I had really been excited to read this for a few years, but it was pretty disappointing. It truly just felt like an opportunity for a substance abuse-stricken man to oddly flex on parts of his life he probably thinks are worth being featured in a movie. The final full chapter of the book was really the only one worth reading, as it actually provided interesting insight into a subculture the author reported on. Hoping for so many reasons that parts of this book were exaggerated.
Chris Simunek, professor de inglês de uma escola pública em Nova York, encontrava-se em um beco sem saída. Sem perspectivas de realização e tendo que ouvir a lenga-lenga de docentes mais velhos na sala dos professores, ele vê em um pedaço de bosta que entope a privada uma resposta final. Larga a carreira de professor e resolve não fazer nada por enquanto.
Nesta acaba encontrando com um amigo que o chama para trabalhar na High Times. Sua primeira missão como "editor de cultivo": visitar uma fazenda de maconha no sul dos EUA. Daí para frente seguem viagens à Jamaica e ao festival de motoqueiros Sturgis, uma cobertura frustrada da turnê revival do Sex Pistols e uma hilária visita aos maconheiros anônimos.
Seguindo a linha do gonzo journalism, Simunek narra as coisas enquanto as pinta com os tons mais sarcásticos. O humor permeia toda sua narrativa e nada está livre de zoação. No lugar de um Hunter S Thompson em sua destruição invencível, Simunek é um vagabundo muito sortudo acompanhado por um ex-colega de colégio nerd.
Trata-se do livro que me fez mudar para o jornalismo. Não pela vadiagem (acredito que é possível ser vagal em qualquer emprego), mas pelo desapego completo a qualquer traço de seriedade.
This book took a deep look at the culture behind smoking weed and also provides a deeper analysis of life itself. The author found himself in a time when life wasn't quite going his way and reliance on drugs and alcohol, even when he got sick of it, was the prevalent thing in his life besides his journalism career writing for the High Times.
There are laughs and sorrows, "high" times and low times, and there are friends and enemies. Simunek provides us a beautiful look at the search we all go through for a paradise of some sort, reminding us that sometimes it is much closer than it seems.
What I love about the book's conclusion is that...he never actually comes to a solid conclusion. Much like life itself and much like a stoner's brain, there really is no conclusion. It is a reminder that we are here, on this planet together, and in spite of our differences, we might as well laugh together and enjoy our time here.
The closest he comes to a complete conclusion on life is summed up in two words, ironically a saying John Lennon was also famous for saying: "Fuck it."
I found this on Rob's bookshelf. It's writen by a reporter from High Times about, well, duh. It's only ok. The narrator is kind of annoying. I am still reading it, though, and will probably finish it.
Not bad for a book about drugs, i usually get bored by this sort of stuff, tried to read mr. mice and just wasn't interested in drug industry culture, but this is more of a journalists account.