So here we are. After all these years. After blog posts, relapses, self discoveries, breakdowns, rituals, and a thousand conversations with myself, we’ve finally arrived. And now I’m about to ruin the entire blog.
The whole premise. The whole quest. The hours and hours I’ve spent philosophising about the deeper meaning of quitting weed. All the existential questions. All the internal monologues. Because my eureka moment, the thing I’ve uncovered after this long and noble journey of introspection, is probably the most obvious thing ever discovered.
It was the tobacco.
That bastard.
All along.
Let me dress it up in as much ridiculousness as I can, to soften the blow of how spectacularly obvious it is. We’re not talking Indiana Jones cracking ancient riddles here. More like a bloke who just figured out water is wet.
The year was 2018. The place, Amsterdam. Of course it was.
I stroll into a coffeeshop, ready to do what one does in a coffeeshop, and I see something that stops me. No tobacco. Weed is fine. Joints? Sure. But actual tobacco? Forbidden. As if someone had walked into a pub and announced, no glasses allowed. Drink straight from the tap.
Weird, but whatever. I’m adaptable. On each table, there’s a pot. A weird little pot of something green. Not weed, not baccy. Something different. Turns out it’s herbal tobacco. Essentially dried grass dressed as a nicotine replacement. Looked a bit like weed itself, which confused my fingers for a second. It was free. That was all the reason I needed.
So I used it. Rolled it. Smoked it. And you know what? I quite enjoyed it. No nicotine. No sketchy vending machines. No wandering the streets stoned trying to buy baccy from a man named Erik with a vending code and a cold stare. Just me, a joint, and a weirdly pleasant absence of inner compulsion.
BACK IN ENDZ
Came back to the UK, and though I had dube in my drawer, plenty of it, ready to go, I just couldn’t be bothered. Couldn’t be bothered to get high. And that’s when I thought, where the hell had Smeagol gone?
This is the same Smeagol who, come 8:30PM sharp, would start whispering in my head” like a Victorian butler who also happened to be a fiend. “Master, it’s time, you must prepare the precious!” I mean, even if I was mid-orgy with ten of my favourite porn stars, proper lineup!!! I still would’ve peeled myself away just to roll a spliff. Because as powerful as their collective grip(s) may have been, weed had the stronger overall grip on me, and that’s saying something!!
Smeagol always won.
But not this time.
Like any rational man who just discovered something powerful, I went straight to eBay and bought a sack of dusty old leaves off a stranger. More herbal tobacco. Job done. I rolled with it. Permanently. I don’t smoke rollies. I don’t want baccy. I just wanted the weed.
And then it hit me, properly hit me, that the thing dragging me back night after night for years wasn’t Mary Jane. It was nicotine. That physically addictive bastard. Sneaking into every joint, every ritual, every high. All this time I blamed the weed. Gave it lectures. Wrote blog posts about how I was addicted to it.
Nah.
It was the nicotine dressed up in a joint, like a parasite in a party hat.
SPREAD THE LOVE
Naturally, I shared this groundbreaking revelation. I told my mates.
“Lads. It’s not the weed. It’s the tobacco. I’ve figured it out. I’ve cracked it. I’ve beaten the matrix.”
They mocked me. (rightfully)
One mate tried the herbal stuff and said it tasted like foot. Not a foot. Just foot. Singular. As if he was well acquainted with what one tastes like. Which raises questions I’m still not ready to ask. The name stuck. Now we all call it Foot.
Another mate still uses it to cut his tobacco, which is something. A step. But no one really followed the gospel. The church of Foot never found its congregation.
That’s fine. I didn’t preach. I just kept going.
And now here we are. Six years after launching this whole blog to understand my weed addiction, and what do I come back with?
Tobacco is addictive.
Well done, mate. You’ve rediscovered the wheel. Reinvented fire. Congratulations. Here’s a medal and a GCSE in bloody obviousness.
But here’s the real point, buried underneath all the self mockery.
Weed is fun.
Weed is tasty.
Weed is sometimes silly, sometimes spiritual.
But it’s not heroin.
You can get addicted to anything, cheese, bread, Instagram, chaos, but it’s not the same as chemical dependency. Tobacco, that’s a hook. A real one. And it had me. For years. Pretending it was the weed.
The Americans don’t mix weed with tobacco. And I get it now. They dodged a bullet. A brown, crumbling, fifteen quid a pouch bullet.
So yeah. I didn’t quit weed. I just removed the bastard that was actually in charge.
And once he was gone?
I finally got my life back. Or at least, I got to choose when to light up.
Which, in the end, is all I ever really wanted.
On the 19 Oct 2009 in America the U.S Justice Department announced that federal prosecutors would not go after medicinal users and distributors who complied with state laws. Back then nobody really knew what was going on, as under US Federal Law weed was still illegal even in states that legalised it hence we saw an explosion of dispensaries being stormed into my large teams of DEA. However almost a decade later, it seems that this is actually real and I watch YouTube videos with people referring to their ganja as ‘medicine’ which is a testament to how times have changed.
massive bud from his sack. This is your cue to look at the weed in the light and return back glorious compliments of how wonderful and crystaly and amazing this stuff is. You’re the best!! Sir, How much for this FANTASY weed that you possess. “It’s pretty hi-grade stuff, it’s a little bit more expensive that than the usual” At this point, you wonder “didn’t you have this same sack here last week” Alas, you stop wondering and reconnect with his speaking again, and reply as if you were listening the whole time. In which among his blurb was a price, of how much the damage will be for this WEED that has been grown by the Elves of Mordor. More expensive? but only by $10 you think,… fine! As you’ve travelled so far anyway to get here, seems pointless to care for a ten. HOld on? wasn’t it a ten more last week and the week before that?? In fact, what was once $340 an Ounces is now $490 cos apparently this new shit is “REALLY GOOD and apparently worth the amount…Grown by Elves remember!?!?!” You start to ponder on this and you wonder if you really can leave this house without buying anything?
Quite literally, one day you decide!! “I’ve had it! I will no longer be a slave to you pressure me selling weed, which in fairness was always good but not quite MORDOR level one thinks. WELCOME the Dark Markets from the DEEP WEB….HELLOOOOO!!! So one decides through a friend who happens to be adept with the deep web and knowledgeable in this area to get some stuff in, can’t hurt for a change. To begin with, it is dark very dark until you open the PACKAGE, and exposed are the beautiful buds of weed were the light bounces off the crystals blinding you and everyone else in the room. This experience is life changing and affects the core of how you see life – can you ever go back to the way it was?
NOT HAPPY? – NO SHIT SHERLOCK… HELL NO, he ain’t fucking happy about this! He broke the 2nd law of business which was ‘DO NOT BE GREEDY’. Those who flease, and extort may receive larger than usual payouts, however, that also could be the last payout. It’s unfortunate, but it’s simply a no-brainer, buying online allows you the ability to shop about, and choice weed at prices that suite you and assuming you’ve found a good vendor you can buy some absolutely insanely good weed. Now your ex-dealer lets it slide the first week, and perhaps even the second, but wait you’ll get a phone call asking you to come over as he’s got “some cheaper weed to sell if you’re interested”. You attended as requested, and on entering you realise clearly, it’s the same stuff as before as I mean let’s be honest, that 2-pound bag of weed isn’t disappearing overnight. Let’s give the guy of a break, he’s lost some big business here and some could argue it’s not his fault, others could say it was his fault as his continual racking up the prices i.e his greed led his customers to explore the potential of looking elsewhere. On doing they found better and bright deals, which actually suited them more in every way. So sure, Mr EX DEALER will be really annoyed at you, and he won’t be shy to show it.
Firstly and for mostly let’s just go there I have my brain back and seeing my mental horse power return has really felt just fucking AWESOME! My memory recall is accurately on point, where I can CONFIDENTLY remember I left my keys I can easily recall dates to have any numbers such as times and the thing that most stands out are numbers/details aren’t blurry in my mind anymore – I believe many describe this as brain fog. I’m a lot more active now that I was before as for the obvious reason I am not constantly using a sedative in the high-volume every single evening. I.e. I wake up much easier in the morning almost like a PC start-up time if you wanna call it is much like Linux running on the SSD(Computer science joke apologies).
My mind isn’t as any less creative than it was before, if anything being high all the time was mearly my way of putting my brain into creative mode but just being stuck there and I’ll ultimately be unable to exit that mode and actually action any of the ideas that I had conceived. I walked closer and closer to the world of being a dreamer. Unfortunately my appetite is not as bad as it was before as back in the old days even though I was full to the brim being a high meant that I was able to continuously eat into the early hours of the morning this is not the case.
These results can be interpreted into one of many ways to mean one of many different things. It could be that all 3 / 4 people respond immediately saying “COME OVER RIGHT NOW, In fact I’ve sent an UBER round to come get you so save you the effort of driving” In which case you have the nicest friends in the world and you should remain happy that they hold you such high esteem, one day you’ll have to make the difficult choice of making one of these great men your best man or woman. LUCKY YOU as you sit there in somebody’s flat smoking copious amounts of somebody’s else weed and for a moment you feel like a kid in a candy store.
Now we come to you, unfortunately yes this happened where you waited eagerly staring at your phone. Made sure the ringer was on, incase you missed their call or text and you checked the ringer further again twice more… it definitely was on. An hour went by and still nothing and now it was no longer about smoking weed with anyone but your pride and ego is under threat. Does nobody care?? REALLY?? the reality sinks once more – this was massive, you know they’ve all recieved and read the message and rather than replying being honest they’ve opted to concoct a story the following day. You go to bed feeling nothing but bitterness and spite towards these people for one day they’ll ask you for something and that day you’ll remember this one!!! and like that you cry yourself to sleep…..zZZZ
Lets not forget how much money you been blowing on this addiction. i.e If I could give back your clean healthy lungs with a pretty fat pay cheque being the sum of the honest cost of how much you spent of smoking cannabis would you take it? You know you always see on television and online scary adverts of what your lungs and inner linings will look like if you’re a weed/ smoker but you probably always do what I do and just ignore them thinking it won’t be you. Well I recently had my checked with one of those pinhole cameras which the doctor very unpleasantly stuck up my nose and pushed it down my throat and guess what – just like the TV adverts there was white tar bullshit lining my gut. Fuck!
Ok you hesitate a little but with no further ado you just come out and ask him “ermm hey man, can I get your guy’s number from you?”. He squirms around a little and shrugs his shoulders and eventually says “errr dude, I can’t man, he’s not really a dealer, he wouldn’t like it”. “HE’S NOT REALLY A DEALER?!?!?!?” his words loudly echo in your mind, “You call him, you buy weed from him, how’s he not a frickin’ dealer? Is my money different to yours?” Regardless your friend has made his mind up, apparently even if you did take his number, he will not serve to you. Well isn’t that fucking great!
Clean the hELL UP! it’s that simple… People say Weed isn’t addictive and my infamous clash on twitter with @******** “boi weed ain’t addictive, you aints got no discipline fool” I tell that idiot he really doesn’t know what he’s talking about, fucking anything can be addictive, and for any reason. I could bust a “You aint got no discipline” easily on most likely many other areas of his life, but there’s me pretending I’m talking to an intelligent person. The problem with social media is you often do talk to some really interesting inspiring people, but then without warning or notice, Ged the farmer will wanna have his 10 cents, and really it’s money that should be rebated asap!
Another really simple answer : FEAR! We destroy ourselves so that we can’t fail and have other reasons to fault and YES HERE WE GO AGAIN , OVERRR COMPLICATE the problem. It’s the reason we hold onto HATE, we know it’s like keeping that knife still stabbed into your chest there, bleeding away but it’s that life, yes it might require something EXTREME and crazy to effect an emotional change, but sometimes it’s just for comfort, or more specially cos we can. Understanding your dark sides are very important, as you’ll only ever draw power from truly mastering yourself.