Leaves Of Grass Gone To Pot
Or: Mike Pisses His "Hipster Cred" All To Hell
A lot of people don't "get" me. Of course, I don't make it easy for people,
not fitting into any easily-defined categories. I don't feel I should.
I'm a bearded guy with long hair, but I don't consider myself a "hippie."
In case you couldn't already tell, this is quickly going to turn into a
"rant," and it's going to get more specific.
I am often offered pot, and I always refuse. Some people just say,
"All right," and that's that. Others, for some reason, seem to be unable
to let it go. One friend seem to think there was something wrong with my
brain because I didn't enjoy the effects of marijuana. One thought I was
crazy to enjoy the sort of music I do outside of a stoner haze. Some have
even gone as far as to imply that because of the way I look, I must
be a pothead. All of these points I'll touch on...
First of all, no, I do not enjoy pot. Hipster cred out the window
to admit as much, I know, but I don't and that's that. What lots of people
don't realize is that drugs affect everyone differently. What's joyful
and relaxing for many is stressful and unpleasant for me. The sense of
paranoia that accompanies a pot high is something I just can't deal with.
I'm already in a heavy state of paranoia to begin with without a drug heightening
that sensation. Besides, I'm already in such an altered state naturally,
adding hallucinogenic substances on top of that, well...it's kind of like
buttering fried chicken. There are times I wish I could feel what all those
people who enjoy pot are feeling, but I can't, and I've come to terms with
that. Too bad I can't say the same for others.
And no, I don't think hallucinogens are necessary to enjoy certain types
of music, film or art. For me, good art transcends one's state of mind.
I mean, I know what music sounds like that requires hallucinogens
to enjoy, and it sucks! But Pink Floyd, for example, transcends the psychotropic
substances that inspired the music. In fact, there's a lot of things I
don't enjoy that I'm convinced require drugs to enjoy, for example: Black
Sabbath, the Firesign Theater and the films of David Lynch. And with that
sentence, any last remaining vestiges of my "hipness cred" is quashed like
a bug beneath a stomping jackboot.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those
anti-drug crusaders. Within reason, I think what anyone else does is their
own damn business. If you enjoy pot and choose to do it, more power to
you. It's just not for me. What really
makes me bristle, though, is when people imply that drugs are required
for creativity. When showing people some things I've written, I sometimes
get the response, "Whoa! What were you on when you came up with that?"
I know, it's merely thoughtless and I should probably just write it off.
Still, there's a prevailing thought that if certain artists-say, the Beatles—didn't
take drugs, their music wouldn't be as good. But I maintain that the Beatles
were good because they were talented, not because they were flying high
on appalling amounts of mind-altering chemicals. Oh sure, we'd be without
the stream-of-consciousness doggerel lyrics, but minus the drugs, I guarantee
you that the Beatles' music would still be just as special. And drugs
aren't a magic ticket towards creativity. Trust me, in my search of the
Ultimate Obscure Prog-Rock album, I've heard my share of unlistenably
bad albums by no-talents who were flying even higher than the Beatles at
their most out there. Not merely bad, unlistenably bad. I think
it very important to stress that point. And the fact that they were obviously
really high made the experience no less painful. So I know whereof
I speak.
As for equating how I look with what substances I choose to ingest,
I chalk it up to people trying to ... their preconceived notions inspired
by popular stereotypes. Many of the same people just assume I'm a "Deadhead."
It's happened enough times that I now have a stock rude response: "I may
have had a few sexual fantasies about f*cking Jerry Garcia up the ass, but
that doesn't make me a Deadhead!" All right, I'm too polite to really
say that to someone's face, but I've been sorely tempted some days. Some
yahoos have deserved worse. Anyway, I'm not a "Deadhead" or "hippie" or any
other label you want to affix to me. I'm just me. It all reminds me of Frank
Zappa, who not only had to correct people who referred to him as "a hippie,"
but also had to correct those who sneered when he told them he didn't do drugs.
And if someone can create such profoundly weird art without the influence
of any drug stronger than caffeine, there may be hope for me yet...
Christopher Lee Dream Update: No more Christopher Lee dreams,
though later on in January I did have a dream about Ben Affleck. Mercifully,
this did not turn out to be a sex dream. I don't think I could handle
that. The vague surrealism of Christopher Lee sex dreams I can deal with,
the bland normality of a Ben Affleck sex dream I can't.
More recently, I dreamed of two characters from a book I'm currently
(re-)reading: "The Worm Ouroboros" by E. R. Eddison. In my dream, King
Gorice and Lord Gro are in a wacky sitcom where they share a house with
a brother and sister, a dutiful sister named Val and her unemployed brother
named [gulp!] Mike. And if that weren't bad enough, "Mike's" voice
sounds exactly like Billy West's as Fry from "Futurama" (whereas
Val's sounds exactly like Katey Sagal's Leela voice). I don't even want
to think of the implications of this, so expect reports of lots more similar
dreams in the near future.
Click on Christopher Lee to return...
©2003 by Progbear