Tag: weed

High times

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‘Hey, come over tonight Violet. The guy who’s bought my house is stopping by, you should meet him.’

I’ve been dreading meeting my new neighbour, conjuring up all these stories in my head. What if he’s obnoxious, noisy, has loud sex or is ugly.

I didn’t want to go.

But in the spirit of being a good citizen, and also a little curious, I said yes.

‘Okay thanks. I won’t stay long though, I have a deadline.’

Deadlines are always my excuse to get out of something.

Mom, is there anything for dinner?
Oops I have a deadline.

Let’s go on a date.
Oops I have a deadline.

Are we ever gonna have sex again Violet.
Oops I have a deadline.

Anyway, I had a shower, threw on some clothes, a little lipstick and popped over with a bottle of wine in hand.

It was noisy inside. My soon to be neighbour had brought his friends with him.

‘Which one is he?’ I gestured to my current neighbour.

‘In the garden. He’s the one in pink.’

I went outside.

‘So we can plant here,’ I heard him saying.

‘If we take out these bushes we can have a large crop.’

‘Check the light, woohoo, bumper crop coming our way.’

‘Hiya,’ I said, in my neighbourly way. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Violet.’

‘Oh hi Violet, heard so much about you, we’re going to be next door, well I am, I’ve bought the house, but hey, these are my friends, they spend a lot of time with me.’

I leaned in to shake everyone’s hands. Four guys. One girl. All gorgeous and beautifully dressed.

And very friendly.

And very gay.

No prospective lovers for me in this lot.

But they were really cool and I was glad I’d come over, cleaned up, made a bit of an effort.

We sat down. These things are always a little awkward in the beginning.

‘So you’re into gardening,’ I said, thinking of the conversation I’d overheard. ‘That’s cool. We can swap veggies over the wall.’

They were all super enthusiastic.

‘Yay fantastic brilliant excellent, darling.’

‘We have good soil,’ I carried on. ‘My vegetables kind of take care of themselves, like there are bodies buried in the garden or something.’

They all looked pleased as punch.

‘What do you grow Violet?’

‘Bit of everything. Tomatoes, spinach, strawberries. Giant aubergines. You?’

‘We grow marijuana. We farm it.’

Oh.

Right.

You know when you make a total fool of yourself?

I made a total fool of myself.

I launched into every little dagga story I’ve ever had including cookies that I ate once by mistake, other cookies that my housekeeper had eaten by mistake, the joint I took on a hike and hid in my socks and then lost my socks, and oh god I called it dagga and nobody calls it dagga anymore, it’s weed, it’s cannabis, it’s marijuana, Violet why don’t you just shut up sometimes, they grow fucking marijuana they don’t need your silly stories from a hundred years ago.

‘Are you gonna have a meth lab too?’ I asked.

‘Maybe,’ they laughed.

I laughed too.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

They asked me what I did.

‘I write about sex,’ I told them. ‘Sometimes I also have it.’

‘Like an escort agency? You’re a hooker? A sex worker?’

Oh god, this was not going well.

No no, but sex and sex toys and men and women and I was blabbering like crazy again.

They were looking at me.  Quizzically.

‘Oops I have a deadline,’ I said.

I left.

They grow marijuana.
They may have a meth lab.
They think I’m a hooker.
I used the words dagga.
I made a total fool of myself.

I’m gonna miss my old neighbours.

Still. It’s gonna be great.

New people in the hood.

Marijuana.

Maybe a little meth.

We’re gonna get high.

Welcome!

Thank god I’ve met my deadlines.

Haters gonna hate

I sometimes get into Twitter wars.

I can’t help it; I see people posting stuff that is racist or prejudiced and I find it hard to keep quiet.

So I try and engage.

I’ve tried in different ways.

Hey, that doesn’t sound so democratic…

Hey, I know you’re angry but maybe you’re directing your anger at the wrong people…

You know I don’t really like being called a Jewish pig, that’s kinda generalising don’t you think?

What I have not yet learned is that it hardly ever helps, no matter which tactic you choose, to talk to haters. You can try engage seriously and ask questions about why or what. You can say  you think burning libraries is not such a good idea or that using Hitler as a role model is pretty damn dangerous

It mostly lands up in a barrage of name calling and doesn’t get anybody anywhere.

I leave the conversations feeling battered, shattered and pretty terrified of the hatred that is out there.

The last guy I tried to chat to was a student praising Mcebo Dlamini for being a Hitler lover.

Dlamini is one of the leaders of the Fees Must Fall movement at Wits University. He digs Hitler.  People dig him.  It’s mad.

When I said I didn’t think that Black Consciousness leader Steve Biko would’ve approved of such blatant anti-semitism he called me ‘a white supremacist and of course Hitler was right and we should all have landed up in the gas…’oh oops there goes the 140 character Twitter limit and I’m kinda glad I didn’t have to hear the end of the rant.

I need to walk away.

I also need to remember that the haters are in the minority, that they just seem to take over and make everything awful but honestly, most things are good and most people are good and we all want the same which is peace and health, wine and cake, also respect, freedom and equality and goddammit let’s go after all these good things that  we deserve, let’s just do it together and harmoniously and yeah, I’m dreaming again hey.

Gods.  Goddesses.

We need to chill out.

Smoke some weed.

Set fire to joints instead of libraries.

Have great sex.

And love, a whole lot more.

weed