One time I got high.

What an awesome stoner story!

one time, we walked to the petrol station and the guy at the counter looked like Hurley from LOST and we were laughing, and he was trying to be cool and say to the cops we were being a disturbance. Stupid hurley.

The second time I got high I got all paranoid at the mirror that I thought there was a monster on the other side, also when my mom knocked the knocks gave me erie goosebumps.

One time my friend gave me these pills and said "Here, eat these". I was a kid then and didn't know that "eating pills" was pill popper slang that meant to actually swallow them. So I started chewing them and my mouth went all numb and it felt like it was swollen up. So I'm thinking 'this is a stupid high'. When they found out that I had actually eaten them it was the funniest story going on in the circle for weeks. I got a hundred stoner stories.

haha that would suck

Yeah, it did. I can't remember what the pills were but when they finally hit I was all looped out. But with my mouth all numb I couldn't talk right so I'm slurring out 'you told me EAT them, so that's why I started chewing them..." They were on the floor rolling.

ahaha, bummer, i remember when we were on pils in a hotel room. We ran around with our shirts off and towels on our heads. and we came across food out the front of someones door and took some cracker things, and then we went and did an indian dance around a red cone in the fire escape room.

Mostly stoner stories are boring to other people. They're like dream stories. They seem special to you but they don't mean much to others.

Kinda like hearing people talk about their kids, right?
Or home movies?

Kinda. Yeah.

But dream stories are much more untranslatable. It's almost impossible for the average person to translate the supposed "specialness" or "altered reality" of a dream or stoned state entirely--although poets probably come close. You can relate the narrative as best you can, although even then the bizarre twists and juxtapositions won't make as much "dream sense" to your audience as they do to you. But even so, there's that certain other "feeling" that the audience just won't get. And so most dreams sound rather ordinary and boring.

stoner story #2

Okay. I get a call in the middle of the night from my friend TJ. He's freaking out. He thinks his friend is dead from an overdose at his house and doesn't know what to do. This whole thing is like something out of Pulp Fiction. I'm married at the time and had stopped the drug thing by then so you could imagine how well this went over with my wife at 5 AM or whatever time it was. Actually, it was his girlfriend who called, I remember now, because TJ was in the background punching the guy in the face screaming "WAKE THE FUCK UP!!" to revive him. (?!) So I hurried over and they said later I was like Mr. Wolf the way I was the only rational one there. But when I got there the guy turned out to be alive but he was very ummm, what's the best way to decribe it...he was very "druggy like". They said his mom was going to be there at 8 am to pick him up but he was in no condition for his mother to see him. So after I got his shoes on I figured a drive out around the country with the fresh air would help. He starts coming to better and TJ's girlfriend was on acid and to this day she's still not sure as to whether she actually saw a pink ostrich or if she hallucinated it or neither and that I planted the idea that she saw one in her head. I don't remember how it happened but I was fucking with their minds hardcore on the drive. Since I got woken up up so early I was going to have my fun. I can't remember the word-by-word of the pink ostrich conversation but I laughing so hard inside. It was funny. The guy that just about died had taken prescription drugs earlier and it didn't jive well with the illegal drugs they were all doing that night. My next story also involves the same crowd. Actually, maybe tomorrow, it's almost 11 0clock. I'm tired and coming off a cold. Time for bed.

if they stories were told exactly the same...but with out mentioning they were stoned at the time, would that make them interesting?

No.

You're a real compassionate sort to have around when a guy's on his death bed. What a nice heart-warming story to restore my faith in humanity.

Creativity and free time. Two of the first things to go when you're a stoner.

are you kidding? nothing has changed for me since i started smoking, and how would one lose free time from being a stoner.

Because your time is taken up by smoking. And by "waiting for the man," when you're trying to score, man, when you're so desperate for the stuff that your skin is starting to crawl and you want to upchuck but you haven't eaten for days. Weed sick.

you know we are talking about weed...not speed right?

For god sak YOU LIVE IN HOLLAND!
It's the fucking weed capital!
Go to a coffeeshop and get stoned for the love of god!!!

hollands a country:p

i dont even know where to buy it. what if people ask for id?

well, you see, it's like this. i was gonna clean my room. until i got high.

my sister is living with us, makes it harder to smoke now.

Why, does she smoke all your stuff up when you're not around?

No. my family is very anti drugs, and i have to smoke in the bathroom secretly, but now there is another person in the house makes it harder to be a secret stoner agent

how old are you? move out! or do it in the back yard or something.

i use to do it in the back yard.
Hm lets see...move out and pay my own bills and make my own meals...or live at home save money and smoke weed secretly, ill take the second one.
Ill figure it out. and im 19

In 1986 I was getting high with friends in the alley behind the Retro in Seattle before seeing Sonic Youth and we were almost hit by them driving in for the show in their van. Thurston was driving.

thats the best fucking story ive ever heard. one for the grandkids. an my stoner story is, im high right now. and this is the worst first post ever.

hah one time, i had a bucket and i got soo wasted.
I first walked off coughing my lungs up. and was nearly sick. then i just sat down out the front. and i was sitting on this brick garden thing, and there was this bit of carpet resting from the bricks onto the dirt, and it slid down. And it felt like i was melting into the ground and my legs were lifiting up by them selves.
So then i walked inside, and it was like a movie where everything is slow, and i felt like i was talking in slow motion,so wasted that night, and i dont remember how it ended.

hmm.lets see what i can remember

I remember one time I biked over to a friend's house with a 1/4 shrooms on me.When i originally got them i was just handed two bags and i was saying its too shady to walk out of your car holding two bags.So his genius solution was to wrap it up in fax papers.Being the lazy stoner i biked over holding an oddly large amount of fax paper. We took them in his room after about half an hour we're like "fuck this house lets go outside" so we started to walk over to a park. Now the park walk is usually 5-10 minutes long, but as we're walking the shrooms start to kick in heavily. My feet felt like they weighed a ton and it seemed like the walk was lasting forever. It literally felt like an hour walking down there.We both just start cracking up that its taking so long to get there.I really dont remember most of the rest of the night though.

this is not my best, but this is what happened monday.

so I just started at a new University this semester, and since its the first week of classes the school is obviously packed. So I have an hour to kill and a joint to smoke, but alas, no where to smoke it where there are aren't already 300 uptight people standing around. So I wander all the way to the deep north side of the campus, in the cut, far away from anywhere else. It is fiveish when I find this nice bench in walkway that was empty. The sun is setting. The joint is lit, and within 15 minutes so am I. So I chill, finish the joint and now it is time to go to class. So I get up and sway on down the road, until I realise that it is now fully dark, and I am completely stoned and lost. It was like A Nightmare On Elm Street: Freddy's Dead. No escape from the Engineering building, as every path and trail seems to lead me right back where I started. Eventually, I found my way out of there, and I will not be smoking deep on the Northside ever again. So yesterday I found a much more convenient spot next to my classes.

A few days ago, I ran into a dude I hadn't seen in YEARS sitting next to me in the circle. We were chatting a bit before we realised who we were hahaha. He was so different back then, it was quite a surprise.

I forget all my my blazed out stories.

Weed affects memory.

You would have to ask my buddies.

Oh, semi-stoner story.

I was drinking with a friend and a friend of his whom I had just met. Anyway, we got to the supermarket to get snacks. Not only the appearance but also the excited of this kid over the munches we were stocking told me fellow stoner. So I ask him if he's ever smoked out and he says no. Of course didn't think this was a strange question nor a strange answer since I've been living in San Francisco for four years but now in the OC I got the vibe that this was an awkward question.

Anyway, great night for me. Got ridiculous drunk and tried to eat a fake fruit and start a fight at the park, etc, etc, etc.

Every time I see a door with a radioactive symbol on it, I recall a long-ass thought process about the actual physical door being radioactive, and not the content beyond the door.

Hard to explain, as it should be.

I come up with these wicked theories when high. One was that we are born with the mind of someone who is high, and it wares off so slowly that we don't notice. Only when we get high does this familiar feeling hit us.

I got it because when high I always feel like I'm recalling something I forgot about LONG ago, as if I'm living out something that used to be so familiar to me. I don't really believe it's true, just one strand of my strange thoughts when stoned.

i definitely can relate. i once got super baked off of some shwag and then tried to explain to my mother that aliens landed WAAAY back when and we began worshiping them because their new technology seemed like a religion. and my whole reasoning for this was, 'ma, when people pray.. they look up to the sky. have you ever noticed that?? you know what else comes from the sky?? ALIENS.'

i'm glad i don't get that retarded when i smoke anymore.

That's much pretty the theory Lacanian/Freudian psychoanalysis is based on. The more you become aware of yourself as a subject, the further you get from the infant illusion that you're one with everything. And actually, being high is similar to how Lacan describes the infant state. That's why everyone chases that "first high" that they thought was so amazing, even though it was just an illusion.
And here, we have Scientology. Without the ulterior motives.

I'm seeing a pattern.

i don;t think everyone chases that "first high"

just the NEXT high