They All Touched The Moon

by El Lincis

I can still remember sitting in that ’68-’69 classic Ford Mustang convertible, top down, ‘FM Radio deep cuts’, and Jim Morrison and the Doors contributing to the minute with a resounding exclamation point, “F – I – R – E”! No memory loss here! How can that be? 45 years of cannabis use must have done something to my brain? As if only moments ago, I remember our neighborhood looking like a Magritte painting.

The cerulean blue sky, puffy grey clouds, sunlight shimmering on the manicured green lawns, oleanders leaves, tiled roof tops and orange groves full of men wearing aprons and Bowler hats!

JUMPPLEASE“Who the hell is Rene Magritte, why does the name ‘John Cage’ rattle my brain, Jerome Robbins, come on?  Galileo? What do all these random names have in common? They all touched the moon? Quite possibly! They, amongst many others opened my vision quest beyond my years.  If smoking marijuana turned my brain into a sponge, it was a sponge that you couldn’t ring out.  I became an ‘information junkie’, I absorbed everything  and anything, the level of motivation and inspiration was beyond the hours in the day!

I became one with the dewey-decimal system, the library my second home. Odd place for a ‘pot head’ to find inspiration, even though I was not the only ‘stoner’, poet, scholar, artist, historian, writer with a stack of old books with new inspiration.

I wanted to ‘check out’ everything. Read everything, see everything, touch, taste, experience all one was not being taught in school. My head had been cracked opened in order to absorb all this new stimuli; art, movies, music, theater, dance, photography.  This was my personal Renaissance. Motivated by curiosity and confidence, ignited by the psychoactive properties of tetrahydrocannabinol, THC!

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