Contrary to popular beliefs, I like to call it the 85 mm of life. After a long, tough, annoying day, your brain contains a slurry of feelings, be it anger, frustration, anxiety, aggression. Nothing can make them go away. But you can sort it. The first puff, a little annoying, starts to stream your feelings. You are relaxed. The people around suddenly seem pleasant. For the slower ones, I am talking about Cigar'ettes', the more graceful and enchanting female counterpart of the cigar (as always).
If a genie was to give you a chance to convert the years of your old age to your present years (safely assuming oldies aren't reading this piece), would you do it? Hell yeah. Then why not do it? To save your life for later and stretch it more than required is a crime and a curse, both for you and your kids.
Have you ever had a smoke in isolation? Just you and a Marlboro Red and maybe a window? Especially at night, when the lull allows you to hear the crackling, as fire travels further down towards the stick's butt? And with each drag your eyes close as if to help navigate the smoke through every inch of your lungs. It's a getaway, from the life you 'claim' to be living.
If you have done justice to your cigarette, you will not feel the need to light up another one immediately after. Smoking is similar to seeing a stripper on a pole, the dripping cheese from a pizza, the sight of a commode after having a couple of beers- its indescribable, its phenomenally emotional.
Indeed, since time immemorial, life has been wrongly measured in years instead of millimeters.
No comments:
Post a Comment