Wednesday, September 18, 2002
My roommate does one thing. He gets stoned. That's all.
No job, no car, no places to go. No goals, no ideas, no motivation.
No, Nancy Reagan is not paying me off or sucking my dick.
Ahem. Yes. His mother pays his rent, sends him cash for food, weed, and clothing. He plays my Gamecube, watches my DVDs, and downloads South Park episodes on his computer, the one thing his father has provided. He doesn't have to do anything so he doesn't.
It's easy for me to judge him, but until late last year, I'd never learned to drive and I lived in my folks' garage, getting stoned and drunk each and every day after work. Unlike the roomie, I've held my current job for almost five years, not mentioning previous employment. But the basics are the same. Do as little as possible for as long as you can. Once I got the boot, it was do or die, so I did. One day he'll get the tough love treatment from his soft touch parents.
His Twilight Zone headspace in affecting the apartment itself. The blinds are all shut, and the lights are off. When I get home, all I can see is blue screen glow from the TV or monitor. Occasionally a reggae bulb will be lit. (a lightbulb, half red, half green, totally obnoxious)
I smoke it too, although it's not my sole activity. Between April and August, I smoked infrequently and bought none of it. Instead I chose to busy myself with long walks, weightlifting, woodcarving, and attending baseball games.
Lately I've been buying it and smoking it much, much more. My brain is slowing down. I've stopped noticing strange little things everyday that make living fun. I haven't carved anything in two months, drawn anything even longer, and I've lifted weights maybe twice this month. Once I get stoned, I don't want to go out. I just want to order pizza and stare at a screen. Am I just preparing for winter hibernation, or am I going back to my old ways of getting wasted and doing as little as possible?
I don't want to stagnate, and I don't want to lose my drive to better my station in life. On one hand, when I'm nice and sober I think all the time about a better job, as better home, financial security, etc. In essence I worry a lot, and sometimes grasp an idea, although I never pursue them. It's a depressed headspace, but an aware one. On the other hand, I relax, stop thinking, stop worrying and sort of enjoy myself when I get stoned. I'm also absent, a zero, a zilch. No emotions, just sweet nothing when I'm stoned. Smoke some pot and I've got a steady hum that drowns out both signal and noise.
I look forward to getting home and toking up each day now.
Now I'm starting to worry about that.
4:38 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
RECENTIn Which Nothing Of Importance Occurs
Flourescent Orange Vest
Sex Shop Epilepsy
Use As Intended Only
Sweet Home Chicago