If Marc Emery is the Prince of Pot, I'm the King! (upinsmoke) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-04-08 00:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | classic rock, marijuana |
you know the day destroys the night and night divides the day
Who: Marijuana and Classic Rock
Where: Classic's record store
When: Postdated to Saturday afternoon as MJ is currently out of town
Warnings: Drug use, language
It had been a good trip with Tracer and while Marijuana had enjoyed himself and loved reconnecting with the Organic, it was a relief to be back and able to keep an eye on things, help his family if they needed it. Saturday was a busy day and even though he could have taken the car, Marijuana was out making the minor deliveries on his skateboard, backpack stuffed with weed as he dodged businessmen and teenagers as he sped down the sidewalk. But... then he felt something, rather than heard it and almost fell off his skateboard trying to stop and catch that feeling again. And there it was.
I found an island in your arms/country in your eyes/arms that chain us/eyes that lie...
And there was nothing else for Marijuana to do than simply follow the music, just as he had so many years ago. Could it really be Classic? It was nearly impossible for him to imagine and already, the guilt was flooding through him. He had left his friend, practically his best friend, right after Altamont. After the death of his culture, he had gathered LSD up in his arms and they had fled for years, just to escape that awful feeling of the decay and death of the hippie generation. Classic had played on through the seventies and Marijuana had always listened to every song that came out but the guilt remained. It would always remain.
So when he found what he thought was the source of that musical feeling, a record store, Marijuana paused with his hand on the knob, guilty, ashamed and yet utterly drawn to the possibility that his old friend had returned.
Break on through to the other side...
But the music drew him, as it always had and Marijuana was pushing open the door and stepping inside. He kept his eyes on the floor for a moment, gnawing on his lip before eventually, slowly, tentatively, he allowed himself to look up and around the shop, not even daring to hope or believe or fear because Classic, his Classic, his best friend and his platonic partner through the best two years of his existence...
It couldn't be true, couldn't be him but Marijuana was already inside and would brave what was to come.