1537 Pearl St
Music is my photo album. Every time i drive by the Chief Hosa exit, I think about the first time I saw Widespread Panic at Red Rocks in 2001 and all of the craziness associated with that weekend. I often have to explain myself because I hear something I really like and will comment on it like it is a flavor of food or some alluring scent. I attach words to beats and use lyrics to figure out riddles. I really, really listen to music. When I saw Magic Johnson on the shelf, I was taken back to the 80’s. I did not have any real attachment to California at that time and really loathed basketball. I could care less about the Showtime Lakers.
In 1989, I was in the 8th grade and at the first secular milestone of my life. High school was coming up and my little group of friends/terrorists was soon to diverge. One day that year, I went over to a friends’ house to do what 13-year-old boys do. I got a bowl cut for the first time. It was a big deal for me because I never let anyone not named “mom” cut my hair before. Trust was a big deal for me. First of all, I was sure that my mom was going to be pissed at me for not asking permission. It is kind of like getting a tattoo of the word “mom” inside a red heart: it sounded good at the time, but mom definitely did NOT approve. The other big issue was that I didn’t trust people much, and I was sure my friend was going to shave a penis in my head or something stupid like that.
But he didn’t. Instead, he gave me the same haircut as his cool, older brother who was the captain of the high school soccer team. It was also the first time I heard “Mother’s Milk” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. These skate-punk guys who ran around on stage wearing nothing but sausage-warming socks were a vast departure from the glam-rock that gave us more frills than a medieval French court. And their music was electric.
For me, this herb was more a tribute to their song Magic Johnson than the player that the song immortalized. I could barely pay attention to the budtender because Anthony Keidis was screaming in my head so crazy loud and crazy fast. I just wanted to get a mosh pit going. It didn’t matter what she said, I was buying the Magic Johnson.
Like the Bubba Kush, it was a smooth-hitting smoke. It was also complimentary to the Bubba Kush in many ways. The buds were nice and big and intact. It was a sativa to the Bubba Kush’s indica. The Magic Johnson tasted sweet and flowery. There was a noticeable alertness that I felt with this herb. This Magic Johnson was both stoney and speedy. All-in-all, it is a great way to enjoy a day.