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Weed is boring.
Which, of course, is why I smoke it everyday.
My head hurts and my jokes are dull.
I once had a good thought, though.
Instead of developing it I smoked more pot.
You try living in a town where the people are as culturally deprived as the truckstop down the street.
You try existing solely around people who smoke pot daily and who a genuinely upset if they can't.
Where the only thing to do is ride around back roads, drool forming at your lips, jam bands easing you metamorphesis into a zombie, endless farms rolling by, where cows are the only thing one can truly relate to.
"What's that? You have a great longing, a spark of passion? Too bad."
Cheers to my life.
I think I'll go smoke.
(it does pain me, and is not intentional, that this is how things are)
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