Tag Archives: indiana

Holy smoke! Church of Cannabis opens its first place of worship


Holy smoke! Church of Cannabis opens its first place of worship

Holy smoke! Church of Cannabis opens its first place of worship

Bill Levin is the Church of Cannabis’s ‘Minister of Love’ (Picture: Church of Cannabis)

The Church of Cannabis is about to open its first place of worship, says its self-appointed ‘Minister of Love’.

Crazy-haired Bill Levin exploited religious freedom laws in the U.S. to set up the church – where weed is a ‘sacrament’.

Another of Levin’s 12 Commandments reads, succinctly, ‘Don’t be an asshole.’

The church will hold 150 to 200 worshippers, and also has a meeting room which will be used for Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous meetings.

INDIANAPOLIS -- The First Church of Cannabis has found a joint it can call its own. Church founder Bill Levin said he has bought a church building at 3400 S. Rural St. and will announce the move at 11 a.m. Wednesday at the site.

(Picture Google Street View)

‘It is small and humble facility with love through out every brick,’ he wrote on his Facebook page.’ We are HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY!’

‘Minister of Love’ Bill Levin spawned the idea after a ‘religious freedom’ law was passed in Indiana, US.

Levin took advantage of the new law and claims that if his church is blocked by anti-drug laws it would defy his religious freedom.



Letter from Neal Cassady to Jack Kerouac

Monday, February 13, 2006 6:59:39 AM

(March 7, 1947) Dear Jack:,I am sitting in a bar on Market St. I’m drunk, well, not quite, but I soon will be. I am here for 2 reasons; I must wait 5 hours for the bus to Denver & lastly but, most importantly, I’m here (drinking) because, of course, because of a woman & what a woman! To be chronological about it:

I was sitting on the bus when it took on more passengers at Indianapolis, Indiana — a perfectly proportioned beautiful, intellectual, passionate, personification of Venus De Milo asked me if the seat beside me was taken!!! I gulped, (I’m drunk) gargled & stammered NO! (Paradox of expression, after all, how can one stammer No!!?) She sat — I sweated — She started to speak, I knew it would be generalities, so to tempt her I remained silent.

She (her name Patricia) got on the bus at 8 PM (Dark!) I didn’t speak until 10 PM — in the intervening 2 hours I not only of course, determined to make her, but, how to DO IT.

I naturally can’t quote the conversation verbally, however, I shall attempt to give you the gist of it from 10 PM to 2 AM.

Without the slightest preliminaries of objective remarks (what’s your name? where are you going? etc.) I plunged into a completely knowing, completely subjective, personal & so to speak “penetrating her core” way of speech; to be shorter (since I’m getting unable to write) by 2 AM I had her swearing eternal love, complete subjectivity to me & immediate satisfaction. I, anticipating even more pleasure, wouldn’t allow her to blow me on the bus, instead we played, as they say, with each other.

Knowing her supremely perfect being was completely mine (when I’m more coherent, I’ll tell you her complete history & psychological reason for loving me) I could concieve of no obstacle to my satisfaction, well “the best laid plans of mice & men go astray” and my nemesis was her sister, the bitch.

Pat had told me her reason for going to St. Louis was to see her sister; she had wired her to meet her at the depot. So, to get rid of the sister, we peeked around the depot when we arrived at St. Louis at 4 AM to see if she (her sister) was present. If not, Pat would claim her suitcase, change clothes in the rest room & she and I proceed to a hotel room for a night (years?) of perfect bliss. The sister was not in sight, so She (not the capital) claimed her bag & retired to the toilet to change —- long dash —-

This next paragraph must, of necessity, be written completely objectively —

Edith (her sister) & Patricia (my love) walked out of the pisshouse hand in hand (I shan’t describe my emotions). It seems Edith (bah) arrived at the bus depot early & while waiting for Patricia, feeling sleepy, retired to the head to sleep on a sofa. That’s why Pat & I didn’t see her.

My desperate efforts to free Pat from Edith failed, even Pat’s terror & slave-like feeling toward her rebelled enough to state she must see “someone” & would meet Edith later, all failed. Edith was wise; she saw what was happening between Pat & I.

Well, to summarize: Pat & I stood in the depot (in plain sight of the sister) & pushing up to one another, vowed to never love again & then I took the bus to Kansas City & Pat went home, meekly, with her dominating sister. Alas, alas —-

In complete (try & share my feeling) dejection, I sat, as the bus progressed toward Kansas City. At Columbia, Mo. a young (19) completely passive (my meat) virgin got on & shared my seat … In my dejection over losing Pat, the perfect, I decided to sit on the bus (behind the driver) in broad daylight & seduce her, from 10:30 AM to 2:30 PM I talked. When I was done, she (confused, her entire life upset, metaphysically amazed at me, passionate in her immaturity) called her folks in Kansas City, & went with me to a park (it was just getting dark) & I banged her; I screwed as never before; all my pent up emotion finding release in this young virgin (& she was) who is, by the way, a school teacher! Imagine, she’s had 2 years of Mo. St. Teacher’s College & now teaches Jr. High School. (I’m beyond thinking straightly).

I’m going to stop writing. Oh, yes, to free myself for a moment from my emotions, you must read ‘Dead Souls’ parts of it (in which Gogol shows his insight) are quite like you.

I’ll elaborate further later (probably?) but at the moment I’m drunk and happy (after all, I’m free of Patricia already, due to the young virgin. I have no name for her. At the happy note of Les Young’s ‘jumping at Mesners’ (which I’m hearing) I close till later.






that week in Indiana

a 16 hour drive
Indiana bound
the road before
me wound here
and there as I
drove the day
the night filled
with anticipation
and lust for the
farmer and his
chickens cows
and an old brown
dog I was as free
as the wind
following the map
to the small town
that led me to him
that early dawn
and he was there
by the side of his
house in his army
fatigues and his
long brown hair
with a red bandana
oh god was he as
true to his photo
even better
and I did what
farmers daughters
do with handsome
in the hay loft
where mice ran
and the chickens
clucking and the
cows mooing and
the dog was barking
as we lay moaning
under an orange
moon-it was 18
years ago and I
dream of him still
we loved and lost
but the memories
stay and linger
there is a lot to
be said for Indiana
country boys with
red bandanas.

ana christy