Most days
a Nomad like me
needs a place just to be;
an open space.

For although we are alone,
‘tis better, I propose,
than being with those
who make you feel alone.

Most days.

stonerparty:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was smoking, not even the spouse
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas would bring new glassware
The stoners were nestled all snug in their beds
With baked visions of sugar-plums dancing in their heads
And mama in her do-rag - we just pulled some snaps
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I put down the bong to see what was the matter
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and hid the stash
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of a laser psychedelic light show
When, what to my stoney eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny Rasta reindeer
With a giddy old driver, so stoned and ripped
I knew in a moment it was a way baked St. Nick
Like Cheech & Chong, slowly they came
And he took a pull from his joint and called them by name
“Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! On, Donder and the aptly named Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now smoke away! Smoke away! Smoke away all!”
As sweet leaf that burns through a waterpipe they fly
When they meet with an obstacle, too high to cry
So up to the house-top the reindeer they flew
With the sleigh full of pipes and Afghani Goo
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each stoned goof
As I drew in my hit, and was turning around
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came looking dumbfound
He was pimped all in fur, from his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished with pot ashes and soot
A bundle of fat sacks he had flung on his back
And he looked like a bud dealer just opening his pack
His bloodshot eyes - how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, red like a cherry!
In his drooling little mouth, a joint of indica
And the beard of his chin was covered with pizza
The roach of the jay he held tight in his teeth
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath
He had a broad face and a little round belly
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly
He was chubby and plump, a right stoned old elf
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself
A wink of his eye from this twisted pothead
Soon gave me to know he was straight Haile Selassie dread
He spoke not a word, and without much fanfare
Filled all the stockings with mucho dankness & brand-new glassware
And dropping his spliff aside of his torso
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
And away they all flew like they were smoking crystal
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight
“Stoner Parties for all, smoke weed errr night”

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

Mental Health Needs Seen Growing at Colleges

“A recent survey by the American College Counseling Association found that a majority of students seek help for normal post-adolescent trouble like romantic heartbreak and identity crises. But 44 percent in counseling have severe psychological disorders, up from 16 percent in 2000, and 24 percent are on psychiatric medication, up from 17 percent a decade ago.

The most common disorders today: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, alcohol abuse, attention disorders, self-injury and eating disorders.”