By Carlos Swan
This week I was in search of an Indica dominate variety, and I found the space nugget of my dreams in Star Trek.
Once the nug jug lid was popped, I find myself imagining a slice of zesty lemon blueberry coffee cake. It's evident that the levels of limonene and myrcene are leading the terpene profile. This helps me explain the tangled feeling of being uplifted in my mind and the loosening of tension in the deepest nooks and crannies of my body. What in the world was this fabulous mess of aromas? Earthy sweetness meets it's counterpart in a floral and citrus mash up. This is what happens when two juggernaut strains bump uglies to create a magical alien spawn.
I would describe the structure of this bud as cake-like. The density is impressive and the layers of trichomes make it hard to distinguish the leaves from other parts. The vine like orange hairs creep from it's core and resemble little feelers to the universe. Don't be surprised if ones wondering eye has a hard time looking away…
This level of cannabis required a water lamp to fully enjoy the ride and "Nice as F*#K" on repeat. I loaded up a fat bowl of the sticky for a pre-podcast smoke session and learned quickly of it's power. The smoke swirled into my lungs gracefully and were filled before I realized what was happening. A familiar heavy tickle formed in the back of my throat. It felt as if someone rung out the tension out in my shoulders and back like a wet rag. A drum beat of energy began to build from within me. It was party time! My co-host and I were sent reeling for a time. Our memories may have been wiped. I giggled as we struggled with setting up the microphones.
We came to an agreement to never smoke before setting up ever again. The euphoria was like a warm blanket. Garage Band looked like some two-bit stranger and it took us three takes to get shit right. Our working memory was faulty, but our hearts were full. After the mule kick that is the first few bong rip of Star Trek, we found a common wave of energy. The pot thoughts were flowing at an incredible rate. My thought patterns were nothing short of "K.C. Jones high on cocaine, driving that train!" or a bent beat poet on a stream of conciseness voyage.
You can find Star Trek at Five Zero Trees, Portland, OR