Opening

            I passed the blunt around the circle and held the fiery smoke deep within my lungs as long as I could until it finally escaped, popping into the cold air as I choked and hacked and coughed. It wasn’t the first time I had tried smoking weed but it was the first time I really felt what people tried so thoroughly, yet unrewardingly to explain. The feeling of being high for the first time.         

            You are sitting there, waiting for this awe inspiring moment of revelation when the high sneaks up behind you, careful not to startle you. It creeps up the back of your jeans and navigates through your coat where it begins to massage your shoulders and so you relax and become totally defenseless. The high then suddenly, with insurance of your relaxation, strikes the back of your skull and begins to comfort your brain, your mind.

            I looked across the circle of smokers and could see one of my close friends with a knit cap on. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking of times we had together in elementary school and what not. Noticing every detail of how the hat complimented his hair which complimented his face which complimented his jacket and so on and so forth. A slight chuckle slipped past my teeth.

“Looks like little miss priss over there has finally gotten high.” said some voice amongst the circle. I didn’t care to look, I didn’t care much about anything except for just about everything. I paid attention to it all, feeling as if I had been walking around naked up until this point. How could I have missed such a moon before? How did I never notice the crackled black top cement in the parking lot that was begging to either be fixed or crushed, looking so embarrassed by its own tarnished scalp. I began to feel sympathetic for the black top. So ignored and alone and yet so predominant in everyday life, especially our own and yet we simply walk all over it, laughing at its cracks and imperfections. We literally kicked the cement in the face with each and every step we nonchalantly took, striding to whatever car or place we were headed.

            The blunt had made its rotation within the circle and came back round to me. I decided to take a few more hits, each a deeper inhale. Afterwards I sent the stick of green along its way to please the rest of the crowd and made my way out into a field surrounding the parking lot.

            The ground was crunchy with frost yet not covered with snow. The Earth was so vulnerable at this point. All of its beautiful Summer and Spring life had been killed by Autumn. Left to be tortured by the beginning of Winter and its harsh weather. The delicate snow had not yet arrived to cover all of her impurities and so she lied there, waiting for a salvation. I became unrelentingly jealous of the Earth’s patience and so I began walking back to the car.

            I slowly opened the passenger door to my buddy’s car whom I had been smoking with earlier and sat in the soft, cushioned car seat and waited for everybody else to jump in.

            I was alone in the cold, dark car and my mind began to truly wander for the first time. It felt as if I could almost watch it walk across the dashboard and then jump and swing recklessly from the rear view mirror. It than dove out of the window and was amongst the crowd of red eyed people, dazed with euphoria.

            I began to examine the crowd, full of jocks, preps, bandos, skaters, etc., pretty much every bullshit high school clique you could think of was represented one way or the other. Except here they were all just stoners, looking to get lost for a couple hours and forget whatever hell of a life they had to report to in the morning.

            Jonny jumped in and started the car, but more importantly, started the music. It was as if I had been deaf up until this moment. Cool, calm, and collectively the guitar began to rise and fall, waiting alone for the rest of the band but determined, distinguished, it knew what it was doing. It continued alone for a moment or so until the bass and drums crept in, hitting at the perfect moment. I felt a turning in my stomach trying to get out, trying to explain itself and all I could do was laugh in sheer astonishment. It was as if I thought something so lovely could never have been composed and I felt true inspiration for the first time. I wanted to create, I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to put words to a story that had no words, had no meaning, had no being and yet it felt so important to define.