mary Jane did wonders to my system.
The joint was passed along after the second puff, and I watched it switch hands of my best mates. I felt myself lifting up very very slowly, I was preparing for takeoff, taxiing gently on the runway. Slowly, the joint came to me again and I took my respective drags. It was good weed, very good indeed. I felt myself take off slowly and I was there hovering above ground, doing my own style of levitation, which beats David Blaine’s fake one by miles.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. You are now on a one way trip to space where everything is perfect. Please fasten your seatbelts as this will be one hell of a ride. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you.
The conversation got interesting. We got louder and so did the music. Everything in life got toned down and what mattered was the buzz in the head and that very moment of enjoying a smoke up session in some unfamiliar bathroom with friends. Of all places to be, we would have never imagined a bathroom, in some stranger’s bungalow. But there we were feeling at home and making the best out of it. I’m usually a bit of a clean freak and I tend not to touch too many things in a bathroom. But I found myself seated on the floor of this bathroom, along with my friends, passing the magic herb around. It felt good. I have never been this intimate with a bathroom before. There was a door in the bathroom which led out into the garden of the estate, the other door led into the bedroom. We didn’t open a single door and window because we wanted to keep the area full of smoke. I’m sure Snoop Dogg would have been very proud of us and been like “Fo shizzle ma dizzle, ma nigga wat ya sizzle”. I know it’s not the healthiest of things to do, to be locked up in a small bathroom with no ventilation for a long time, and the air getting filled with tobacco and ganja smoke, but we really didn’t give a fuck! If it feels good do it. That is all we needed.
After the three joints were put to use with honor, we just lay there in our own distant worlds, finding connections between our random and not-so-random thoughts. There were a few intelligent arguments and conversations complemented with many ridiculous ones. I remember very vaguely what went on through my mind because when I get stoned, my mind switches to overdrive and a series of thoughts just play in my head teasing my brain, so it’s pretty hard to keep track in all that haze. I remember fragments which don’t really make any sense now that I have come back to the real world. But I got to tell you, there were some very interesting thoughts made vocal during the few hours we spent in the bathroom. After we knew we got the most out of the buzz in our heads, we decided to call it a night as we had a big day ahead of us. We stumbled out, tired, yet happily toned. The ash was cleared and the butts were placed in a corner to be thrown away later. The bathroom and the room were sprayed with deodorant to remove the stubborn smell which didn’t quite leave the area even when we left for home the next afternoon.
I trudged back into my room with my friend, and fell onto the bed. Everything was woozy but yet it was clear. A sense of happiness and satisfaction of having yet another awesome weekend crept into my heart and warmed my soul. Everything was brilliant. Everything was absofuckinglutely legendary. We had just lived another moment of life worth saving and looking back at forever. I closed my eyes and saw the clouds, I saw the trees, and I saw laughter and smiles. Life was good and it was getting better. I just knew it. It’s that gut feeling that keeps you going. The feeling when you know that life is worth living. My best friend was snoring next to me, already asleep. I smiled in the dark, glad to be here than anywhere else in the world, glad to be me more than anyone else.
Numero Uno
*Inhale*
It’s not about the harsh air that burns your throat and blows down into your lungs. It’s not about your mouth going dry. It’s not that dizzy feeling you get and the relaxation of the muscles. It’s not the reddening of the eyes combined with the decreased intraocular pressure. It’s about something which transcends that on a more cerebral level.
Everything in life has its good and bad side effects. Cannabis or weed is known to be harmful when consumed. But that hasn’t stopped approximately 22.5 million people smoking up around the world. In that large number, I’m but one. Smoking up is not about the negative and not so negative side effects mentioned above. It’s that feeling of rising above the world, leaving behind the everyday problems and feeling that strange yet familiar satisfaction emanating from within. Weed is natural. It is herbs and paper; it makes you feel one with nature. It helps to live it up. The high life as I like to call it is truly a great experience.
Being stoned lets you go on a winding track of thoughts. It explores the inner intricacies of the self and the world and brings up vibrant conclusions and theories to the routine mind. It keeps you satisfied and at bay, making you feel you are on top of the world. The spacey feeling you get when being proper stoned is one of the best feelings I have experienced in my 22 year old self. I started out late and I regret not having indulged in it earlier, but that’s the way the world works and I believe in better late than never. I’m glad I gave into the craving because I found another world inside me that only I can see and I can enjoy.
I believe that no one can fully illustrate the feeling or the trip they go on accurately to any other person. It’s an individual experience. It can be connected between people, but only on a somewhat superficial level. Every person enjoys in a personal manner. They can relate but never fully. Only you know what you felt and what you thought. That’s the beauty of the weed.
This is an intro into that hidden realm of my life. This is where I will record my thoughts so I can make sense out of the satisfaction and the world I create when I am stoned. This is me living the high life. This is my stoned age.
Come.
Trip out.
Enjoy with me.
Adios..
