Pot High Times Alternative Press Magazine

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The radio stations went dead that night and outside was dead silent. The eerie calm was nerve-rattling for the people hunched around the barrel on fire. The town was dead, everything was dead, but they listened to the static in hopes that something - anything would come along to give the good word. For weeks and weeks there was nothing but static accompanied by the snowfall and dark skies. It was as if there was nothing in the entire world but the eight people surrounding that barrel. Why they couldn't return to their homes was a mystery to them. All they knew was that everything was right until the scientist disappeared. Where did he go? What connection does he have to the things that have taken place? Since he was gone, the earth just stopped. It has been months since he was gone and months since the sun stopped coming up. The unseen was connected to him and the earth, but what was it? The crowed stared quietly into the flames, forgetting that anyone else was there. Not a word had been uttered for days. Not a sound was in the air but the air itself. Even if the world had stopped turning, it wouldn't make the wind stop. Oh, if only it did, and if only the sun could rise again. There would be life again. To feel the warmth on their faces was all they longed for. The child sat on an old crate with his face resting in the palms of his hands. The fire was warm, but soon the fire would be no more, like the sun, like the radio, like everything. He knew that everything came to an end, but he didn't know it would end like this. Such a bitter end it is! Were they destined to freeze in the snows? The dead trees were too wet to use for fuel, there was no more gasoline or kerosine, or lighter fluid, or coals, or anything that the people could use. All was gone. All was gone in the blink of an eye and it all disappeared when the scientist disappeared. What madness has caused this? The child shifted in his seat. He seemed the only one animated. The only one with blood pulsing through his veins. The only one left with a beating heart, and he became very sad. Who were these strangers all around him? Why hasn't he ever seen them before? Where was everyone else? He didn't know, and he didn't care to ask. Something inside of him was dying. Like a flame being blown out, only he hoped that the flame in the barrel would never go out. If it were to go out, the only light would come from the moon and he was scared. The dark was not where he wanted to be, so he shifted closer to the fire and closed his eyes. Where are you, mad scientist? What will become of us?

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The design was perfect, and the mad scientist knew exactly how it would turn out. The mad scientist is a genius. Nothing could fortell how well conducting the final experiment would have gone, and it went off with a bang. There was confetti and champagne and dancing and hollering all night long. The mad scientist walked quietly from the crowd to his office , away from the noise and sat in his chair, eyeing over files and files of documentation from the experiments and threw them away. Months and months of so much time taken and so much energy spent, now it was all over and the calander was unmarked. To return to the old self, the one he used to be before the experiments began, then it was good.

Blanketed by snow, the outside was cold and dreary. Clouds of mist fluttered around the mad scientist's face as he approached his favored chariot. A lit cigarette and a cracked window chilled his bones the entire way home. An eerie thought came across his vision and he slowed to a stop in the middle of the road. With his jaw unhinged, he looked at his eyes in the rearview mirror and thought, "Am I?" And the thought haunted him as he pulled off and drove the rest of the way home.

But he never made it home that night.

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The apocalypse is at hand! Come fall alive will mean nothing and slave will be everything. Drive! Drive! Drive! Again nothing comes from shouts in the dark. The still creeps and crawls and falls and dies and withers and falters and I falter. Wobble, wobble, legs quiver under the ill-strength of uncertainty. For sure the world will stop turning and the sun will burn red in the day side and the night will freeze to the very bones. Oh sweet anarchy! Oh sweet sounds of screams of terror! Take me away with you, I beg to start anew! The life of mine which has fallen so desperatley out of synchronization with the lives of those around me, come back and rekindle this flame! The sincerty of the words trickling from the tounge of the one I love like rain on leaves of oak trees dance on my eyelids and the sauntering children leap into the puddles gasping at the headlights. Frolic mad frolic damned bunny rabbits in the rain! and forever keep your youth withheld in the palm of your hand, hidden from the face of Time and her ill-temper. And death, the certain end of all things, death, renewal, birth, new, old, faceless to the hands of Time. Her sweet breath beating against my shoulder, caution, ever so cautious to break my back in two. The world, the sun, and the moon, her ever caressing glow of white. Into my retinas burn her sweet lulluby.

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You've got the lot to burn
A shelve of pig smotherd cries
Is there a spirit that spits
Upon the exit of signs
Is anybody there
These steps keep on growing long
Bayonet trials rust propellers await
No
Nobody is heard
Rowing sheep smiles for the dead
Nobody is heard
An antiquated home
Afloat with engines on mute
Sui generis ship spined around the yard
Is anybody there
These craft only multiply
At the nape of ruins rust propellers await
No
Nobody is heard compass wilting in the wind
Nobody is heard
Rowing sheep smile for the dead
Tansoceanic depth in this earth
In this cenotaph
Lash of one thousand eye brows clicking
Counting the toll
Counting the toll
You've got the lot to burn
A shelve of pig smothered cries
Is there a spirit that spits upon the exit of signs
Is anybody there
These steps keep on growing long
Bayonet trials rust propellers await
No
Nobody is heard compass wilting in the wind
Nobody is heard rowing sheep smile for the dead
Transoceanic depth in this earth in this cenotaph
Carpel jets
hit the ground
Carpel jets
hit the ground
Carpel jets
hit the ground
Carpel jets
hit the ground
Lash of one thousand eyebrows clicking
Counting the toll
Counting the toll
Lash of one thousand eyebrows clicking
Counting the toll
Counting the toll

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listening to: Sparta - Tensioning


I woke up at 5:30 this morning to get a decent start to the day. It takes a good hour and a half for me to fully wake up. Gotta go to work in about 50 minutes and I'm not looking forward to my 11 hour shift. 11 hours of sitting on my ass doing nothing. I have a lot of medical records that needs destroying so it will either be shredding paper (...) or reading The Dharma Bums. Friday is payday, but its only Saturday and that means a full week until I do get paid. I need to make coffee. As drug free as I am trying to keep myself, nicotine and caffine seem to be the only two things that are keeping me sane... Though lately I've been longing to get high. Or maybe just a hit even. I don't care. Anything to settle my head. I've been spinning in circles and now its time to throw up.

(Forty minutes and counting). I feel good this morning though. I went out to smoke a cigarette at the crack of dawn. It's been a really long time since I've watched the sun go up. Lately I've been thinking its time to get the hell out of here. Nothing is the way I wanted it to be. I guess I'm whining, but when you gotta to, you gotta go. I can't really just go either. Go where? What am I going to do? How will I sustain my life? I figure once I get my LVN, I can go where ever the wind blows me, but that's not for another year and I don't want to wait that long. I guess I just need a vacation. I could go wherever I wanted for a week or so. I could buy myself a plane ticket to some place. Well, not right now since my balance is dwindling. That's fine. My next check will be fat because I'll have worked an extra twenty hours. I should have said yes to working Sunday. I would have made $240 from the three days I did a full day.

Sparta's new CD comes out on Tuesday. I'm going to buy it as soon as I can get myself to best buy because I got the advance off soulseek on Friday and I know I have to buy it. It is that good. I guess I'll have to buy Wiretap Scars too because I've never had that CD. I always wanted to steal Randi's copy, but hers was scratched to shit. I wonder what happened to Randi. I haven't heard from her in -what? a month? I've finally just given up. I don't know what I did, if anything. So what if she slept with my best friend and gave me no explanation, right? I never dated her. We've always been friends. What the hell? So she just disappears on me? I guess I meant that much to her. Its good to know you were nothing to someone. I dunno, that's just frustrating. I get the impression of being the laughing stock of everyone. So I dare not leave my house anymore. There's no point to going out with my friends. The only person I care to hang out with is Nick. At least his kid brother doesn't try to tag along with us to the parties. At least that way I can completly avoid Cassandra. That girl makes me sick. I never should have fucked around with her. Ugh... Now I really need to throw up. There always is someone you'll regret having sex with.

Last year was fun. The summer was great. Aurora was fun and irritating and frustrating, but we had laughs, we got high, we got drunk and I banged on drums like I knew what I was doing (which I didn't). I dated Camille and she was... well she was great but I had my own head so far up my ass that it just wouldn't work out. So I let her go. I think about her from time to time. Just want to know how she is and how life is treating her. I've been such a dick to her since we broke up that we don't talk anymore. There's nothing I wouldn't give to take back all the mean things I've said and done to her because she didn't deserve any of it. But what right do I have now to drop a bomb in her lap when she's moving on?

I had the same situation with Brandi. We've been over for soo long now, but she's my fucking other half. There's no doubt in my mind about it. But again, she's moving on and just because I'm having problems doesn't mean I should drop it on her head. I had no right for writing the last letter to her and now I'm afraid she'll never talk to me again. Thanks for the advice. You're only out to ruin me. I was certain of that the moment I knew you.

"I'll take you off my buddy list bitch! I hope you get a virus, you and your computer!"
-How High

hehe

and it ends... from a scream to a whisper. can you free me from this world and let me forget?

-"Tensioning"

Reminds me of Cataract on Wiretap Scars. Same beautiful crying guitars. Anyways, twenty minutes left and this is getting lengthy.

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