It’s Merry Marijuana Day, so I am offering keepsake matchbooks to rowdier readers, while supplies last and/or when supply is replenished. Info@KathleenKBooks.com
The matchbooks could fit perfectly well into a stash box or might act as a conversation starter… or be used to light votive candles down at the church, that’s cool too.
Stoner is a two-part potcentric fictional memoir of reefer and romance, with a third volume Stoner’s Bones (High Is Heaven) woven through this blog in his honor. It’s a freewheeling sexual escapade, voiced with a wry twist of wit.
Another year of pot-regulation under our national belts and we move purposefully toward defining something that is in part ineffable by design. What does pot “do” to-with-for-against you? How do we measure impairment if the high wears off in hours but the molecules remain behind for days and weeks? Banking and insurance still wobble because there are true outlaws involved and its hard to bridge the gap. The newness is rubbing off and solutions are being tried, assessed and modified. Not always correctly but why should this be any different than the other imperfect systems we have for health care, justice, and resource allocation?
Regulating pot competes with other agenda items: race and gender bias, violence, systemic inequity. It’s all part of the same puzzle, the lies told about marijuana were set against a racist, sexist, elitist society and enforced through a war-like philosophy. Central to this was a Men-in-Charge theme (the ‘white’ is implied), encoding distrust in citizens not fitting the favored form. This is a re-balancing movement, removing private choice from public censure, along the lines of free assembly, and the sanctity of your right to have your own religio-social thoughts. Smoking pot isn’t to be segregated from ceremonial wine and Friday night boilermakers and whatever pills or potions you take to find relief. It’s for grown-ups. It is to be a sensible and measured element in a productive life. It’s just stuff. Green and leafy. It doesn’t make you a criminal, or a saint, it’s about your finitude after all.
Make your choices, take your chances.