Learning to smoke
Posted by Jeremy on February 22nd, 2008
I watched him smoke as I stood with him outside restaurants and, when I relented, in my own yard. This was before I’d smoked a single cigarette myself. I saw that smoking altered him just slightly, like a course correction at sea, one degree toward a new point on the horizon. His face grew softer as the cigarette seemed to dull the razor’s edge of unhappiness that sometimes dragged through his life. I remember realizing that it really worked for him, thinking: That shit is inside him. It did something to him. Lord. I was sad, pissed, and a little bit jealous. I told him he was a fool, once, but after that I bit my tongue. Make no mistake, smoker or not, it sucks to watch your son draw on a cigarette like it means something to him. That’s when a smoke looks less like a casual comfort in a cold world and more like an abyss, a dark deception. I’m responsible for my own stupidity. This. This is my boy, and in some way I can only bear witness to this. My boy, smoking like some barfly. That’s when you feel like strangling a tobacco executive. - Learning To Smoke, Esquire Magazine
The above passage is from a recent piece Tom Chiarella did for Esquire magazine. Tom is 46 years old. He also decided to start smoking. Within 30 days, he got himself up to a pack a day, trying over 3 dozen brands, before he quit. Why? He wanted to see what it was like.
And with the way he wrote, it makes me think about smoking once more. It’s quite interesting that I read this piece today, as I also received a congratulatory email from QuitNet, telling me it has been 184 days, 5 hours, 21 minutes and 4 seconds without a cigarette. I have not smoked 3684 cigarettes, which saved me $864.80 and 28 days, 3 hours of my life.
And I miss smoking.
I didn’t quit on my own volition. No, it was the meds1 that did it - in particular the one I use to put me to sleep. It has properties which, after long term use, seem to break addictions. They aren’t sure how or why - but it causes people to start to dislike what they’re addicted to.
Granted, I fought it fairly hard. I diligently bought my smokes and trudged outside, lighting up and feeling…. Well, nothing. It didn’t taste good anymore. It felt less of a freedom, or time to reflect - and more like going to Mass - you did it because you were raised to do it and it’s just what you did - so I quit.
But man, I miss smoking.
I still have one, every now and then. Only now I can taste the sickly sweet taste of the tobacco. I can feel the smoke entering my lungs, feel its warmth and thickness on the coldest bitter night. I can enjoy it. But not often.
Man, I miss smoking.
Footnotes listed in the above post:- Temazepam, AKA Restoril [↩]