Cigarettes

Here is a little snippet for a freinds page of mine whattodoabout.com, that I’m sure I’ll post on there as soon as a further edit this, or not if its decidedly just not good….
Part two of this pape, should come in a few days.

I am a legitimate smoker. Why does anyone ever start smoking? What draws the lust? is it just the culture of our time, or the pop media that onslaughts all the right propoganda? is it because thirty years ago a dude on a horse told us to lasso up some flavor. “Ooo, I want flavor… in addition i also want people to think of me as a somewhat gruff sketchy looking character who enjoys a bit of sandpaper air in my lungs.” I’ll bet we thought it gives us just the right bit of kick-in-the-ass that we needed to be alive. Or perhaps we have all wanted to be with that don’t-give-a-damn on screen; God, they are soo hot. I love the way they hold the cigarette, and the things he is saying while holding it only make it that much more tantalizing.

You know this is probably all a large part in it, but after the night is through, and you’ve had your midnight puff, why keep going? You already done it once, will it be better the second time? probably not. You’ve seen the throat holes, the oxygen tanks, the wheelchairs, heart monitors and 60 year old overweight, balding, moomoo wearing women buying a carton at the liquor store. You probably thought it was the cashier speaking over the inercom. Nope, it was her.

Perhaps your girlfreind got you hooked and since your still together why not keep going? Eh, It’s too hard to quit the first place plus my job sucks and beer-cigging is essential (i smoke only when i drink…promise).

I think I’m going to go with the only logical thought on this one: its insane. yeah, big time. Its not that your telling everyone that you want to die, its more that I can and will die at my personal bidding. Or shit no, I proclaim non-death! and of course either way I don’t give a damn. Its the rediculous search to somehow deny all of nature and God himself. Not to mention your own high powered intellect. “I know this will kill me, but for now, screw you god and you too mind. I’m going to put you in my top drawer with the rest of my excess change, trial lotions and my unusable holey socks. So you toss your cognition in the street, step on it and give hoof pivoted twists on your heel. Doing this feels good. You feel like your taking part in something, sticking it to all those assholes out there. “I am living my life! I am not giving a damn. I have money, women and god given talent, I can afford a small slice of shit for all that. I am smoking. I am a smoker. I am a god! I can smoke through my ass if I wanted!”

Thats why it keeps going. Its the age old struggle of defiance every man in the universe has enjoyed. From money to women to Church authority to little nic nacs you pile on every available and unavailable spot in your house. I can and will do this.

Every man/woman wants to be a god. We all want to suttey make up our own rules. We all want to be that single cow that you spot while driving north on the 5. “Do you see that cow in the middle over there, holy crap! Its the only one with spots on its back!” Sure it smells like shit for miles, but there isn’t another beef turder for miles that’ll be spotted like you from 80 mile an hour nose pluggers. oh yes, i want that cow. We all want to be insane , just because im worth it. I deserve my own life. i deserve, in my vast intellect, cunning and suave demeanor, to set myself apart from the entire natural order. why? Because yea, im that good. I have what it takes to lift my arm to my orafice and light it.

Every man/woman wants to be a super faust. To obtain the unobtainable, to drink in the forbidden water, to kick the ball after the bell rang, to come in late to school your teacher thanking you for it. We all want to do the “thing” and get a gift basket along with it. hey! i would take a bite of the apple, make some applesauce, some apple juice, hell maybe ferment some cider.
The point is, if you smoke your insane. I know… sweet isn’t it.

“Cigarette? No sorry man. When they make a pack with 21 I’ll let you know”