My Brother was an alcoholic, and a bad drunk. But when he got stoned, he was amazing. He was the coolest brother in the whole world.
I started smoking weed when I was 15… My brother didnt find out until I was out of highschool. Even though he smoked I was afraid he would disaprove of me doing it…he had an easy kind of big brother hypocrisy going on in his head sometimes, so it was risky to tell him. For a long time I didnt
I got high with my brother for the first time FIVE TIMES.
The first first time his girlfriend, who hadnt known me long, offered me the bowl, and I said yes. My brother was astounded. He was thrilled and shocked at the same time. He kept saying over and over “MY baby sister gets stoned??? my baby sister??” and laughing to himself in astonishment.
The second first time, and all subsequent first times, she pulled out a bowl in front of me and passed it to me….my brother was ASTOUNDED. he had no recollection of it ever having happened before and couldn’t believe his eyes. He was thrilled and shocked at the same time. He kept saying “MY baby sister gets stoned??? my baby sister??”and laughing to himself in astonishment.
And i would tell him “Yes Larry….I smoke weed…with you…often.”
I used to hate getting stoned with my brother. When I smoke weed I hyper focus…. so whatever im doing i do that one thing wholey and completely, with all of my attention. normally, this makes me a very good conversationalist… unless there is a tv in the room.
If that happens then I get sucked away into the magical land on the other side of the moving picture box… and it takes alot to get me to focus else where.
Like a huge punch in the arm.
If you’ve ever known an alcoholic, you know that they tend to tell you stories….over and over and over, because their memory is so short they dont remember that they told you before.
My brother did this worse when he was stoned. And I could handle that, except that if he was stoned, then I was also stoned.
And the room we smoked in had a TV.
And it was always on…
And I’d manage to listen to him through the first two or three tellings of whatever tale he’d settled on tonight…. but about that third repetition, towards the end, I’d start to slowly loose interest, and sllloowwwwwly notice the sound coming from over there…and then i’d catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, and that’d be the end of me….
and then WHAM, and “pay attention!!”
and I’d try, i’d REALLY try because i really dont like getting punched in the arm, and my brother was alot stronger than me.
but then that sound….that movement…
Getting high with my brother usually ended with bruises.
Man I wish I could share a bowl with him right now.
Addendum: My brother, Larry( who is the only person whose name I WILL use in my blog, because I know he would want it that way) committed suicide on March 25th, 2010.