The whole thing is quite hopeless, so it’s no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won’t come.

I coughed, my eyes and throat burned, but the taste in my mouth was pure and clean, but in the lungs and throat it stung like air itself had become toxic to my body. I exhaled the thin, misty translucent smoke.
“Ahh, fuck dude, you’re seeing Jesus, guess I gave you a little too much,” Saul said, steadily holding the handle of the thin ‘nail’ that served as a precision applicator, coated with the slightest amount of heavily concentrated cannabis oil.
I had to shut my eyes tight, finally the violent throat irritation subsided and the air didn’t burn unbearably on inhalation. I lay back gasping and laughing while Saul hit the rig with his butane torch until it was glowing red before just barely touching the nail to it, a small tendril of smoke went up and Saul sucked in through the mouthpiece, the water recycler bubbled and chamber filled with the translucent mist, his eyes went wide as he hit it hard.
“It’s like a race car man!” He said taking his mouth off for a moment before hitting it again without exhaling and pretending to steer with his dab rig; he was without a doubt the most hardcore pothead I knew, could smoke like no other, cultivated his own plants, customized and sometimes built his own pieces from high end surgical and food grade equipment, created his own highly concentrated extracts like some mad chemist.
Finally he finished and blew out a massive cloud. He always had a deep hacking cough for a while afterwards, mine had subsided but the throat irritation hadn’t gone away, instead I felt like I had hair growing on my esophagus and it was creeping up towards my mouth and tongue.

We were sitting in our lawn chairs towards the front of the garage on a clear night in our shorts, sandals, and hoodies. Saul’s mom had told us we couldn’t smoke in the house anymore after there had been a slight burning accident on the carpet in the sun room where we usually smoked.
“Feelin’ it?” Saul asked, as I blew out some considerably milder, but thicker hookah smoke.
“Yeah, my tongue’s grown hair again, and I’m feeling like I’m perpetually falling.” I said, handing him the hose which he puffed on as the hookah bubbled and the coals glowed.
“Yeah, you probably got about a quarter gram of 90% pure THC with that hit. I probably gave myself a half a gram,” he said blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“For real? Dude, that could get a pothead high for like a week, you shouldn’t have wasted that on me.”
“Hehe, nah, all good, that’s why they say, ‘a dab will do ya.'”

We talked about work, visitation with my son, all the usual things. I texted back and forth with Her. Even from thousands of miles away that woman always knew what to do or say to get under my skin, in a good way of course. I’d never known anyone so skilled in the art of seduction. Or at least she made it look like skill, perhaps it was just who she is to me, I’d fallen in love with her sexy smile, and her innocent eyes, and the things she would say. Saul was looking forward to meeting Her from all I’d told him. Of course, I told him about her singing and love of music and silly, carefree ways. The lustful, sultry parts I left off, those were a private, intimate matter between Her and myself.

“Car is looking great man,” Saul said gesturing at my new car as he took a puff.
“Yeah, perfect, new, almost makes you sad because you know that in time, it will get weathered, probably pick up a few dings here and there, the mechanical parts will wear and stuff will break, the interior will age,” I lamented.
“Yeah, I know. You know what I used to do when I would get a new bike?” Saul asked handing me the hose and continued as I smoked calmly, “I would take it out here to the drive way, look at it one last time in it’s perfect state, sigh, and push it over. I mean, it is only gonna get thrashed and fall over at some point, so I figured if I got it out of the way then, I could enjoy riding it more because I wouldn’t be worrying about keeping it perfect.”
“Haha! Well, that is one way to do it. You have a point. But, I’m not going to go run my car into a wall just so I can drive it around without worrying. I’ve accepted it will get that way one day, may as well enjoy it while it is new and fresh.”
In a way, I suppose that both approaches could be valid. I guess it depends on your mentality. I used to be a big worry-wart. But, when the worst things you can imagine happening in your life happen, divorce, death, separation, feuds, loss, and then they happen, and you are still here, surviving, it makes you appreciate the good times. It helps you worry less, because you know you’ll survive, and if you don’t, you won’t care. Sometimes things are so nice, and so good, and so perfect, and you almost want to cry because you’ll think ‘it’ll never be this good again’, whether it be a new car, a sunny day at the beach, a night of passion, or a blissful, loving marriage. You know entropy will eventually catch up. Beauty fades, the new and interesting becomes passé and trite, relationships wither, bodies grow old. It’s easy to get caught up in mourning while the corpse is yet alive and vibrant. Only love can stave off the decay, but sometimes things aren’t worth preserving. You preserve a classic car, not your daily commuter. You preserve a beautiful intimate relationship, not a once-hot fling that went cold. Sometimes with love and relationships you’ll never know what you’ll be getting. I know I need to enjoy it while it is fresh, shiny, pristine, and new, and not worry about it getting old, getting bored, building up toxic tension, falling out of love, especially when it may never happen, or you may not live to see it. That’s the only way I can love freely, deeply, unapologetically.

It was getting late.
“I need to be getting home and to bed for work tomorrow,” I yawned.
“Yeah man… I’ll be up a while yet myself, but thanks for coming over.”
“Yeah, thanks for having me.”
“Anytime,” he looked thoughtfully as I was leaving then said, “Well, you know they say ‘a dab will do ya,’ but I find six or seven is better.”
He smiled big as he picked up his dab rig and took out some more extract to put on the nail.
“Whatever man, you do you, haha.”


5 thoughts on “Entropy

    1. Hehe, I don’t recommend one unless you want to get stoned out of your mind, lol. It is heavily concentrated cannabis extract that contains almost pure THC that is vaporized and inhaled using a “dab rig”, there’s your stoner education for the day 😉

      Her is good for me, I’m looking forward to meeting her!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. How sweet of Her to keep you company while getting stoned at a disance :). I still think saul sounds like a loser but I trust your taste in friends.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I know, Her is a good girlfriend! Haha, love my sister but think Saul is a loser? I can’t make any sense of where you get all this, lol, but I digress. Maybe your intuition is more finely tuned than mine. In any case, Saul and my sister get along famously, just FYI. To be fair, they are both outcasts, shunned by polite society, black sheep, but I love them both dearly. Still, I worry about both of them. Namely the drugs with Saul, and my sister’s depression and anxiety. But, all I can do is be there for them, I can’t fix them.

      Liked by 1 person

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