I believe in bud. Bud and Buddah have always been there for me. From smoking a blunt in the park on the first day of spring, to “sparking a chillum” before a long lecture in class, weed has proven to have numerous applications. Whereas some see bud as a tool of recreation or a brain surpressant for periods of interminable boredom, I see it as life itself, the ultimate product of nature, next to intelligent human thought (or lack thereof). To smoke the chron is to smoke god.
For me, weed fuels my creativity in some respects. The papers I write while high are fluid, articulate, and laced with elaborate detail only someone on the “green line” could describe. My inginuity comes out while baking as well. I have made such inventions as “the moustache roachclip” or the kitchen sink “g-bong”. Though these are amusing, they only perpetuate more smokage, ultimately leading to “weed asphixia” that paralizes the brain for hours at a stretch.
Without proper control and responsibility, my pot-induced inventiveness will ruin my creativity alltogether, this is my tower of babel.
None of these “dank” inventions can stack up to the pinhole, my greatest personal example of weed compeeling art. This humble negative camera, made out of 16mm film box provides only the most abstract of images. the camera, and the subsequent pictures it took, are on display in my photo gallery I own, a towering acheivement for someone my age. Weed is creativity, and in that, I believe.
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