This message was brought to you by marijuana

[ghostsinthemachine]

From my funny friend and incredible musician Al Howard. I've posted his stuff here and there. I love the guy.

The other night I was ringing a customer up for his purchase of OK Computer and it turned into a quick conversation on the merits of Radiohead. Before the customer left he offered me hit from his weed pen. I guess that’s what you call it, this is when I start showing my age with statements like “this young man gave me some kind of electronic reefer straw”, but I think you know what I’m talkin bout. I don’t normally get stoned, but I had this strange moment of not wanting to look lame in front of our youthful clientele. I don’t need to read a yelp review that says “one star, great selection, but the employees are fuckin narcs and probably listen to DC Talk”, so I hit digital joint hard and shit, so I could get us a good yelp review. Immediately after, when I started to ring up the next customer and I said “how are you doing today” and a cloud of weed smoke rolled out of my mouth like fog across the golden gate bridge, I thought to myself “WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING???” Then within 7-seconds I was really really high. The last fifteen minutes of work were busy as hell and totally overwhelming, counting change felt like advanced calculus and when a woman needed help finding a Journey cd, I realized I had forgotten how the alphabet worked, why was he looking in the Gs she may well have wondered. When I finally escaped the shift, and careened off the drunken and saturated Friday fray of Newport Avenue to the sanctified vacuum of my car, I turned on a cd, and let the cool summer air mix with sound. The first track was Head Down by Soundgarden. And I couldn’t help but get bleakly introspective. The day before Chester Bennington had committed suicide. I like Linkin Park music about as much as I enjoyed my experience with hemorrhoids last fall, but a fallen musician who isn’t Ted Nugent is a brother of sorts. I thought of Chris Cornell and how all the success in the world couldn’t keep him breathing longer. Kurt Cobain. I thought of Badfinger who lost two members to their own hand. And I thought of my own depression, years past, but that era when I drank everyday and contemplated the benefits of non-existence. The tug of these realities are what keep me from getting stoned and falling down the rabbit hole of shadowy anxieties and nebulous reveries. I thought of my friends who’ve delved into the abyss and those who’ve contemplated it. And I wondered if one simple conversation is what could have saved someone. One moment you took to call someone up and tell them they mattered, that you loved them and that the world needs them and is better with them. I know the warm voice of a friend has been the rope to my drowning. The song stilled played, on repeat, edging me closer to my destination, closer to a tear drop for someone I respected, a stranger I leaned on when I was young and would have fallen without the edifice. I thought of how overwhelming life can be, the 24-hour news cycle, the infinite inundation of social media, the unmapped courses we chart through hell and beauty daily and I wanted to extend to you not so much my grand revelation, but a reminder I needed at the moment. Life is brief, be kind to one another, lift each other up, be love and be present. Tell your friends how important they are as often as you can. This message was brought to you by marijuana.

[BigmanPigman]

1. Al sounds like he was having a fine evening in OB.

[PJMcK]

2. This reply is brought to you by marijuana

Took a toke as I read the story. Thanks for sharing it!