The Green Grass of SILVER BROWN

Those Little Extras In E-Commerce Packages

I’m currently in the midst of editing a Frankenstein of a passage in SILVER BROWN, stitched together from bits and pieces of chapters from previous drafts. Centered around a Big Reveal. One reminiscent of Neo learning the true nature of the Matrix, with respect to what kind of reaction it provoked in the protagonist. I’m personally not banking on the audience having a similar reaction. Never set out to make this book The Exorcist


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…which by the way is one of the all-time classics. If you haven’t seen this film, then you just don’t know culture.

While writing and rewriting high profundities in two different languages (English and JavaScript), I obtain at least half my needs from this here Internet thingy. At least. In the weeks that have passed since all these lockdowns started, some e-retailers have taken to throwing some much-needed extra love in their packages in the form of free merch. Like this particular publication I received with my usual shipment. A retelling of the first Harry Potter novel in comic book form, with an interesting new angle to it in which Lord Voldemort is reimagined as a police officer…


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The Green Grass of SILVER BROWN

Hail Mary Jane

It’s a bummer that the grand communal smoke-ins that typically characterize this particular date on the Gregorian calendar probably aren’t going to fly this year. I’ve been to quite a few of those in my day, and they were always a riotous good time. Mystical, otherworldly, and festive as all shit. Like a rock concert, or that huge pagan festival I went to in Toronto a number of years ago. We’ll experience that again soon, or something like it. Winter never lasts forever.


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The Green Grass of SILVER BROWN

Her Majesty Is In The House

I typically don’t smoke during the dead of winter. Smoking etiquette of the current day and age mandates going outside prior to lighting up. Or simply opening a window, if it’s not a public place and one can get away with it. I’m reluctant to do such a thing during that time of year when it’s forty below outside and the high winds sting at least as painfully as spider’s venom. It is then when I switch to edibles. Her Majesty spends that time in her winter palace (i.e. in storage), wrapped in her royal bubblewrap for the annual three-month recess of her official duties.


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This is Her Majesty’s first official royal portrait.

Don’t get me wrong, edibles are great. There’s just no ceremony and ritual in their use. Digestion is one of the most mundane biological functions there is. That piece of wacky granola I would typically have on a January morning for my wake n’ bake is merely part of a complete breakfast. But no winter ever lasts forever (remember that, kids) and nothing says “spring has sprung” to me quite like that moment I bring Her Majesty out of storage to spark her up for the first time in three months. The wake n’ bake instantly becomes an occasion again. An occasion I almost forgot it was. One that sees songs of migratory birds returning from down south easily mistaken for chattering monkeys once I completely forget what continent I’m on.


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This is a picture of Her Majesty taken at a friend’s house last summer. She’ll go on another one of her royal tours once the world is no longer in the throes of pestilence and death.