The beach is definitely the best thing God came up with on day five of his universe-creating week of high achievement before he retired for good. Preparing to tackle such holy goodness at Cape Conran, I splashed out $25 on a boogie board of questionable origin and highly dubious composition. The sun was gold but burning cold, the sky was blue with rain overdue, and the waves churned as another joint burned. Having satisfied my desire to wax lyrical again by setting the scene, I hit the freezing waters with the new board. Nandor had already had a go and proved that 10 beach holiday days a year is not enough to learn how to boogie board competently. So I went out to show how him how well I can surf, and demonstrated that I was actually more competent at using the swell to smash my face into the sand.
That was fine, as my moustache seems to be specifically designed to protect my teeth from getting an ocean burial. It has to serve some purpose as it's not really contributing anything to my sex-appeal. I was growing it for a passport photo but have since decided that crossing international borders is not the best time to express any sort of individuality. So the mo will go, and snapping my board on a particularly nasty wave convinced me that the water that day was better observed than ridden, and I will have to invest my money in razors instead of another boogie board.
With steep hills providing an amazing sandy backdrop to my unsuccessful attempts at suicide, I quickly decided the wealth of interesting ways to snort a dune was too good to let a broken board stop me. I ran half way up a steep incline and tried to demonstrate my amazing bravado to my friends by turning a quick surf down the hill into a belly scraping face plant; minus the board that gripped the hill face with unexpected adhesion. All good though, as I was learning the broken boards capabilities when it came to performing duties far beyond what should be expected of a shattered piece of plastic Chinese garbage. From then on it was smooth sailing as Shane and I took turns to scream like sissies and nail full tilt down the face of the monster dune.
Beach activities like these always seem much more enjoyable when a joint is also invited along. Sacrificing itself to the greater good, the joint would be cremated and an ordinary day would suddenly became a Hollywood style movie all about yourself. Imagine that! I know that drugs aren't the answer to life's problems, and anyone who doesn't know that, does have problems. But what's wrong with adding a bit of a gloss to an already amazing trip to the beach?
It's not a bad drug all in all. I used it to help deal with the various surgeries inflicted upon my foot. I've used it to help me de-stress on the few rare occasions when my utopian days suffer the indignation of storm clouds. And who doesn't kick start their day with coffee, a drug almost as adrenalising on my system as amphetamines. A multitude of every day woes get medicated with a pharmaceutical cocktail of anti histamines, analgesics, and chocolate. And then the day is ended with a few wines or beers, a legal drug stupifyer responsible for more deaths and acts of violence than any other social drug. And people say marijuana is evil! Go figure.
One definitely unproductive side effect of being stoned is the frequently overlooked memory function. But when you know the next time the movie of your life is shown in High Definition, it will seem like a better experience in itself and will lessen the significance of the forgotten night. “Enjoy the times you'll never remember, with the friends you will never forget!”
Ultimately, the main reason why people smoke marijuana is because it makes everything seem better on it. Food, sex, universal truths, vegemite. So please let me know if you can find a valid reason for not partaking occasionally if it makes life seem a little more edible, er enjoyable.
