A writer on a budget, often shoestring light, I've worked from one coast to the other often learning to experience for myself what I would write about or, failing that, put myself within close enough proximity to those experiences or in the company of those that have been there and done that.
Passing through Ohio once again led to a chance invitation to a meeting with local marijuana-growing legend Stony Greenfield during a party at his place. Not a partaker, more a drinker, the cloud in the room nearly knocked me giddy if that says enough about his Green Thumb. It soon became apparent that between his personality and tales of his adventures there were stories that needed to be shared. Surprisingly, he managed to keep a loose, poorly written, badly-spelled record in wire-bound notebooks that he let me borrow long enough to edit and rewrite in a misadventure that reads like something like a tale of Nation Lampoon meets High Times meets Cops for those that may enjoy them.