smoking

I enjoy smoking. I love to kick back and have a nice big drag of that fresh tobacco taste after a great meal. Or that lovely aromatic mouthful with my morning java. Or the colourful mix of frosty cold morning smoke paired with the memory sparking scent of automobile gasoline fumes. ahhhhhhh.

And then there's reality, hacking up a couple of furr balls after a night out with friends because your normal 4-5 a day habit bit the big one and you inhaled an entire pack and then some. THe 3 hours spent nervously traversing the 25 foot hallway while you wait for noon to get there so that you can go to the conrner store and get some smokes that you forgot to get on your way home and it's 40 freaaking below outside, so it's too far for Shopper's. The pungent STANK of your back porch when the first fresh breeze of spring makes you realize that you did NOT paint your porch yellow last fall. cinder holes - in everything. the infinite search for a match or other fire emblazing apparatus. ashtray mouth. yellow fingers. blackened lungs.

damn I miss it and it's only been 2 days and a bit.

I'm angry and bitchy. I went to bed last nite at 7:30 because I couldn't stand myself, and I was awake every hour and a half or so. My teeth have been clenched for so long my jaw just aches. And when I smell someone smoking I salivate so much I have to spit.

but it's good for me.

bah humbug. I'm pissed off.