First day of summer, 2019

June 21, 2019 first day of summer

Things are green, overcast, periodic rain.  Took Gunther out to poop on Mrs. Johnson’s lawn.  I caught most in a bag before it hit the ground.

I am a self-appointed neighborhood cleaner. Today I found a ziplock bag on the street with a printed warning that it contained marijuana, keep away from children.  It was open.  Contained a broken pill vial with some kind of statement about product purity.  I sniffed within.  Sure enough, old familiar smell.  Weed.  Carried the bag to the trash.  Remembered the last couple of times I partook of the weed.  Got sick and vomited a few years ago.  More recently I took a dose of oral pot and got too stoned.  

Can’t remember ever seeing a factory-made bag of weed, except that one time my cousin Blaine and I went in a dispensary in Hillsboro, Oregon.  The stuff in there didn’t look like any marijuana I had seen before.  You know, wasn’t all crinkly and green and rolled into a sandwich baggie. Like in the 60s.

I still wish to write, to create.  However, I also like to nap.  Rather, eat, then nap.  Can’t do both together.

Gunther hops on the couch, looking mildly depressed.  I whisper “Gunther!”  He raises his eyebrows.  He looks down, then up.