Some of the research done by some of those doctors who cook trips in the '60s is leading to almost miraculous treatments for diseases from major depression to chronic pain to PTSD, due to substances like ketamine and psilocybin. There's always exceptions.
My brother, a doctor, still gets high after 50 years since we first did as children; and yes I said children because I was 9 and he was 11 when our mom "turned us on". The differences between him and I are that in my profession I am subject to testing whereas he is not, and I don't believe I would have been as functional as he if I would have been able carry on that vice. But at 59 how I wish I could partake in it to temper the realities of life; alcohol seems to pose a heavier burden on a body.
If you use the word "poetry" in connection with the phrase "most of it," it doesn't matter whether it's beat, academic, Renaissance, classical Roman, or what. Most of it isn't very good.
Irrelevance. That is what is bugging me, now...at age 79 My wife passed 4 years ago, and my two daughters are educators: a school principal and a Dept Head at an Ivy League school, in "Comp. Sci."
Their kids are happy and successful at age 1, 4, and 8....
The problem is that if "I suddenly "caught the last train for the coast", as in Don McLean's song.... hardly anyone would miss me..
So, I continually look for ways to be relevant, while not getting , ..daily, bummed out by my peers who are, daily, "catching the last train for the coast"..
I still read Beat poetry even at forty nine years old. It's not too shabby and yes I'd rather less smoke-filled rooms. Kerouac, Thompson, and Bukowski were a breakthrough for me as was Jim Morrison of the Doors. I miss lyrics that dreamed of higher consciousness. None of these modern so-called bards emulate or can replicate a style like the Beat generation.
I saxified the bezoardic minims of my genarch detenebrated by madstone, stounded hystricine napiform, drozing themselves through the negus strephographiæ at dealbation looping for an anguineous fizgig...
first two strophes of “Howl” “mistranslated” using MRS. BYRNE’S DICTIONARY OF UNUSUAL, OBSCURE AND PREPOSTEROUS WORDS (University Books, 1974)
I’ve been clinically depressed since September 1968, which has suppressed my IQ (id est, made me stupid). None of the pills prescribed gave me any relief, just side effects such as diarrhea. Only cannabis edibles (goody gumdrops) have worked.
Loved your podcast and great to hear your voice again but would like to make a suggestion....please try to keep your podcasts as non partisan as possible. If you choose to note the peculiarities of one political party then counter those observations with corresponding observations about the opposition party. Personally, I’m tired of hearing about both parties so the less I’m reminded of either the better.
"some pothead . . . comes crashing into me!" Thankfully, that was in "The Days of Yore!"
I was on a lonely mountain road somewhere an hour or two from Bishop, California. I came around a curve, and am old turquoise and white Chevy with the exaggerated tailfins slipped in a few inches ahead of me!
Should I hit the brakes? Sure! Hit the horn - well, that would help my fright and anger, but it probably wouldn't be a wise driving technique. I tried to adapt, but once we got on a straight-away, I decided to pass. There the casual driver was, reefer in hand, window down to keep the interior from spelling like a pot furnace! I felt lucky to be alive, though I doubt if the smoker was aware of the "Quick trip to Heaven/or Hell" that he nearly caused.
At the time, I was living in an old orange grower's cottage with my husband and two kids. The landlord had owned a converted garage behind the main house. When he passed away, a couple of ex-Army fellows moved in, and the "pot of fun" began.
There was more than an acre of land around the houses. I had discovered a vegetable broker at the Los Angeles main Farmer's Market. Or I should say, she courted me. I had accidentally driven into the area with my preschool-aged daughters. Just for the chance to give them a change of scene, I parked the car and began walking around. Outside one brokerage there was a display of kumquats. The kids were fascinated. This "almost-grandmotherly" woman came out and offered the girls and me samples. As we stood there savoring them, I mentioned that we had bought ten acres of land in Rancho California for agricultural use. Immediately she began thinking of what it would be best for us to grow. "KIWI! That's the big thing now - I'm importing Kiwi fruit from New Zealand, but the University of California is trying to promote California farmers to plant the vines. It would take you a couple of years to get a productive crop, but in the mean time, you could grow row crops. Ten acres. Hmmmm! I'm looking for a "small farmer" who could grow crops of Black Spanish Radishes. I have a small, consistent demand for them. If you could bring in your Travelall full of them, say two or three times a year, you could easily pay the water bills to keep your Kiwi vines growing until you have a crop."
"Frieda's Finest! Freida Kaplan was a very convincing saleswoman! She was also a "Wannabe grandmother" with unmarried, childless daughters as her assistants in her brokerage. Soon enough, we put in sprinklers and trellises with the help of a team of Mexican farmworkers who resided at a nearby vineyard. The kids got to play with "Los Amigos" on the rancho while the produce was growing, and acted as " adopted" grandchildren for Freida when we went to market. Freida, and her cats, and her gifts of exotic fruits, were the "Big Deal!" for them!
Meanwhile, Freida has also talked me into growing Jeruasalem artichokes ("sunchokes" ) and Chinese Winter melon on the acre or so we had around our old "Orange Grower's House." All of our crops seemed "Heaven-sent" to the ex-soldiers who occupied the owner's house in our rear, once his elderly father died. Magically, in between our Jerusalem artichokes, these interesting, tomato-like plants began growing up between the rows. Soon the town regulator showed up at our doorstep, with all sorts of restrictions on growing "Pot!" "What?" we said, But when we conveyed the message to the ex-soldiers, we saw them, that night, by the light of flashlights, carefully "harvesting" their entire crop!
Well! That's an - interconnected tale if there ever was one - but that's life, sometimes!
Hooray for doctors, nurses, teachers, and especially the all-to-rare politician whose concern is more with kindness and inclusiveness than being nasty.
During the previous administration, I often thought and occasionally said that Donald Trump makes Richard Nixon look like a decent human being. Verdery Kassebaum (who was just a couple of months too young to vote against Nixon.)
Garrison, as usual you are funny and sensible. These are two things we all need to strive for. We live in chaotic times, it's true.
Amen!
Great podcast, Garrison, but have you listened to it at 2X speed? It sounds completely normal, and nothing like you!
Don’t many great doctors sometimes get high? Garrison resorts to some either/or thinking here, which surprises me
I believe he was talking in broader, generational terms.
Some of the research done by some of those doctors who cook trips in the '60s is leading to almost miraculous treatments for diseases from major depression to chronic pain to PTSD, due to substances like ketamine and psilocybin. There's always exceptions.
My brother, a doctor, still gets high after 50 years since we first did as children; and yes I said children because I was 9 and he was 11 when our mom "turned us on". The differences between him and I are that in my profession I am subject to testing whereas he is not, and I don't believe I would have been as functional as he if I would have been able carry on that vice. But at 59 how I wish I could partake in it to temper the realities of life; alcohol seems to pose a heavier burden on a body.
If you use the word "poetry" in connection with the phrase "most of it," it doesn't matter whether it's beat, academic, Renaissance, classical Roman, or what. Most of it isn't very good.
Irrelevance. That is what is bugging me, now...at age 79 My wife passed 4 years ago, and my two daughters are educators: a school principal and a Dept Head at an Ivy League school, in "Comp. Sci."
Their kids are happy and successful at age 1, 4, and 8....
The problem is that if "I suddenly "caught the last train for the coast", as in Don McLean's song.... hardly anyone would miss me..
So, I continually look for ways to be relevant, while not getting , ..daily, bummed out by my peers who are, daily, "catching the last train for the coast"..
Bumner.
I still read Beat poetry even at forty nine years old. It's not too shabby and yes I'd rather less smoke-filled rooms. Kerouac, Thompson, and Bukowski were a breakthrough for me as was Jim Morrison of the Doors. I miss lyrics that dreamed of higher consciousness. None of these modern so-called bards emulate or can replicate a style like the Beat generation.
I saxified the bezoardic minims of my genarch detenebrated by madstone, stounded hystricine napiform, drozing themselves through the negus strephographiæ at dealbation looping for an anguineous fizgig...
first two strophes of “Howl” “mistranslated” using MRS. BYRNE’S DICTIONARY OF UNUSUAL, OBSCURE AND PREPOSTEROUS WORDS (University Books, 1974)
Richard Martin Jarrell (1978)
I’ve been clinically depressed since September 1968, which has suppressed my IQ (id est, made me stupid). None of the pills prescribed gave me any relief, just side effects such as diarrhea. Only cannabis edibles (goody gumdrops) have worked.
Richard Martin Jarrell
Yay for your new podcast. Great to hear your voice.
Its always good to hear your voice conveying that terrific dry sense of humor.
Is the print version up above the entire podcast? I am deaf and need complete printed versions.
Is that possible?
One has to wonder if Doritos would be so popular without the popularity of pot. Just wondering
uplifting indeed ..enjoyed my morning chuckle ..
Loved your podcast and great to hear your voice again but would like to make a suggestion....please try to keep your podcasts as non partisan as possible. If you choose to note the peculiarities of one political party then counter those observations with corresponding observations about the opposition party. Personally, I’m tired of hearing about both parties so the less I’m reminded of either the better.
"some pothead . . . comes crashing into me!" Thankfully, that was in "The Days of Yore!"
I was on a lonely mountain road somewhere an hour or two from Bishop, California. I came around a curve, and am old turquoise and white Chevy with the exaggerated tailfins slipped in a few inches ahead of me!
Should I hit the brakes? Sure! Hit the horn - well, that would help my fright and anger, but it probably wouldn't be a wise driving technique. I tried to adapt, but once we got on a straight-away, I decided to pass. There the casual driver was, reefer in hand, window down to keep the interior from spelling like a pot furnace! I felt lucky to be alive, though I doubt if the smoker was aware of the "Quick trip to Heaven/or Hell" that he nearly caused.
At the time, I was living in an old orange grower's cottage with my husband and two kids. The landlord had owned a converted garage behind the main house. When he passed away, a couple of ex-Army fellows moved in, and the "pot of fun" began.
There was more than an acre of land around the houses. I had discovered a vegetable broker at the Los Angeles main Farmer's Market. Or I should say, she courted me. I had accidentally driven into the area with my preschool-aged daughters. Just for the chance to give them a change of scene, I parked the car and began walking around. Outside one brokerage there was a display of kumquats. The kids were fascinated. This "almost-grandmotherly" woman came out and offered the girls and me samples. As we stood there savoring them, I mentioned that we had bought ten acres of land in Rancho California for agricultural use. Immediately she began thinking of what it would be best for us to grow. "KIWI! That's the big thing now - I'm importing Kiwi fruit from New Zealand, but the University of California is trying to promote California farmers to plant the vines. It would take you a couple of years to get a productive crop, but in the mean time, you could grow row crops. Ten acres. Hmmmm! I'm looking for a "small farmer" who could grow crops of Black Spanish Radishes. I have a small, consistent demand for them. If you could bring in your Travelall full of them, say two or three times a year, you could easily pay the water bills to keep your Kiwi vines growing until you have a crop."
"Frieda's Finest! Freida Kaplan was a very convincing saleswoman! She was also a "Wannabe grandmother" with unmarried, childless daughters as her assistants in her brokerage. Soon enough, we put in sprinklers and trellises with the help of a team of Mexican farmworkers who resided at a nearby vineyard. The kids got to play with "Los Amigos" on the rancho while the produce was growing, and acted as " adopted" grandchildren for Freida when we went to market. Freida, and her cats, and her gifts of exotic fruits, were the "Big Deal!" for them!
Meanwhile, Freida has also talked me into growing Jeruasalem artichokes ("sunchokes" ) and Chinese Winter melon on the acre or so we had around our old "Orange Grower's House." All of our crops seemed "Heaven-sent" to the ex-soldiers who occupied the owner's house in our rear, once his elderly father died. Magically, in between our Jerusalem artichokes, these interesting, tomato-like plants began growing up between the rows. Soon the town regulator showed up at our doorstep, with all sorts of restrictions on growing "Pot!" "What?" we said, But when we conveyed the message to the ex-soldiers, we saw them, that night, by the light of flashlights, carefully "harvesting" their entire crop!
Well! That's an - interconnected tale if there ever was one - but that's life, sometimes!
Hooray for doctors, nurses, teachers, and especially the all-to-rare politician whose concern is more with kindness and inclusiveness than being nasty.
During the previous administration, I often thought and occasionally said that Donald Trump makes Richard Nixon look like a decent human being. Verdery Kassebaum (who was just a couple of months too young to vote against Nixon.)