I am Edgar Phillipe.
In the process of my travels to Earth, I developed an obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study, and I took a huge interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet it is called kibō. And now that I am here, on Earth, and have traveled around extensively, I can share some of the things that I have learned about your planet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner.
Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that one of my previous journals might not be valid anymore for the “where”. Be that as it may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.
There have been a few times in my life that I have been the Eager, Meager Man. When I lived in Spain was another time that it happened.
But first, it be best to tell you, my eager readers— I say “readers” because since I have started my “Where to Buy…” writings my readership has bumped up substantially, and for that, I say, “Thank you.” Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that one of my previous journals might not be valid anymore for the “where”. Being as that may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.
Now, on to more important information—if you’re in Barcelona during the day it is rough to find your kibō. If you go out at night it is much easier as club goers everywhere dip out from the booming music on the cobblestone streets in back alleys of Las Ramblas to smoke in giddy pleasure. I’ve been handed half joints, tokes, and struck up conversations that ended up with “I know a guy” more than once. Now, if you want to find your elevation during the day, my suggestion would be to head out of town.
If you take the train North, along the coast for about 40 minutes there’s a small town called Matara. Beautiful scenery, quiet, parks everywhere, and beautiful beaches, but my particularly favorite spot is one called Plaça de les Tereses, or Tereses Square. All you have to do is look for any Moroccan people that are wondering around. Park yourself there with a baguette and a beer, use your eyes, and wait, which now brings me to my second Eager, Meager Man story.
When I was living in Spain I was working in the film industry. Now, I’ve spent most of my life trying to get shit out of my nose, not put shit up it, which is a favorite hobby for people that work in the film industry in Barcelona. Everyone running around like humming birds muttering in unintelligible, sporadic Catalan gibberish that people who understand the language are barely listening to because they’re jacked up on enough co-ca-eena that it would make Pablo Escobar proud. So on a day of frustration with a bunch of people that couldn’t make decisions if their lives depended on it, I set out on my own, barely able to speak Spanish to Plaça de les Tereses in the hopes of scoring, which I always did. On this particular day, I parked myself at a bench and watched a group of Arabic speaking Moroccan teens kicking a soccer ball around the dirt tan areas around the park. I wasn’t sure if they were who I was looking for, but I had a book in my bag, opened it up after I had parked myself, and watched them out of the corner of my eye.
Now, I’ve forgotten to mention that finding kibō in Barcelona and around is incredibly difficult because most park dealers carry “clippers” with shaved heads, “hash” on your planet. So after I watched a mother leave her daughter’s stroller 50 meters back in the middle of the path to buy from these teens, conspicuous as hell, I immediately, as the Eager, Meager Man I was, jumped up from my bench in a B-line towards these kids. As soon as I said “hash” out loud all of them started singing Vous les vous coucher avec moi, ce soir out loud, their code for stop-what-you’re-fucking-doing-cuz- we’ve-got-a-narc-in-front-of-us signal. It scared the shit out of me, to be honest, but I was so eager that they just assumed that I was the fuzz. But as all businessmen go, it didn’t hinder him from reaching in a Marlborough box and pulling out ten grams of hash that I bought for about 200 Euros. A bit high, but again, I was the Eager, Meager Man.
I bought a few more times there alone, without my Spanish counterpart, Mr. 17, with me. Another time I got a block of it that was so huge, I had no idea how the fuck I was going to smoke it all. I think I bought it for about 350 Euros. It was as long, as wide, and as thick as a wrapped bundle of $10,000 in $100 notes. Thank god, on my bus trip to Amsterdam shortly after, I had only cut off a smidgeon of it to hide in the traveling coffee bag, otherwise I would’ve cried when the undercover flashed me his badge at the bus station and wanted to search me, which he would’ve too had I not played the dumb tourist trying to speak Spanish, of which made him look particularly foolish since he didn’t speak any English. Sucked for the Moroccan lady, whose shampoo bottle was stirred around with a metal pointer 5 minutes before, the same time I decided to throw my coffee bag in the bin. Always keep your eyes open and be aware, especially when you’re stoned and carrying, no matter where you are, who you’re with, or even when you are told it’s “safe”. Says the dumbass, Eager, Meager Man.
The other time in Spain I was the Eager, Meager Man, I got taken for 50 Euro when I stupidly gave a different group of teens money to go and get it. I deserved to get taken for dumb shit like that. Don’t ever give someone money to “go and get it.” Always do the deal right then and there, and don’t ever be the Eager, Meager Man. That’s reserved for part-time idiots like myself.