I just want to smoke a joint.

Once upon a dime bag ago, I was a simpler man. I’d roll a joint like it was a love letter to the universe, light it like a ritual, and burn it slow while my fingers tap-danced across a keyboard fueled by THC and rebellion. Writing was sacred back then—a spiritual act. I didn’t need much. Just a lighter, some zig-zags, and whatever chronic I could barter from the neighborhood … [Read more...] about From Fire to Firmware: The Evolution of My High