10My Kushy New Job
by Wells Tower
“I would kill to have your job” is a sentiment I’ll hear from tourists by the dozen during my week behind the Dampkring bar, though in fact I anticipate the exercise with cold anxiety. Part of the job, I’ve already been told, will involve smoking weed in quantity, and marijuana and I do not make a happy team. “Paranoia” doesn’t adequately get at what I suffer while I’m high. It’s more like Ebola of the superego, a self-loathing catatonia of uncertainty and dread. When I’m stoned, Homo sapiens and its customs become terrifying and obscure. Shortly after the first good toke, I can almost hear a delicate shardwork of baffling human etiquette crystallizing in the air around me, making it impossible to so much as reach for a Cheeto without causing an apocalypse
(Source: essayist, via thearchitrave)
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by Wells Tower “I would kill to have your job” is a sentiment I’ll hear from tourists by the dozen during my week behind...
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