Jonesin'

So here I sit, filling out my weekly quota of job apps at the library, awaiting the big day when I get to start work with The Farm. Got a nice packet of paperwork from them via email to fill out. One of the great things I will be getting right off the bat is an upgrade on my MED badge. Thanks to this great serendipitous opportunity I will be moving up from a Support badge to Key! Management! Very nice, but once again I get to fill out the voluminous stack of paperwork that goes along with the honor of serving the state in that capacity. Best of all, my future employer is picking up the tab! Another benefit and I haven’t even started yet!

Never mind all that. I still have to fill out apps and that happy pastime has now led me to a bridge that I must cross. I got word yesterday that an old school, fantastic, well run and good paying library out west is wanting me to come in to do an interview. Now, my dear readers, you might have gleaned while pouring through these missives that I spent around 40 years in the information industry gulag before jumping ship in May. And, if you went back far enough in this blog history of mine, you might have also gleaned that I grew up in the Great Orange, now not quite the conservative place it used to be. Choices, choices! Knowing how much I like to drive I think I might just go and interview, see what they have to say, take a look around, smell the rarified air of decent one house library again, and afterwards, maybe nosh on some old school burritos or a few In-N-Out burgers, maybe catch some rays at an outdoor bar in Newport or on the sands of Huntington. Who knows, maybe living in the Southland will appeal to me again after all these years.

One thing for certain is that securing dope will not be a problem anymore. Back in the day I had one good set of pals who were my main source of mota and believe you me that really mattered. Now, well, I think I can go into a clinic and get my old medical card renewed and have a completely different relationship with marijuana in the old O.C. I won’t have to hang with some home girls to get my dope, won’t have to drive to Bellflower to hit up old bikers to score my weed. Might make being “home” okay again. Well, only if having access to mota really matters all that much. There ARE other things that make life worth living, believe it or not.

That old saying “you can never go home again” might apply here. Have no intention of living in Santa Ana, of going back to the barrio of my youth. No sense even pretending I will live close to the beach. I do know in my heart of hearts I am really tripping the light nostalgic right now. I have no idea what it is like to live there anymore but for certain it will not be anything like where I am at now. No high plains, no grasslands, no oil wells, no cattle farts, no rednecks, no hard stares because I have a young gal for a partner.

One thing I do know is that going back will have its own set of hazards, such as, how am I going to transport my herb across state lines safely? I know, I know, here I am getting ready to start a new position in the world of world class mota and of all people I should know that taking any amont of dope across state lines is a super big no-no. Major Federal stuff. Eeek, dare I say it…but like, prison time kind of stuff. But really, what is a man to do? My investment is just a bit too big to just leave my steamer trunk by the side of the road. Maybe I’ll go down to my local medical dispensary and have a raffle. Lucky winner gets a shit load of good shit.

In the meantime I will jones away on the old home land. Pull up Google maps, look at images off the web. See what things from my youth are still around. Like the Doll Hut. Like the Goat Hill Tavern. I think of where I could be going versus where I have been the last year and a half and think, okay, this is really put up or shut up time. I have a truly righteous choice to make, always a good thing. On one hand I can take on this new job in the cannabis industry, drive throughout the day, discover a whole new world of beauty and commerce here in Colorado, embrace this brand new world of opportunity and coolness or take the plunge, go back to beginning of the circle, do what I have been good at doing, earn really good pay, have Disneyland down the block, know that swap meets, family and old pals are all around the corner. Yeah, I can go back to the beginning of me and see if what I used to have in my world is what I really need in my life right now.

Or maybe I can just smoke a bowl and look up air fare rates to Orange County and just stay right here on the Front Range. Save the moving costs and the hassle of packing up my shit. Colorado and the marijuana industry are the new world and the new world, just like it was for those gold seeking conquistadors of old, can be mighty scary. But just like Cortez, maybe it’s time for me to look over my shoulder at the Old World, at Cali, shake my head no, dig in my heels and burn the boats. And burn a fatty while I’m at it. Down to the water line, man, that's the way to do it.

Jonesing for the old world while the new one awaits.

Salud!