The Personal Weblog of Edward W. Farrell   
 
nostalgia for smoking Wednesday, November 29, 2017
 
I quit smoking in September 1981, but smoking was a noble addiction. Unlike booze, it sharpened your thought. It invited contemplation, of the drifting smoke and burning ash if nothing else. It was a necessary precursor to the art of blowing smoke rings. Blowing smoke out your nose never failed to make kids laugh. Of course your house and everything you wore reeked of stale smoke and light colored objects slowly turned yellow with the accumulated tar but such things were only evident to non-smokers: a curious rarity in the day. The first cigarette was often the best reason to get up in the morning. When told that his smoking would kill him, Joseph Brodsky shrugged and remarked "If you can't light up why get up?" Best of all, the first cigarette was the last cigarette's best antidote. Waking up after smoking two packs of non-filtered cigarettes a day made your head feel like a sack of wet excrement: the first cigarette transformed it into a field of shining roses. That's the magic of a smoke.
 
 
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