about face

One reason I can't stop smoking is this stupid blog. How would I face my public?

not cool

"We will not turn a blind eye to serious and flagrant disregard of federal law," said a DEA agent. He wasn't kidding. No sooner did the Supreme Court say that federal law overruled California law permitting the use and distribution of medical marijuana, then the DEA jumped into action, along with the IRS and the Secret Service, to search medical marijuana dispenseries, growing sites and people's houses. They hauled off plants, made quite a few arrests and indicted a doctor and her husband from—no kidding—Cool, Calif., for dealing.
Way to go men, nail those sicko potheads. Not like the country has any other problems that could use a little manpower. Like, let's say, the thousands of meth labs in red states. Or the foundering economy and moribund society that created them. It's just a baby step after all from smoking marijuana when you have cancer to gay marriage, and you've got to draw the line somewhere. This is America. In pain? Have a nice slice of apple pie and sleep it off.
Why I can't stop today: Soon smoking anything will be illegal.

hooks

I can't stop smoking because I am a freaking addict, is why.

I am addicted to cigarettes.
I am addicted to booze.
I am addicted to grapefruit juice.
I am addicted to the New York Times crossword puzzle.
I am addicted to Klondike York ice cream bars.
I am addicted to routine.

I am not addicted to gambling.
I am not addicted to television.
I am not addicted to chocolate.
I could easily be addicted to cocaine, crank and probably any number of other illegal substances, but I am not.

Reason I can't stop smoking: I have to choose my addictions carefully

never done

The realization dawned slowly: I had invited the real estate agent who rents my beach house to dinner.
Why did I do that? It would amount to a beginning-of-season inspection, and the place was a wreck. I have exactly one week from today to get it into pristine shape. Correction: It had to be in shape by dinnertime. Fuck me.
Fortunately, I have two world champion cleaners as houseguests. Unfortunately, one of them is addicted to tennis and was at the bar watching Wimbledon all day. That left one, and me, a world champion slob.
I ran around the house stuffing stuff into closets (from which it will have to be unstuffed and dealt with soon), hanging shades and tidying up shelves, while my friend slaved over toilet bowls and dust. A half hour before the guest was due, the vacuum was still running. And then it was done.
Pass me that pack.
Why I can't stop: It will be dirty again by next week.

other people's shit

"I have never seen so much stuff in my life as your daughter moved in here," the elevator man said to me. "But I know where she got it from."
I have become infamous in my building for the amount of stuff I lug in and out of a fairly small two-bedroom apartment. The car door I used as a table for a while created probably the most amusement, since it turned out to be a door one of the elevator men had junked.
Yesterday it was a broken coffee table, the results of shopping expeditions to Bed, Bath and Beyond and Zabars, and assorted luggage. A small load, all in all, until I later picked up eight sliding screens and fourteen bags of groceries I didn't want to pay for on the island. (Note: I stood in the Island Grocery staring at a box of grapefruit juice priced at $10 for about five minutes once before deciding that I just couldn't.)
However, on the drive up, I received several phone calls from a friend.
"Could you stop at Marshall's and pick up a rug I have put on hold and bring it over?" A little later: "Could you also pick up a cheap bed pillow for me?" And later: "I really need a short heavy-duty extension cord for the microwave. Would you mind?"
Mind, me?
Turned out the rug was an eight-by-twelve footer that weighed about 500 pounds. I had to put my passenger in the back seat of the compact car and hang the rug out the front window. I also had to pay for it.
Then I had to unload it into a crate at the ferry. By myself.
Why I can't stop smoking today: Now the rug is rulled up under my feet.

solidarity

Any international gathering of artists used to consist of knots of conversation in various languages surrounded by wreaths of smoke. In New York City, that is still the case, although much of the action perforce takes place outside on the street rather than at the actual event. American tobacco companies have so successfully marketed their wares abroad that many of our brothers and sisters from Europe and Asia still think it's cool to smoke.
Reason I can't stop today: The battle against xenophobia

have another hit

photograph by Chien-Chi Chang/Magnum Photos

the new roommate

I have a new roommate. She is a recent college graduate with an entry-level job at a law firm. She was kicked out by her previous roommate, and so she wants to know what the rules are here.
"Am I allowed to sit on your couch and even lean back on it?"
Yes.
"Do I have to pay for food I don't eat?"
No.
"Do I have to ask permission to have my friends over?"
No, but warning would be nice so that I can put on clothing.
In addition, I have a few other rules.

Eating
Do not discuss every meal. If you are cooking, and you feel like it, cook for everyone present if it is at a mealtime that most of the world would consider normal. Unless that meal is breakfast, in which case cook for me at your peril. I have a banana and coffee (and a cigarette) for breakfast and, yes, I'm sure I don't want a delicious tofu omelette.
Which brings me to the next rule: never drink the last half cup of milk that I am saving for my coffee in the morning.
Sleeping
Do not wake me up in the middle of the night (the mosquito "crisis" comes to mind) unless you want me to call an ambulence.
Please do not have your friends call on the house phone after 11:00 at night—that is when my friends call—or before nine in the morning.
Fortunately, I am pretty deaf, so it's hard to disturb me. I will try not to disturb you, but I have a tendency to prowl in the middle of the night, so keep your door shut.
Socializing
Kindly inform me if you are entertaining, particularly overnight, as I will you.
Conversely, if you are going to be out very late or overnight, please let me know, as I will you.
Do not allow the font of words to bubble forth from your lips without ceasing when I have friends over. Allow them a moment of the silence many people require to get a word in edgewise. Do not expect me to talk with your friends unless I feel like it.
Chores
Clean up after yourself, keeping in mind that I particularly dislike finding gradoo in the kitchen in the morning, particularly on the table where I will be having my coffee if there is any milk left.
General: Do not ask me every day, or preferably ever, about the outfit you are wearing.

Note: These rules may change at any time at my discretion since I am paying the rent.

Why I can't stop today: The prodigal daughter

my worst nightmare

“Hey, great to see you back. Are you still in your same office? Wait til I tell you about what happened to [person I’d never heard of].”
Ohmifuckinggawd, what a nightmare. I dreamed that I was back working for the magazine at Time Inc.
I got on at the wrong elevator bank.
I didn’t have a security pass.
I couldn’t remember anyone’s name.
They were all still there.
And, worst of all, I was late for lunch with Ed.
I woke up breathing heavily with my heart pounding in my bed on an island far from Midtown with the blue ocean outside.
I didn’t even make coffee before having a cigarette.
Reason not to quit today: It was just a dream.

copacetic

Everything is perfect. There is no reason on earth I need to smoke today.
Reason I can't stop smoking: None—yet.

got a lite?

son of a beach

"This is Randy from the insurance company. Please give me a call to set up an inspection of your property."
Uh oh.
It appears that, what with houses sliding down bluffs and burning up in forest fires and blowing down in hurricanes, insurance companies are rethinking their policies.
I live on an island, in a flood zone, on a barrier beach. I think I'm about to get some bad news.
Quick, light a cigarette.
Reason not to stop smoking today: life's a beach.

the gift horse

My mother brought me a set of two coasters from Ireland with (supposedly) the family coat of arms on it. According to what it says on the back of the package, the family motto is Lamh ladir an uachdar, which is translated as "The strong hand uppermost." You're telling me. Right underneath that it reads: "heat resistant, wipe clean, do not immerse in water." Guess the blood lines haven't bred completely true.
Coasters? To keep the furniture I mostly acquire at the dump from getting beer bottle rings on it? I'll never forget the time she gave me a makeup case and a girdle. You want to buy me a present, try a pack and a six-pack.
Why I can't stop today: gifts

the relative explosion

"Ohmigod, I haven't seen you in a thousand years!"
"I can't believe it!"
"Nice to meet you."
All my relatives, meeting one another.
OK, not all of them, but a lot. Around the table yesterday were:
My ex sister-in-law and her husband (my ex-husband's ex best friend) and their kid (my kid's cousin)
My ex brother-in-law (and current next door neighbor) and his kid (my kid's cousin)
His ex (and one of my best friends as well as my ex sister-in-law's ex friend)
My mother
My brother, his wife and kid (now friends with my ex-brother-in-law's kid as well as his ex's kid)
Are you following this?
Me neither.
Suffice it to say that I have relatives coming out my ears, and there are always more of them, with plenty of internecine rivalries.
Reason I can't stop smoking: My other ex sister-in-law and her husband and kid and her daughter and her husband and kid arrive today.

all my children

Photograph by Douglas Brian Gasner (my ex-and-always husband)

maternal instinct

Reason why I can't quit today, or tomorrow, or the next day: Mom's visiting

he ain't heavy

My brother is a cowboy, as handsome as a Marlboro man, but he smokes unfiltered Camels. I ustato, too, back when I was cool, about a decade ago. I drank my coffee black, too, like my brother. It's sort of open to question who was copying whom, as I'm the older, but he is, as I said, The Cowboy. I still drive stick, but I downgraded to Camel regulars, then Camel lights over the years. Also coffee with milk. And I swear to the goddess my next truck will be automatic. I have so had it with standard transmission in stop-and-go traffic. And, yes—probably not too far in the future if this cough is anything to go by—I'll quit smoking someday. But not today.
Reason not to quit smoking today: My brother arrives tomorrow