O-O joints turn Spooky Sesh into Smoky Sesh

Living in Miami Beach, Halloween was always a big deal.  Lincoln Road would become an endless river of new, bold, personal expressions that usually bordered on the extreme.  Although the people pressed upon me was a bother by the end of the night, I always approached each Halloween with a childish glee and anticipation; eager to engage the body throbbing bacchanal.  Since I have been here in California, I have been less than impressed with the parties I have attended.  I must admit, for the last couple of years, my Halloween entertainment has mainly centered around going to the Cow Palace for Hempcon. Throwing no particular shade on that event, a truly raucous affair, it is not.   This year I wanted to be more entertained.  I knew It was hardly going to be a orgy for the eyes, but dammit I wanted to have some fun.  

So I was pleasantly surprised the DJ Green B was on the bill for an upcoming fundraiser called Spooky Sesh.  DJ Green Bizzle looks like a suburban staple, but spins some of the most fire Jamaican dancehall tunes in the Bay area. Perhaps that’s why I was a bit more hopeful about  this party.  I have noticed that parties that revolve around smoking rarely have good dance mojo.  I believe the preference toward the wide leaf varieties (Indica) leave most people feeling like a wet blanket.  I was recently buoyed by the scene at the last #SoMiLikeIt Sundays day party.  I remember walking into the bar and following the thick clouds of smoke to the outside patio jam packed with ganja smokers who were dancing with wild abandon.  DJ Green B was the DJ at that party too.  It is no wonder when I enter the gallery that the gallery is bumping; even though I am two floors lower than the actual party.

Clad in a full length chiffon dress and an elaborate Venetian mask, it is only my loyalty to the color purple that gives a hint at who I am. At home I had committed to being a faceless person; even going so far as to drill a hole into the mouth of my mask so that  could smoke without removing my mask.  There was little chance I was hitting the party without the ability to smoke…and in a cute way at that.  In preparation, I had rolled three fat O-Os.  If you have never heard/read about me discuss O-Os, let me bring you up to speed.  I started making them this summer.  I had a lot of flower from last year that had cured very well, but what much more than I could realistically consume if I stuck to normal sized joints.  Therefore I bumped up my joints from 1.5 grams to over 4.5; sometimes getting to almost 9 grams.  These joints are filled with good flower and tons of 45 and 160 micron hashish.  The market will accommodate only  full melt, so I am left with lots of phenomenal, but not quite perfectly dabbable hash.  My O-Os benefit greatly from the public’s loss.  Anyone who has ever taken deep inhales off of one of my creations is generally rendered speechless for a time.  I relish in making and sharing them.

It is with this intention that I climb the stairs to the top floor which opens up to a sizable patio with a raised deck currently serving as a dance floor for about 15 jamming partygoers.  It is a bit stuffy in the main room, where about 100 people mingle, smoke, dab, chit chat, eat and drink; obviously having a good time.  About a third of the people are wearing costumes.  I see my friend Ashley and grabbing her arm, I smile at her surprise.  Never being one to turn down an offer of a good smoke, she happily obliges my request that we start blowing through my Hashish-laden joints, pardon the pun.

As we step outside into the slightly cooler air, we are engulfed with the incessant bass lines pounding relentlessly.  I look up, but the DJ is not DJ Green B, as expected.  Frowning, I look to the back of the DJ booth and and I grin when I see her pale face.  I start to light the O-O and seeing my struggle (the drilled hole was not quite enough), Ashley lights it for me.  Come to think if it, I do not think I have ever allowed that the happen before *control freak*.  Just as the fire catches, she breaks into a little jig and DJ Green B is on the turntables.  Dancing in a circle that includes our friend Zoe, we pass around the large joint pouring out thick, bluish smoke.  When I get my hands on the joint, I can tell it is the Vintner’s Moonshine and Cherry X combination to which I had added about one gram of 160 micron Sour Power Hashish (Sour Diesel, Sour Tangie, and Holy Headband flowers all washed together).  Taking deep pulls I taste berries and wintergreen flavors finished with a distinctly citrus twang.  The volume is large, but with practice I can handle it and I delight in feeling the smoke tickle on its way down, before rumbling up and out of me powerfully.  I hardly ever cough, but something about that puff brings tears to my eyes.  Perhaps it is the fact that the flower has yet to be properly cured.  Sure the weed will definitely get me high, but the best enjoyment of the flower is definitely yet to come.  Nevertheless, I am happy grooving to the beats. Listening to her sets, I can imagine being in the gully instead of high off of Telegraph Avenue in a gallery just foo foo shi shi enough to affirm gentrification is going strong in the area.  This woman knows how to keep the crowd alive.  I love it.  After a full 20 more minutes, we finally finish the joint and make our way into the more sedate scene inside.  Now we will people watch until it is time to leave.

The rest of the night is fairly mundane, petering out at the 10 closing time.  Ashley drops me home and I am happy from a night well spent. Until the next Halloween!