Micro-Bullets

A few weeks ago I stopped smoking pot as an experiment. Easier than I thought- I’ve had practice. Depth of feeling starts coming back like micro-bullets to the cranium so invisible to the naked eye that every corner shields a perpetrator. Part of me likes it, this blitz of feeling because it turns out I’m masochistic like that and feeling a pinch dead gets boring after awhile. Creeps up on you like an unwanted flat- mate on a sock by sock flit to your only spare room and you didn’t even notice for the cupcakes. But granted, everybody’s different. Did you know that the worst time to have a heart attack is during a game of charades? Demetri Martin said that. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have laughed. Yesterday I did.