Aug the Thirty-First
I am feeling so, SO much better today Journal. I did it, I really did it! The entire Dark Tower series in two weeks, one straight shot. Well, mostly straight, I did smoke a little the other day, but still! Maybe the whole “smoking weed” issue I have in my head isn’t actually an issue. Like… it’s not like weed is a hard drug, it’s not like it actually impairs me, it just uh… just kind’a makes things a little hazy. Not impossible to see through, just a little hazy.
Looking back, I think I only felt so down the other day because I had two heavy reading days in a row with a third one right in front of me. Song was 400-something pages and yesterday I left off on page 700-something (I don’t feel the need to check, you’re just a journal and I don’t need to be specific with you, it’s a waste of time). That’s over a thousand pages in three days, that’s a lot of fuckin’ reading.
Today, though? Today was hardly over one’fifty pages. It was like a slightly longer version of the day I smoked, and you know what?
You know what, Journal?
I’m going to smoke again today.
Oh yeah, without a doubt. There is no reason for me not to, no reason whatsoever. What, am I going to sit here and reread the Dark Tower series a third time? No, that’d be dumb. I could write some poetry, but… nnnaaahhhhhhh. I have King on the mind; I like to write when my mind is empty so everything that goes down on the page is fresh and authentic Albey. Plus, weed is not alcohol and cocaine. Weed doesn’t make your brain not work, weed just makes your brain work… differently. It makes it easier to mingle with thoughts. It makes the general stuff easier – see, it’s working out the specifics where weed really starts to fuck with you. Er, I mean me. Obviously I mean me, there’s nobody else here, why a–…
No. Albey doesn’t need to doubt himself.
What I’m trying to say (to myself) is that I’m not making excuses not to write poetry, I’m not shirking my responsibilities to go off and get high, I’m not a loser deadbeat who’s never going to go anywhere in life and yadda yadda yadda. I’m clearly capable as far as the mental goes – I read an eight-book fiction series over a period of two weeks, and I fuckin’ enjoyed it. Wasn’t even like work – I just don’t have any specific ideas for poems to write right now. Maybe that’s because I’m living at home, maybe it’s because I haven’t been in a poetry mindset for the past two weeks because I’ve been reading long-form fiction trying to get sober. I don’t even remember why I was trying to get sober in the first place, either, and I don’t feel like going back to check. It would be a big waste of time, just like my getting sober.
But anyway, if anything in this world puts me into a poetry mindset it’s getting stoned to the bone in the woods, and it just so happens that I recently put a few days into building myself a spot to do just that! A spot where, it just so happens, there is a hammock I left behind the other day because I was super paranoid about something. Probably heard squirrels jumping around and confused it for a bear or some dumb shit like that, knowing me.
So, I’m’a roll myself a few joints, I’m’a smoke a fat bowl, and I’m’a go get that hammock. Not necessarily in that order.
… … …
Say thankya, Journal. ’Preciate ya. Long days and pleasant nights~
Hello Commons, this has been the next journal entry from Untitled Bigfoot Project, a novel about a writer who writes a novel about bigfoot.
Untitled Bigfoot Project is part of the Third Spiral, an anthology of sorts called The Here and Now which is comprised of stories told from the various planes of Existence.
Untitled Bigfoot Project is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.
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If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. Be well Commons~