Today’s blog post was brought to you by the letters P, R, O, C, R, A, S, T, I, N, A, T, and E.
I’m supposed to be doing several things which aren’t blogging right now. Either editing a novel or reviewing an installation guide on moisture vapor barriers. But I’m opting instead to talk at the internet, hoping someone will stop in and say hello in the middle of a 2-hour marathon of 5-minute craft-hack YouTube videos.
I desperately want a cigarette. I desperately want to smoke. I’ve been having dreams of clasping a tube of cellulose acetate wrapped in tan speckled paper between my index and middle finger and bringing it to my lips. Of lighting that other end, stuffed with a rich raisin-like fermented smell, and taking a long deep puff of arsenic, toluene, lead, butane, and tar. Just for that sweet kick of Nicotine. If I could just take one puff, I’m sure everything in my life would be so much better.
I’ve been smoking for almost 20 years. That’s more than half my life. Why don’t I just pop over to the gas station? Then maybe I could concentrate and get started on the next task. Working is tough when you’re not smoking. Smoking is one thing that kept me in front of the computer, working in 32-hour spurts.
And I don’t want to turn into an overeating machine. And I don’t want to quit smoking. But I guess the breathing is nice. The extra air seems to work for me.
Maybe I’ll get a balloon and start blowing into it. Just for fun. But I hate that latex smell. I’m imagining myself blowing up a couple of condoms and letting them loose on the neighborhood. But I’d need helium for that to be funny, and I don’t much like the idea of a skunk or stray cat getting killed choking on a rogue lubed-up balloon.
I’m now self-editing, which would definitely make this post better. And I guess now that I’m actually trying at this, it feels like work. So I’ll come back to it tomorrow and work on a page of fiction or an MVR coat.
Since the smoking’s gone, I guess Procrastination will have to be my new muse.