I tried to get Albert to come with us but he says he doesn't do pot. Don't say Do Pot, I say. Pot is not an activity in and of itself. It is a noun. Be accurate, say Smoke Pot. Be silly, say Take the Pot. But do not be my grandma and say Do Pot. She says Do a Peepee, too.

So it is just Skyler and me walking around the parking lot. When we came around the corner I did not like it at first because I was making the mistake of trying to accomplish the sidewalk, trying to get it all behind me, trying to finish it. The sidewalk runs in a rectangle and as soon as we finish one side of it and I think I have gotten something done, there is another side to start. This of course leads to bad thought process about our own personal versions of hell and whether I have been caught in mine early, is this a preview of the ghastly endless treading waiting for me? At last I have the sense to say something out loud and Skyler says No no no stop it with the hell talk, so I do, it's that easy.

The parking lights are impressive, poles that spear way up perpendicular to gravity without toppling. I watch their tops from a distance and I inspect their bases up close. Around the lights are seething clouds of insects and I think it was very thoughtful of someone to put these lights up to distract the bugs from eating us.

There is an excellent rhythm to walking a silent sidewalk high. Skyler does not want to talk and neither do I, I have a slight nag about something but it is easy to shake when I sink into the rhythm of foot forward, swing, foot forward. My machine is a good one, my counter-weights keep me moving forward and upright, this was a good plan all around.
We had sat around the room for hours, smoking all throughout the day - three people had split a half-ounce of kind bud. "This is the highest I have ever gotten," I think to myself. I can't even feel the floor under my crossed legs anymore, sitting is a waste of my buzz. Differenciated, I rise and leave the apartment. I find myself in an alien world with a similar face.

Everything is so much more beautiful - the bushes are illuminated with the cheap orange streetlights, creating a localized electric fall. When I close my eyes I hear the buzzing of the halogen, when I close my mind I can hear the tune within. Resisting the urge to run back inside and load up cakewalk I walk on. Cars pass, they're going somewhere, machines advance us in incredible manners. Thoughts cross my mind, simultaneously... What about the future, what about the past... we rarely enjoy the now, rarely take time to truly observe its good parts. Ants are crawling through the grass, even though it's too dark to tell if they really are ants I am certain in my assumption...

Ever since, I've learned to appreciate the night more...

They're drugs, they change you - use them wisely.

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