this is what happens now when i have a cigarette. i take a pack out of my pocket. currently a bright red chinese pack emblazoned with a holographic "good fortune". because damn, if you smoke, you're gonna need it. (there's a chinese brand here called "long life." i find that quite funny. great marketing gimmick too. i can see the ads already, with all the eighty year old people promoting the brand. "we smoked long life and we're still alive!!!" stop me someone.) anyhow, it's the "king size" pack which means it's regular size. even cigarette companies are doing the fast food things nowadays. sad.



after leaving it for awhile on the desk, i decide it'll be okay to have one. so i pull out a juicy stick of portable lung cancer--not the lucky flipped one mind you-- and admire it's perfectly filtered tip. i miss the parliament filter things. i dig around for a lighter in my pockets, light the damn thing up....and then hate it. i get nauseated, i get woozy, i get dizzy. i stub the damn thing out after five or six or nine puffs. i can't stand the taste. i get up, get a cup of juice, wash my hands and promise to not smoke again. plus, i'm starting to ball again, so i shouldn't smoke anymore. not that non-smoking helps me any on the court. for a guy who's played basketball since middle school you would think i could hit a basket once in awhile. i defy the axiom "practice makes perfect" everytime i throw up a shot. the *clank* is spiritually redeeming though.



anyway. this cigarette process happens three or four times a day. and i hate it. but i kid myself into thinking, "maybe this time will be different, maybe it'll be really good this one..." if it's this hard to stop, imagine if cigarettes tasted like candy. then where would i be?