How often do you smoke?

[orion2076]

call me wierd. I dont smoke much anymore. but love ta grow. my fav hobby. nothin like a few months cupboard work turnin into half pound of QUALITY bud. dont care much bout tha quantity. but tha thing that keeps me growin is gettin tha perfect grow of quantity and quality. have been told I have tha quality. so thats a good start..

[Ozzy420]

When i have a shit load of it i can go through 5 grams a day just by me self, and on week ends up to 7 grams a day, my g/f only smokes full on over the weekend, but every now and thenshe will have one or 2 at night after kids in bed...

[pacificrim]

i smoke like a chimney, if my arm was made outta weed i'd smoke it too.

only thing that stops me hitting the harder stuff is weed.

[Ozzy420]

Stick to the weed and it wont do ya wrong.

 

But then again a few mushies dont go astray from time to time...

[pipeman]

I have a smoke when I get up in the morning, and before I go to bed, as well as several times in between. I should smoke more, but other stuff keeps getting in the way. (work, gf, court appearances etc). Edited March 24, 2007 by pipeman

[pacificrim]

yeah shrooms aren't as hard as some drugs but they can really fck u up.

when i lived in Surfers Paradise as a teen i hung w a group of older guys who were top surfers.

they smoked weed & took the odd shroom, i looked up to them & would follow them round like a puppy & do whatever they did whenever they'd let me.

 

one guy in particular was a top shelf surfer who looked set to go pro, he tore it up & the women used to fall at his feet for this reason & that of him being a handsome dude w'long thick dredlocks.

he took one too many shrooms & ended up a tard.

he wasn't a complete tard, he didn't dribble or anything but he was much slower physically & mentally.

his surfing went from top shelf to that of a tourist who picks up a board only when on holidays.

his speech was slower & even his looks suffered, was almost like he'd had a stroke in the way his facial reactions worked.

.

that was my 1st experience w' what drugs can do to a person in a 'serious' way & it had more effect on me than a yrs worth of "just say NO" adverts could ever do.

i am not saying 'don't do shrooms', i'm just saying that they can be viewed as lightly as weed due to them just growing in the ground when they should be treated as serious as top-shelf LSD (imho anyways).

[expanded-mind]

yeah... i have a few a day... its basically how i chill out after work... sit out on the back deck and smoke out...

[scottyboy_09]

hey guys- interesting thread- dunno how we got onto body building! i was interested in the whole st johns warts theory. are you able to take it as an extra to part of an anti-depressant routine? i am taking setraline tablets at the moment (the slow re-balancing of the brain chemicals type) which you cant really become dependant on. i was wondering if I would get any benefits from the st johns ontop of my daily dose. (ps. i have cut back smoking to weekends these days).

 

oh and to pacificrim. I totally agree- i know a few people who have suffered seizures from shrooms and almost put themselves out of business. pretty dangerous shit (if abused)- in general you have to be careful when ingesting drugs as apposed to smoking them.

 

but on that note- moderation is the key!

Edited April 24, 2007 by scottyboy_09

[Al Fish]

Everybody Gets More Sex Than Me!

 

“But this dedication is for others to read:

These are private words addressed to you in public.”

T.S. Eliot

 

Currently, the pristine autumn days on the New South Wales’ Central Coast capture a freshness that was lacking from my life in western Sydney – a life spent at the dirty ends. The pale blue sky is offset by trees of differing hue – a windy dance of green, rosy amber and the last decaying orange of lingering watsonias. The eucalypts on the stony outcrops look like moss from a distance – or if you‘re ripped.

 

The air is clean and the winds are upon us; unlike what I was used to: the white-smoke of high-chimney factories belching into the suburban nights, vehicle exhaust as all pervasive as brake-dust, the background ebb and flow of traffic, sullied daydreams and peevish, grubby sunsets lost in down-at-heel streets.

 

There are swimming beaches nearby with glistening water and inquisitive fish feeding in the stirred sand beneath your feet. High up the pelicans fly whilst lower in the skies seagulls, lorikeets, kookaburras bludging meat from house to house and thuggish packs of Indian Minor patrolling amid the ferns, ivies and bric-a-brac. Where I come from there was a local swimming bathes just across the railway line. Their eye-stinging pools were filled with a mixture of chlorine, spit, snot, piss, stained bandages, little bits of tissue paper, one or two other things and some water. Pigeons bred themselves into local council eradication programmes. Sparrows everywhere and the occasional crows eating maggots from the sun-burst garbage bags full of home-slaughtered sheep’s guts thoughtfully discarded near someone else’s place.

 

The footpaths here are largely open expanses of grass where the bush turkeys forage at the start and end of days and galahs pick seed in the summer, whereas I had grown accustomed to decimated weedy patches between oil stained concrete walkways and grey metal infrastructure – harried days and repressed, phosphorescent glazed nights. The public streets are not as wide and many have no curb and guttering. But neither did they have mindlessly indecipherable graffiti and tattered posters until more recently.

 

And for the last few weeks I have been taking the sacrament regularly. Preparing for the day I fill with and empty the bong of boiling water, tip in the mentholated spirits, swirl around and liberally cleanse with water. The heat in the glass obviates the need for rice to be added with the spirit as a gentle abrasive, at least most of the time.

 

Breakfast, pot brewed tea, tobacco-pipe, shave, shit, shower and a shoe-shine. Then I toast the day, myself and my Deities with seemly cones of righteousness. I adjourn to the veranda for morning sun and to meditate in a tobacco trance. Then I smoke again before morning coffee.

 

The clear, brisk afternoons present blonded-horizons which invite commemoration by the herb. Before I prepare and cook food and before I consume food I kiss the bong: in the first instance for the inspiration and patience engendered and before meals as a form of prayer. I also am drawn to marijuana in the evenings as it helps me to re-acquaint with my natural rhythms. It allows thoughts to run untrammelled and frees the Spirit from baseness.

 

And I read poetry, Nietzsche, the back-alley ways of history, sociological diatribes and political mysticism while mulling over the past and smoking to the future.

 

Who could ask for more?

[Nooby]

Al, you should be writer dude, that's the best thing I've read in months. ;-)