serial times, pt 13

The Pkg

(continued from before, the final installment...)

Now

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Ahhh, the smoke from one of the now-glowing thermal buds I received wanders lazily up to the ceiling as my thoughts waft nonlinearly up toward the clouds in the sky outside my small, one-room flat in a country far, far away. The pkg was delivered safe and sound and, back at my flat, opened like the belly of a fallen water buffalo on the Serengeti at the paws and jaws of a half-starved pride of lions.

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However, since that time, an effervescent tranquility has settled over me, much as the morning mist would normally settle over that same Serengeti and, as these final words find themselves being written, dear reader, I sit stoned and listening to the Grateful Dead. Bliss is a state much unappreciated by so-called "civil" Western society, intent on impregnating the rest of the world with its capitalist and neo-conservative Christian imperialistic indoctrination because toking on ganja has been deemed by the ignorant governments and the militant Bible-thumpers as "evil"; it is also unknown to those east Asian societies so at the forefront of the rapidly developing technological societies because achieving such bliss would mean slowing down and actually enjoying life on a much more genuine level at a much slower pace; it is a state unfathomable to places in existence on this planet where people's rights and freedoms have been curtailed in the name of the Party, the Leader, the PATRIOT Act, xenophobia, patriotism, where the freedom to expand one's minds, thighs, opinions, lungs, and thoughts is disallowed by those with unexpressed and frighteningly high levels of fear who reside in power...

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Anyway, I sit and listen to the wisdom of the Dead, hoping the rest of the world can catch up to what those of us already know about altered states:

“We can share the women, we can share the wine, we can share what we’ve got of yours ‘cause we done shared all of mine...”