Welcome to the second installment in the Vampire Bar series. In respect to your time, articles in this series will be exactly 666 words (just as those in the Gooey’s Cannabis Queries series come in at precisely 420 words each).
Check out “The Vampire Bar,” the first piece in this series. It resulted from a pleasant Sunday afternoon on 6th Street in Austin, Texas while drinking a Shiner beer—with no anticipation of discovering a real vampire bar.
Little did I know how that single yellow Shiner bottle would change my life. And, as a vampire, that’s a very long life. You don’t wanna know.
This story reminds me of the time I toured the Spoetzl Brewery where Shiner is lovingly crafted. You could smell the vampires—and not necessarily friendly ones—in that ancient little Texas town. But that is a story for another time….
The irony of this installment is that it didn’t occur at the vampire bar. In fact, certain humans literally conspired (with herself, but who’s counting?) to prevent said vampire cannabis writer from even reaching his favorite bar.
She was successful. I never saw 6th Street on Saturday evening (as I had planned for nearly a week). Tsk tsk. Hidden agendas are always tripping me up. I must be a young soul.
I could smell her—even though she was 1,768 miles from my comfortable seat in North Austin. Her scent, mixed with a bit of this superlative Jack Herer sativa cross from the Pacific Northwest, had me thinking about the music in the air.
The songs of Pete Townshend, delivered via magical Spotify data packets and shitty service from Time-Warner Cable, wafted through my home office. Only minutes earlier, images of her had appeared on multiple touch screens in my vicinity. Then she evaporated, as if she was only a daydream that rapidly diluted into reality.
“Good heavens, Miss Sakamoto, you’re beautiful!”
Now it was Thomas Dolby and the 1982 classic “She Blinded Me With Science” steaming from my playlist. “Good heavens, Miss Sakamoto, you’re beautiful!” sang Dolby (or whomever he hired for the bit) in that satirical faux mad scientist voice.
My delicate relationship with the very organic muse was like a geeked-out spring romance—only with more purpose and solid business undertones (vampires gotta pay the bills, after all). But the emotional and intellectual tension: One could slice it off and spread it on their toast like cannabutter. Yea, that powerful.
Truth be told, I can barely smell humans. These details will be revealed as time goes on, but don’t believe the Hollywood memes and that whole approach to vampires. It is almost—almost—total crap.
Hollywood’s treatment of vampires has been total crap.
You see, all humans aren’t the same. And that’s not to support some Nazi bullshit that claims we can discriminate based on skin color, socioeconomic background, age, or gender preference. Holy shit, what is this, 1820 and we’re Amish? Please.
However, not all humans are the same. But I believe all are worthy of a fair shake. If they waste it…well, I’m not nature. I’m not karma. I’m not the one who catches up with them and requires payment. Again, not a vampire thing. Most of us are not vigilantes or blatant justice seekers, like some twisted dark Marvel superhero.
This muse, she was different. Her image seared right through my cover story as Arctic Monkeys drove home those gritty, sensual, drum-inspired rock songs.
She knew. How could she know?
Bite into the next episode in the Vampire Bar Series….
All text and photos, unless otherwise noted, Copyright © 2003-2016 Gooey Rabinski. All Rights Reserved.
Gooey Rabinski is a writer, instructional designer, and cannabis satirist who has contributed feature articles to magazines and media outlets such as High Times, The Kind, SKUNK, Cannabis Culture, Whaxy, Heads, Weed World, Green Flower Media, Cannabis Health Journal, Green Thumb, and Treating Yourself.
He is the author of Understanding Medical Marijuana, available on Amazon Kindle.