smoking is bad for you, and other lies
Count Basie is doing his thing, at least the record of him doing it is doing it. And I don't know what year it is, because they never tell you on records. Really I just needed an excuse to play on the new computer – and here it is. The red wine is breathing nicely. Until I choke it down of course. For all you smokers out there: don't quit. Really. The mental anguish you will endure for it is worth the Lung Removal Surgery later. No. Wait. Yeah, maybe not, but damn. That's all. Enjoy.
It's a combination of things really. One, we have the main culprit, the red wine. And then we have Count Basie playing at 33.33 per minute. And then you throw in the rainy day/evening. And why am I not right now at the corner grocer, forking over $3US for a pack of ciggies? The LRS is a big motivating factor, surely. But I really deep down don't want one. That's the trick though, it's the mind games that are the hardest.
Side note: I can type just as fast as the pros. Give me a secretary, and she'll/he'll leave in tears, wondering where she/he went wrong. Oh, I can be political, if it suits me.
The other night I found a cigarette in the couch whilst searching for yon remote. It was singular and all dried out and it was perfect. Next to it was a matchbook with how many matches left? One. Of course I smoked it. Please. It didn't last the expected 5-7 minutes, but then it was a Basic Light. Due to it's dryness, it lasted a brief 3 minutes. Maybe. Truth be told, I actually had a few drags from a Camel Light in mid-July, but I was dissatisfied and tossed it into the newly empty Corona bottle. Somehow this was different. It could have been the couch sighting or it could have been the scotch; or, it could be and was the influence and fault of John Cusack's character in Hi-Fidelity, which I just happened to be watching for the 47th time (hyperbole for sure, but not by much) and what does he do all throughout the movie? He smokes my friends. He smokes as if it were to be his last day on this hot green planet, and what the fuck anyway?
Everything in moderation, isn't that what they say? Well, maybe. I interpret this as: deny deny deny, and then splurge. It's more fun that way than the conserved, more measured approach of the conscious-laden. But, it is true – you know when you've gone too far. At least I can. Lately I've had this feeling of running along a cliff. Or that of approaching a cliff or an edge of some sort. Not necessarily a bad thing, mind you. It gives one an anxious feeling, which can be good. Microsoft, in its wisdom is telling me that last sentence is either a) incomplete, or b) a fragment. And you know what? I care. I know You don't. I have drifted from shore, but it is ok - let me go. A few days at sea are sometimes what a person needs to get their head on right.
My brother's dog, Kharma, is right now at the back door, drenched in the illusion that I am going to allow her access to the main part of the house. If this makes me a war-monger, then so be it. I am a war-monger. But you have not met this dog. This dog is mentally unstable. Sorry John, but, not exactly news to you. "Give her an inch, and she'll take a mile", he said to me once. Too true. I have to fight off the feeling that I want to let her in, just so she'll stop whining at the door. I will say this for Kharma, she has hope. She has a never-ending hope that I will let her in that door, and she will sleep with me on my bed. And for that, I respect her. I am not letting her in, but I respect her.
It's odd how these things are right now in my head, and saved perhaps to my computer's memory; but that maybe tomorrow, if I still like this, this will become somehow more permanent, appearing before us on the internet, a temporary fix in itself. Because this could easily be erased or forgotten or hidden away forever, but where's the fun in that?
That's what I want to know.