Marijuana, I found, is a fine office drug. Not only is it more healthful than the ubiquitous conference-­table bottle of Knob Creek, it’s also a sharper creative spur. It makes work feel more like a rapturous Frisbee game, less like an assembly line. Solo brainstorms take on an almost yeast-like generativity. And contrary to popular notions from the end of the last century, much of what bubbles up is worth keeping.

One of the wisest things I’ve read about cannabis was written by an anony­mous ‘‘Mr. X’’ in the 1971 book ‘‘Marihuana Reconsidered.’’ While meticulously cataloging how pot enhanced his life as a 30-­something professional, X wrote that ‘‘the devastating insights achieved when high are real insights.’’ They can survive the state of mind that caused them to arise. The difficulty is how to capture a bit of this precious ore. You will need a notebook and some mental pruning shears, to avoid chasing down every dopamine-­inspired tangent. ‘‘Ten even more interesting ideas or images have to be lost in the effort of recording one,’’ is how X put it.

The Launch Box can help with this, in part because it actually isn’t very easy to operate. Users must juggle several variables — timing, temperature, airflow, battery charge. If it’s too hot, the vapor is harsh. If it’s too cold, you get nothing. ‘‘Inhale slowly, like sipping from a cup of hot tea,’’ the enclosed manual, The Flight Guide, recommends. It’s harder than it sounds, but I consider this to be a feature, not a bug. If you’re too distracted, the thing won’t work, not until you settle back down. This encourages moderation. Buy a Launch Box, and you might find that the amount you spend on marijuana each year is modest, in line with your budget for postage stamps or toner.

When X wrote his essay, cannabis use was, like the length of your hair, a political statement, a litmus test for all kinds of establishment proprieties. X’s anonymity is an artifact of that time, and so are his essay’s moments of defensive apology, as if enjoyment alone were not enough to legitimize his smoking. X died in 1996. His identity was exposed three years later, by an old friend, Lester Grinspoon, who wrote the book the essay appears in. X, it turned out, was Carl Sagan. The celebrated astronomer and public champion of scientific inquiry was also an avid pothead. Sagan said he used some of his marijuana-­derived insights in his books and lectures.