It's Just another love story. But before that a word of caution: Rhetoric was found foot-loose early this morning.. Throbbing pain or near black out is a given side effect after reading such articles. Undue pressure on the gray cells (or lack thereof) the prime suspect. Gripping cranium shell with both hands coupled with inhaling deep breaths is the usual prescribed remedy.
Right, here goes. Eyes half shut & bloodshot, mood indigo. The settling haze has given a purplish halo to the room which seems to be closing in on me. Body is comfortably numb and any more puffs invariably draw a coughing spasm. Let me regress the mood part. Mood seems to be upbeat as if embraced in a psychedelic grandeur.
Lights are switched off and this makes the iMac glow like a wish star. Strains of 'Kashmir' - Led Zeppelin, provide the moody cerebral rhythm which makes the head nod up and down to its staccato beats. Robert Plant's hauntingly baroque voice, especially in this rendition gives me goosebumps all over. It's the mixture of this and reefer that actually does this...and more, to me.
The feeling lingers a long time after the last notes have faded away. I was on a kick.
Something I mentioned about love. It's about this time when I thought I should have risen in love but actually slipped all over. Another thing which is coming to me now is it was at first sight too. Since I am not much of a sucker for emotions gathered in first sighting (and being a skeptic of the first order) I had taken the trouble of walking by again. The thought of misplaced platonic breeze blowing in the wrong direction was the initial conclusion but eventually my worst fears were confirmed true. (Some moron said answers blow in the wind, what a jerk).
Then and there itself I knew I had to give in. I fell in the mindless crazy abyss that is Keep-your-Cob-Shut-dot-com thank you. Hook line and sinker. Let me not get the nascent climax wrong, the feeling was akin to being sucked by a blackhole for eternity. In the process straining each nerve and having the face skin stretched taut. Nothing short of it. The trip had just begun.
The orange embers of the mind-bending substance(grass + tobacco, 70:30 ratio) glitter in the room's semi-darkness. The eyelids feel very heavy. By all means they should. But the matter at hand is extremely urgent. Infact very close to my heart. Somehow, I have to immortalize the morbid feeling that I had felt.
Slowly I make an effort to ponder in hindsight about how the meeting had taken place. The actions which had brought the two of us together. The fear which had crept on me when I had finally realized that I might have to co-habit with this thing.
Not so long ago the home-page's white-green pale hue had cast a deathly shadow
on my face. A search on Google for something innocuous had led me to this.
I liked it. I mean the name. Because I don't like wasting words and because I
like long walks, especially taken by people who talk more than required. I said
to myself, ''A shot is all I got.''
In a morose sounding phony high note I had hollered to myself. Here comes ladies and gentlemen, not forgetting the in-betweens, without much ado or beating the bush, THe Review of reviews, YES, the review of MouthshutDotcom itself. The voice had trailed off when saying the last few words.
I am trying to tilt back in the chair. Make the back-rest go back as far as pressure would allow without snapping it and spread the legs infront. I am in the sprawled position. Bringing both my hands behind my head I think about mouths. How I like them when closed. Open only when doing a tongue lock or playing tongue hockey, as they call it now, right. Thinking about this invariably gives me a hard on.
By this time weed, my lady Jane is making me touch new heights. Wanting to go further up, I clench my lips on the shapely and draw the last one remaining from the roller. My buddy's voice booms in my mind,
'' we oughta not walk on grass buddy, smoke it rather''.
Some preppie co-ed had let out a giggle.
It's a depressing one. This site is. Log on, read the crap others have dished. If the mood is right tell them you don't give a rat's fu*ck for what they call ''an article''. Tell them their odor emitting turd which they call ''review'' should not give them the wrong notion of their being the next bard of Avon. Tell them how much you felt like puking all over and just thinking about it makes you want to throw up all over again.And they have the nerves to call it 'comments'.
On second thoughts may be 'cuz the nerves are frayed. Yeah, that must be it. Thoughts like these come rushing into my mind like an angry river which is hard pressed to respect the sanctity of it's banks during peak monsoons.
The effect of weed is on it's last leg now. A feeling of weightlessness creeps over, making me rub my arms involuntarily. The cortex makes me feel am in cerebrally gravity defying chamber. Eye-lids feel heavy and it's a strain to keep them open. But I know it's now or never. I start to brood once again.
Mouthshut offers a lot in terms of variety. Think of anything and chances are somebody already wrote a sorry commentary on it and hung it here to dry. By the way these so called articles come in all shapes and sizes. Smoked or pickled, raw or overdone, take your pick. It even gives you an outlet to vent your fume against that ignoramus fool who crapped on something. Like I mentioned earlier it goes by the name of 'your comments'. It's great. Makes somebody like me with an itchy finger feel like he is on top of the world. Just like DiCaprio when says something of this sort in that sinking ship movie.
But herein lies the catch. Nowhere does it say you gotta care two hoots for what drivel the other chap comes up with. This site is a true paragon of democracy. You came come up with your own drivel to match up with. Show the world what it takes. Write your own stuff, let others tell you what they think about it. (...don't have to necessarily give a damn)
All it does is bring me closer to that kid in JD Salinger's masterpiece. I can instantly identify with him now. Being in the same boat as him makes me feel better. I am sorry if I sound so crappy or phony. It's the weed. After the highs naturally the lows follow. That's how life goes too. I won't get into that right now but believe me Weed, Philosophy and Life are natural pals. Throw in a dash of music and the whole canvas resembles Picasso's Cubism. May look difficult to decipher at first but take the trouble and the air is actually great up there. (Just a question of transcending planes.)
This reminds me we have to get back to the world of sewn mouths. Questions and thoughts pop up from every conceivable crevasse.(Incidentally one has to be beware of crevasses when scaling heights. Oh Lord help me buy back my introduction to this site. Are you kidding me? Finally we have to drive a hard bargain. Will this site be any good? Useful in the least? Does it make me a better man at the end? And will I ever actually care for whatever I find written in it's hallowed portals! It gives the sickly feeling of raising more questions than answers.
But right now I know I am commited. Like a pesky bubble-gum stuck to the sole of the shoe. We are in for a ride. Hopefully it's gonna be a joy-ride. For all of us, me the site and most important of all, you people. Welcome all of us aboard, Capt'n.
(....was that a distant sounding Ahoy, I heard?).
