Stay in school; don’t do drugs, natch.
But if you’re gonna indulge, then at least enhance your academic career with the illustrious combination of marijuana and great literature.
The stereotypical stoner does bong hits and watches cartoons; however, a far more original version of the model can easily involve a well-rolled joint and a classic of, say, Russian literature.
I’ve come to know from experience, for example, that few experiences are more enjoyable than getting reasonably baked and curling up on the couch with Anna Karenina. Tolstoy’s prose, which is already luminous, takes on an added burnish. His imagery and characterizations spring doubly alive and rather than just observing the action, you start to feel as if you’re really in it, curled up—literally—on the couch with the Princess Karenin herself.
Now, granted, one’s ability to recall some of the details may be slightly compromised. Thankfully, my copy of Tolstoy includes a character list so I can flip back and forth to distinguish among the various Alexei’s who populate the story.
And it’s not uncommon to find oneself reading the same passage over and over and over—although given the beauty of the Russian master’s language, this is hardly a point against the practice.
Which isn’t to say that all reading materials lend themselves well to the combination of toking and text. I’ve assayed contemporary analytic philosophy while under the influence; let me just say that a passage like this: “Reflection on any special discipline can soon lead one to the conclusion that the ideal practitioner of that discipline would see his special subject- matter and his thinking about it in the light of a reflective insight into the intellectual landscape as a whole,” does not get any easier to make sense of when one’s senses are slightly deranged.
On the other hand, as long as you’re not going to understand something, you may as well go whole hog.
Hopefully, therefore, you were stoned reading this.
But if you’re gonna indulge, then at least enhance your academic career with the illustrious combination of marijuana and great literature.
The stereotypical stoner does bong hits and watches cartoons; however, a far more original version of the model can easily involve a well-rolled joint and a classic of, say, Russian literature.
I’ve come to know from experience, for example, that few experiences are more enjoyable than getting reasonably baked and curling up on the couch with Anna Karenina. Tolstoy’s prose, which is already luminous, takes on an added burnish. His imagery and characterizations spring doubly alive and rather than just observing the action, you start to feel as if you’re really in it, curled up—literally—on the couch with the Princess Karenin herself.
Now, granted, one’s ability to recall some of the details may be slightly compromised. Thankfully, my copy of Tolstoy includes a character list so I can flip back and forth to distinguish among the various Alexei’s who populate the story.
And it’s not uncommon to find oneself reading the same passage over and over and over—although given the beauty of the Russian master’s language, this is hardly a point against the practice.
Which isn’t to say that all reading materials lend themselves well to the combination of toking and text. I’ve assayed contemporary analytic philosophy while under the influence; let me just say that a passage like this: “Reflection on any special discipline can soon lead one to the conclusion that the ideal practitioner of that discipline would see his special subject- matter and his thinking about it in the light of a reflective insight into the intellectual landscape as a whole,” does not get any easier to make sense of when one’s senses are slightly deranged.
On the other hand, as long as you’re not going to understand something, you may as well go whole hog.
Hopefully, therefore, you were stoned reading this.
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