- Brandon Soderberg
- Aptly named Big Bud might just give you a snarky sense of humor, for a spell.
Its name is of the past too. Pretty simple. Not clever or complicated. When you grow this stuff the buds are especially big, smelly, mealy, dense — so, Big Bud. And its smell is strong, a tart-sour grape that stinks right through whatever bag you put it in, which too felt like some sort of nod to when I was younger and reeking of weed or it emanating from my backpack was a cause for alarm. I thought of Jacques Derrida and “hauntology,” which, to really simplify it, argues that all our ideas are haunted by other ideas before them — “each time it is the event itself, a first time is a last time,” he wrote in Specters of Marx. “Altogether other.”
Two hours into the high, I closed my eyes because nothing was quite interesting enough for me and I didn’t see darkness, but a subtle gradient of gray to black and back again with pulses of white cutting through and dancing around, a gentle, somewhat psychedelic experience like I was “seeing” the weed. Big Bud confused me.
I asked a friend for a short take on Big Bud, something like a tweet-sized review that cut through my overwrought, overthinking: “It felt weighty on my eyelids, and slightly disoriented but still happy and focused enough to converse with anyone in the room,” they texted. “And it turned my sense of humor kinda snarky.”
Nose: Formula 50 Vitamin Water
Existential dread: 3
Freaking out when a crazy person approaches you: 3
Drink pairing: A hot toddy
Music pairing: Ashra’s Blackouts