Old Ideas and New Beginnings

Lord Stirling

Entry 1

      Though it may be my first blog entry in a long, long time, it is not the first writing I have done, nor the first 'return' entry I have done. At least three entries were written for this blog, just not using this media. For those of you who are back to visit, welcome back! To you new people, come on in and sit down.

     As a quick update: Still single, still smoking both cigs and bud, still working a farm, and still without a published work of any kind. I had written an article for Hightimes, a comprehensive run through of what it is like to be a stoner in Pennsylvania... but as yet I have heard nothing, and time has not allowed me to do much in the way of such projects for a very long time. I possess six active pieces, and have since made a game of picking which one to use by rolling a six sided die. Each number corresponds to a piece, and the numbers are designated by the order in which I acquired said pieces. Commodore Barry and General Wayne you know, however, after a cleaning mishap that put Wayne out of action, I purchased General Morgan. General Knox was a gift for watching a friend's pets, and while attending Mayhemfest I purchased my first bubbler, Lord Stirling (General Alexander). The last of my active pieces is General Lafayette, a bowl not one month in my possession yet I love it all the same and endeavor to use it more frequently than the others due to its hit characteristics.

     All the bowl news aside, not much has changed. Which is both comforting and alarming. The true reason for my renewed sense of obligation to the blog is not to continue it per say. Instead it is to alter the initial idea. I started this as a way of sharing my thoughts, ideas, and opinions on the smoking culture as I viewed it. Now, nearly a year later, and following an extended absence, the wheels have begun to turn again. A new idea has been formed. All due to the events of the day that just passed (September 12).

     While preparing for my workday, aka packing a work bowl, a car pulled in and parked at my work. With Massachusetts plates, my first thought was that some Yankee had gotten himself lost and somehow ended up in my small corner of the world. Instead, it was friends of a friend of mine who lives on the farm property. Shortly after introductions, as I set about the business of preparing my bowl, one of the gentleman handed me a nice ball of hash... out of nowhere! After a chillum of straight hash, and a few hits from Gen. Knox, I set about my workday mowing a field. The entire time I could not help but be impressed with the gentleman, a Pennsylvanian by birth, Massachusian by choice, who embodies the same philosophy of stoner that I myself abide by. Willing to share, not asking for anything but company and conversation in return, enjoying the refreshments and relaxations of a bowl in good company. I wondered just how many of us hold these views, and there an idea came into being.

     Instead of being the only contributor to the blog, I intend to recruit friends and acquaintances from different parts of the country. The specific subjects of the entries will be entirely up to the author, or in response to another post, etc etc. The main point being that we create a forum of ideas and observations from which to ponder questions great and small, and help bridge those many gaps between the various types of smoker and those who choose not to smoke. Unlike HighDEAS where everyone can post anything in a rapid fire procession of unorganized stoner intellect, there will be designated contributors who hopefully will produce one or two entries a month. Letters to the editor would be a great addition, though just as with those famed magazines these letters would need to be screened and approved. Knowing the stoners that I do, it would not surprise me if the choice of such letters would be an arduous undertaking based upon content alone. All that remains is to set the whole idea into motion. Who knows if this new adventure will be a success, the only thing I know is that it is worth a try.

    

The Green Mile, Part 1

For Every Beginning an End

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 2012                                        12:17 A.M. E.S.T.
SORTIE X OF THE DAY  
PILOT F. Irish S/A    
EQUIPMENT Full Contingent   


ENTRY 1
     Due to financial difficulties, I must take my leave of marijuana. How long it will be I don't know, but I do know this is not my choice. Due to the regulations and fear mongering of marijuana in the United States of America it has become common practice to drug test individuals in order to hire them. As I must find another job to be able to scrape by in this economy I must give up that which I have chosen to treat my conditions. In my opinion, I am sacrificing my mental health and well being in order to be able to 'live'. It is with the greatest regret that I cannot continue the log, but I meant it to be an exploration while under the influence, and to conduct it without marijuana would go against the very purpose of this endeavor. One day I hope to return, to continue this and fulfill my dream, one day I will return to being the person I am comfortable being.

EB HIT! (Clearing out Old Blue Eyes so that I can put fresh green into him)

Tonight's entry will be unlike any you may have read here. All four of my bowls will make an appearance, though not a one will be a full pack. I don't think I have enough bud to fill them all completely. As I finish off the last of my bud, in these four separate pieces, I'm going to reflect on them, the interesting stories, the history, just... just go with it. I will wake them all to the creator before I clean them. It is my duty to honor their service, they've proven invaluable to me.

EB HIT! (Commodore Barry just pulled through, there wasn't much left in him)

Unfortunately, General Wayne was already cleared out last time I smoke out of him, so that just leaves my other General.

EB HIT! (General Sherman doesn't wanna give up the fight it appears, he threw Scooby Snacks at me, yet kept burning)

     All four are now cleared out. Time to pack.

STATUS REPORT:
     I can't do this right now. I've gotta sleep. Yous will get the last entry in the log, done the way Flight Log started. Pen to paper, ink flowing freely across the white canvas on which I record my life.

Incoherent Ramblings

SUNDAY, JANUARY 29, 2012                                                  11:27 P.M. E.S.T.  
SORTIE 7 OF THE DAY  
PILOT F. Irish S/A    
EQUIPMENT Old Blue Eyes   


ENTRY 2

GH HIT!

     There is so much on my mind right now that I cannot give yous one single thought that will define this post. A subject would mean that I actually have a purpose or idea in mind when I started this, and to tell yous the truth, I really don't have the motivation or desire to do this right now. This weekend took a lot outta me; mind, body, and soul. Common sense tells us that we need to grow up at some point, that we need to buckle down and follow a path that will keep us relatively comfortable as we wait to die. But can it really be common sense to wait for death?
     This is going to be the incoherent ramblings of a man struggling to find something that he can hold onto I'm afraid. Not a single thought that goes through my mind is staying long enough for me to dive into it, as one thing I think links itself to another which leads to a third, until finally it is all one singular mass of idiocy and self loathing. That GH HIT! above this paragraph... that is the first hit I've taken since the sun passed its midway point in the sky. High? Far from, and as I look at my present state, I will continue to remain distant from that point of bliss that allows me the chance to stop myself from hating, well, myself.

Figuring It Out

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 25, 2012                                           1:09 A.M. E.S.T.  
SORTIE 1 OF THE DAY  
PILOT F. Irish S/A    
EQUIPMENT Commodore Barry   


ENTRY 1

     I want to talk about self worth tonight, as I have lost mine. Self Worth is defined by Collins English Dictionary as "respect for or a favourable opinion of oneself" (English means legit English, I left the damn misspelling because it is a quote, get off my back). Recently, my opinion of myself has been thrown against the rocks, the lighthouse having been extinguished in the storm. From every direction, the voices of dissent have been growing louder and more forceful. Even those I had viewed as allies in my struggle to make something of myself have begun to turn against me. One close friend, a veteran of our armed forces, is very adamant that I have done nothing but waste my time pursuing what he views as empty dreams. His life is much different than mine, and has been since we parted ways after high school. As my views emerged in a more radical and blindly just light, his have taken to the system and stations of life that I have come to question. As I call for REAL change (A throw back attack to some young students who I tried to discuss politics with after they took over the tv in my dorm in '08. I asked them repeatedly what Obama meant by change...they couldn't tell me.) and the universal equality and rights of all citizens, he has taken the view that it is better to struggle through the normal channels of American society, choosing his education based upon monetary decisions.

Logically Speaking

FRIDAY, JANUARY 20, 2012                                                    1:32 A.M. E.S.T.  
SORTIE 1 OF THE DAY  
PILOT F. Irish S/A    
EQUIPMENT Commodore Barry   


ENTRY 1

     Before I pack the Commodore for his cruise, I'm finishing off anything left in any bowl, all condensed into the Commodore. That means, instead of wasting the three 3/4 burned bowls, I've combined them all into one 3/4 full bowl. But no fear my multi-national friends, for I came by my smoking habits, dos and don'ts, in a surfer heavy culture. If it ain't white, it ain't done. Its a waste of marijuana to just scrape out every not finished bowl into the trash, and if you feel like you can get away with it, you've never been through an extended drought. Don't waste, especially buds. Dutifully accomplished, I shall now embark on Sortie 1 of my day, General Wayne is on stand-by... This looks like it is gonna be a long one.

GH HIT!

     I want to talk about logic tonight, or this morning, whichever you choose to call one-thirty in the morning. Logic, as defined by Merriam-Webster is: "a science that deals with the principles and criteria of validity of inference and demonstration : the science of the formal principles of reasoning." Dumbed down a bit, logic is the reason you do or don't. Through experience and teaching, we form reasoning skills that determine what we ultimately do in everyday life. Logic dictates that I will smoke marijuana, through experience I have come to the conclusion that it is the best way to handle my medical issues. Prior to that, my logic dictated that I would never smoke pot. It wasn't acceptable, or in line with my life plan at the time. 

Our Most Basic of Enemy

THURSDAY, JANUARY 5, 2012                                               1:37 A.M. E.S.T.  
SORTIE 1 OF THE DAY  
PILOT F. Irish S/A    
EQUIPMENT Old Blue Eyes    

ENTRY 1

GB HIT!

     Fear... It is the great divider, the one thing that determines everything in human interaction. Either you overcome it, or you submit to it. You can take the reins in your hands and hold on for the ride, knowing that there is a strong chance you'll be better off for conquering that foe; or you can sit down and allow it to rule your decisions, infect your thought and spoil your hopes. I feel compelled to present to you the reality that I am a fearing man. I am afraid of what my actions will entail, what my words will insight, and what my future holds for me. I am afraid that what I do is futile, what I participate in will fail, and what I hope for will never be realized. I am afraid of many many things. Yet, I have chosen not to submit to this tyrannical fear that has come to define our human condition, as well as our social situations.

Lacking

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2011                                             3:19AM E.S.T.
SORTIE 3 OF THE DAY
PILOT F. Irish S/A
EQUIPMENT General Wayne

ENTRY 1
     My thanks to J. Rags for hitting me up and calling me a pussy. It was aggravating trying to explain what a muse is, and he couldn't grip it due to the lack of scope I had provided, so he just called me a pussy. Anyway, it has been difficult to write recently. The entries lack the spark that I try to instill in my writing, that little flame that ignites a fire. Amazing how integrated our lives can be, if we choose to allow it. But, time to hit this packed bowl.

GH HIT!

     So, I smoked a total of nineteen times on Thursday... from the time I woke up, until midnight, I smoked nineteen fucking times. And not once did I lose any function. This is both amazing and alarming. Amazing in the sense that after hot boxing a car with two simultaneous blunts, I was able to drive to hang with the band and proceed to smoke a bong and seven bowls (Mind you the circle was large, so there was an average of four hits a bowl per person). Alarming in the sense that I never got TOO high. I was debating whether or not you can voluntarily be a burn out, but I was unable to accomplish said feat. I couldn't do it, and I was trying.

Changes

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2011                                              9:15 P.M. E.S.T.
SORTIE 1 OF THE DAY
PILOT F. IRISH S/A
EQUIPMENT OLD BLUE EYES (POST RETIREMENT)

ENTRY 1
     Just getting to my first smoke of the day...which blows my mind. I have to be careful as to how open I am with my smoking around my parents. My mom knows I smoke, but always gives me shit about it, my dad doesn't let on that he knows that I smoke, if he does at all. The problem is that both see it as a 'drug' instead of medicine. They think I'm out to get high and be stupid, when I'm really trying to cope with psychological issues while being a productive individual. If I didn't smoke pot, I'd have failed outta college working some job that I was forced to work. I work on a farm and love it. Honestly, recent college graduates especially, you may think you are too good for a job because you are over qualified, or have a predetermined idea of what you want to do with your life, but try something before you judge it. I never saw myself working on a farm, enjoying country music, and being single after I graduated college. I figured I'd either be A) In the military with an officer's commission on voluntary front line duty [Needs to be clarified, I was naive when that was my ultimate goal. I respect and admire the veterans of our country as it has been my pleasure to both work and remain close friends with vets from almost all the wars in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. If the military didn't have some view that marijuana was evil and allowed its use I would be at the recruiter tomorrow, just based upon idealism.]; B) Working at a museum, and researching personal histories; or C) Teaching history in middle or high school, wherever my ex was located at the time.
     Now? I work on a horse farm, where I look forward to going to work, at any time. Seriously, 24/7. Its awesome. I listen to country music as well, which I would have found appalling only a year and a half ago. Some of it sounds like the hokey pokey shit you think of when you think country, the whole "I left my boots in the bed of my truck, my dog blue was riding shotgun, and my ole gal, well I gotta tell, took off and left me here..." (Face it, a lot of country songs were just summed up in that one line) Now, I don't think they are all like that. A lot of the music is patriotic (talking about the Confederacy is not a patriotic thing), or tell stories that not only flow melodically, but have some sort of lesson. As for being single, I was hopelessly in love with someone at the time, with starry eyed visions of settling down and living with that person. But, truth conquers all, regardless of how it comes to light. The truth changes shit in ways you never expect, and just within the space of this last year, my life has changed greatly. But on that note, I'm off. I need a shower.

My Introduction

            I am a lot of things; I’m a college graduate, a working member of society, a member of an amazing family, friend to astonishingly diverse people, an afraid artist, lost writer, outdoorsman, handy man, lover, and stoner. First and foremost, I am me. I am Frank Christian Irish. At the time of this undertaking, I am a 23 year old farm hand with a degree that is not being used. Instead of struggling to find a job in my field, I started working on a horse boarding farm, working my body to its limits in every type of weather conceivable, and I’m happy. In my spare time, I draw comics, help out my friends and family, hangout with my grandfather, and write. Like most Americans my age, I am trying to find my place in life while drifting through the social currents and stresses that accompany my situation. And, as I at this very second understand it, like most Americans my age, I’ve smoked marijuana. I was in college, drunk, curious, and able to do it, so I did it. I wasn’t pressured to do it, and it wasn’t something I had been around. During high school, I made it a point to stay away from it, was downright opposed to even hanging with people who did. That was just the way I was raised, believing that pot was evil and something that made you as dumb as a doornail. I was indoctrinated in what society viewed as a proper stance on a mislabeled substance.