*I am sitting in the restaurant lobby of a global co-work space and hostel chain, in San Jose, fresh off a plane and waiting for my room. I determinedly scrapped some melted edible off the dark brown wall of a glass container I had mostly forgot in the bottom of my backpack. Since it's all melted together I have no idea how much I have taken, and I haven't had much thc as of late, who knows how it'll hit, but it makes the writing that much more fun and dangerous, like ooh lets talk about some shit you're "not supposed"** to talk about.
**Please note this rule is coming from my inner demons, who mean me well, but really need to get with the time. "Supposed"s are out, truth telling to self-immolation and rebirth is in.