From the Ennui Files

Naturally, The Ennui Files is actually the name I took for my journal that I kept in the spring of 2007. It later morphed into what I now call my e-zine. Last year, Jose Skinner had us keep a journal to chronicle scenes in our everyday life. Needless to say, I found myself becoming involved with my subjects that I chose. One, a young couple, of which was my favorite. I became so involved with them in my journal, that for a moment, I lost myself inside of them. I wanted to be them. Share their happiness. I now bring you, what I rarely do these days, a glimpse into the mind of chaos.

NOTE: names have been removed:

19 March 2007

Nothing eventful happened. I just spent the week writing and remembering, going through terrible withdrawal.

I wonder what’s gonna happen today. A strange anxiety has been building up. The area looks empty. I want them to come already. Ding. Is that them? I looked and saw nothing.

What would I write if I wrote my manifesto? Who will live by it? What will it be called? Who will read these hieroglyphics of mine? What messages - purpose - would this thin book convey?

Another ding. Elevator stopped. Is it them? I see no one. I hate this torture.

[...]

So disappointment has set in. I don’t think the girl’s gonna make it. I think I’m being avoided. I had a terrible dream that this girl is R****’s little sister. I wonder now, but do recall her talking about moving in with her brother and sister, and I don’t remember R**** ever having another sibling. Sometimes I wonder if I can find out about that little girl so many years ago. If my actions - well, not mine, but I did nothing to stop it - had some sort of emotional effect. If all the times we tortured and scared her left her unable to trust others.

[...]

I saw her outside, writing or reading. I wonder if she was told not to have any contact with me.

20 March 2007

For as long as I can remember, I never once had to celebrate my birthday at school - only once, in Kinder and once in high school, but the odd thing was it was at the beginning and the end of my public school career.

And both involved cake, come to think of it. The first was from my mother who surprised me with a birthday party and the last was provided by an old friend of mine named A*** P****. To me, in those days, she was the object of my desire. No matter how many people she fucked, I wanted nothing more than to be with her. She was….who flashed me. We’d been through hell and back and each time we grew close, she’d pull away. It was a game, I’m assuming, something for her to do. It’s been four years since I last spoke to her. I imagine my image of perfection is somewhere out there with wrinkles and a self-loathing disposition. She brought me cake, a rather large cake, announcing my birthday. I left the cake with Mr. Mauro.

Then there was A**** C******** whose name fit her. A slave to her lord, I believe for A**** it was all an act. I never truly believed she was Christian, but I did like her in a grotesque sort of way. I think I wanted to spoil her. To show the humanistic side of her. The true form of her depravity wrapped in angelic virtue. She gave me what any girl should if they ever want to be accepted into my world–****** ****** ****. I’m addicted to them.

One day I will write about every one I knew and immortalize them for my readers.

[...]

Today she did not look at me any different. She smile, in fact. She smiled.

[...]

…I’m in class and it escapes me why I came. I think it’s because today is when S******** B**** is giving out her story. I’m not sure why I still worry about her, or if I should be at all. I get too attached to people. I should learn how to stop.

30 March 2007

Ennui Prayer. I wonder just how deep this will be.

Hamartia - tragic flaw

16 April 2007

“You cannot be a good writer of serious fiction if you are not depressed.”
–Kurt Vonnegut

24 April 2007

Tired. I can’t think straight. All I have in mind is J****** because of my “Samantha” story. Nothing feels right. I’m tired.

I never thought it would be so hard to write something I experience for two years.

25 April 2007

I stopped thinking.

1 July 2007

Like a dream I couldn’t get out of, she appeared before me like I had hoped. She, of course, was with him, but I’m glad they do things like that. I’m glad he drives her, takes her to baseball games. Slowly, I realized, they are my Henry and June. And I am the Anais Nin of this ordeal. Only, I will not have sex with either of them even if I wanted to. Like June said to Henry, I have become bored with my life so I have taken them up.

12 November 2007

I just saw a man who stopped at a trash can to look in. He stood there as I passed him by, stopping to look as well. The creature looked up at us, eyes pleading to escape. I began to walk away as he asked me to stop and help him with the trash can. I hesitated, but he did it anyway. The animal crawled out and walked away slowly. The man placed the trash can back. As we walked away, I asked, “How do you suppose it got in there?”

He answered that it was looking for food.

“How did it get in?”

“Sometimes,” he answered, “it’s easier to get in but not out.”

5 December 2007

Jyg’s in the mood of no longer dealing with me.

22 December 2007

Something’s wrong with me. Everything I look at is another way to kill myself. The bag on the floor, for instance, seems to be the easiest way to do it. Just to cloak it over my head and lay down seems blissful, but so weak. I refuse to be weak.

29 January 2008

I saw T**** Saturday. She’s now working at Barnes & Noble. She recognized me, looked at me and went back to her red velvet cake.

[...]

I met Adam Zuniga.

5 February 2008

I fall in love with people’s minds. I have fallen in love with several people - infatuation, not raw emotion.

17 March 2008

Returning to a journal after a long pause isn’t any different than talking to an old friend after 5 yrs. I’ve resorted to blogs for the story of my life. I feel that I have fallen victim to the modern technology disease.

After all the years of fighting for Jyg, I have succumbed. I am returning to the place of friend. I am never sure where this path will lead me.

So I’m thinking that with all my friends becoming more and more fixed in their lives - with marriage & children - and now with Jyg leaving me, I need to move on. I’m thinking of joining the Peace Corps.

18 March 2008

What parts of me am I willing to expose? Which parts will I be willingly to give to another? In classical literature, I am told, most poets would give their lover their bowels. Every stinking, putrid organ of their bodies for their love, for their women, for their men. What am I willing to give up for the one that I love - that I will love? I want a woman of strength. Someone who is strong enough to love me. Someone I can be strong enough for. Someone I can spend the rest of my life with.

I want to expose myself to the world, as I have exposed others. Each part of me shall be left shackled. Left tormented. I want to see the world, while helping others. I want to be emotionally available without giving my heart away too soon. But that defeats what I want in life. Is my heart a vital organ I am not willing to give? To expose?

I want to transcend. I want to fill myself to remove the void. To cover the most shameful parts of my body.

[a cross with the word "WISH" written upon the middle, beneath: "I want so much to believe."]

[a heart with thorns upon it, a flame burning upon it. "Tender Being" is written above and below, on slot for each word.]

I am Ennui Prayer.

I am now dawning on the anniversary of being Ennui Prayer. I’m now fleeting in a world of post Poet Demas. I change my alter ego so much, it’s no wonder I’m having an identity crisis.

What now? I applied & tested for telecommunications. The city doesn’t want me, nor does the university. I know it’s because of my lack of license. I want to drive. I need to drive. But I need to get over my stupid fears.

That concludes my journal entries I was willing to share with you. I’m hoping, with time, some of these entries will become a part of The Wastelanders.

Tape Recorded Conversationalist

I’ve been watching the first season of The L Word because I’ve heard so much ranting and ravings about the show, so I thought it’d be good to watch. For a person that seems to be much despised in the lesbian community for his outspokenness and his effeminate behavior, I have to say that I really dig the show. However, as plot line and story movement, I’m assuming the first season falls under that cliché (some day my FireFox will recognize and correctly spell cliché) of all first seasons. The deep rooted relationship falling a part; lies spewing from people of infidelity, etc. etc.

The show’s really good, however (apparently, FireFox doesn’t recognize the combination of show and is, either). The characters are really nice portrayed, and where else do I get to see Eric Mabius playing something other than The Crow or a closeted gay man?
On to another subject.

I’ve been pondering another an earlier entry on Susie Bright. I made a remark on her writing, while only reading a few essays in the past. However, I was young and immature - I probably though Hemingway was a trite writer then, as well, but that has changed. And because I was a firm believer of first impressions, I never bothered with the writing again. I think, however, I’m going to ask a friend of mine if I can borrow the book I bought for her a few Xmases ago.

Now, don’t think I’m giving the writing a second try because I was embarrassed by [someone who may or may not be] Susie Bright leaving a comment on that post. It has very little to do with that. As a comment to hers, I mentioned liking the letter she wrote to New York Magazine and which was then printed in the October 22, 2003 issue (I wish I could link it for you all, alas, my search for it online has failed) - I read this, by the way, not in the magazine but in The Best American Sex Writing 2004.

I wanted to go see Adam today, but the sloth part of me fell over my body, leaving me crippled and in lots of stretching agony. Sadly, instead, I’ve just been around the house feeling sorry for myself, but not really doing that either. I’ve been too lazy to even read, so I resorted to watching television - here’s the shocker, The Girls Next Door was one of the shows! (And it reminded me why I can’t stand the show in the first place.)

“Cannabis Gospel”

The article’s on its fifth draft. It’s almost finished, but I still need to weed out some of the words that made it lengthy. I’ve gone from 2000+ to just under 1300. I need to remove 200 words and then we’ve got the final draft. Hopefully, I didn’t take out anything important. I’m thinking of writing a similar one on Associated Content, but who knows.

The title took a change going from the working title “Vision Quest,” to the more humorist title “Cannabis Gospel.” I seriously don’t want the whole thing to make it sound like I’m promoting it. However, in many ways, I think I am. Not because I’m a stoner, because I haven’t touched cannabis since 2004 and I don’t plan to touch again, but because the world needs this. This country needs this. We need to remove all the clutter of bad emotional thoughts and have a new zeitgeist. No more blind faith. No more evangelicals on TV preaching for money.

Moving on: Nueva Onda Poets’ Society has been reinvented. And while founder Amado doesn’t call it that, those of us who were concocting without him thought it was a great idea. Now that he’s back in the scene, we’re happy.

Last night, however, didn’t turn out quite the way I wished it would. The scene was great, but Jyg wasn’t there. I’m afraid without her there supporting me, then I shouldn’t even bother. I know that’s pretty stupid to think but that’s the way I feel. She’s my balance, my rock. While some of you have religion, I have Jyg.

We were supposed to hold a memorial service to Raul Salinas, but  Amado said he’ll hold another one in actual memorial for him. Which is good because the Chicano Poet needs to to remembered. If not for the world to morn, then for us to.

Which brings me to my other topic. I uncovered an essay I wrote for my South Texas Writers course. I’m thinking of revamping it and posting it on Associated Content as well. I know I should try to do something bigger, but these writings should be free to the public and not kept inside a magazine that’ll cost and arm or a leg, or not in stock at your local bookstore. A printed copy may exist, but it’s doubtful.

However, I know how I want to start it off:

“Somos Chicanos. We are the those shoved in the corner and forgotten. We are the ones whose parents swam across the river, whose land was stolen, who has survived on broken promises.”

I’ll be sure to link it here when I’m done.

“Vision Quest”

I finished the article. I finished it around five. It came out longer than the first incarnation of it, which isn’t good news. Now I have to edit it down a few thousand words to make the proper word count. So much has been taken out of it already that I feat that it’ll suffer a lot of information if I do any more to it.

I suppose I want to continue on with the project. Continue writing it, make it longer than just an article. El Senor said he’ll be doing research on it because I caught his attention. He just likes smoking it because he knows it gets to me. I haven’t touched the stuff since 2004 and I don’t plan to return to it like a baby to his bottle. Not that I was addicted to it, I was a casual user. Now with Adam around, I’d feel like a jerk if I abuse it.

Anyway, I’m wondering if Adam’ll lend me some of his books so I can study up on the whole thing and write pieces. Too bad I won’t get paid for it if I do. Unless I add a little widget on here that you can donate money–but I kid.

I’m going to read “Cannabis Yields and Dosage” by Chris Conrad later on.  I borrowed it from Adam, wel, I think he gave it to me, but I think I can return unless he printed out a new one. The link above leads you to a PDF file of it, free online. Had I known it was free, I wouldn’t have taken his.

Anyway, back to the writing process. I get off topic so badly, I suppose that’s why I write everything down first and then type. This whole blogging thing is bewildering to me. I suppose I could plan out each post, but then I’m not being honest with you.

Writing, process, okay.

I never like doing my own editing, but depending on the editor alone is a freelance no-no. David used to get upset with me when I pulled that shit with The Paper. Old habits die hard, though. I suppose I could always sent it off to Abby in Waco because she’s cool like that, but she has enough on her hands, what with her student’s assignments.

Editing is hard because I can’t choose what is important and what is just poetry. David, by the way, loves the poetry, but if the piece is cluttered with it, the length runs too long and the information suffers. Rewording things is another thing. Writing for mass media normally means to dumb things down. I’m not good with that because then I get carried away. There has to be a time when you’re just insulting your readers, something I don’t like doing.

Take out the poetry, I suppose, but not too much that it reads like a regular newspaper article–we’re cooler than that.

However, the one line I refuse to remove is:

“But marijuana, cannabis, hemp, ganja, pot, weed, wacky tobaccy–call it what you will–has always been around.”

That line stays because it works for me. And it’ll probably work for David because he’ll believe that while I take Adam and Shemshemet seriously, that I don’t really buy into the hype.  And that my friend, is how I sell an article. I get close to my subjects because I want to get in depth with them. I want to understand. That goes against most journalists because of conflict of interest. But I want the people to know my subjects. I’ll follow them around for a few days, talk to them, run through their myspaces; when interviewing them, I let them talk, let them ask questions. The second interview is always about the questions from me, if there needs to be a second interview.

I understand I’m doing this wrong; I’m being an amateur. But in the long run, those who read the pieces will understand the subject. However, this pattern only works when I’m enthused about my topic, rather than something I get because no one else wanted it and, fuck, I need the money.

Anyway, it’s late. I must go.

Falling Down

El Senor doesn’t call. We miss another coffee date, but that’s okay. He has kids and I understand. Instead, I get dress and walk about the house for a moment contemplating my next move. I call Adam Zuniga to tell him about the blog. I mentioned the article had been put up as well. He seemed pleased and that made me happy. I think for the meanwhile, my part is over. I got the accurate information out, something Miss Leatherman failed to do in her article. Now it’s phase two: Editing the article for publication. I must cut it down by a thousand words and revamp it with an angle that will blow Leatherman’s article away. That’s something I always had trouble with, angles.

David said working with a daily would be a lot more meaningful if I wanted to be a serious writer. I do, however, not media writer. I suppose we all have to start somewhere, right? Maybe that’s why I write the blogs now. I suppose in some sense of the idea, writing these everyday, or almost everyday, will help me learn not to be so paranoid when it comes to writing.

I’ve gotten off subject, haven’t I? I was talking about El Senor, not David or writing, though that’s where I’m heading towards anyway. It came to my attention that I’m a Chicano writer. This was brought on by Chicano News when a quote from my first blog made it to their page. It, of course, was taken out of context, though I’m sure they weren’t trying to crucify me. At least I hope they’re not. Here’s the quote:

“I for one have never considered myself a Chicano writer, but a person who happens to fall under the label Chicano by a community and just happens to write.”

Here’s the entire paragraph:

“So I’ve come to the conclusion that Jane isn’t an atheist at all, but merely a joke. I have the irking feeling that she is just the pawn, an invention of Judeo-Christians to promote the belief system. She is not a true atheist, nor does she deserve to use the term to describe herself. It has been to my belief that those who are willing to go as far as to label themselves, unless asked by the general public, that they are so and so, are using the term loosely. I for one have never considered myself a Chicano writer, but a person who happens to fall under the label Chicano by a community and just happens to write. And the only label I have ever called myself is agnostic solely because people refuse to believe there is gray area between those who are devout and those who don’t believe.”

I had already had the pleasure from Friendly Atheist of being posted as a quote in a comment made about 90 Day Jane. It’s not that I’m trying to toot my own horn–what does that mean anyway?–I just ask for permission to be shocked. Before moving here, I only wrote private blogs. Those who read them were just close friends of mine. Now I’m out there in the public with several readers (I go about 83 within a 4 day period) that I don’t even know. Now I worry just how much I can write here before exposing who I am and what my beliefs are.

I’m not ashamed by them, so don’t get me wrong. I have always stood by my word, which is why I’m not ashamed of writing something against The Monitor, the Rio Grande Valley’s guru of news. Actually, they are the stain in the media world. All the rejects from Pan American find themselves in the hands of the Freedom Communications paper, wandering about like thoughtless drones, writing what they see, and getting the facts wrong, as per Miss Leatherman–though, luckily, and happily, she didn’t go to Pan American and pursued higher education. (Notice how I don’t link these things.)

The Monitor makes mistakes, but then again, what paper doesn’t? I shouldn’t be too hard on them, should I? However, they refuse to show anything but what they’re paid to show. Money down here, as I suppose in other places, pushes the paper. What the rich wants The Monitor to publish is what makes it to the front pages. All that money stolen from X School District? Oh that never happened.

Reminds me of William S. Burroughs when he wrote in “Where You Belong,” a selection from The Soft Machine:

“My trouble began when they decide I am executive timber–It starts like this: a big blond driller from Dallas picks me out of the labor pool to be his houseboy in a prefabricated air-conditioned bungalow–He comes on rugged but as soon as we strip down to the ball park over on his stomach kicking white wash and screams out “Fuck the shit out of me!”–I give him a slow pimp screwing and in solid–When this friend comes down from New York the driller says “This is the boy I was telling you about”–And Friend looks me over slow chewing his cigar and says: “What are you doing over there with the apes? Why don’t you come over here with the Board where you belong?” And he slips me a long slimy look. Friend works for the Trak News Agency–”We don’t report the news–We write it.”"

That’s pretty much what The Monitor does–write the news. I’ve had the discussion with El Senor before.

How rude of me. Here I am talking of a friend and I haven’t probably introduced him. El Senor is a man, less than twenty years my senior. A marine, ex-military. He fought in Iraq Part One. Afterward, he decided to deal drugs on the street before finding himself in prison. After he was released he used his military funds to pursue higher education. He’s now working on his thesis. The reason I know him and we speak because we’re both poets/writers from La Frontera, and he was my vice president during my stint as president of Sigma Tau Delta last year. The former before the latter.

Right now we’re in the position of wondering what we’re going to do with ourselves. He has kids and I suffer from depression. Either makes it difficult to leave the valley.

We’re both would-be philosophers, also.

He’s an atheist and I’m agnostic. Most of the times, though, he treats me like an atheist. We talk politics at Moonbeans, sipping on bitter coffee. I’m not an avid drinker. I know nothing of coffee; I drink tea, Earl Grey mostly.

And like most atheists and agnostics, we talk about our beliefs openly. People around us normally add in how they wish they were as free as we are. I often wonder if they mistake us for father and son, I don’t look anywhere near 25, I’ve been told. (I can’t even grow a full set of facial hair, just patches as if puberty only just hit.)

I’ve been wanting to get him to sit and talk with Adam because I think the conversations would be interesting.

Note: The style of my writing is slowing down. The room is now hot. It is at a temperature when air conditioning fails to cool, but not cool enough outside to make it unnecessary. With the heat of my room, my thought process has begun to slow.

Last time we spoke, we had a discussion on the Borderwall. In a few weeks, months, whatever, the wall will make so much noise down here that I’ll never run out of material to write about. Luckily for him, he’ll be in Ohio serving out some time from an incident in his past. Imagine that–a graduate student working on his thesis behind bars.

I’ll try to write more on the subject on a later date. Hopefully, when I do, I can provide a transcript of a conversation with Adam E. Zuniga and El Senor.

The Pre-print rough draft of “Vision Quest”

There is no such thing as an illegal religion. Wasn’t that the sole reason why the early settlers of our country voyaged across the Atlantic—to rid them of religious persecution? Wasn’t it later stated in the Bill of Rights in our national constitution that “Congress shall make no law-respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof?” The right to freedom of religion is also protected by our state’s Bill of Rights, in Article 1, Section 6: “No human authority ought, in any case whatever, to control or interfere with the rights of conscience in matters of religion, and no preference shall ever be given by law to any religious society or mode of worship. But it shall be the duty of Legislature to pass such laws as necessary to protect equally every religious denomination in the peaceable enjoyment of its own mode of public worship.”

But for many, there are exceptions to the rules. These are simply opinions brought on by yellow journalism and propaganda of decades passed. And while those journalists of old have vanished from our sights, their misinformation still lingers in our memory.

We’re told growing up that there is a gateway drug into the world of narcotics. Ask any middle school student what that drug is and the answer will more than likely be Marijuana. Public service announcements such as the Above the Influence campaign have skyrocketed since the popularization of the Showtime program Weeds became a household name.

However, the plant, this weed, this substance of abuse, has been a part of human history and religion even before the settlers came to the New World to escape religious persecution. Cannabis, as it will henceforth be known unless in a quote, has a wide history. Some scholars have even gone as far as noting that it is used in the anointing oil in Exodus 30:22-23. The term stated in most Holy Bibles suggest that it’s calamus, not cannabis; however, in theory, the original Hebrew term was kineboisin which translates to the cannabis plant. Keep in mind that this is also the same anointing oil believed to be used by Jesus as he cured the sick.

There is over 3,000 years of cannabis history used through different religions, including ones that involved the deity known as God. It has also proven to hinder some cancers and tumors when it was once believed to cause them. It has also been used to help the pain of those going through chemotherapy and who have suffered great injuries, and extends as far as curing post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD) and depression.

Now what if someone told you that the use of cannabis may aid you to grow closer to a creator, to heaven?

The Reverend Adam E. Zuniga, Shaman

He isn’t exactly what you expect to see when you think reverend. He’s not wearing any clericals, nor is he gray-haired. Instead, he wears a blazer over a black One T-shirt, faded jeans and orange plastic-looking shoes. Almost everything about Adam Zuniga screams college student, which he is. All but the cane, that is. Being 27 years-old, Adam needs it to support his body as he walks. This last thing is a constant reminder of his past.

Adam is what you would consider an All-American type of guy. He graduated from high school in 1999 and enlisted in the Air Force in 2000.

“I wanted to get out of here,” he says. “My recruiter suggested [that I go into] security forces, which is law enforcement. They’re considered the infantry of the Air Force. So I did that. I enlisted for six years.”

During his stint in the military, Adam was one of the few who guarded Air Force One while President Bush made a speech at Mount Rushmore. Upon hindsight, Adam realizes this may not have been the best moment in his life had he known what the administration was capable of doing throughout their stay in office.

He confesses that he wanted to make a career out of it. His great interest to learn other cultures motivated his decision. However, he was involved in a car accident and two months after his four-year mark, Adam was honorably discharged for medical reasons.

The accident altered his life, leaving him in need of a cane to get around. Suffering from PSTD, chronic pain, bi-lateral tinnitus, osteoarthritis, insomnia, social anxiety, anger management, and chronic pain, Adam’s medicine cabinet was filled with a sea of prescriptions which neither hindered the pain, nor elevated his spirits. He became divorced with the world, having never really being reestablished after the Air Force. Each pill he took was washed down with a swig of alcohol. The pain was never succumbed. He became desperate for a way out after realizing that his problem was now stemming on a pill addiction that had rendered him immune to the very medication meant to help him.

As he was trying to reestablished himself with the world, Adam realized the one thing that helped him with his confidence, his pain and his stress wasn’t something you could get over the counter, at least not in Texas.

“I knew that cannabis did something for me; it helped me. But I had never done any research.”

Adam realized that his world was filled with cannabis users, feeling that he was the only one who was using it for something other than a quick high. “I was the only one who was physically handicapped,” he states. “Later, I found a couple of [friends] suffered from IBS, general anxiety, things that you don’t see physically and cannabis helps that.”

It is his use of cannabis that allows Adam to self-label himself a shaman. And why not? The definition does fit—one who uses herbs and plants, as well as, spiritual abilities to heal the sick.

As Adam grew into realizing this power, long ignored by this country and its officials, that this plant held, he began researching how he could use it legally.

Shemshem—what?!

“This is my research, right here. Everything I know is in here,” Adam says handing over a white binder with a symbol that is all too familiar in websites supporting the Cantheist Code. He explains that it is the Egyptian hieroglyph for the letter H.

“For hemp. That’s the rope. It’s the cordage of the hemp rope.”

With the binder, Adam slides over a list of supporters and statements taken from Marijuana Policy Project and the Drug Policy Forum of Texas, a brief bio of himself from Cannabis Consumers Campaign, and an article from High Times on Roger Christie.

“The accident led me to the ministry [of] Roger,” he says.

Like most people who use cannabis, Adam fell into the trap of dealing and using, or what he calls the black market of cannabis while living in San Marcos after he was put on medical retirement. He was having trouble making ends meet, and the market was mistakenly the answer to his prayers. However, as he realized the circumstances and consequences of the black market, he decided that life in prison wasn’t worth it. That is when he came across an article in High Times on Temple 420.

The temple was founded by Craig X. Rubin who played himself as the Bodhi Sativa’s manager in the Showtime network’s Weeds. This was the key into the world of Christie’s the Hawai’i Cannabis (THC) Ministry. The key difference between Temple 420 and THC Ministry was the fact that Roger Christie stated that no reverend, shaman, minister, or the like, could make any profit off the sacrament, cannabis.

“You are a caregiver, spiritually, and if people that you care for want to give you a donation, then [their] moral choice,” Adam explains.

One cannot ask for a donation in exchange for the cannabis, as a priest does not expect a donation in order to give the Eucharist or wine.

Roger Christie began his adult life much like Adam did, by enlisting into the arm forces. In 1970, Christie was trained by the US Army to be a G2 Intelligence Analyst when he learned the real reason for the country going to war with Vietnam. Afterwards, Christie found it hard to follow orders from higher powers that had deceived not only him, but the entire country. Two years later, he found an ad in the back of Rolling Stones magazine from the Universal Life Church, a recognized religion in the United States. Thinking it was something to have in the long run, Christie sent for his ordainment. Nearly thirty years later, he put his credentials of ministry to work as he was ordain into the Religion of Jesus, a church known for its use of cannabis as sacrament. The same year, he was ordained legally to wed people as a Cannabis Sacrament minister. It was then that he established THC Ministry.

And like Christie, Adam sent off for his credentials of ministry and established the South Texas Chapter of the THC Ministry, known as the Shemshemet Ministry—he pronounces it shim-shim-et.

It’s not what you think, however. In the stigma that has been instill in us through higher authorities, people come to the conclusion that those who smoke “weed” are nothing but lazy dope-fiends looking for a way around the legal system.

“For starters,” says Adam, “I don’t use certain terms because they were born out of propaganda. It’s either herb, sacrament, cannabis.”

It’s the same for members of his ministry.

“That’s part of what shows the legitimate use, the sincerity.”

What Adam states here is that everyone must show that they’re smoking the sacrament for religious purposes, or to hinder their physical/emotional pain. In court cases against those who were caught using the substance, it is called the Andrews test, which stemmed out of the Hawaiian case, State v. Andrews, 65 Haw. 289, 291, 651 P.2d 473, 474 (1982). This states that the religion the defendant is a part of must be a recognized religion; the religion must mention that the substance (in this case, cannabis) must be a part of the religious ritual and not just an option.

Coupled with the 1993 Religious Freedom Restoration Act signed by President Clinton and the Supreme Court case, Gonzalez, Attorney General, et al. v. O Centro Espirita Beneficente Uniao Do Vegetal et al., which recognized the importance of hoasca tea in a religious practice, Adam has a plethora of defense.

The ministry only allows people twenty-one years and older, and does not advocate the use of cannabis as a recreational drug to minors. In fact, the only way a minor can get into the THC Ministry, as per Christie’s rules, is to be completely independent of your parents, or with parental permission.

Changing gods

It’s a constant reminder from Adam Zuniga that he does not ask members to cast aside their religions of choice, but to replace their Eucharist with his. The Shemshemet Ministry fails to be the conventional religion when it comes to what each member believes. Adam, himself, has a wide knowledge of different religions and making a combination to suit his daily needs.

“I don’t want to say I’m Catholic, or Jewish, Buddhist, or Hindu,” he says. “I want to take a piece of them all [and find] what works best for me.”

Create your own creation myth, as Adam explains it, is solely up to each individual. Not only does he preach the use of cannabis as a sacrament, but he suggests that a person let go of his inhibitions, these traditions that shackle us to blind faith. The idea stems from Terence Mckenna who stated that culture and ideology are not your friends, suggesting that people should leave behind the conventional ways of life and move at their own pace, with their own original ideas.

“Just keep in mind what the Dali Lama says, ‘Buddhism isn’t perfect for everyone, but it’s perfect for me,” Adam quotes.

While the THC Ministry and Shemshemet Ministry may work for someone like Adam in a certain way, doesn’t mean that it’ll work for all people in the same way. This leaves the door open for you to decide what works and what doesn’t.

“If it’s so good, then why is it still illegal?”

There is very little information for the true reason why cannabis was made illegal throughout the United States. Most of them can be found on online forums and in books that are independently published because of the facts that are printed within the page. However, words lie. For instance, we all know the popular saying that not everything on the internet is factual. And because of freedom of speech, anything can be published and sold—how many conspiracy theorists have books dealing with 9/11 and the Kennedy assassination?

For the most part, it is believed, and often noted, that one of the reasons why cannabis is illegal is because of racism. When the Jazz culture made an impact on the country, many of the musicians, mostly African-Americans, used the drug.

In a 1934 news editorial stated that “Marihuana influences Negroes to look at white people in the eye, step on white men’s shadows and look at white women twice.”

Even on the Texas Senate floor, it was stated that “All Mexicans are crazy, and [marijuana] is what makes them crazy.”

It slowly became the national norm to shun the plant. Movies like Reefer Madness, now a cult classic, were meant to instill the negative stereotype of those who use the drug. But nothing in the movie held facts. The characters became incoherent, sexual deviants who hit a pedestrian while driving under the influence.

But the name all research turns to is a man named Harry J. Anslinger, who held a position in the Bureau of Narcotics. He was often quoted of cannabis ill intent on people, using racial stereotypes, as well as cultural ones.

“There are 100,000 total marijuana smokers in the US, and most are Negroes, Hispanics, Filipinos, and entertainers. Their Satanic music, jazz and swing, result from their marijuana use. This marijuana causes white women to see sexual relations with Negroes, entertainers, and any others.”

Along with newspaper owner, William Randolf Hearst, Anslinger was able to push a cannabis prohibition throughout the nation.

President Nixon was next in line to finally put a damper on the use of cannabis by appointing 13 members of the National Commission on Marihuana and Drug Abuse Shafer who agreed with his position on the drug. After a long study of the cannabis, they realized that it had some useful aspects. However, this was ignored by the government.

The same thing happened in 1982 when the National Academy of Sciences reissued the fact; this time it was President Reagan who turned a deaf ear.

Adam Zuniga, however, states it all has to do with control. The government knows, or at least should know, that cannabis can be used for a laundry list of things. Natural hemp would put a damper on DuPont’s business.

Decisions to make

“You have to do a lot of soul searching,” Adam states. “Cannabis has shown me that.”

He stresses that his ministry isn’t a conventional religion. One must be willing to accept the responsibility of deciding what is right. If smoking cannabis as sacrament is right for you to gain a connection with a higher power, then practice it. He’s not advocating the use of the plant for recreational purposes—those who do not show the sincerity have no place in the ministry.

“You can’t just say, ‘Oh, I found a church that I could use this stuff and get away with it.’ No, it doesn’t work that way. You have to learn the rhetoric. You have to learn your civil rights. You have to learn your Bill of Rights.”

Adam is completely open about his use of cannabis and his spiritual belief. He understands the vibe he gives others and accepts it. In a place located so close to the border, he has an understanding why people are uneasy. The black market smuggles cannabis, as well as other drugs, illegally thought the Mexican border.

“People can call me what they want and they probably will and probably do,” he says, adjusting in his seat. “[But] I just want to help people realize that it’s just an emotion that can be controlled. That’s all it is. You control yourself and no one else.”

Rev. Adam Zuniga can be contacted at <removed from blog>. For more information on The Hawai’i Cannabis Ministry, visit the website at www.thc-ministry.org.

Shemshemet Ministry & 90 Day Jane

I’ve been doing a lot of research on the Shemshemet Ministry, a South Texas branch of The Hawaii Cannabis Ministry, which was started by Roger Christie. The Shemshemet Ministry was established by Rev. Adam E. Zuniga of Edinburg, TX. It’s a rather interesting piece that I chose, even though The Monitor already beat me to the punch. The difference between mine will be that’ll actually be informational rather than taking Adam out and shooting–not literally, of course.

The piece I’m referring to has spread like wild fire through out Cannabis forums across the internet. I’d link the article, but then that would be giving the writer, whom I have no respect for, more publicity than she needs. You can find it online if you’re really desperate in knowing what she wrote. But the way she wrote it made me feel that she was condescending towards his beliefs and how she seemed to paint him as a delusional person who wants to smoke cannabis (I vowed to do my best never to use the terms marijuana, weed, pot, etc. when referring to his sacrament).

My article, that I’m writing for South Texas Nation will be on him, his ministry, but mainly the legality of the choice. I have more information than I wanted, so I’m thinking of making a short documentary piece on the subject, hopefully with the aid of Rev. Zuniga and those like him. It’ll be short and based in the Valley. I’m hoping to also get a few representatives of along for the ride. I’m think Aaron Pena because he’s from Edinburg and that makes perfect sense to me.

On to another topic. I’ve been contemplating what I wanted this blog to be about. I already have a-what’s-going-on-in-my-life styled blog, two actually, so I didn’t need another one. After reading an article in a writing journal, I decided it’d be best if I had a writer’s blog as well.

So as I contemplated the fate of this blog, I came across 90 Day Jane. I’m not opposed to suicide, though I’d never have the weakness to do it myself. Let’s face the facts, however. I suffer from depression and anxiety, so suicide has been an idea in the back of my head. I don’t think I could do it, and I don’t want to ever believe that I’m weak enough to ever take my life. But the thing is, it’s still there. I know I run the risk of my personal life being exploited on the internet where potential and current employers may read, but it’s a serious condition and I feel I should address it in at least one of these blogs.

However, and I quote from the 90 Day Jane blog, Jane states the following:

This blog is not a cry for help or even to get attention. It’s simply a public record of my last 90 days in existence. I’m not depressed and nothing extremely horrible has lead me to this decision. But, does it really have to? I mean, as an atheist I feel life has no greater purpose. My generation has had no great depression, no great war and our biggest obstacle is beating Halo 3.

I feel great shame about this whole thing. The media whore she’ll most likely is/will be in the future compels me to believe that there is in fact a hidden agenda. I’m not the one who feels this. There are many blogs out there that are saying the same thing. For instance, Friendly Atheist has also commented on the count down blog.

What I find great shame is the fact she noted that she is an atheist and life has no greater purpose. First of all, let’s get the facts straight. I’m an agnostic because if I can’t commit myself to believing in something that I cannot see, touch, hear, etc., then I cannot, by the same logic, deny the existence of a higher being. I cannot touch, see or smell certain gases, but I do have empirical data that they exist. I cannot touch, see or smell the evolution of man, and I still adhere to that theory because of the same reason.

However, to feel because you are an atheist that there is no greater reason to exist, to go on, to live, because of your non belief in a higher being, is just ludicrous. Even Buddhists believe in a similar thought:

“…every one must bear the burden of his own sins, that every man must be the fabricator of his own salvation, that not even a God can do for man what self-help in the form of self-conquest and self-emancipation can accomplish.” (Goddard, A Buddhist Bible, 3-4)

I know Jane isn’t worried about sin, but is focused that if she doesn’t believe in the possibility of a heaven and hell (a reward and a punishment), then life must not have a purpose. Wrong! Life is purpose. You don’t need a higher being to give you purpose. Existentialists have seemingly come out of the woodwork for Jane. Life’s greater purpose is only chosen by the person who is living. If you feel you have no purpose it’s because you have chosen not to have purpose.

Albert Camus wrote:

“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest–whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories–comes afterwards.

“I have never seen anyone die for the ontological argument… On the other hand, I see many people die because they judge that life is not worth living. I see others paradoxically getting killed for the ideas or illusions that give them a reason for living (what is called a reason for living is always an excellent reason for dying).”

What reason does Jane have for dying? For the sole reason that life has no reason. If I could communicate with Jane, I’d ask this one question: If life has no meaning, then why are we here? There must be a reason, otherwise we wouldn’t exist. Each of us has a reason born within. Whether it was given to us by some higher being, or if it was given to us the moment we saw that our destiny was always in our grasp. So there are reasons that we can have for living, we just need to know what it is.

How do we find out? There are many ways. What moves you the most? Does going to work on a day to day basis, clock out, go home and be with yourself or family make you happy? Then there is your reason for living. Your job. Your home. Your family. These are reasons for living. What about your dog? What about your car? The fact that you make someone that loves you smile? Do none of these things give you the will to go on? What about the small voice you make when you write? There has to be something that gives you a reason to go on in this world. And if you feel that you don’t, then there are ways of obtaining a reason. Church, religion, faith, civil service, community service, charity, donations, nonprofit organizations, things that you can actually get out there and make a difference.

And now I come full circle back to Rev. Adam E. Zuniga who told me that we all have a destiny to fulfill. He asked me in an interview, “What is your purpose? Is it to write an article and help people get their message out?”

Up until then, I had always treated article writing, this freelance job that I have because I like having a lot of free time and living poor (not true by the way). I never once, however, thought that my writing was anything more than a duty I had to fulfill in order to get money. Money makes the world go round, doesn’t it?

But what I have learned in the short period that I’ve known Adam is that there is a lot out there for me to do. I just have to take my picking. I can write for a living, that has never not been an option. However, I feel that something has sparked in me that I must push further to finding my place in this world.

I don’t have control over the events that happen in my life, but Adam did say I do have control over myself. And that’s all that matters in this world. If I am able to one day say, “What in the world was I thinking when I thought I could be an actual writer?” I could easily take my degree in English and put it to other uses. We are not stuck in the loop of having to believe in God and not having to believe in God–we actually have the choice in believing other ideas from other countries. Buddhism, Hinduism, etc.

I wonder if Jane has ever thought of that? It should be fairly simple for someone who isn’t crying out for attention or help to notice that life has meaning only when you give it meaning. We should take it by the grasps and just live.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that Jane isn’t an atheist at all, but merely a joke. I have the irking feeling that she is just the pawn, an invention of Judeo-Christians to promote the belief system. She is not a true atheist, nor does she deserve to use the term to describe herself. It has been to my belief that those who are willing to go as far as to label themselves, unless asked by the general public, that they are so and so, are using the term loosely. I for one have never considered myself a Chicano writer, but a person who happens to fall under the label Chicano by a community and just happens to write. And the only label I have ever called myself is agnostic solely because people refuse to believe there is gray area between those who are devout and those who don’t believe.

So is it a ploy? I suppose we’ll never know unless she has the ability to come back after she’s dead.

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Now playing: Manic Street Preachers-Suicide is Painless (theme from MASH)
via FoxyTunes