A meditation:
You never considered that there might be an origami aspect to rolling a joint, a frustrating and covertly dehumanizing feeling that creeps in when you’re un-sticking a Zig-Zag for the 70 billionth time: Is this supposed to be so hard? Putting some weed in some paper? You had not accounted for the gluey mess that splits open like a wet paper grocery bag, the hard stare of the greedy would-be smokers, the passage of time marked by the slow, dialogue-heavy movie droning in the background. …
Some people knit sweaters for their loved ones. Joint-rolling is my contribution. And not all rolls are created equal. As with any task that can be converted into a bragging right, there is more than one approach to skinning this particular cat. Even for those of us who perform this waltz with two left hands, rolling joints should be a joy—you’re smoking drugs! The most important thing is that you feel—stupidly, perhaps, but stupid is still valid—proud of what you’ve created.
The Dish 