I often find my thoughts spiraling into weird and, quite frankly, morbid territory when I’m high.
Yes, you read that right. It is 2015. I smoke copious amounts of weed. I’m a little buzzed right now in fact.
Prior to taking up the habit, I allowed my own homegrown imagination to guide me through my stories. I started the current novel I’m slogging through without the slightest hint of cannabis. Since I’ve taken up what many call the “holy herb,” I’ve found that my stories take on really weird proportions.
I used to call “bullshit” on claims from friends about the creative powers weed unlocks. But it was only because I could not conceive that a plant could affect the brain in such a way
I was obviously wrong.
I believe in two things; 1, it is possible to keep productive and be a stoner and 2, while not necessary to be a successful writer, the shit doesn’t hurt either.
Any way, that’s it. No really, that’s it. See ya.