I went for a walk today. Now. Is it me or is there a lot more weed about these days? I stopped outside one house, sniffing the air. Sickly green and sweet, there it was, just hanging in the stillness of the afternoon.
I had two university mates who used to do it. Not often, maybe once a term. They had the decency to puff away in the shed at the bottom of the garden. I remember looking out of my bedroom window and seeing the thin wisps of smoke curling through the cracks in that shed roof. Thudding music pounded down the garden. I never smelt it though.
It’s awful. There’s a staleness about it that’s like old socks, but there’s also a kind of candyfloss to the scent - as though it’s sort of Disneyland mixed with a toxic waste plant. That’s drugs for you though - the entrance is all balloons and innocence; inside the park though, you’re on your own kids, and it’s all swamp.
It is more prevalent though, I’m sure of it. Either that or I’m just recognising it more, or confusing some spring blossom with the smell.
It makes you paranoid as well, apparently. I wondered for a moment whether standing right outside someone’s house and sniffing the air like Mutley, was a good idea.
I moved on. Don’t do drugs, people. It’ll wreck your life and your clothes will smell disgusting. Plus, statistically it increases the chance of weirdos standing outside your house and looking odd.
No comments:
Post a Comment