#the cannabis project

[sacamotoo]

Chenchen loves Marijuana

[thefreethoughtprojectcom]

Guest Bess Byers shares her experience in the cannabis industry, where she experienced cancel culture by a cabal of insider growers who disagreed with her political views.

Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/guest-bess-byers-how-your-car-is-spying-on-you-and/id1439014279?i=1000668949284

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/23WvP8Ge2eUMebgbDVst11?si=9x4zQOJHTV6WgjgbV3k5Gg

#TheFreeThoughtProjectPodcast

[habitual-creatures]

On a brighter note, because of spacethrough kinshift, I feel actually pretty chill rn.

[infestationbook]

"I'll tell you what, you are the best thing to come out of the end of the world."

Infestation is still available! Link in bio to get your own copy.

[muscari-melpomene]

The Neighbors Think We're Stoners

Chase allowed himself a sigh of relief and a dramatic slump against the doorway to the stairwell as he finally reached the seventh floor. For two weeks straight, the tattered 'Out of Order' sign taped to the elevator doors had taunted him, and not even Marvin's acidic letters to their landlord had spurred him to action yet. Actually, Chase was starting to think his roommate's passive-aggressive mail campaign was delaying the repair, but gods knew he couldn't get Marvin to give it up.

He took another moment to catch his breath, casting a baleful glance back at the stairs in case they wanted to get any less steep, then pulled himself away from the door frame and made his way to apartment 716. The key stuck in the lock like it always did, and Chase pulled up on the doorknob and kicked the base of the door in a practiced, if frustrated, movement. They really needed to move out of this dump. He tugged the creaking door open, and the smell of incense and charred herbs hit him like a fucking brick.

"What the shit, Marv," he coughed, shoving the door shut and locking it behind him, "our neighbors already think we're fucking stoners, you wanna get us kicked out over it?"

There was no answer, and Chase hesitated. "...Marvin?" he called, something cold settling in his stomach. No answer. Hazy smoke was drifting out of the kitchen.

Chase's keys slipped from his hand, and he was in the kitchen doorway nearly before they hit the floor, coughing and fanning away smoke, scanning the room for- for what, fire? Burned leftovers? His roommate, crumpled and bleeding on the floor? He could feel his heartbeat in his teeth-

"You mind giving me some quiet?" said Marvin absently. He was hunched over the kitchen table, something small and silvery clutched in his hand. Several small stone bowls were arrayed around him, a few of them smoking.

"What the hell are you doing," said Chase, eyes watering as the smell of scorched herbs stung his nose.

"I asked for quiet," Marvin snapped.

"And I asked you not to do rituals in the godsdamn kitchen." Chase flicked on the overhead fan, then set about getting the kitchen windows open, warped and sticking with age as they were.

"I was planning to be done by the time you got back," said Marvin, jumping up to turn the fan back off and leaving whatever he'd been holding on the table. Chase moved over to fan the smoke away from whatever little ritual Marvin had been doing, and... stopped.

Chase had known going in that Marvin was not an easy person to live with. He also knew that he himself wasn't exactly a walk in the park, and he knew, most vehemently of all, that in the aftermath of the tandem collapse of IRIS and the Magic Circle, Marvin was the only person he could really, genuinely trust. And he knew that trust went both ways.

His roommate was a pain in the ass. Marvin was arrogant, acidic, impatient, condescending and quick-tempered. He performed magical experiments in the kitchen, had single-handedly lost them their security deposit with a variety of incendiary incidents, and regularly started petty, passive-aggressive (and occasionally just aggressive) wars with the neighbors.

It was at the point of witnessing all this that most people chose to walk away from Marvin and save themselves the headache.

Marvin had been the first person in about five years not to walk away from Chase.

What few people had been left in Chase's life after the paranoia took hold had quickly faded away when the night terrors and sleep deprivation had turned to hallucinations. Even the bartenders had stopped listening to him after a while, but Marvin had listened, actually listened to Chase's desperate ramblings, frowning thoughtfully as he flipped through a tattered sketchbook. Marvin had gone with Chase to all the places he'd seen his tormentor, and only nodded when Chase insisted that the void in the shape of a man hadn't been just another hallucination. Marvin had been the only person left to look for Chase after IRIS... stepped in, and the only person who bothered to scour the rubble one last time, looking for a man everyone else had forgotten.

Marvin had saved his life, and Chase had promised (himself, silently, and Marvin would never hear a word about it until he had to) that he would return the favor, no matter what it took. And until then, he'd at least join the Marvin Defense Squad, the only other member of which was Sunday, and Sunday would have a fucking coronary if he saw what Marvin was up to.

Alongside the smoking bowls of herbs and what Chase now saw were inks were several heavy tomes on medicinal magic and sigil-making, and a sketchbook cramped with Marvin's aggressively slanting handwriting and infinitesimally detailed diagrams. The object Marvin had been holding just over his knuckles was a metal needle with its blunt end jammed into a pencil eraser so Marvin could hold it more easily.

Marvin must have seen the look on Chase's face.

"I know what I'm doing," he said snappishly.

"You're an idiot," Chase told him.

"You don't even know what I was trying to-"

"You're inventing new sigils," snapped Chase, cutting Marvin off, "and tattooing them on yourself with- were you enchanting the fucking ink?"

Marvin was staring at him like he was possessed. Chase wished he didn't know exactly what that expression looked like.

"How," said Marvin, blinking, "how do you- know that, have- have you been watching me-?"

"Of fucking course not," said Chase evenly, and really, he was doing a stellar job keeping his head here given that his roommate and for-better-or-worse best friend had been moments from putting a magical experiment under his skin, "but I do actually listen when you talk sometimes, and I listen when you and Sunday have debates about all the magic you absolutely shouldn't do on yourself-" Marvin let out a derisive snort, which Chase graciously ignored. "-and I am fucking capable of picking up a book. And reading your handwriting, for that matter, you're- you're fucking combining runes into one symbol, is that even possible?"

"It's worked before," said Marvin cagily. Chase stared at him. Marvin shifted from foot to foot.

"...The twins once-"

"The twins were more advanced than you," Chase told him, and Marvin abruptly looked furious, and Chase changed the subject. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to the main diagram on the page, "I see something about healing, or- or calming?"

Marvin hesitated a moment, but ultimately sighed and made his way over, elbowing Chase aside and drawing the sketchbook closer.

"It's... something like that," he said, tracing his fingers over the symbol Chase had pointed out, "it's hard to explain in English, it's... health in the sense of- of steadiness, of being unaffected. Took ages to find."

"And you spent all that time looking for that specific one because...?"

Marvin picked up his makeshift tattoo needle (Chase really, really hoped he'd thought to sterilize it, but Marvin's priorities were terminally imbalanced) and inspected it, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Chase patiently. Marvin huffed, hunching his shoulders. His expression was tight, frustrated. He set the needle down with far more care than he usually used doing- well, anything, and rubbed at his left palm.

"...I thought," he said slowly, "that I could... they've been hurting lately, and today they were shaking, and it's- it isn't arthritis, I've checked, it isn't carpal tunnel or a sprain or anything I've researched, so I thought- if there isn't a medical solution, there must be a magical one, the ink is- the herbs have specific properties, and I ground some of them into the ink, and the sigil- once I got it on there it would be easy enough to activate, but I keep dropping the fucking needle, and then you came in and-"

"Marv," said Chase quietly, cutting off the ever more rapid tirade. Marvin fell silent, looking away. Chase took a deep breath. This was... Marvin didn't do well with vulnerability, of any kind. Chase would have to be careful.

Marvin hated people being careful with him.

"How long have your hands been hurting?" he asked, still quiet, but not too gentle, not too sympathetic. Gods forbid he let Marvin detect a note of pity, or he'd be out on his ass while Marvin went ahead with his experimental magicked tattoo plan.

Marvin's jaw flexed, and Chase heard his teeth click.

"...Six months," he muttered, "the shaking started three weeks ago. I've had them looked at, had blood drawn and x-rays and all, there's nothing materially wrong with them."

"Who else have you talked to? Aside from doctors."

"No one," he said, frowning, "why would I?"

Chase reminded himself how patient of a person he was, and how counterproductive it would be to grab Marvin and try to shake some fucking sense into him.

"You didn't talk to Sunday about the spell you were inventing?"

"He would have stopped me."

"And you don't think that means that maybe, just maybe, it's a bad idea?"

"There's no reason it shouldn't work-"

"Marvin," said Chase sharply, "you cannot, and you will not just go around testing new spells on yourself, especially not ones you can't immediately undo if shit goes wrong. Please, please at least let Sunday weigh in on this when he's back in town next week."

"And what the hell am I supposed to do until then?" Marvin demanded, "I can't even write right now, Chase, I can't pick up more than a pencil, I can't do fucking anything-"

"Come with me," Chase snapped, taking Marvin's arm and dragging him down the hall.

Chase's room was small, and it was clean mainly because there wasn't all that much in it. His bed was sort-of-made (he was trying to put some effort into himself these days, even if that just meant pulling the blankets back into place once he got up) and he got Marvin to sit down on it and stay there while he rummaged through one of the few boxes sitting on the floor of his closet. It had been a while since Chase had done a workout of any kind, let alone a class, but he still had the gear, just in case he ever found the time and money again.

He pulled out two long strips of rolled up black fabric. The visible end of each had a loop on it. Marvin was giving him that 'what the hell is the matter with you look' again.

"It's not a permanent fix," said Chase tiredly, "but- I've dealt with my hands hurting a few times, for a few reasons, and usually sitting with these on for a while helps. If you can stand to sit still and not move your hands for- half an hour, let's say."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Sit still with these on for half an hour and I'll make dinner. I'll even clean up the godsdamn mess you left on our table, you inconsiderate prick."

Marvin glared, but Chase saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

"...if it'll shut you up," he finally relented, and Chase smiled.

"Good. Give me your hand."

After a moment, Marvin put his left hand in Chase's, stiff and awkward. Chase very carefully didn't think about it, about any reason Marvin might have to feel awkward, about any reason Chase might - might - have been looking for an excuse to take Marvin's hand in his. It didn't matter right now.

It didn't.

He carefully put the fabric loop over Marvin's thumb, and began to wind the wrap. Three times around the wrist. Three times from the base of the palm between the thumb and forefinger and back, one and a half loops around the wrist, change direction by looping the thumb, around the wrist again, up the back of the hand between each finger, anchor and the wrist, wrap the top of the palm, back down to the wrist and spool it out, secure with the velcro. Move on to the next hand. Anchor at the thumb, around the wrist, slow and methodical and careful and not looking at Marvin.

Chase secured the second wrap, and finally glanced back up. And nearly swallowed his own tongue.

Marvin was- was looking at him. Watching him intently, expression uncharacteristically soft, head tilted slightly. He had a strand of hair falling in his face. There was a little frown line between his eyebrows, a softness around his mouth. His eyes were very green this close up, like polished jade. Chase didn't dare move, barely dared breathe in case his last bit of self-restraint snapped and he crossed a line he'd never be able to redraw.

"...Better?" Chase asked, barely above a whisper. Marvin nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a slight smile.

"Yes," he murmured, "yes, much better... thank you."

Chase swallowed.

"Good," he said, mouth dry as sand, "that's good."

A moment passed, slow and quiet. Marvin blinked.

"You- you could get up now," he pointed out, and the moment snapped. Chase scrambled to his feet like the floor was lava, dropping Marvin's hands and resisting the urge to wipe his own on his pants like a fucking five year old afraid of getting cooties.

"Yeah," he said, "um- yeah. Yes. I'll- I should, um- dinner. And you can- you can sit- not in here, in the living room- I mean, if you want to sit in here, that's- but-"

"I'll sit in the kitchen," said Marvin, standing and giving him a weird look, "you don't know how to clean up spell remnants properly."

Chase nodded. Marvin nodded back. The silence was stifling.

Chase turned and left, heading for the kitchen and thanking every unworldly power he could think of that Marvin didn't pay nearly enough attention to people to be able to figure out why Chase was acting like an idiot.

Marvin was Chase's best friend. For better or worse, they trusted each other, kept each other safe.

And they lived together. And Chase knew better than to make anything even resembling a move. He'd just need to get over it, get over Marvin and move on.

How hard could it be?

[cookinguptales]

hi there. I’m on anon because I’m very shy, but I’m sorry to hear that you’re suffering from endo, me too sister. I’ve stumbled upon you by accident and I love your Minotaur idea, I’m excited to have something to read!!! Please keep up the good work and rest nicely.

Thanks, anon. It's been a particularly rough month, so it was nice to get a kind message like this. I really hope you enjoy the story! It's really near and dear to my heart, so I'm just kind of trying to get everyone I know (and don't know) to read it haha.

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery

[thesmokinpossum]

It's genuinely hilarious to me when weed companies make a huge deal of sending their products in "discrete, scent-blocking packaging with no indication of the content on the package" because like…They are litterally the only ones who use this type of packaging, Canada Post employees know damn well and right that this is weed and we are joking about it lmao

[carrie-fisher-in-a-suit]

Donate to the Last Prisoner Project to do something about this (in the USA).

https://www.lastprisonerproject.org/#:~:text=Send%20a%20letter%20or%20host,people%20incarcerated%20for%20cannabis%20offenses.

I'm not saying that I dislike that weed has been legalized in more and more states (imo all drugs should be legalized but that's not the point of this post)- I *am* saying that every time I pass a dispensary that looks like an apple store and I see white people talking freely about making special cookies and smoking in their spare time, all I can think about are the thousands and thousands of black people who experienced huge amounts of state-sponsered violence for even the suspicion of having weed on them and those who are STILL IN PRISON for possession charges.

And it. Just kinda makes me grit my teeth, you know? My father was illegally searched and brutalized in front of me when I was a little kid because the cop "thought he smelled weed" (he didn't, my dad doesn't touch the stuff) and in the mean time Becky in accounting takes a "special gummy" every night that she gets from a store next to the Starbucks.

[thefreethoughtprojectcom]

In our recent interview with Martha Bueno, we delve deep into the broader implications of the drug war. We discuss how many Americans lack the critical thinking skills needed to oppose it logically and consistently.

Full Episode: https://thefreethoughtproject.com/podcast/podcast-martha-bueno-ross-ulbrichts-injustice-the-power-of-cannabis-healing-americas-divide

#TheFreeThoughtProjectPodcast

[dome-zone]

[millionmovieproject]

In this episode of Social Contract, madness ensues in real time as Nicolette and Jared are shocked by the Harris campaign's racist pander to black men in trying to buy them off with cannabis, are confused at what liberals even want as they embrace austerity--the two most inept presidential candidates offer the most confusing showdown, ever, an update on Israel's genocidal atrocities, and more.

[hang-on-lil-tomato]

I would vote for a rabid skunk over the real rabid skunk that is tRump!

The lies about Harris are disgusting!

she’s a perfect first female president, but my admiration for her has nothing to do with her gender or genetics. SHE’S SMART AF. She’s an inspiration.

VOTE KAMALA HARRIS 2024 or get christofascist crazy nonsense for 4 years and beyond. A vote for a third party is a vote for evil. This is not the election for a protest vote.

we cannot have yet another “Christian” cultist on the Supreme Court!

one of my friends (also a leftist) said that because we live in utah, it doesn't matter who he votes for, and there's no way he will vote for a "fucking cop who was complicit in genocide."

he is telling his friends in utah that they have zero say in who is president, so they shouldn't vote for harris.

and, i love him, but i think that line of thinking is really damaging.

if the stakes were lower for this election, then sure! i'm all in favor of third parties, and i do think that should be more normalized. it would be great to get to a point where we have more viable options than just democrats and republicans.

but this election is against trump. if trump wins, we get project 2025.

this isn't your father's republican party that just wanted to lower taxes and have more free trade. we are looking at rights being taken away for several marginalized communities. major changes that will set us back decades. there is too much on the line, and harris needs every single vote she can get.

saying you won't vote for harris because you live in a red state and don't think your vote will count... like a vote for a third party will??

you're really just saying that you don't mind trump winning, or if you do, you aren't willing to actually do what it takes to stop it.

as for being complicit with the genocide, aren't we all? our tax money is going to the genocide. we are complicit, whether we like it or not.

and harris has openly advocated for a ceasefire! also, do you think trump won't be complicit in the genocide? do you not think he would actively support israel? i'd rather have a president that calls for a ceasefire than one who doesn't. i'd rather have a president who is willing to push back on israel than one who be pushed around by israel.

there's more hope for a ceasefire with harris than there is with trump, and that's worth something.

my friend said "when people look back at your history, don't let them see your name next to a war criminal's."

honestly? in this election, i would rather have my name seen next to harris because that shows i understood that the future of our country and the safety of its citizens was more important than my personal moral superiority.

i don't just vote to make a fucking point. i vote because it impacts people's lives.

it seriously feels like some people are okay with watching the country burn, as long as they feel morally superior.

[sicktasticsquelching]

Working on new bag I have, haven't had much of a motivation in drawing this past week. Im starting to think the different strains effect me in the best ways possible. Indica putting me to sleep when I need it, or to relax and Sativa to feel motivated.

It's insane I feel almost normal now.

[foxfacecaroline11]

The survey below is about smoking and vaping. I am trying to gather data for a biology project, so I would appreciate your participation. Could you also forward it to friends and have them complete it and send it to their friends? Thank you!