High Ramblings about Chili

I fucking love chili.
But like, chili isn’t something you can get store bought or from a restaurant because it would suck major ass. Unless of course, you went somewhere renowned for its chili.
You know, I  actually can’t think of a place like that.
Holy fuck.
I want to start a chili restaurant. I want all types of chili, from all over the US. Hell, I even want to create designer chili, chili that’s so goddamn different yet tastes so goddamn good. Like maybe, jerk chili, or perhaps chili adobo. Ooh, how about chili curry?
Duuuudes, the possibilities are endless.
You could make chili desserts; like chocolate chili served over like pretzels or some shit.
And what if, bear with me here, it was a smoker friendly place? By that I mean weed, of course, look at the title of the blog lol.
Like what if we had stocks of cannabutter, different strains of weed and what not. And when people ordered their chili, they had the choice to pick a weed in it, similar to picking the wine you want with your food?
Mind blown as fuck.

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Books

I promise this will be a short one.
I love books. I love them so much it hurts sometimes. I love stories and the wild worlds people create. I love the meaning entrenched in so many works.
It’s funny, I normally can’t tell you what my favorite book is. But at the moment, I think I’ve figured it out. Don’t judge me for this, but my all time favorite books would have to be Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. For some reason I am in love with the Bronte sisters’ stories.
These books, have had the biggest impact on me, and I dont even know why.
Its just kind of funny, cause I write fantasy/fiction, yet I dont draw my favorite books from that genre. I mean literary fiction, yes. But that other kind of fiction? Not so much. Or maybe its the other way around. Well anyways, I’m going to go read Jane Eyre cause I couldn’t find Wuthering Heights.

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Relationships

I don’t think I ever want to be in a relationship, or fall in love or anything like that cause I’m afraid what that will turn me into. I already have a hard enough time not being a piece of shit person and friend, like in a relationship? I’d either be a complete piece of shit or a complete psycho. I don’t know. I just feel like, I don’t know man.
Like I already have a hard enough time maintaining relationships with friends. But like, with a significant other? One of us would go psycho making the other life a living hell for the other.
Plus, honestly, I don’t like people too terribly much. Like, I haven’t had an actual crush on anyone in a while. A few years at least. I just, maybe I’ve had slight infatuations or something, but like dudes, I can’t.

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Sitcoms

I want a sitcom about stoners. Like literally stoners. Not That 70’s Show shit, I want weed to be an integral, if not completely a main part. And I want it to be funny. No drug dealers, unless they are pilot jonesing. I don’t want another drug king-pin, funny, selling pot shit. I want it to be about the everyday adventures of a stoner. U know something people could relate to.
That is all.
Wow, that kind of turned into another post.
Should I put a title?
Well now,
Fuck yeah, title time!

And signature

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Being High-Lee Satisfied

It’s funny. I do things for people that they would never do for me. And for some reason, I just don’t care. I don’t want people to feel the way I have felt in the past. I suffer from bipolar disorder and when I’m not having an episode I’m being ridiculously generous and reckless with my money. Which, I guess is also an episode, but anyways, I do shit for people cause I am content now. I feel as if I have come to terms with life.
You see, Life and I have been at odds for a while. People found it beautiful and I could only see the ugly. But, I’ve fallen in love.
I’ve fallen in love with this world, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Cause honestly, everyone has enough to deal with on their plates. I am fed up with people’s shit.
People need to treat people how they want to be treated if they want that treatment of course. If they crave that comfort.
I on the underhand cannot stand being vulnerable. Because my vulnerability is something truly terrifying to people. I see it, I’ve tried, and people always get too horribly worried because I have ridiculous reactions to stuff sometimes. So I bottled it all in.
Wow. Dammit forgot what I was talking about again.
This is some good shit.

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Selfishness

“And as they ended, so did my summer. So did my eternal youth. As their lives imploded, mine exploded, dispelling everything I thought I knew about myself. Summer was over. This chapter was over.”

-excerpt from my memoir I shall write when I am 80, if I live that long, if not then it’ll just be something I said once long ago on a very stoned night

And once again I have made it about me.
Isn’t it awesome, to look out in the universe and somehow find signs that seem to guide u along ur path?
How fucked up is that?
Why the fuck does the universe care about us?
I mean, if it’s so vast, so high and mighty, so, divine, what the hell could it want with us.
And looking for signs in people’s actions?
The world is not a play, sorry Shakespeare, the world is a cold and ugly place, what was it Sweeney Todd said?
There’s a hole in the world like a big black pit that is filled with people that are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it.
Yeah, that. Only the entire world is a big black pit. It has spread sweeny, my sweet sweeny todd. It is no longer just London, but the entire world.
And like I said I am horribly selfish and I don’t even want to talk about it.
Everything is about me, that’s how I seem to think. At least that’s how people tell me I think. And at times, I kind of just do it cause I want to show them that if they call me selfish I’ll act it. And I’ve thought that way for so long that I literally convinced myself I am actually a selfish piece of shit.
Oh, fuck.
I forgot what I was talking about.
Um, this is awkward.
So yeah,

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Aliens

So I just realized I am terrified of aliens. I have no idea why. The fear is somewhat akin to the fear I have of dinosaurs (read about that in my earlier post about fears).
See I am someone who rarely has nightmares. I can remember a handful of dreams that have inspired abject terror in me: one with a jazz musician, one with a doll house, a bunch with dinosaurs (of course), and fucking aliens.
I don’t know, there’s this quote that says that either we’re alone in the universe or we aren’t, and either option is truly terrifying. Those aren’t the exact words, but that’s the gist. And boy, how I relate to that shit.
The universe is so big, I mean, is it really possible that we are the only life forms?
We can’t be. And that is kind of scary. The bing bang supposedly happened 7 billion years ago, or something like that, and it took around 200,000 years for mankind to have advanced so far.
That isn’t even 1/7 of the amount of time the universe as we know it has existed.
What if another planet got the recipe for intelligence and sentient life right in the first billion years? Or two billion? Or three billion? Or even four?
Either way, it is possible that intelligent life as we define it exists some where else out there, and they could possibly have a really big heads start.
I don’t know why I fear aliens, I mean, whose to say that they are like humans?
If we are the epitome of intelligent life then I fear for the universe.
But I mean, while chimpanzees are violent and territorially, their cousins, bonobos, are much more loving and kind.

-high ramblings of a stoner

High Ramblings about Self Medication

I self-medicate. I am not afraid to admit it. But I do not abuse anything I use to deal with my mental illness. I drink, and yes I do throughout the day, but at no point during the day am I drunk. Liquor is for special occasions. Wine, beer, wine coolers? Sure, I’ll have one with breakfast lunch and dinner and maybe one more in between those times. But I am never drunk. I smoke weed. But unless I am making an activity of it with friends, I won’t smoke a joint or a blunt, I’ll smoke a single bong pack or bowl pack every hour or two. At no point during the day am I fucked up. Cigarettes? Yeah, I smoke em. Yeah, I know they’ll kill me young. Yes, I want to quit. But I’ll decide when I’m ready to actually devote attention specifically to destroying that bad habit. Pills? I love em. Do I take them without a prescription? No. Do I take more than I am supposed to? No. So whats the problem? Honestly, I abuse a lot of things, but never to the point that it is literally life threatening. Everything can be enjoyed in moderation. What’s life without enjoying the things you want? Honestly, its quality not quantity. But that’s just my defense of why I do the things I do lol. Think what you want I’m happy.

-High Ramblings of a Stoner

Drunk Ramblings about BLM

One thing I really like about this movement is that the victims matter. The victims are treated as martyrs. Did they want to be martyred? No. They wanted to live a full life. Almost everyone does. And that’s the thing, these victims, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, and Michael Brown among so many others, they were us. That’s the thing, these are people we know, they are who we are. We can relate. It’s deeper than just skin tone, it’s something that should speak to all of us. I mean, even if you were white and lost your child, you could semi-relate to the victims’ parents. I know it seems like a lot to ask people who aren’t of the same skin tone to sympathize with a plight that has been going on for centuries, but we can all relate on a human level.
In almost every culture, there has been a stigma of having a darker skin tone. In Asia, in South and Central America, in Africa and even in Europe people with darker skin tones are thought of as inferior. In the past, the reasoning behind that has been that those with darker skin have been farmers or laborers, a category designated to the lower class. While those with fairer skin are typically considered to be a part of the upper class, for they didn’t have to be out in the sun for long hours slaving away. These people were plumper and had cushier lifestyles that didn’t revolve around working outdoors.
Carl Jung had this psychological theory called the collective unconscious. According to this theory, humans pass down archetypes through generations, without ever explicitly stating them. These thoughts are transmitted unconsciously, from parent to child. Archetypes can easily be replaced by stereotypes. These are unconscious tendencies to relegate certain people to certain stereotypes. All of it having a basis in how our ancestors thought. I don’t know if I believe in this theory. But it would help to explain why racism seems to come by so easily in the human race. Though, honestly, I’m not even sure if it would be racism. Even in Europe, pretty much everyone was of the same race, white, but those who had darker skin had it because of their work outside. It was a defense mechanism against the harsh UV rays of the sun, but others, the richer and fairer, saw it as a sign that these people had to work hard in the sun because they were poor. I don’t know if I believe in the collective unconscious, but it would explain why so much racism occurs nowadays.
Of course, that is no fucking excuse. We are all human. All of us, of the same fucking species. We deal with different things, we have different capabilities, different disabilities, but none of that is dependent on skin color. Skin color is nothing more than our defense against the goddamn sun.
And the BML movement? I am 100 percent with it. I am mixed, and actually look very white. Technically, I am 3/8s black, 1/8 Japanese, and half white. This movement, while I support it and defend it, I know I still have that privilege. That white privilege.
When I was in eighth grade in GA, a little white boy asked me out. I said no. He looked me dead in the eyes. He told me that that was okay, but to promise him I’d never date a black boy.
Before then I had never heard such racism. I was stunned. I told him my dad was black, he didn’t believe me. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. I wanted to sock him in the face. I didn’t. I calmly showed him a picture of my dad, and he moved seats, rarely if ever speaking to me again.
Racism exists, I’ve never been a true victim of it based off my skin color, but I have that little white card where people think it’s appropriate to spew their ignorant opinions at me. And I am mixed, so it’s almost like I’m a minority in a minority. What’s that song? Unaccepted by the whites and rejected by the blacks. Yeah, that could have been me. But I fell in with the weirdos who honestly don’t give a flying fuck about skin color.
I am with BML a hundred percent. And anyone who isn’t? Well, they just need a history lesson. Or a present lesson. Open your fucking eyes. I have a very special glimpse because of my ethnicities. But it’s not hard to see the injustices.
Anyway, sorry went off on a tangent that turned into a life story, but I like BML so much cause its about the victims. I can almost draw a some what weird parallel with serial killers. So in the case of serial killers, we know the killer, by either their name or nickname. But the victims? How many of you can name the victims of say, the Zodiac Killer or Jeffrey Dahmer? Unless of course your a serial killer buff. But most people don’t know the victims. I sure as hell can’t name one. And if you think about it, we can relegate cops to that title. What are they doing? Pretty much serial killing African Americans (I use African Americans because I’m talking about what’s going on in America). Sure it isn’t just one person, it’s a whole occupation. Not to say there aren’t good cops. I’ve met good cops. One gave me a reason not to end my life. Anyways, so we pretty much have an entire profession serial killing African Americans. But the difference here is we know the victims’ names. And not just their names. We know their faces. Their families. They will not be forgotten. And that’s a powerful thing.

-Drunk Ramblings of a Stoner

High Ramblings about Age

What’s it like to be old?
What’s it like to have so much experience?
What’s it like to have lived for decades?
At the moment, I am not even two decades yet. Not until next month anyways. And I already feel like I’ve come so far. I feel like my life could end now and I’ve experienced enough.
But what is it like to gain decades worth of experiences?
What’s it like to have learned so much?
Not necessarily things that involve school learning, but what’s it like to be human for so long?
At times, I find myself thinking about the past, wishing I would have known then what I know now.
Will I feel like that in the future as well?
That odd almost regret. Not a powerful one, but like you know, a subtle regret.
Or will I understand that the reason I know so much then, is because of all the experiences I have in the past?
Who will I be?
What will I have accomplished, if anything?
Will I be who I want to be?
Will I not like who I became?
How much will I have lost?
How much willI I have gained?
For the first time in my life I actually am looking forward to the future. I used to shy away from it. I used to fear it. I used to dread it.
But now?
Now I greet it warmly with open hands.
I’ve finally had my change of heart.

-high ramblings of a stoner