- Baynard Woods
- Land Mine inspires reflection, perhaps to include songwriting and word-play.
The new Deadwood movie dropped last week and, because of the lag-time between writing and publication, I haven’t seen it yet. But the David Milch show that aired for three seasons in the early aughts has been nearly constant in my mind for the last decade or so because whenever something small and wild has a degree of small or wild success, some bigger motherfucker is going to come and take it. But there will always be an even bigger motherfucker waiting around the corner. So your cool, small thing becomes the object over which titans war.
And perhaps it’s not a coincidence that the show aired between 2004 and 2006, just as states were moving toward legal weed. The industry has been Deadwood ever since then. And even now, as people worry about the Amazon-style delivery services, there are giant conglomerates just waiting until federal prohibition has ended to turn it all into Starbucks.
As I said, I’ve been thinking about this pretty constantly for the last decade, but it hit me with particular force as one of those stupid-silly stoned revelations that is so dumb it’s almost truly mystical. I took a few heavy hits of a hybrid strain called Land Mine one bright warm morning and was wondering why there are so many poorly named strains (answer: because there are so many strains) when it hit me:
Land Mine is the essence of weapons and war. We take the words as we see them for granted. But when you think about the words a minute and see them as a sentence, as declarative and performative, you get the essence of war and conquest and business: “The land is mine.”
From this sentence come all the others and they all amount to “and if you step upon it I will blow your fucking foot to goddamn kingdom come.”
OK, so that got me thinking, but it quickly returned to the more literal sense. I’m sure whoever named it had the idea like “It’s the bomb, man!” but what they got, if you think at all, was an immediate buzz kill — and people kill. According to UNICEF, land mines have killed more than 1 million people since 1975 and still kill 800 people a month — many of them kids. And animals get blown the fuck up too. And it still comes down to the same thing: “The land is mine.” And with land mine logic, if I have to make the ground itself explosive to keep you off of it and maybe blow up my own kids when they’re just trying to play soccer, well so be it. Land Mine.
So if you’re going to name weed, think about it. Because people will get high and get reflective and Land Mine is a particularly reflective strain, especially fertile for word-play and poetic reflection. A good grass for songwriting. It’s also exquisite, with a sweet mango banana smell like a smoothie in the morning and long, crystal-shimmering red hairs reaching out like the hands of blown-up legless children dying or big powerful interests coming to crush you.