- Brandon Soderberg
- It’ll clog your senses as well as your grinder, but the high’s not a bad one.
The low-key trippiness of Platinum Kush is what this mid-level Indica has got going for it. There are other strains with a similar hum of a high — great for mild pain and anxiety especially — such as Platinum Girl Scout Cookies, and for some, Goji OG’s gossamer effects will do the job. But Platinum Kush is a not-too-intense strain where if you smoke some and sit still, well, things happen.
Close your eyes and you might see some lines moving slowly up, down and all around, like a laser light show (or Winamp Media Player’s visualizer from the late ‘90s). Open your eyes and the room shivers a bit, like whatever’s in front of you is a poster stuck up on a wall by some street team, flapping in the wind, about to unfurl enough to fall off and expose the raw and ugly underneath it.
Physically, Platinum Kush is unwieldy too. Its trichomes are so thick they clogged my grinder, like I was sending sand through the thing, and the crystals that flaked off and fell to the floor felt angular — press hard on them and they hurt a little, like that small piece of glass you catch on your foot months after you dropped a drinking glass. The bud has a really rich purple color when you break it open, with bits of almost-black, and is vaguely menacing with a taste like sour yogurt that taps the back of the throat and stings.
Next thing you know, you’re pretty dumb. I was texting with a friend about Ad Astra, that new space movie starring Brad Pitt that’s about men and their feelings (and still finds room for a face-eating space ape!) and I tried to write “Jodorowsky” (as in visionary director Alejandro Jodorowsky) in reference to some of Ad Astra’s gritty psychedelia and instead I typed “Jody Watley” (you know, the late-‘80s freestyle singer).
Platinum Kush was telling me to pull back the fancy-pants references, good sir, and chill. So I did and finally, maybe a half-hour in, Platinum Kush got less mealy, as if the high that was clogging my mind and body had puffed up and become too much to be contained and escaped, spreading its weedy tendrils outward and touching everything around me, spraying some Windex on the world itself it seemed, making it cleaner, clearer, so everything popped — yellows more like golds — for 20 or so minutes before I was all but back to normal, dazed with a dry mouth.