G’day fellow stoners!
We are back. Oh, we are back. The absolute, number one favourite topic for the Stoner Cook.
We are reflecting tonight, Freddy and me. He is just going to let the drugs do the dialogue, they’ll talk about him, or he will, or the Narrator, who knows, shit will get confusing, Fred is as stoned as fucking balls friends. Just for shits and giggles about to get more so.
BRB
Life is alright, stoner life is all bloody right. Am I right?
Anyone do the stoner life without the alcohol life, also without all the other stuff life?
It’s all right! Amiright?
Fcn’ oaf friends im write.
How funny is Fred, hey? Like a big portion of his grammar is great, a portion needs work. But! Haha! Just to teach people shit about discrimination, a big part of the portion is intentional!! Fucking grammar nazis! Suck my cock cunts!
Really, please do 😘 Especially if you have a hot body, we can work through these pafetic punctuation principles.
See what I did there? Got the easy word wrong, the harder one rite.
I’m a funny cunt friends, but you know this already.
Cannabis is my name and welcome to Cannabuds, it’s just an extension of Blame Cannabis, it’ll be awesome too. Pretty much guarantee it.
Like, you still do other stuff, but sometimes, instead of regular times. A beer or three here and there, a trip or two a trimester, whatever other shit you enjoy. You enjoy it though, it doesn’t enjoy you so to speak.
But it does enjoy you, oh it loves you so much, but only when you love it. The relationship above, this is is love. It is balance, it is understanding the attachment.
Everybody, all of us, have a primary attachment. It presents completely in us all. Drugs, control, depression, anxiety, fear, confusion, compulsion, compassion, kindness, apathy, empathy, lethargy, you and me, other people. We all have it. Fred is cannabis.
Fred and cannabis are attached. Fred and cigarettes are attached. The two do not interfere, clash, fight, cause riot on anything other than his physical body. Frederick smokes it all, his lungs are suffering, really suffering. This is not what we are arguing, it is not the topic, the topic is attachment and what we use to deal with that attachment.
Fred’s case, his tools do not clash, crash, smash or bash, him or anyone else.
Cannabis and alcohol is a toxic mix, it is a horror show.
Alcohol and any other thing is a toxic mix, it is a horror show.
Cannabis and meth and shit, Fred cannot comment, has no experience at all. Does not know.
Cannabis and psychedelics absolutely do not clash, in fact they compliment one another IF you understand your relationshipn with both things individually first. That means understanding a personal relationship with cannabis whehn not taking any other drug. Months, if not years worth. The same thing for the psychedelic.
Basic safety guys. Love yourself enough to love yourself, understand the stuff you shove in your system is the very top most basic level pals. Give yourself this please.
Going to hand over to Fred.
Hey mates, have been reflecting. Do you ever get sick of people telling you that you should just put your trauma to bed? Just ignore it, let it go, let is pass, just let it go? All this rubbish?
Oh mates, I do. Sometimes it comes up. The last few days, ridiculously clear memories of my Dad in all his glory, coming at me with a something about to give me another beating of my life. I haven’t grieved this properly yet.
Have broken myself apart by all the shit that I have done, taking responsibility of it, feeling all the pain I caused to my worlds. It was heartbreaking. Still, though, haven’t completely grieved the what was done to me, am only just getting there now.
Do you know what it is like to be seven, looking your Dad in the eye and vowing to be nothing like this man? Your primary example? The thing that tells you it loves, that it will do everything for you, and destroys your soul, before giving it a good beating afterwards just so it knows who is boss.
Oh, people, it is heartbreaking.
These are the memories I’m finally starting to come to terms with, the are in the way of my way and I did nothing wrong. Nothing at all wrong until I lied to get the beating, basically begged to be beaten to stop this hell, to find a way to be okay.
These are the memories that are coming back in stupid detail, watching them all over again.
I’m not afraid now though pals, not at all, it is just heartbreaking, that is all. Finally I get to accept that all the shit I have fought for was fighting for me, the me that wasn’t, that couldn’t and definitely wouldn’t. Fucking oath he would though, fight, oh he fought. And cannabis, she fought with me, continues to. Know your relationship.
Know your relationship. My relationship with cannabis is love but it is work. I continue to be a version of isolated I would prefer not to be hence there is shit I need to learn. Cannabis is a tool to speed up this process, to ensure I continue to challenge me, it is a tool.
Know your relationship.
Well anyway, maybe this makes sense, maybe not. But welcome back cannabuds, I love you guys.