Ever had one of those days?

One day last summer I was home by myself for an evening. It was beautiful outside and we had a fresh bag of pretty good stuff. I felt good. Energized, content. Things were going well.

I had some spare cash, so I thought I'd treat myself. There's an IHOP about ten minute's walk from my place, so I got prettied up, put on my spiffy, comfy pants (they're kind of like a blue/green tie-dye pattern, but you put them on like a diaper. Tie in the front, tie around the back, pants!), burned a bowl and headed out. The city I live in is big on walking, since everything is within walking distance, so there were lots of people out.

It was a glorious walk. The breeze, the night air, all the lights. ^.^ Passing by a coffee shop I got a compliment on my nifty pants. I smiled the whole way there. Then of course I was at IHOP, and there was no reason to stop smiling.

Orange juice, bacon, pancakes with blueberry compote, and Good Omens by Terry Pratchett. A hot blonde waitress, too, that came over every five-ten minutes to see if I needed anything.

After leaving her a nice big tip I headed back. Just as wonderful. The buzz was fading a tad, but there was pancake flowing through my veins. The kids that complimented me were still at the coffee shop, so I stood and chatted with them for awhile and had a cigarette.

There's also an Exchange on the way. So I figured, Heck, let's get a movie for tonight. Smoke another, curl up on the couch. The only movie that I saw that I hadn't seen but still had heard of as being something to watch was Requiem for a Dream. So I got it, tucked it under my arm and made it home.

Grinning from ear to ear, I popped in it and started watching. Then I remembered. My friend had described it as the feel bad movie of the year. There I was, home alone stoned, watching this trainwreck. It's awful, but you can't look away. Amazing movie. By the time my roommate came home the situation was . . .

Me, weeping on the couch
Him: What happened? I thought you were having a great day.
Me, in a sobbing, breaking, whining voice: I watched Requiem for a Dre-e-eam!

 

I like the story better when I get to tell it in person. There's a kind of open hand and arm movement that seems to symbolize the wonder and greatness of life that I felt. Then I can also make a crash and burn sound for what the movie did.

It really shows the dual nature of pot: Making good times better, and shitty times good. I had to smoke another big bowl after the movie. Actually, right about when the kid lost his arm and the mother was hospitalized. The shit of it is, I really like the movie. I loaned it to a friend who wanted to ruin her day as well, and I haven't gotten it back yet, Somehow, I can't see minding if I never get it back.