There’s no need to review this lovely, holistic collection. We’ll let this clip speak for itself:
What is there beyond knowing that keeps calling to me? I can’t turn in any direction but it’s there. I don’t mean the leaves’ grip and shine or even the thrush’s silk song, but the far-off fires, for example, of the stars, heaven’s slowly turning theater of light, or the wind playful with its breath; or time that’s always rushing forward, or standing still in the same—what shall I say—moment.
What I know I could put into a pack as if it were bread and cheese, and carry it on one shoulder, important and honorable, but so small! While everything else continues, unexplained and unexplainable. How wonderful it is to follow a thought quietly to its logical end. I have done this a few times. But mostly I just stand in the dark field,in the middle of the world, breathing in and out. Life so far doesn’t have any other name but breath and light, wind and rain. If there’s a temple, I haven’t found it yet. I simply go on drifting, in the heaven of the grass and the weeds.
76. No thanks, I might get kicked off the math team.
Here’s the first 10:
1. Barack Obama. El Presidente de Los Estados Unidos!
2. Bill Clinton “…but I didn’t inhale.” Fomer U.S. President!
3. Bill Murray. Yep, everyone’s favorite actor was arrested for possession.
4. Paris Hilton. Socialite. Night Vision Porn-Star.
5. Aaron Sorkin, Oscar Winning Writer of the Social Network.
6. George W Bush Politician and professional hypocrite.
7. John F Kennedy. Politician.
8. Steve Jobs, co-creator of the Apple computer.
9. Queen Victoria.
10. Bruce Lee.
Despite what every stoner movie ever will have us believe, just because you smoke pot, does not mean you are an idiot.
Apropos of this fact—see, I used the word, apropos!—let us depart from your regularly-scheduled programming for a little collection of Après Moi Le Déluge poetry.
“Après moi le déluge” means ”after me, come the flood”, as in, ”once I peace out, may this whole fucking place and all y’all in it go to hell:
When I die, let earth and fire mix:
It matters not to me, for my affairs will be unaffected.
Dark right?
It’s kind of hilarious. Kind of. But who doesn’t like Poetry?
Just fucking read it!
Imagine if you could predict the future…
It’d be pretty nice, yes?
Well, with Astrology Zone, you might get damn close. It offers some of the most thorough horoscopes on the net. If you’re into the zodiac at all, I would strongly recommend you check their stuff out.
Here are some out of context, freshly sexual gems my from my horoscope:
“…you can take classes to bone up…”
“…now you will have the time to do it…”
“…as a special service to my readers…”
“…exert your latent powers..”
Beginning as it all begins, it forsook the source of things and that which flowed over that which stayed. It made the choice to form a standing wave. It leaned the out against the in, unfolding in a place to call its own, and it gently draped six senses over this house of cards that it built, and opened ground to the roots of touch and let them in.
Incredible sensations. It was the insatiable feeling of a feeling of insatiable desire and all that it could do was hold tight to that that it was not. It told itself it needed names and in so doing it became. This is the birth that everyone is always talking about. The one assumed but not remembered, but death does not forget.
The end will remind it to cure it of itself.
(Source: youtube.com)
Books are hard for me.
It isn’t that reading is hard, what’s hard is finding a book that holds my interest enough to finish it. Maybe there’s just too much weed-induced ADD happening in my life these days. Rule of the Bone, however, was not hard to read at alll. In fact, it was fantastic. A modern-day Catcher in the Rye about a fucked up middle school kid who gets kicked out of his house and spends the next two years trying to survive first in upstate New York and ultimately Jamaica.
The New York part of the story is an excercise in squallor. A lot of sleeping on old matresses and hanging out with meth addicts, but the Jamaica stuff is where things really start to get cool. He meets a Rastafarian who shows him the intrinsically spiritual connection between ganja and the universe. Listening to the wise old I-man for half the book was one of many treats to reading it. So was this awesome scene where the kid hallucinates himself back to the days of slavery.
The amount of drug use that happens over a beautiful tropical Jamaican setting is enough to read a book (especially in the winter). You can almost feel the Caribbean sun on your face and definitely makes you want to spark a joint right along with them. But this is a book that isn’t really about drugs.
It’s about how shitty it is to barely still be a kid. And it has an ending that quite literally gave me the chills.
Okay. This book was really fucking crazy. It begins with this weird precocious kid who’s playing in the forest when all of a sudden this black tar pit thing spits out a girl. At first the girl insists that one day she and the boy will be married and then just as they’re about to hook up—child molester alert—the girl disappears. Ho, hum!
Or something.
Then the boy spends the rest of the book sort of wondering among the land of the living, doubting that there really is anything to it. It’s an inverted Truman Show type thing where he’s the only one who seems to have the sense that life’s just a big joke. Armed with this unique ability to stand back and just kind of watch things, he ends up getting really good at stuff. Good at sports. Good at school. Wunderkind.
Eventually he joins the military, trains, and because this book takes place in the not-too-distant future gets shipped off to a war that looks a lot like Iraq, but takes place in Africa instead— which apparently is not in Africa.
There are other adventures.
A beautiful English girl in the desert. A time when he’s a POW. Another time when a well-dressed man who in a very Ben-Linus-from-Lost way seems both to be evil and have all the answers approaches him. Some other thing about rape and an ice cream truck…
I know it sounds confusing, but this book is really easy to read and kind of a fun mind-fuckery. Despite its confusing content, it’s written in really simple, easy to follow language. There are only a few characters to keep track of and everything moves really quickly.
I read this book in two days. I was stoned for both of them. Thus the fogginess. You know how it is. Read it yourself if you want to know more about it, asshole.
I try to shy away from getting political here at Stoners. I usually save that for my other blog, but sometimes pot and politics intersect and, in the case of Tommy Chong, can turn a stand-up comedian into a drug lord. I’ll admit, I had no idea what I was getting into when I started reading his book. I was never a fan of Cheech and Chong. In fact, I don’t really like stoner movies at all. I find it’s a lot more fun to be high than it is to watch other (usually retarded) people get high. You probably heard he’d gone to jail, which seemed kind of inevitable and not all that surprising… but once I read his account of what the fuck went down, I felt outraged by the media shit-storm and scapegoating the DEA put him and his family through. They basically said that if he didn’t plead guilty to shipping bongs over state lines, then they would bring his son and his wife up on distribution charges as well. They even held the trial on the anniversary of 9/11 just to make the threat of drugs seem that much scarier. His book is poorly written to be sure, and a little heavy on the Holy Spirit, but it’s a really easy read. I would have liked him to compare his plight to the Nazi occupation a little less often. All things being equal, going to jail for 9 months is not the same as the slaughtering of an entire people. Moreover, sometimes his anecdotes felt like nothing other than page-filler, but overall, it’s a really fascinating look at what an all-powerful government can do with unlimited time and money.
Graffiti World: Street Art from Five Continents
Price: $23.10
Perfect for: Enhancement Stoners
Okay, I was super baked this morning and went on a walk through my new neighborhood here in lovely, every-chill, 420-friendly Portland, Oregon. I passed an Urban Outfitters and figured I’d take a look and see if there was anything that would catch my attention. Sure enough, I stumbled upon this gem of a coffee table book, Graffiti World: Street Art From Five Continents. I must have stared at the thing for thirty minutes right there in the middle of the store. It was painfully clear that I was painfully high.
The book is almost 400 pages long, and each one is dripping with some of the most vivid, sweet graffiti art I have ever seen. If you are familiar with the scene, you’ll definitely recognize a lot of the stuff here. Famous artists as well as local ones get their otherwise anonymous fifteen minutes.
What’s also nice about the book, is each artist gets a little bio and gives us some insight into their vision. HERBERT, a dude out of Brazil, uses his page to offer we stoners what may well be a zen-like paradox: “While I was awake, I could see the fins scattered on the beach… every time that the sky goes dark, and the moon lights up the sand, I go into the sea and I know in a short time that I will disappear, and what will be born is a wish to be something that is not just flesh and bone.”
For those who are hyper-conscious about not trying too hard, this book is probably not for you. Urban Outfitters chose to carry it for a reason - it’s sleek, modern, and cool as hell. Notice the adjectives I’m using aren’t used, refurbished, or underground, so if you or whoever your trying to buy this up for is only down with things on the down low, then you might move along. For the rest of us, art is art is art is art, so if you’re going to trip on Dali, you might as well feast your eyes on these tasty licks.
Einstein’s Dreams
$10.36
Perfect for: Philosopher Stoners
Imagine we lived in a world where Time as we know was completely different, where you could, for instance, travel to the center of time just as easily as if it was a spot on the map, or if Time flowed like a choppy river with waves, eddies, and echoes, or if our pasts and not our futures were constantly changing.
There are a few dozen of these alternate-realities in one of the Mind-blowingest books I’ve read lately, Einstein’s Dreams. Nothing has been more glorious these past few weeks than rolling a joint, sitting out in the sun and reading through these simple, yet intriguing vignettes.
Einstein’s Dream is designed for those stoners who get high, zone out, and then return to the world, convinced they’ve discovered the meaning of life.. If you’ve ever uttered the words, “Dude, think about this…” then Einstein’s Dreams is for you.
Get Stoned and Read This Book
Price: $19.95
To Be Used: While High
Perfect For: The Newbie Stoner
Okay, Get Stoned and Read This Book was an obvious addition to this site. The concept’s pretty simple… Step 1: Get a little Stoned. Step 2: Read the Book. From quotes like “when really fucked up, fooze definitely exceeds the speed limit” to intense closeups of bottle caps… it’s a total staple.
This is perfect for a newbie stoner, because all he’ll have to do is throw it on his coffee table and quell any doubt that he may now be smoking regularly. More advanced stoners, however, will have probably already read it and will have long since moved onto other books with sweet pictures.
