Monday, April 05, 2004
Funny…funny…I can be quite funny, but never on command ...
OK, how’s this? I could tell you the story about how as a teenager at one memorable family reunion I smoked so much of my cousin’s pot that I went blind. That’s pretty funny, at least it is now, but what was even funnier was how I tried to make it through the meal without anyone noticing my difficulties.
I could also tell you the story about how once at a Jay-Jay Johanson concert in Montreal I smoked so much pot that I went blind. My boyfriend at the time had to lead me out of the crowd (and away from one of his coworker & her boyfriend who we’d gone with – how embarrassing) and I sat out the rest of the show on the sidelines where my sight gradually came back to me. So did the boyfriend, the sweetheart. I felt bad for him because every time I stood up I went blind again, so he missed the show. I didn’t feel too bad for myself, however, because I liked my sight better than the music (which I still really liked – Jay-Jay Johanson is a fabulous Swedish singer who is only known in Quebec, France, and Portugal (or Greece) for some reason, not even in his native Sweden). One must have priorities.
And then there was the time I was at a Christmas staff party and I smoked too much pot and went blind. I had to stand on the back porch for I have no idea how long until I regained my sight. I had just recently been promoted to boss and was still a little insecure about my stature with my colleagues, and this ungraceful, unbosslike predicament did nothing to help me relax and rejoin the seeing world.
After all that, some people still look at me like they do when I say I'm not entirely opposed to Quebec sovereignty (I'm not entirely for it either - but I do understand it) when I tell them I don’t smoke pot. I try to soften the blow for them by telling them that I used to smoke a lot when I was younger, but that now I don’t get much out of it. Unfortunately, some people who hear this take it to mean that I think I’ve outgrown it and that I therefore consider myself superior. I must admit that this might be the case. However, my diverse snobberies take on so many different forms that it’s hard to separate one from the other.
But seriously folks, are we still in high school? I am not in my early mid-30s? Do I really have to explain exactly why I don’t smoke pot? You who like it: smoke it. Be happy. Legalize it too, for all I care. Spend your evenings discussing why the world is like an oreo or why the music you’re listening to right now is the most profound work of awesome genius you have heard in a really really really long…time...y’know?
But I shouldn’t be too surprised that high school attitudes permeate adult life. After all, I am a gay man and the gay world is so much like being stuck back in high school. Everybody can be judged on a sliding scale depending on who they know, where they go, and what they look like when they get there. Evidence for this is the little sneer I sometimes elicit from some muscle maries - many of whom, by the way, still have the same Tintin cut they were sporting ten years ago - when they spy Snobby’s shaggy, early 70s, bedhead look. But I already went through high school and I was popular then, so I have little need to go through it again. So sneer away. Besides, in ten years when the muscles have turned to flab and the Tintin cut is still on the head (through the magic of transplant and plug-in), I will still look fantastic! Yes, it’s a god thing high school is over.
Ooo! Ooooo! I just thought of another funny pot story! This one is way worse than the other three! One time I smoked so much pot and drank so much beer at a friend’s house while watching videos that we both were very, very moved by a particular video and decided we would both buy the album the next day. The next morning, it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore to buy a Debbie Gibson album. I don’t remember whether my friend bought it or not.
So that’s why I just say no.
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