397 tomorrow
Walking yesterday morning I started a blog entry about wearing masks outside and wondering if we've gone too far, but realizing I'm mainly rubbing up against local convention, and maybe I should just shut up and see what happens. It's not like I'm going to change the scene here.
Then when I got home I found people on our front stoop, fishing through a collection of keys. This is our deceased landlord's cousin. He's only sorting through her business and figuring things out, but after eight or nine years of being the only people in our building, things are happening.
It is an intense feeling.
More intense than I'm ready to put into words.
But maybe there is something else I'm ready to write about. Actually, I'm really not ready, but maybe that's why I'm ready. I'm afraid. For most of my life, it's been illegal. It still is, federally. So it's not something I usually talk about online. Society has put the fear of it in me.
But tomorrow is 4/20, something of a new national holiday, and I'm thinking it's time to face my fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of criticism. Fear of stigmatization. Fear of addiction. And fear of Johnny Law.
In the manner of many great stoners before me, maybe I will start tomorrow. On another memoir.
This one is going to be called "Marijuana & Me."
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