I lost all my high school friends after self-righteously refusing to smoke.
I preached at everyone until our friendships evaporated.
Without Kevin’s musical influence, I surely wouldn’t have moved from Florida to my beloved New Orleans after college.
I worshipped Kevin until junior year, when he began smoking weed and abandoned me and my antidrug bitching.
That same year, Kevin’s parents bought him a very nice car, which he crashed while skipping school and tripping on mushroom with his new drug buddies.
At the time, I felt depressed but also extremely right.
When I finally broke down and tried pot in college at the age of 20, I realized I’d judged it totally wrong.
Judgments regarding weed never prove factual, since the drug affects everyone differently. I’d leave fun parties because, within moments of smoking, I had to rush home and produce something: record a song, write a story.Some people plant themselves on the couch with snacks. I think of weed as a relaxant, a simple inverse of coffee — and not just because I smoked every morning for a long, long time. If asked, doctors might claim I suffer from ADD, although I’ve mostly lived by the advice “never ask a barber if you need a haircut.” I did visit a counselor once in hopes of replacing weed with a nonsmokeable drug that my daughter couldn’t see me take and that wouldn’t get me arrested.I told the counselor we could skip all the talking if he could refer me to a psychiatrist with a prescription pad. He nodded, confidentially agreed, then gave me a number I never called.I feared pills would kill my libido and my desire to record music and write, whereas weed made me more horny and creative. Most important, though, weed made me calm and nice.I grew up in a tumultuous, mildly violent Irish household, which burdened me with lifelong anger issues.Before becoming a real and true pothead, I fought ferociously with my long-term college girlfriend — a fiery girl herself who was prone to throwing punches.