Day 5.
A test earlier tonight:
Went to a bar. Chatted breifly with friends who were smoking outside.
Told them I was on day 4.
They responded: “Congrats” as they cooly blew whispy clouds of nicotine love towards my general direction.
Damn you, I thought.
Get thee gone with thy cancer stick loving chill selves.
I immediatley went inside and demanded that the bartender, a friend, give me a kiss on the cheek and an Irish Whiskey neat.
I am quitting smoking, .I’m no gawdddamn saint.
I am currently enjoying a snifter night cap of Sailer Jerry Rum ; introduced to me by my v. good friend Eric.
Additionally, on the way home today, I walked past a convenience store.
Nay.
I walked *IN* to the convenience store.
Moi: Pardon me? Do you have … Djarum Vanilla? (knowing full well that they don’t and likely never will
They: No.
Moi: Ok.
And then I walked towards the back, considered buying ginger ale, and then WALKED OUT OF THE STORE. Empty handed.
If that ain’t two major crazy little tweaks in behaviour and familiarity as a smoker, I dunno what is.
In the interim: Still cranky.
Stay clear.
***
Realization: Smoking physically dries out your tear ducts so you don’t cry.
In that way, you hope that you won’t recognize how possibly sad you might be.
this is: sometimes good/sometimes bad
fascinating
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