I know some people really care about this topic. I know some of you are really concerned about cannabis and psilocybin—but honestly, there’s no need to overreact. This isn’t some delayed teenage rebellion. After I was discharged from the hospital in 2020, I had constant headaches. At the time, cannabis was pretty much the only effective solution available.
By 2019, California’s legal cannabis industry was already booming—gummies delivered to your door, THC oil pens, flower, slim pre-rolls, thick blunts, rolling papers with or without crystals… I used to buy random stuff without really knowing what I was getting. To this day, I still can’t remember which product was which.
Recently, my dad’s been staying with me. After a week of me smoking, he finally asked if it was “lady cigarettes”—why no smell? I said, “Something like that. It’s better than regular cigarettes and not addictive.” That wasn’t a lie. Fewer than 10% of users develop dependency, so technically, it’s not considered an addictive substance. Later, I found out my dad had secretly taken a photo of the packaging on his phone—he probably already looked it up. So to be less obvious (even though there are only three of us at home), I switched to edibles this week—and discovered a brand I actually really like.
The delivery service I used has shut down. But there’s a nice lounge just five minutes from my place called Urbana (I hate the name—it shares a name with a place where I ran into an ex. But anyway, shout-out to the neighborhood: https://urbananow.com/urbana-weed-dispensary-oakland/menu/featured). Since it’s so close—literally right on the BART line—I’ve been going often. Weekends are a bit crowded, people drinking and chatting casually. The shop reportedly has a bulldog that belongs to one of the staff and sometimes hangs out with guests. I’ve only ever seen her bed so far—still waiting to meet her.
The staff are all super sweet, a bit shy even. One bearded guy said I could come by in the afternoon to sit and write, and he’d lend me one of the store’s powerful vaporizers (Storz & Bickel Mighty+: https://www.gearpatrol.com/home/best-weed-vaporizers). When he pulled it out, I was a little startled—it looked like a machine gun. Can’t wait to try it.
Last weekend, I went by myself to a shop called Zide Door: Church of Entheogenic Plants (https://zidedoor.com/) and picked up some mushrooms. I hadn’t bought from a shop before—back in Chicago, I used to get them through a dealer a friend introduced. He was a sunny Filipino guy, kind of handsome, but honestly the quality was mid, so I never went back.
I know mushrooms have been decriminalized in San Francisco. That means you can’t be arrested for possession or personal use of psilocybin, but it’s not legal, so there’s no tax. I actually like this in-between state—not taxed, but still semi-regulated.
I pretended to be a member of the “church” and got a one-month membership card. After passing a security check guarded by two heavily armed dudes in a surveillance-monitor-filled entry room, I had to sign a waiver saying I wouldn’t take photos or videos and wouldn’t testify in any legal disputes (note: just writing about it doesn’t count as breaking the agreement, I think… if it’s a problem I’ll delete this. Want pics? I can post product photos, just not of the store).
Inside, a surfer-boy-looking guy in his early twenties seemed in a good mood. I quickly decided on a chocolate bar he recommended, and an eighth each of two different types of mushrooms (wanted to compare). My partner brought what we thought was more than enough cash—turned out I used it all.
The staff guy asked what we were planning for the weekend—I didn’t realize he was asking about how we planned to use the mushrooms. I said, “The weekend? There’s a museum with free admission, we’re planning to check it out.” I didn’t say it was the Museum of the African Diaspora; I’d just met you, I don’t need to tell you exactly where, right? He said DeYoung is nice. I thought, “Other than special exhibits, DeYoung isn’t that great.” I figured he meant the space, the building, or maybe just the location near Golden Gate Park. Honestly, I take Moira there whenever I get the chance.
Only after we paid and were leaving did I realize what he meant. I mentally added, “I’m just going to go home, read, and nibble on it.” Thank god I didn’t say that out loud—what if he asked me what book I was reading? I wouldn’t have answered. The conversation had already gone on too long. I just wanted a clean transaction. My partner, though, said, “He’s nice. If we come back a few more times, maybe we’ll be friends?” I looked back at him—are we really doing this cliché, becoming friends with the dealer?
But then again, come to think of it—every single person I’ve met so far, every shop, has probably been the kindest batch of strangers I’ve ever come across. Like… genuinely. Better than some of those suited-up, self-righteous finance bros downtown. Or those “I’m God’s chosen one” tech bros who don’t even do their own laundry or know how to make a proper drink (no shade—okay, maybe a little).
Since neither my dad nor my psychiatrist said anything (chart note: cannabis use: uncomplicated**), you don’t need to say anything either. I get it—but I’m not changing. (lol) If you’re really curious, check out this Netflix documentary: https://www.netflix.com/title/80229847. It talks about the historical reasons behind the strict control of these substances, and their potential value in treating mental illness. What we need isn’t more stigma, but more open research, alongside proper regulation and oversight.
