So my lovable compadre, the awesome that is Moth has set me to task yet again. He has inadvertently pit two of my most beloved things against each other, namely my deeply rooted affection for fine green herb and, well… him. Okay, at least in my realm of thought this is how the following challenge is laid before me.

Challenge:

If I do not post something new on this here “revered” blog….within two days, before a very particular time of eighteen hundred hours- forty five minutes; I, Charlie Sunshine will hereby be subject to the most inhumane, slendiferously soul annihilating penalty of having my ganja privileges suspended until said new post is available for public consumption.

Personally, I think it’s a bit harsh. Secretly, I tip my imaginary hat and smile at this smarty pantsance spouse of mine. I see what you did there. So, here’s to trying my best. Yes, my inconsistent ass sometimes needs some firm guidance (ironically mentioned in previous posts) or how he terms it as “spirited encouragement”, but this, by no means imaginable can be touted as my support for the prohibition of cannabis.

Although I may not be deemed the most vocal proponent for cannabis, I am a proponent none the less. I intellectually understand all the benefits in both spheres of health and economics and I spiritually recognize the positive effects it has on my state of being.

Besides, I hate losing bets and I hate anything that could remotely be construed as punishment.  It came to me one night when I was obscurely thinking of star signs (I am a Gemini, who woulda thunk …) and I realised that although my attention span is as intermittent as my internet connection at work  (a trait any not-so proud Gemini can confirm), during those few seconds of undivided attention my brain has the (alleged) capacity to expend an insane amount of energy concentrating on the subject. That’s my version, nay, justification for being so scattered and inconsistent. And, that my friend, sounds like SOUND logic. My plan is to try and harness this fleeting ability and win the day, save the princess and return the ring to mount Doom, bong intact.

I pledge allegiance to my bong, to being consistent and to incorporating flossing as part of my daily dental regimen (might as well while I’m at it). Disappointment is not an emotion I’d like to bestow on him anyway, more than that I welcome the notion of Rising to the Challenge and Instilling Pride. Besides we recently procured a now cherished percolator that has obliterated the both of us and sent us lovingly off to sleep for the past few days.

 I’m surprisingly mute when it comes to discussing the societal and political aspects surrounding boom, it’s like discussing religion…or (trance) music. Severely personal. Too often I see people becoming completely absorbed in a “one hit wonder topic”, when its aaaaaalllllllll they talk about. I’m sure you’ve had an incident when someone excitedly explains the Law of Attraction to you over, and over, and over again.

Yes, I get it.…

Yes……

Yes, I know this.

The same concept applies to friends who incessantly post pictures of their new born on the book of faces. 

Yes, I know you have a baby…

Yes, I recognise that your baby looks fetching in a variety of outfits, in a spectrum of colours. It is acknowledged…

Yes, I am sure I want to delete you from facebook…

Delete.

Yoh, but I do love me some ganja…and I totally love me some happy go-lucky Moth. And if I can instigate a move where I have the best of both worlds, then why not? I’m coloured after all, I’m genetically programmed to mission. Organise, organise. Besides, there is potentially more content for me to inflict on you. No pressure.

So, there are a few things I don’t believe in:

1.      Diamonds

2.      Family

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt their existence, but I sure as hell don’t promote their ideals. In my mind’s eye, they leave behind them nothing but a path of false ideals of value, pain, suffering, guilt and a clear distinction between those who “ have” and those who “have not”. Now I’m not suggesting you adopt any of the above philosophies as your own, but I think it necessary for me to bring them to light, set the foundations and impart (my) frame of reference in order for you to understand the gravity and significance of my latest ramblings….as stated below.

 An open (and most likely undelivered ) letter to my Momaschnu…

MOMMY!!!!!!!

Now that I’ve got  your attention, Ol’ Lady, I’d like to set the record straight.

I f*cking, totally, TOTALLY love you! (#mftotes). I’m glad that I share your genetic make-up (and predispositions for a vast array of medical conditions- not forgetting insanity) and that you’re MY mommy.  I know I’m not the easiest pigeon of your pair- but thank you.

 Thank you for teaching me how to worship the sun, to blow bubbles and making me understand that my two legs can carry me anywhere. Thank you for making me experience the bone chilling fear that runs rampant within in me, whenever you drive. No motor vehicle will have the satisfaction of me driving it.

Thank you for saying “NO” to Spice Girls shoes and blessing me with the metabolism of a tweaked-out gerbil. So even though, I’ve inherited your goldfish memory/ attention span and your indulgent flair for panic….I still want to impart my gratitude, because I must declare that these “inadequacies” are best suited to the likes of us.

Thank you for instilling in me a hyper-exaggerated hatred of cellulite and for teaching me how to appreciate an ice cold beer and how never to drink rum on a boat. For cheering me up with Naked Mexican’s when I’m sad. And although, Darth Vader shows more affection to his offspring than you could ever possibly muster up- I still totally love you. Besides, I know hugs would be much too awkward for the both of us. Thank you for teaching me to always be honest- even when honesty hurts.

And even though, you’d never say, you are the one who encourages the spirit of adventure that burns bright inside of me. Thank you for teaching me how to love and respect  animals and for nurturing a deep fanaticism for books and reading…..even though you are saddled with the by-product years on. Narrating Button Soup is not a useless ability…even now when I don’t need to hear it before I go sleep!

So here’s a secret… during those many self- imposed orphan years…I missed you the most. I’m not apologizing for the tears shed for and about me, but I love you and want you to know that I forgive you for those reciprocated.

I have yet to master your weapon of mass destruction…”le silent treatment”…because really- you couldn’t shut me up for a second even if you tried…so there are still so many things I have yet to learn from you. So don’t fret Ol’ Lady, you and me have many more adventures ahead!!!

I’d also like this to serve as an official and very public apology for an incident that occurred circa 1991. It regards a certain school project…on budgies. More especially the incident relates to photocopied pictures of budgies which you so lovingly coloured in…on my behalf…without my consent. I’m sorry I had a cadenza of such epic proportions, and yes- to this day it’s still clearly a sore point…more than a decade on…. But you don’t just colour someone else’s budgies in without asking first…. #ffs…who does that?

<PAUSE>

Again, I’m sorry. And yes, the Encyclopaedia Britannica and the local library’s photocopy machine was the only way you could incorporate some visual imagery in a school project back in the day. That said, I do remember getting a good grade for that project- no gold star mind you…but at least it helps mend the wound and ease my ridiculous anguish.

I love you, Momaschnu- and I’m giving you the biggest telepathic hug in the omniverse (because that at least has to count for something…even if I have to live through an imaginary awkward moment).

All my love,

You perfectly imperfect daughter

P.S   It’s not budgies…it budgerigars… “Besides, you’re saying it wrong. It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosAR!”