It has almost been eight weeks to this day since I stopped smoking, and it still sucks. How come that twenty year old girl at the end of the bar can smoke five cigarettes on a Friday night and not open the pack again until the next Friday? I can’t smell a cigarette without wanting to rip open a carton and inhale the whole damn thing. And not smoking makes me a little more irritable to say the least. Like the other day, while at the bar, I was sculling down a few drinks and conversation went from the fall of the Soviet Empire to the exit of Google. How the two can be connected is beyond me, so I’ll let your imagination run wild with that one. Then the conversation went to the weather, and how bad it was. Then to that girl at the end of the bar’s ass. Hey, it was a bunch of guys. And after that wildly creative talk, we went on to how the Hurt Locker beat Avatar in the Oscars. Then onto another girl’s ass and how she could be wearing so little in such bad weather, and then back to the collapse of the Soviet Empire, and its relation to the exit of Google, and then onto Avatar again and then to the Hurt Locker once more. Somehow the topics started to get closer together and more interrelated. And all I wanted at this point was a god damned cigarette. The beers were flowing as was the conversation.
Then there was that silence that follows when a group inhales of all of their cigarettes; funny how people seem to drink in unison, and smoke in unison as well. I was drinking double time by this point, and my head was swimming in the good stuff. The bartender pulled her pants up as if she had felt our collective stare at the patch of skin that was just exposed. Her back was to us. By this time of the evening the bar is floating on a smoke cloud, and I notice it unlike how I overlooked the smoke for all of those sixteen years that I smoked. Sixteen years is quite some time. Now that I think about it, maybe I need to start smoking again, and quit a few more times before it finally sticks. After all that’s a long time to have been doing something and then suddenly stop. Now conversation had everything all mixed up. People were arguing weather or not communism could be used in the Afghanistan of Hurt Locker, and weather the exit of Google should have been followed by those evil miners in Avatar. Then somebody mentioned that blue girls tits in Avatar, and somebody mentioned how to get porn without using Google. Then back to the weather outside. It started raining. When’s the rain going to stop? And all I could think about was having a cigarette. I somehow refrained, and made it through the night.
By Tim Hoerle