Back at Silver Lake

“Then smoke it,” She said. I looked at the joint, laying in front of me on the patio table. The last sun was disappearing behind the neighboring house. I was back at Silver Lake. We were on our second bottle of red and I could see that Joan wasn’t too thrilled about me smoking. I on the other felt like I deserved it. After two weeks with my fingers stuck to the keyboard finishing my latest book I needed to blow off some steam.

It was always the same at Silver Lake. Laurie the neighbor that I shared the garden with was growing her own weed. It was the mild kind that would give you that perfect little high for a few hours. Which was exactly what I needed. “So are you going to smoke it or not?” Joan was pointing at it. “Fuck Yeah!”

Joan had never tried smoking before; she wasn’t much of a drinker too,  but she didn’t mind me drinking for now! One can never tell when your lady starts to wanna change everything about you. It always begins with the little details; trim that full-grown beard; you should wear this fine white shirt, instead of that worn out black one with AC/DC written on it. Next thing you are not the man you used to be. You have been deconstructed and reassembled piece by piece until they grow tired of you and get rid of you. Like a piece of trash.

Strangely enough, they are still attracted to that full-grown beard, just as long it ain’t growing in your face.

Joan and I met two weeks earlier at Ramen, a local Japanese restaurant, which is one of my favorite places when at Silver Lake. When we met, we realized that we sat next to each other one year earlier. I was drunk as always, still traveling, asking Joan what to eat.

A year later, when having a more sober moment, we sat next to each other again. After a long talk over dinner, we went for dessert and Sir Glen at my place.

Joan was working with PR, at some giant corporate-hell, boxed in steel and glass. She had a peculiar view from her office almost halfway to the top. Especially at night when I had her screaming her lust out, up against the metal glass frame. She told me, she wasn’t sure if the glass would hold.

I was sucking good at my joint. Feeling the smoke all the way down into my stomach. Holding it there for as long at it took for my body to digest the fumes. “Can I try it?” It was Joan. “Sure thing, but I thought you didn’t like that kind of shit.“ Smoke was coming out of my mouth.

“True, but seeing you enjoying the shit out of it, well I gotta try it.” I handed it over to her as I told her “The coughing part is normal.“ and went to the kitchen to fix another bottle of red. The second one was almost gone and I was aiming for at good evening; the last one with Joan.

San Francisco or San Diego? I wasn’t sure which one yet. But I was meeting Genesis tomorrow afternoon at the train station. From there on no one knew.

Outside, Joan was coughing. “This is going to be a great night.” I thought to myself as I uncorked the bottle. It was the cheap Cab from Trader Joe’s. Only $2.99.