smoke

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i like the way a fresh, firm pack feels in my hand.  i like peeling away that little piece of cellophane and seeing it twinkle in the light. i like coaxing that first sweet cylinder out of its hiding place and bringing it slowly up to my lips, striking a match, watching it burst into a perfect little flame and knowing that soon that flame will be inside me. 

i love that first puff, pulling it into my lungs, little fingers of smoke filling me, caressing me, feeling that warmth penetrate deeper and deeper, until i think i'm going to burst--then, whoosh! watching it flow out of me in a lovely, sinuous cloud, no two ever quite the same.

bebe glazer        

* * * * *

i've been thinking a lot about june r lately.

who the fuck, you ask? mrs. r was the mother of my (other) best friend in high school, bruce (briefly mentioned in this post).

lovely and always well put together, mrs. r was one of those rare women who exuded simultaneous gentility and warmth, and i was very fond of her, to the point of happily accompanying her on a couple of long day trips when bruce wasn't available. rather than being the awkward sorta encounters between a mom and her son's friend you might imagine, our time together always flew--we loved the same books, and could talk endlessly on a variety of subjects (yeah, i was that kinda adolescent).

but the thing i remember most distinctly about mrs. r was the way she smoked, because she handled that filthy habit as graciously as she did most other aspects of her life, and in a manner utterly unlike anyone else i've ever known.

see, at the end of each day, once the dinner dishes were washed and put away, she would settle into her favorite chair with a book or to watch a little TV, and smoke her single salem of the day--that was it, just one.

"i look forward to this little moment all day," she told me once in her lilting rhodesian accent, smoke curling from her lips. "i thoroughly enjoy it, and then i'm done--i don't really think about it again until the next evening."

needless to say, of all the ways in which mkf could not possibly be more unlike june r, this is one of the biggest.

* * * * *

of all the people who evinced astonishment when i finally managed to kick my constant, chronic habit in the fall of 1993, i think the fact of it came as the biggest shock to me.

and it wasn't even intentional--what happened was, i contracted a dose of bronchitis of such severity that, for the first time in my life, i was literally too sick to smoke.  when it finally cleared up three weeks later, i decided to try out my new lungs for a few days before i went back into the trenches.  those few days turned into a week, and then a month, until one day i looked up and realized, "holy shit, i'm not a smoker anymore".

it wasn't quite that easy, of course--the adjustment took a full five years. i had to avoid all the triggers--other smokers, for instance, but mainly music.  all it would take to ignite an almost-irresistible urge to light up was the opening notes of a favorite song. but by god, i perservered, and i succeeded.

and then little shane came along [speaking of whom, guess who regularly hits me up at least once a week, as i knew he would?]--and left temptation in my path at precisely the wrong moment.

that first day was glorious--songs that had gone flat from overuse during repeated bouts of drinking suddenly took on vibrant, new life--it was like i was hearing them for the first time.  and the sudden mental clarity--my god, the thoughts and ideas that came rushing into my newly-awakened consciousness with that first drag, i can't even begin to describe.

i managed to keep it in check for the first couple weeks--five a day, no more, and never before i left for work at 4:45.  i burned a CD--called, of course, "smoke"-- of special songs to accompany that first cigarette, and that previously-dreary 15-minute drive suddenly became the high point of my day.

but then, things happened--i had to drive out to texas to fetch my mom, and i couldn't be expected to brave all those long, bleak miles without a smoke or two, right? and since she smokes and i'm nothing if not a good host, i certainly wasn't gonna sit here and let her do it all by herself.

so, bottom line, i'm back up to my former pack a day plus, and no single cigarette is special anymore.

damndest thing, though--since i started smoking again, i've lost even the slightest trace of desire for alcohol (thus clearing up the mystery of why mkf the sudden middle-aged lush was never much of a drinker in his youth).  hell, i'm practically having to choke down the necessary cocktail in order to finish this post--between drags, naturally.

this nonsense will have to come to an end, of course, and soon--the headaches are back, and i'm finding i can't handle the penalty that sweet, sweet smoke exacts on my lungs like i did when i was a kid.

but meantime?  it's you and me, bebe.