(Source: trichween)
hash has turned me into pocahontas
So as an American in a state without medical, it is pretty difficult for me to get my hands on alternative forms of CB1 and CB2 agony. Top-shelf headies are no problem, but edibles (food, drink, or candy enhanced with activated cannabis in the form of cannabutter or oil and concentrates are usually more or less impossible to come by. Recently, however, I was able to pick up some great hash that rivaled some of the Dutch stuff I got in Amsterdam (and beat the Spanish crap right out).
Anyway, I was on my roof this morning watching my backyard, which is actually pretty neat. There is a pond, which means there is water. And where there is water, there is such a ridiculous amount of life that I am constantly relocating errant turtles from the driveway and adventuresome lizards from the bathtub. And don’t even get me started about the spiders. My aggressive spider relocation makes every immigration officer in New Mexico look like Barney Fife.
Anyway, I was on my roof this morning smoking a bunch of hash nestled in a protective cocoon of headies (it is important to do these things as artfully as one can, even or I daresay especially when the appropriate physical errata to do knife hits or bottle tokes is inaccessible) when I realized that my ability to perceive my surroundings in terms of my level of awareness of the totality of events taking place in that environment at that time was steadily increasing, until I was aware of the community of ducks and their various movements in symphony with the early-afternoon baying of bullfrogs, squirrel courtship dances, the movement of distant automobiles on various and distinct roads.
