Fort Stoners
The latest messages from the fort writing project intrigued me. There were tiny bursts of personal philosophy, inspirational quotes, lettering from children learning to write, and more exhortations on the wonders and importance of cannabis, such as as, “Dank memes are fuckin life.”
Oh the dankness of it all. I laughed heartily when I read this message. Hell yes to the heavens of dank memes in the Age of Trump.
And I don’t even partake.
It has occurred to me that the liveliest messages in the ongoing driftwood fort writing project probably emanate from stoners. Doesn’t that seem like a contradiction? Perhaps not. The beer and Fireball drinkers aren’t venturing into the forts and opening the containers. The stoners are. The stoners are curious, settling inside my constructions, and obviously blazing away while the ocean rolls in the background. They’ve even left behind some nugs as a thank you. No one’s left behind a pint of Crown Royal.
Some general observations on the hundreds of fort messages I’ve read the last decade or so:
There hasn’t been a single reference to God or Christianity.
More women than men leave a message.
Half are signed.
About 10 percent contain grammatical errors.
About 10 percent contain profanity (in an exuberant positive style, not negative)
About 10 percent are poems or haikus.
About 20 percent include some kind of overt or cryptic reference to cannabis.
None have ever mentioned politics.
The ones at For Stevens often complain about vehicles on the beach.
None has ever been written in a foreign language.
No one has left a business card behind.
One message left behind was from a prominent newspaper columnist from Seattle.
About half thank the fort builder.
A few have demonstrated the writer is suffering great personal distress.
People like to punctuate their messages with hand drawn emoticons..
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