Saturday, December 03, 2005


Last night I went to the People's Republik here in Boston. I got all in the mood to discuss ideas of socialism, democracy, revolution, etc. Instead, however, me and a friend, and one of his friends nerded out and talked about the future of Google and Microsoft and other such computer-nerd stuff. But revolutionary thought was still on my mind and I went to meet up with some other friends at the Common Ground on Harvard Ave. There the conversation quickly turned to how I have to act in Boston to be able to pick up girls, which is not one of my favorite topics because everyone says the same thing and it never makes any difference. Anyway, I really wanted to get back into intellectual thinking so a friend and I smoked a lot of weed after we left the bar and stayed up listening to my improve rap and his drumming. That was good stuff, well really bad stuff I should say, but fun to listen to. As high as I was I thought maybe my creativity would be at pak performance... oh how wrong I was. Here now, for your viewing pleasure is a small fraction of what I wrote last night at 3:30am while stoned out of my mind:

Forever away. Locked in the smithies room. Where could I have come from, where will I be. Here amongst the giants[sic] past the time of the greats. I’m locked in a sphere of octagons.

Triangular is the shadow that falls past your head. Cylindrical is the free weight hanging above your head? What shall we do?

What shall we do indeed! The question bestows the indolence from which it deserves. For no man can resist the temptation of the holy vessel.

The insolence of man will be justified by the presence of sulfoxides and chlorobenzines. If only the.

Holy half past the time of despair. Where in the love of god am I, definitely not at the keyboard. Never to go near the key board again. When shall this become important?

Is this proof that weed does not stimulate creativity but instead inhibits rational thought? I think so.

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