First Book Sale! (and then some)
It wasn’t a bright and sunny day all around though. A guy came up to me, and he seemed really cool. And he had some…
So I partaked, though it’s usually against my policy to do so during working hours. And, of course, I got mind-bendingly paranoid. Let’s see what I can remember–
The War of 1812, let’s begin there. Canadians have recently romanticized their “victory over the US” in a new documentary. The commercials for the documentary feature war reenactors and a heavy, solemn, voice over– “On the xth day of the nth month of 1812, The United States invaded our land. And we fought back… etc. etc.”
After going through some political wrangling at city hall this afternoon about my permit, it didn’t take much for my stoned brain to squarely peg myself for the 2012 reinvention of an unwelcome invasion force.
I suppose– when I reflect– I have definitely “crossed a boundary” when it comes to my relationship with this country. In my small way, I’ve added a new dimension to its identity– it’s now the birthplace of Marijuana Paranoia Management Coaching. They didn’t ask me to come do this.
Anyhow, from there I began thinking about Native Americans (errr Natives, First Peoples as they are called in Canada), the allies (right?) of the Canadian/British in the War of 1812. Native peoples have been known to trigger extreme paranoia. In this case, the idea in my head (which I took for reality at the time) was that our darling, sweet Canadians, back in 1812, had made a sacred, transcendental pact with the Native tribes. In part, this pact involved a mutual protection against a common enemy that was proving ever-aggressive back in those Louisiana Purchase’ish, Manifest Destinish-type days. While they weren’t so well-equipped with heavy military equipment, what the natives did have were magick, spells, and an ancient connection and “claim” to the land. The ability to drive their enemies (and those of their allies) to madness and, as is often custom during my experiences as a high-functioning paranoiac, I am apt to wonder about the nature of sanity. At points I deeply, deeply question my own “sanity,” wondering legitimately how much of my reality is illusion. During these times I feel a keen identification with the “mentally ill” that is startling, and sort of beautiful in a way. It’s called the Solipsistic Melancholy, and I won’t go into it now, but check out my book if you want a nice primer on the new phenomenon that is Marijuana Paranoia Management Coaching, the positivizing journey into the darker depths of the imagination. It’s for real. I think this might be something. We’ll see.
If you’re feeling like I’m leaving this off a bit incomplete– yes, I could explain more about my experience today. There was a lot going on. But it’s getting late, I’ve worked really hard today since about 730am, and blogs aren’t supposed to be long– just check out the book, really, if you’ve read this far in my blog, then you’ll probably get a kick out of Handbook for the High-Functioning Paranoiac. True.