Do you want to smoke out of the zong?

I don't care, Mr. Ferret, I don't care.

I am in Salem, and the time since Jeff died has felt like...a strange kind of fluid which is not at all fluid, a goo perhaps, a viscous liquid in which I am trapped, like sap that has no control over the outside temperature, a potential to be tapped like maple syrup or frozen into amber which mosquitoes may be drilled into for dinosaur DNA.

No, I have not smoked from a zong, or a joint, or any other mediums for illegal pleasure. I am, however, eager to chronicle my California road trips (I have been on two) and will do that soon, perhaps tonight. In the meantime, I have business to attend to.