Right now, I’m thinking of smoking a cigarette. I have a chronic sore throat, which is probably from sinusitis, hopefully not cancer. It doesn’t always hurt, but I need to drink something every time I smoke. That means I also want a drink. That drink could be whiskey, but then I’ll think about smoking again.

Smoking for me is more than a chemical thing. It’s a relationship. Probably the steadiest relationship in my life. Smokes have been there for me during every mandatory 15 minute break, every drug experience, every late night conversation, every all-night programming binge. They’ve been there sharing the best conversations with the best friends of my life for 90% of the last 17 years. There isn’t an important day of my life, that there wasn’t a cigarette to share it with me.

Smoke, stoge, butt, fag, stick, bomb, Camel, Dunhill, Marlboro, Wills, Gold Flake, Drum, Three Castles, Davidoff, Shermans, Chesterfield. The best is Dunhill. It always has been since I could get packs for $2 in Berkeley from the liquor shop on 51st and college which served anyone (sorry dude, everyone knows anyway…). The first I ever smoked was one of my dad’s unfiltered Pall Malls.


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