Friday, February 8, 2013



Temecula, CA – (Ed note: the following report, though part of our emphasis on the feminine side of Mary Jane Green aka cannabis written expressly for the month of February, will start after the jump. The reason for this disclaimer is because of the adult situations used to illustrate the point of the story. So, if you are 18+, click the ‘read more’ jump not because you can, but because you are really curious about sex and cannabis. Thank you.)

There is no secret that a memoirs book will always contain tales of past sexual adventures. What separates a memoirs work from a straight ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ book with prurient interests only is wisdom gained through reflection. At the start of Memoirs I am a typical chauvinistic man towards women through being raised in a household dominated by women (grandmother, aunt/mother’s sister, divorced mother) and a man (my grandfather) that I thought was hen-pecked based off the comedy TV programs that I was allowed to watch. My cultural attitude of rebellion was further enhanced by the male movie star/comic book role model and solidified by the male dominance portrayed in the Bible. Hence I vowed to never become hen-pecked and viewed women as objects of sexual attraction or competition for my free will as a man. This attitude ultimately doomed my first marriage.

The Memoirs story concerning my first marriage and my attitude is presented because it was during this first marriage that I learned about the secret sexy side of Mary Jane Green. Though told in much broader sweeps, the dead-balls-on view that the best sex I ever got from my wife was when we were once both stoned. That is a very bold statement because my first wife is the girl who took my virginity years earlier.
The Bob Segar song lyric about ‘two kids in the back of a 60 Chevy’ fit us as girlfriend and boyfriend perfectly. When you are young you think you are the couple who perfected the old-fashioned Western quickie. We would disappear and come back in 15 minutes smiling with no bed-head, which was pretty phenomenal considering no oral or hand-jobs in those Protestant days. We were so good in fact, that my mother was the last person in town to realize we had gone way past French kissing.
In that time we had a few break-ups, only to wound up back together and having great, quick, make-up sex. We also had great drunk sex though we were both underage for legal booze. In the land of plenty, plenty can be had.
To be truthful, the break-ups were usually my fault being young, or fighting against being domesticated at such a young age, read being with only one girl. I was curious about how other girls were. Usually after getting free, like a dog, I’d trot around the block a couple of times but not find anything of interest and go limping back home, tired and hungry.
It wasn’t like I didn’t love/lust after my girlfriend, I loved being with her and we got it on almost every day. Sometimes I would try and catch her before she showered so I could smell her armpit scent which embarrassed her. However, the last time we broke up before getting married, things changed.
We were apart for at least six months and I gathered all the extra trysts I could, deciding that five outside my girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, was enough experience and that she was the best one for me. In the meantime my ex had started seeing someone else, a man, not a pre-21 year old that still thought like a kid and collected comics. When we got back together and got married, I married a woman, not the girl I bonked in the back seat of my mom’s car.

The night we both went to bed stoned, as reported in Memoirs, seemed different from any other that we had spent as a married couple. Rather than one of us taking the lead, we moved as a unit, enjoying stoned foreplay and sensually seeing each other as a person. Although not quite the girl I remembered, it seemed all the past baggage between us had melted away and we were new to each other. I looked forward to moving the relationship on from that night but as is told in Memoirs, never again did we ever smoke weed together or experience bliss from stoned lovemaking.

By the time wife #2 came along I had gone through a slut puppy stage in the big city of Indianapolis. Mary Jane and I burrowed a 3-way path of oral delights to females ranging from opera singers to welfare moms and all points in-between.
Moving to Iowa and cooling my jets, I felt the need to settle down and soon introduced my second wife to the sexual side of being adrift in a hazy cloud, exploring mounds of flesh, soft body hair, intimate hot body tastes, while moving to sounds of enjoyment that seem so out-of-body you are unsure who is making them, all without any conscience direction from your mind; the universe is in charge and you are Captain Kirk and Uhura and Mary Jane, slowly exploring the universe contained within each.
The five senses of touch, taste, smell, pleasure, and sight, if the lights are on, or you are in moonlight and shadows, is heightened from the mindset of being stoned in the throes of passion. There is no try, only do, as your body responds and your mind enjoys the ride. If the lights are off, inside your mind you see the universe in the deprivation caused when thighs cut off all outside sounds to your ears, save one.
Though my second wife had smoked weed, she had only smoked to chill out from teaching. The first time we smoked a few bong rips between us, then we put on some jazz and it was on like Donkey Kong. She said afterwards that I seduced her, but I like to think that we, Mary Jane and I, both seduced her.

When the third wife, the witch (Wiccan/converted pagan) came along, Mary Jane was a regular member at the dance. In fact, if was this wife’s relationship with MJ that lured me into her realm where circumstances led to an evening where hundreds, if not thousands of tiny gnat-like bugs (?) she called faeries smarmed in the room light and shadows around us as we consumed ourselves in a shared passion kindled by our love of cannabis. By morning tiny little spent bodies adorned every inch of furniture surface and by the time I got to her place after work, not a trace of any of them remained for me to examine in the daylight. In my mind I imagined her doing a ‘Samantha’ of Bewitched cyclone spell to blow them out the apartment, but of course that’s crazy talk, isn’t it?
It was this wife who set the last stage in my remission from chauvinism by convincing me that having/buying ‘girlie/porn’ magazines, a male tradition in the family, was demeaning to women. With the mindset of a monk after my life with the witch, sexual dalliances took a back seat in coming to So Cali, first to surviving, then to involvement in the developing all-ages music scene to finally fully embracing a life of political adventure, live music, and new friends for companionship. Indeed, life’s been good to me so far.
The revelation spoken of in Chapter 20 also revealed the metaphysical benefit gathered from the relationships spoken of in the chapters of my life’s path so far. Though the witch brought her own chaos, she was the watch dragon that kept me from more sinister forces by diverting my path away from them. I went through her neck of the woods rather than theirs. In fact, as long as I was married to her, her presence remained as my dragon. When she remarried last year I hadn’t fully realized her contribution as a dragon although I had long ago decided it was best to remain married to her than get divorced hastily.

With the grafting of the photogenic 420Nurses promotional group onto my pot memoirs book release providing the perfect embodiment of the quixotic Mary Jane Green, and the buying of a Hustler magazine to read Allison Margolin’s piece, the final signpost that my life journey is once again in a fast lane similar to those days back in Nap Town could be the picture below. For it was there I learned what the sweetest 420 munchies are…

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