how much are you smoking?
Every Writer’s worst fear to hear. Are you smoking enough to meet the creative matches of being a writer? To keep on writing without the block halting you forever. Or what seems like it. do you smoke weed? are you smoking enough?
Then it turns to a Johnny Story.
That was his first question when I was a 14 year old on Jump Street and he saw my journal and asked if he could read anything. Told him it was old and just got back to it today. And he told me he’d recreationally fund my writing career right then and there and I told him no. We werent supposed to be around each other so he/we did bad things to see each other. Like just show up.
He would just show up to the circle and like do the bro thing and high five and kilt breeze every man in the room (it was the DEA of course it was mostly men and the girlfriend I knew haha) and sit right next to me. And be like “hey wassup I heard you were Sam” and I just “I am Sam..how did you hear?” And he goes “We’re in your house and your room. People know about you and those who care to ask what house they’re in or going to would ask who live here?” Who live here? Has every man asked that and they said yes. And the girls didn’t get it. I got it though.
I always thought my writing was best when Johnny was around and now that he’s dead he’s every whisper in the window and glitch at hearing something I know nothing was there to hit it. And the chimes keep ringing when I think of him.
At least he was there sacrificially, since it wasn’t appropriate the extent of time we’d hang out with each other. And now his soul is wandering everywhere around me. What a beautiful man.
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