Photo courtesy Pixabay
I did not expect to be so physically productive smoking Northern Lights!
Despite being a stoner for a large portion of my life, so far as I know, I had never smoked Northern Lights before today. And my initiation came in the form of a Rocket Joint, because that is all the dispensary has, so far.
Still, what a thrill to get to try it! Indeed, a memorable strain that really does prove its mettle, even at $24 a joint.
Why so much? The “rocket” comes in the way the joint is souped up. Not only is the joint packed with a gram of Northern Lights cannabis (by Revolution, in this case), but it also is rolled in kief. Kief is that beautiful powder that lands in the bottom of a grinder, or the bottom of really incredible bags of weed.
It’s trichomes and all that good stuff that makes pot taste and smell the way it does.
This thing certainly lit me up. It tests at almost 45 percent THC, and also has small levels of CBD.
I ended up mowing the lawn and everything, and I have felt very, very calm ever since I had it shortly after 11 a.m. I’m not sure how to describe it. Basically, it has helped me push through life today, and sort of just completely turn off external stimuli.
As angry as I was this morning, and have been for a couple of weeks now, can you imagine if I still drank?
Northern Lights illuminates good in people
Northern Lights is a revered strain of cannabis. Famous. So, smoking it today was a big deal! You can read what Leafly, the so-called bible of cannabis, has to say about Northern Lights here.
I also was able to see lots of good in people today. For example, while mowing my grass, I noticed my shed had been broken into. Not only did the officer come and write a report, but he secured the shed.
Cops aren’t required to be handymen.
And I never really thought about it until right now, but I wonder how I would have reacted to the shed had I not just smoked a Northern Lights Rocket Joint.
I have said time and again I will not sell the family home I sank every extra dime I had into, not only because it’s cute as H and my family home, but because I feel safe in it. As distrustful I am of most everyone, I trust the Rock Island city police. Imagine if I didn’t, going through what I’ve gone through.
They know I appreciate their responsiveness and professionalism.
I do have friends, too. I have friends in strangers I meet most every day, but strangers also fast are becoming friends. I don’t have a problem striking up a conversation with people.
You know who I can talk to with no problems at all? Anyone out walking on a pretty day. People perusing produce at the grocery store.
I only have problems with the same nasty, bitter, stuck-in-whatever-job-they-are-in, hateful people who have scowled at this town for years. I’m that troublemaker kid. Always blowing the whistle on the dirty birds! I don’t get keeping your mouth shut for a job, especially if you’re hurting people or helping others do so. But I never have had to support a family. Only myself, so only I have to live with the consequences of my honest mouth.
Friends aren’t worth losing over politics
I ran across this bio of myself on my friend Josh’s HIV support blog, Imstilljosh:
David Heitz can talk for hours with hookers, celebrities, scientists, doctors, criminals and cops. He has been around the block and nothing gets past him. Although he doesn’t have HIV, he does have PTSD, and just wants to love somebody like everyone else. He understands stigma, fear, pain — and joy, too. He thinks that is what makes him a good storyteller (not to mention he has been at it professionally for 30 years). He will fight tooth and nail for things he believes in.
Josh and I had a falling out over politics. Yes, I voted for Donald Trump. Yes, I understand that makes me a horrible, horrible, horrible person and a gay pariah.
I prefer outlier. And I’m not a terrible person by a long shot. And it wasn’t so much a vote for Trump as a vote against Miss Thang, who I once fiercely supported. Actually, my vote against her wasn’t even so much a vote against her, but against her party in Rock Island County.
Let’s face it. That was 99.9 percent of it. The corrupt Rock Island County Democrats cost Hillary a vote from a former radical homosexual from Los Angeles who once was the executive news editor of the historic Advocate magazine (1997-98).
Ponder that, folks! I guess what upsets me most is that my fellow gays can’t comprehend that something so awful happened to me that I have chosen to vote a straight Republican ticket, until which time I feel the corruption has been rooted out locally.
Instead, they think I’m just a hateful person who has abandoned my fellow gay.
I have shaken my life up a bit, that’s for sure. I suppose that is one way of looking at it. There’s nothing wrong with that.
I said I wanted to slow down and work on the book. It’s getting written!