I use cannabis because for me it works as medicine- medicine that helps me in the best ways possible.

Here’s an interesting thing about my relationship with cannabis- I could care less to hang out with other cannabis users. In fact, I have no desire to hang out and smoke weed with anyone. I think it’s a waste of time.

Many people who smoke weed are ecstatic about hanging with other cannabis users, and getting high, together. I’ve been there and done that. To me, that was something that was fun when I was a young man. Nowadays I’m just a man. As a man I must work. It’s a must. I don’t have to make the big money. It would be nice to make an honest amount, but- nothing is guaranteed. I’m not a writer for the money. I write because I enjoy it, but I also write because I hope my work is well received by as many readers as possible. I do imagine being a writer who has succeeded in winning the hearts and minds of as many readers as is possible.

I smoke cannabis to help focus in on what I aim to say, with words. For me it works to my advantage. I grew up in a time around peers who enjoyed smoking cannabis, years before it was legal in our state of Arizona. Back in those days we’d get stoned maybe twice a week, sometimes only once a week.

When it became legal I began smoking every day. From the time I was up and about until I laid down to sleep I would smoke weed.

The same holds true for me today. I don’t smoke as much cannabis as I used to, but I can promise I’m smoking small amounts throughout the entirety of my waking hours.

I’m medicated on cannabis at this very moment. Sure, I still have glaring typo errors, grammar that need be checked before publishing. But, it’s not every post. And, I guess, these are more journal entries than anything else.

These posts are opinion based. What you hear from me might be the exact opposite from what someone else says about the same topic.

I’m not here to convince you how to live your life. I get bored and I want to journal my thoughts. Even if it is non-fiction, it’s still my prose. I continue to grow as a writer and maker of stuff every time I write and publish these posts.

I don’t care to get “high” with anyone else these days. What do we end up doing? Nothing of success, at least not in my mind. We hang out and talk about stuff, while under the influence of a mind-altering substance. Sounds like a waste of time. Especially if I don’t use any of that material to create art.

The funny thing about the mind-altering substance known as THC, is that I don’t need to hang and chat stoned with anyone. I can by myself conjure up ideas while I’m intoxicated on THC. I guess I’m a high functioning stoner. I can function at such levels while high on THC, while most cannot say or do the same.

It is what it is. Cannabis works for me. All I need is the cannabis. My mind takes care of the rest. I generate ideas all on my own. Imagine that. I don’t even need someone else to help me brainstorm.

I also read a lot while on the THC. The more I read the easier this writing stuff spills onto the page. I don’t even really think about it. I guess this is the flow state, being “in the zone”. I love when I’m in the zone. It’s almost effortless, at least the pain of doing it isn’t that painful at all.

Writing fiction is a pain in the ass at this point. Which, is what it is. I’m not going to force write fiction because I goddamn well have to. No. I don’t have to write fiction as it turns out. Not today I don’t have to. That’s something I’ll figure out when I’m ready to figure it out. I’m not about to stress myself over something that isn’t within me in my current state of being. If this non-fiction needs come out of me then that’s what I’ll write.

Getting stoned with other people can be fun, but it’s just fun- that’s all it really ever came down to for me. This writing is also fun, difference is I’m creating when I write and publish. To me when I publish I’m doing it. I’m living the dream I’ve been dreaming for over a decade now.

I’ve always been writing stories. It became my mission around eleven years ago to break into the industry as a noteworthy author of fiction. That was during a time in my life where a golden door appeared, and stood open for me to walk through. Sadly, I didn’t walk through that door. The door closed, and as fast as it closed it was gone. Poof. Like the door never even existed.

But that door did exist. It really was there, and yes it was pure gold. I made that door open. That door appeared because of what I wrote at that time. If I did it once I can sure as shit do it again.

No one may believe that golden door was real in my life. I don’t care. I give a damn about me again. I care enough about myself that I won’t let the indifference from the community slow me down. If I quit because of the community’s lack of response to my debut fiction book, the community won without even trying. I can’t let that happen. If I’m going to stir the pot so be it. I’ve tried to be who I know I really am, kinda a giant sized Ray Bradbury…But the sad part is society won’t validate this truth about me.

Apparently, society knows more about me than I know about me, or my family knows about me. Huh. That’s absurd, isn’t it? Yes it surely is but again- is what it is. Society will be the mob, like in the Shirley Jackson short story, The Lottery. Man, it be like that these days. Probably always has. If society doesn’t like you, yeah- self-publish. Do that until society changes their mind, if that even ends up happening.

Fuck it.

Keep writing.