A Long, Edgy Summer

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

"The most amazing quality of cannabis is its ability to fog the minds of those who do not use it."



Heads Up: The recent vote to legalize marijuana in the states of Washington and Colorado has legislators, lawyers and law enforcement  scrambling for new guidelines. After all, the feds have cannabis scheduled as a class A drug, right up there with heroin, as certified by no less an authority than the Supreme Court. The DEA is urging Mexico to eradicate their marijuana fields, meanwhile Washington D.C. just okayed medical cannabis, any number of reality shows give us fully armored swat teams saving us from the evils  of weed...in short--reefer madness. Absurdity begetting tragedy and perverting reason by imprisoning a million young people for a non-crime.
Oh yeah, American citizens have spoken clearly but still there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth by the conservatives-who have yet to come to grips with contraception, the fundamendalists-who can't dance, and the alcohol  industry*...(Big tobacco may yet find this a boon.)
The victims at this Mad Hatter tea party are those unfortunate souls who happened to smoke a joint in the wrong state. Fodder for the corporate prison industry. Isn't it time we move move to set them free? And while we're at it, corporate prisons? Faceless financial entities whose profits come from broken lives?
If we legalize they might diversify into an honest, more humane business, like cultivating weed.

*in the future there will be cannabis infused vodka


A Long, Edgy Summer: 1970

The short voyage from Tangier to Naples was uneventful. The passengers were older, conservative, and confided in shocked whispers that one of the freighters had been overrun by anarchists and long haired hippies. The parent companyYugolinia had instituted a number of new rules that included overlong hair, dress codes and dogs.   
We made sure to keep low key considering the square of black hash i had secured from Achmed's antique shop in Tangier. Located on a stairway leading down to Socco Chico,  Achmed's shop was a serene, silk curtained cavern, light years away from the bustling outside traffic. Inside it was cool and silent with brass trays, mint tea, candlight, floor pillows and Achmed's wizened face, his smile ecstatic, as listed his famous clients... from the Rolling Stones to James Coburn. The ecstatic energy would intensify as he passed the pipe and expanded on the metaphysical connections between kif and Allah.  Achmed had a natural cross on the palm of his right hand and claimed the cross was like a dowsing rod that guided him to the heart of the hash powder. When Achmed felt one had sufficient character of soul he would bestow a small slab of his black hash. This was the slab i had with me in hopes of finding inspiration for my second novel which, until then, was not on the horizon.
After docking in Naples, we immediately piled our bags onto a ferry bound for the island of Ischia. On arrival I stored the bags and took a bus to Lacco Ammeno, the place where we'd stayed five years before. Fortunately our haste paid off and we were able to rent our old room and bath, a week ahead of some prospective Italian tenants.
Lacco Ammeno was a sleepy fishing village with a skimpy beach, which had been transformed by the presence of one of the most luxurious hotels on the planet-the Regina Isabella-which has its own yacht basin. i preferred to take the bus to a beach called Citarra, which sits at the mouth of a hollowed out, semi-extinct volcano that churns up thermal water into the crisp green sea.
But as the sunny days and cool nights moved into the August religious festivals and September rains, the novel was not yet in sight.
Money was getting short but i was due a film option check for Doctor Orient which would get us to Rome.

Next: Roma, Fellini, and Cinecitta

edited by Robert Gilman