In the air

Vi-pah

Dreamed about a reefer five feet long
Not too mild and not too strong,
You'll be high, but not for long,
If you're a viper - a vi-paah.

I'm the queen of everything
Gotta be high before I can sing,
Light a tea and let it be,
If you're a viper - a vi-paah.

And when your throat gets dry
You know you're high,
If you're a viper. 

High, high, high, high, when you're high, 
Everything is dandy, 
Truck on down to the candy store,
Bust your conk on peppermint candy!

Then you know you're body's sent,
Don't care if you don't pay rent,
Sky is high and so am I
If you're a viper - a vi-paah.


Nathaneal West - The Day of the Locust, 1939

Robert Creely

INTERVIEWER

I've heard a lot of stories about your fighting in those earlier days.

CREELEY

That's when the confusions of how to be with people became so heightened I would just spill. It had to do with drinking, which I did a lot of in those days. And pot. We were smoking pot pretty continuously by about . . . let's see . . . I first had use of marijuana in India, where I was in the American Field Service. We were in a barracks at one point—about forty men, all ages. I think almost everyone in that barracks was turned on almost all day long. We were in Central India. There was literally nothing to do. It was an incredibly awkward climate for us. I mean it was very hot and so we'd sit there sweating—drinking was impossible—and getting very damned sick. I had a friend from Southern California who suggested one day that there was an alternative. He said, “Try this.” There was nothing mystical. It was very, like, “Here, have an aspirin.” So the barracks switched and everything became very delightful. The food was instantly palatable and life became much more interesting. So much so that I remember returning from England on the Queen Elizabeth and this friend and I continued smoking a lot of pot on ship. In fact, we used to go into the toilet. A lot of people depended on this toilet, and he and I would get in there and turn on, then sort of sit around. Outside there'd be this great mass of people standing and waiting, banging to get in there. They thought we were homosexuals—a consideration aided by the fact that one night, I remember, I staggered back into the room where there were these tiers of bunks, and trying to get into my bunk I climbed into the wrong one. We used to get up on the boat deck too, which was restricted. That North Atlantic—it was absolutely silent and isolated, seeing that whole sea in a beautiful full moon. Just beautiful.

The Paris Review - The Art of Poetry No. 10, Robert Creely

knockin on the door with my bag full of money

Nice find, Raja.

bathternoon in rain city

16 & Pregnant

mooooooommmm ur face smells like tylenol!

Wilkie Collins was addicted to laudanum, a 10% solution of opiate in alcohol. He got it for a case of gout, and never stopped downing the stuff. One day, his servant, curious about his happy juice, poured for himself a big-ass glass, riiiight to the top same as Wilkie downed on the daily.
Killed the poor motherfucker. Like ahhhhhhhhhh mmmmm booom dead.
Wilkie went on to invent detective fiction. Go figure.

dickens dumb dumbs

homework

today:

beach! forest! sunshine! darth vader kite!