black in lung and craw

Well, it's gonna be rough. Headed into smoking territory U.S.A, where the bars have authentic atmosphere and a pack is less than three bucks. After a month I am so longing to smoke, I can't even believe it. It's tougher than it was at the beginning. Somebody told me my cells are recycling or something. Never heard of it. But the gut is definitely clamoring for just one hit.
Why I can't stop smoking: The flesh is weak.
And the spirit isn't all that willing either.

it's so glamorous

photograph by Christopher Garrison

back to school

"But think of it this way: at least you don't have to go to school!" Citichild is complaining about going to work, but at least they pay you to go. This is the first fall she doesn't have to go back to school.
Every September I am so thankful that I don't have to go ever again. With that touch of crispness in the air last week, I was just starting to get down on my knees to praise the Great Spaghetti Monster from Outer Space who Designed Us All with fervent gratitude when I realized—shit, I do have to go back to school this year. A week from tomorrow, in fact. Why did I take on a story that requires principals, text books, teachers' dirty looks and that awful green hall color? What an idiot. I think the GSM made some fairly grave errors in designing my brain.
Why I can't stop: I hate school.

you're going too fast

OK, I cut the cop off on Route 1. So, OK, he wrote me out a ticket for $75. This is understandable. But just a couple days before, I got a ticket written at 6:44 ayem for a missing mirror. While I was parked. I found the mirror under the truck. Frankly, having watched the traffic police go down the street writing ticket after ticket for the past week, I'm pretty suspicious. Did the cops take the mirror out themselves?
Why I can't stop: It's the end o' the month quotas.

elvis lives

It was very sad. He went off into the woods one night and never returned. Despite what you may have heard, he was not into drugs or young girls' white panties. He liked his chow, true enough. And in his later years, you could see it. He liked elaborate costumes—bejeweled capes and so on. He didn't really like to be alone. Except at the very end. When he left us to howl alone.
Why I can't stop smoking: The King is dead. Maybe.


Anyone who wishes to buy Elvie a virtual plot or memorial, check out DEPARTED PETS

oral fixation

It has been almost a month since my intervention, and I am here to tell you that the obsessions themselves may change, but obsessive behavior does not. I would require a personality transplant. I have not smoked a single cigarette of any kind including vegetable, clove and marijuana.
The cough is gone.
I have put on 10 pounds.
I have replaced cigarettes with beer, ice cream, Goldfish crackers, beer, carrots, celery, beer, Chinese food, pizza, beer, blueberries, almonds, beer. You get the drift. I'm also picking my lips, playing on the computer, taking pictures and chewing on toothpicks, all of which have the advantage of being calorie-free. I am not doing quite so many crossword puzzles, as my attention span is compromised.
Why I can't stop smoking: I'm not sure life is worth living any more.

cigarette break in paris

photograph by Donna Ferrato

ladies don't smoke

"Speaking of girdles, I am having a little trouble with my left hip and thinking that wearing those girdle panties again might help support it, but don't have access to a source." The e mail from Mom in Mexico contained this broad hint. Why were we speaking of girdles? Well, it's part of a "dialogue" about gender identity. I mentioned girdles, because on one memorable birthday, Mom sent me a cosmetic bag and a girdle as gifts. You would think that having known me for 40 some years she would have given up trying to mold me into her notion of a feminine figure, but no. You would think that sending me on a shopping expedition might be something she'd know better than to try after all these years, too. My husband did all my shopping for 20 years, for crying out loud.
Why I can't stop smoking: I am in deep denial about my womanhood.

thai sticks

courtesy of the Cigarettes from Around the World Collection (Thailand)

the x factor

"It's a surprise."
Strikes dread into the heart, eh? There was a recent study demonstrating that women who had something sprung on them—even something happy—often had a kind of heart arrest. Not quite a heart attack, but close. Predictability is control, control is safety, safety is, well, a kind of happiness, content. Illusory, too. But many of us take it where we can get it.
Surprise! I'm getting married!
Surprise! You've won the lottery!
Surprise! Your kid just died in Afghanistan.
Surprise! There's a bomb on the subway.
Surprise! I love you.
Why I can't stop: I'm going to a surprise party right now.

bad kitty

photograph courtesy of the Weir Farm Trust

the smoke standard

I like to know what time it is, kinda sorta. (The Rolex, friends, has recently been recalibrated, but though I just got it back last week, I have already been able to ascertain that it is still losing about five minutes a week. It looks very shiny and nice, however, and I have to remember that I have always thought of the Rolex as jewelry.) I wear a watch all the time. In the shower. All night (some of my lovers have failed to appreciate this feature of my personality).
I check the time often, but I don't really register what the watch says. I just want to know that I could know if it mattered what time it is. A sort of tic. It's kind of like punctuation, which I'm also fond of. Or smoking. A way to demarcate time from one moment to the next.
Why I can't stop smoking: A cigarette is a form of measurement.

whistling in the graveyard

Here's to you, Josh. Sorry we didn't have any marijuana to smoke in your memory. All we had was beer and tears. We love you.
Why I can't stop: We're not dead yet.

all or nothing?

photograph by Donna Ferrato

The one hand says "todo," all; the other says "nada," nothing.
Eenie meenie minie moe.
Why I can't stop: I don't want to choose.

why

My friend died today. He was too young to die. His twin babies are like nine months old.
I was walking on the street looking at all these old people thinking: "Why are you not dead instead of my friend?" That's pretty evil, but the thought does arise. Why him? Why not me—or you, or you? Or better yet, you, you asshole, you know who you are.
He had stopped smoking.
He had stopped drinking.
He had learned to love.
He praised god, even if he didn't totally believe.
Why we can't stop: We love him.

10 days later

So far today:
Cups of coffee: 1
Glasses of ice coffee: 2
Crossword puzzles: 1
Newspapers: 1/2 (well, it's Sunday)
Bananas: 1/2
Bowls of congee: 1
Diet Pepsi: 0
Beer: 0
Cigarettes: 0
Grapefruit juice: 0
Klondike bars: 0

Pounds put on in 10 days of not smoking: 8

exhibit a

"Double Happiness" Taiwan
On loan from the Cigarettes from Around the World collection.

reality bites

"But reality can be boring," said the 60-year-old writer.
"I love reality," said her sculptor son. "Reality is great!"
"Are we really having a conversation about whether we like reality or not before eight o'clock in the morning?" asked their younger hostess.
"Yeah", I said. "You're meant to have these discussions after about ten. Ten at night."
"After a few beers, you mean," said the young hostess.
And along with a haze of cigarette smoke. It's been a week now since I've had a puff.
Why I can't stop smoking: You can wax philisophical.

be here now

Not to be unduly grim, guys, but the prognosis is death. For all of us. We can cut down the risk factors—the cigarettes, the booze, the eating too much, the riding the subway in New York City, the not getting enough exercise, the not wearing seatbelts, the not wearing sunscreen, the not pounding fruits and vegetables. You know all the stuff.
Still, there's a death waiting for each of us. I have a few friends staring at theirs right now. Please, enjoy your life. Think, create, love, cry, talk, try, indulge, work, spend, do, read, feel, laugh.
Why I can't stop smoking (even though I have): I don't believe in heaven.

nonsmoking establishment

addiction update

Postintervention report:

cups of coffee: 1
bananas:1
grapefruit juice: 0
crossword puzzles: 0
diet pepsis: 2
york-klondike ice creams: 1
bottles of fake beer: 1
bottles of real beer: 1
cigarettes: 0

And in other news,
calories: 6 million