Ditchweed is a Metaphor for a Dream Deferred
I can tell you the exact moment when I knew that my life wasn’t as great as I thought it was. I was walking three miles late at night through the mud, stopping every 5 minutes or so to suck on a pipe filled with ditchweed, praying to feel even the slightest of highs to get me through the night.
Our car was stuck in the road – not in a ditch, in the road – in mud as high as your shins. We’d gone out to the country to drink and drive around, holding a little baggie of green we just got off a townie. Unable to get our car to budge, we decided to hike back into town through the mud, through the sobriety.
With our beers gone, we started in on Satan’s flower. We huffed and puffed, but that little pig’s shack in our minds would not blow down. Instead of a giggling mess, we were three men, walking in the mud, who had a pipe and plastic bag filled with was apparently ditchweed and nothing but time for reflection.
As I was standing in the mud, sucking on that pipe for the fifth time, looking off in the distance and noticing how far away town was, and how far away we really weren’t from that car, I knew my life had some room for improvement.
What is a boy to do when he can’t even get high in the middle of nowhere when he’s stuck in the mud? From that moment on, I knew I needed to change my lifestyle. No more lazy days for this kid. Only hard work and dedication – because those lead to money. And with money, you’ll always have access to good weed – which tends to make your marginally-better-than-shitty life worth living.
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