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Blue Corral is like comfort food

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BAYNARD WOODS
  • Baynard Woods
Lockdown sucks. I get it. We are all missing the shared world and sick of the digital substitutes for real connection and all of that. But look, it’s not the government that’s taking our freedom. It is the world. Freedom does not mean that we can do whatever the hell we want when it comes to the natural world. A prowling saber-toothed tiger either took the freedom or the lives of our ancestors. We can’t control the natural world. It’s just reality. Sometimes we have to deal with shitty external circumstances and it’s not the goddamn government trying to take our freedom.

As a writer with a book deadline, sometimes it’s not all that much different, except that I don’t have to make excuses not to do things with people. But it is different when, instead of telling the world “no,” the world is telling you “no.” It makes you want to get out.

But for the pothead, there are some benefits to quarantine. For one, you don’t have to worry about bosses smelling your weed. You can toke up just before a Zoom meeting and nobody will notice. There is also the freedom to engage in some of the obsessive-exploratory practices that weed can help inspire. One friend — shout out to Darren — is listening to all his vinyl records from Z to A. I’m not that committed to order or arrangement but I have been going through all my old records and discovering gems that I’d long forgotten about, especially because my record player is right beside the door to my rooftop patio area, my only source of safe sunshine.
And speaking of safe sunshine — back in the late 1980s, I was failing drug test after drug test that I had to take after getting arrested at school with a quarter bag. I’d tried every single thing I could think of to pass a piss test — except for stopping smoking weed. So I read somewhere — this was before the web so I can’t even remember where — that drinking very small amounts of bleach would help. It didn’t. Don’t try it. But that’s the level of advice we’re getting from our president — desperate teen stoner dream. But there probably ain’t gonna be no piss tests for a while either and so that’s another benefit, and maybe after this we’ll see that allowing our bosses to make us pee in cups takes away far more freedom than rules intended to save our fellow citizens’ lives.

I’ve been vaping Blue Corral, an Indica-heavy hybrid of Lemon OG and Blue Diamond. The buds are tiny little packed-tight nuggets, but they carry a big punch. Blue Corral is heavy on the Indica-ish terpene myrcene, but instead of putting me to sleep, it brought me to the dozy dream state of a half-nodding, noodling jazz solo, reminding me how joints were once called jazz cigarettes.

The peaty-tasting buds with a touch of Lysol — or is that just the smell of the world these days? — start with a simultaneous relaxing of the shoulders and lifting of the scalp that settles into a slow, focused flow. It’s not the best bud I’ve ever smoked and it’s far from the worst, but it is somehow the equivalent of a comfort food, letting your thoughts roll on like a riff on endless repeat.

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