The problem with MERRY JANE is that I can’t “outcrazy” them.
About a month ago, I pitched an idea that I could survive on only the meal-replacement drink Soylent and dabs for 30 days. The idea was so ridiculous that I thought a team of MJ lawyers would guffaw at the concept and immediately reject it.
MERRY JANE called my bluff. Now here I am, a full week into not using my jaw muscles to consume any food—and absolutely stoned out of my mind. The kind of stoned that makes you question if you’re from a different dimension, but trapped in this current one. We’ve all been there, but let me tell you how I got here. Specifically, let me tell you about Soylent.
The Soylent that I’m consuming for this experiment is “Soylent 2.0,” a bottle of vegan-derived chemicals that make up 20 percent of all daily nutrition a human being requires—so I’m restricted to only five bottles a day. It’s spaceship food, but on paper it has everything needed to sustain human life indefinitely. Soylent is painfully bland, and it has the texture of Pepto Bismol, so the only flavor that I get is through the terpenes in cannabis extracts. Vader Extracts, Dank Tank, and Caviar Gold were generous enough to keep me supplied with a stock of some of the finest concentrates the industry has to offer. After every bottle of Soylent, I follow it up with a roaring dab—then repeat the process every day, all day, for 30 days.
This moronic and unscientific experience is now my life, and if you’re reading this, please—I urge you—DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.
Four ominous boxes labeled “Soylent 2.0” have been sitting in my room for days now. In preparation for this numbskull stunt, I’ve spent the past few days stuffing my face with everything unhealthy I can find. In reality I should have started the experiment days ago, but the thought of not eating anything for the next 30 days is entirely too daunting. I woke up early today to get some vitals before starting this Soylent and dab lifestyle. My weight: 238 lbs. I definitely stacked a few pounds slamming food into my face. The only thing that really stood out was my systolic and diastolic blood pressure, registering as stage 1 hypertension. It’s been a problem my entire life, but it definitely doesn’t help if you’re sweating bullets at the thought of removing food from your life for a month.
At the start of this experiment I stopped by the headquarters of Toke With, an app that’s Periscope for potheads, to let my buds know just what I was getting into. I also linked up with Bishop from Caviar Gold and he stocked me up with an enormous amount of Amber Fire, the company’s Pure CO2 Hash Oil. It was enough to dab my mind into the next dimension—and by that night I’m pretty certain that I did. Five Soylents down and I’m having absolutely no problems with this. It’s a piece of (exceedingly bland) cake.
Woke up early today. My friend from Singapore called and insisted that by the end of this experiment I’ll be lactating due to the heavy amounts of soy I’m ingesting, which has a link to increasing estrogen in men. I’ve already passed “Go,” so there’s no turning back now—man boobs or no man boobs.
Today I visited the Dank Tank office to pick up some cannabis supplies for our shoot of Episode 4 of Super High Score, a MERRY JANE show that you really need to check out. After an enormous amount of dabs in their office, they read off some passages from Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power as encouragement. Those Dank Tank guys, so damn positive—and stoned.
Looking towards the days left in this experiment is a surefire way to lose all grip on my sanity. The reality of drinking a thick, chalky, flavorless drink for the next 27 days is starting to sink in. The more I think about it, the more I want to bury my head in a pillow and go to sleep. Fortunately I have enough hash oil to dab my problems away. Aside from getting you incredibly stoned, the Amber Fire comes in strawberry, vanilla, raspberry, grape, apple—and the sweet lingering aftertaste is the only flavor that I’m experiencing. After each dab, I savor it, sometimes even licking my lips like some hipster sommelier.
In order to get the most flavor from extracts, low-temperature dabbing is a must. In short, the trick is to get the banger to a glowing orange state, and then carefully wait for it to cool before applying your wax. I thought I was doing it right, but a guy named @outkast420 instructed me to wait 1 minute 20 seconds for the banger to cool before I dropped my extract. He was incredibly right, and since then it feels like my lungs have been kissing the goddess of globs.
Today we’re shooting Episode 4 of Super High Score, “Stoned Politics,” which—fingers crossed—will go incredibly well.
Had a late start today. Not sure if this was on purpose or just a result of being drained from the shoot we had last night. Toward the end of Day 3, I could feel my body starting to collapse. The bright lights, the constant shooting, re-shooting, organizing of the production crew, all the while downing bottles of Soylent to stay alive—it takes a toll on the body. I’ve already lost 4 lbs. My thoughts are getting really lucid, almost spread apart—maybe even spread too thin. The brain is undoubtedly going through a transformation, but I’m not sure what it’s transforming into. I’ll find out soon enough.
It’s pretty extraordinary the amount of time humans spend preparing food, cooking food, waiting for food to be delivered, driving to get food. Once all those tasks are removed from a person’s day, one would be surprised by and almost bored with the sudden influx of time in their life. After dabbing and a bottle of Soylent, I found myself cleaning my room, starting with the top of my doorframe and systematically working my way around my place. I went through an entire pack of paper towels today—all surface area has been accounted for with a hearty dose of Clorox. My place smells like ground zero for a lemon nuclear detonation.
While I was cleaning, I noticed that I developed somewhat of a fascination with organizing objects into groups. Sometimes I would organize groups further into smaller groups. It’s bordering on OCD, but maybe I was just a messy human being living in a filthy environment that needed to be immediately cleansed. It’s probably the latter.
Soylent has made me an emotionless person. My existence on this planet is now only task-oriented. I’ve been keeping a running list of things that I have to do during the day, and my entire day is consumed with completing everything on the list. That’s it.
My theory is that Soylent is such a synthetic substance, and thus my actions have become very formulaic and methodical. You are what you eat, and what I’ve been “eating” is machine food—food designed only to keep the human machine working. My behavior is now following the same machine-like efficiency. Combined with the very artificial nature of extracts and the scientific application of it through a syringe on a piece of glass heated through a glorified Bunsen burner, I’ve basically removed all that it means to be human. I am the most authentic embodiment of a science experiment.
By now there is no doubt that I’ve developed obsessive-compulsive disorder. This morning I woke up and immediately organized my butane cans based on which one had the highest estimated amount inside to the lowest. All of my empty Soylent bottles are equally distributed on my shelf with the labels facing inside. My dab technique has now turned into a ritual with very defined rules that must be abided—otherwise I would have to start it all over again.
Enjoying my life is irrelevant at this point. Fun, cheerfulness—those are all esoteric concepts based on subjectivity. I don’t operate in that world anymore. The memories are there but now I am science, and that’s all that dictates my actions. Today marks an entire week of this. Calling this a struggle is pointless, because I have no other option but to continue to push on. I’m far too deep into this experiment to back down now—and whatever happens from this point will happen. There’s no stopping this.
Check back next week for Days 8–14 of Zeus’ Soylent x dabs experiment!