The Vatican Connection


Can * nois * seur ( Kan' us sur' ), n. one competent to render critical judgement on the qualities and merits of cannabis

Our visit to The Vapor Room, 607A Haight Street @ Steiner in San Francisco, proved to be a singular experience. Registration is easy, and not mandatory for the first visit. One enters a comfortable, low-ceilinged roon with a number of long tables fitted with vaporizers. The dispensary in the rear features a wide range of strains, edibles and concentrates, as well as their signature grinder. The staff is friendly, polite and low-key on sales, giving one time to make a selection. The atmosphere is quite restful with good music and a large, clean, fish tank to reflect on. We brought some take-out coffee with us, made our selection ( Orange Crush ), then were given a bag by the management and sat down to vaporize our herb. Within minutes everything was in its place and deeply mellow. A righteous club well worth checking out, The Vapor Room is a spiritual oasis in a sea of commerce.
Orange crush is a dense sativa with distinctive red leaves on a dark green field. Its' effect is like coming home after a tough day at the office, taking off your shoes, hooking your tail to a flying beast ( ikran in Navi ), and soaring off on a glorious journey to the floating mountains. Definitely a staple in any well-stocked stash.


The Vatican Connection



That May, Rome basked in balmy sunshine. i had taken a room in a pensione, located in the center, near the Spanish Steps, mainly because it came complete with meals. At this point i was on a thin budget. My suitcase, stuffed with nearly six pounds of hash was under the bed, reeking like bad shaving lotion at a prom. The first day i went out and bought a scale, six souvenir vases, and various packing supplies. i divvied the hash into six parts, which i put inside the six vases. ( Should you wish to read significance in the numbers, i refer you to Madonna. )
Having packaged and addressed said vases, i hiked over to Vatican City, home of Saint Peter's Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, and the Vatican Post Office.
There, at the Vatican Post Office, i dispatched six packages to my investors in New York. That done, i settled back for the long wait, a month or so i figured, before the checks rolled back... optimist that i was. Meanwhile i enjoyed my extended visit to the eternal city, walking the cobbled backstreets crammed with throwaway art, be it the faded remnant of a mural on some ancient archway, or odd skull carvings on a church, or the big marble foot ( il piedone ) near Rome University, the magnificent sculpted fountains everywhere, and my personal favorite, The Pantheon, which, at that time, still maintained its integrity as a pagan temple. Today its been co opted by the ever voracious church, which installed a makeshift altar and rows of pews inside, thus destroying-and desecrating- the divine symmetry of its circular interior.
Then too, was the easy pace beneath the city bustle, shared by most of its stylish citizens, the outdoor cafes, lolling on the Spanish Steps, browsing Campo Di Fiori's morning market, checking out the local movie stars ( real and imagined ) on Via Veneto, but by the third week i needed to make some decisions. My daily visits to American Express yielded no checks in the mail, and i was seriously considering returning to New York. About that time, perhaps in search of inspiration, i was practicing automatic writing and cut ups, much in the manner suggested by William Burroughs and Byron Gysin. During one of these sessions i jotted "four in the corner pocket please", in my diary. The next day, while walking the city, i spotted a flash of blond hair belonging to a lovely female, seated in a passing cab. i waved, she didn't seem to notice, but the cab slowed for a light. My deal was this: i wouldn't run, but if the light held i would walk up to the cab and speak to the lady. The light held for a long while. i knocked on the window and began my rap, asking if she'd join me for coffee. She shook her head, i persisted nicely, getting her name ( Magi ), and suggested we meet the next day at Piazza Del Popolo. As the cab went on its way i noticed where i was...the corner of The Four Fountains.

Suggested Reading: The Girl who Played With Fire by Steig Larsson

Suggested Listening: Chet Baker and Gerry Mulligan