IF THE UTTERANCES GROW DISTORTED...
Once again – and I hope for the very last time – I am wrestling with the cutting down and ultimate elimination of cigarettes from my life, and the dismantling of all that early programming by Humphrey Bogart, James Dean, James Bond, Frank Sinatra, Marlene Dietrich, FDR, and Oscar Wilde. I tried a while ago, but no-kidding fate violently intervened and pretty much whacked me back to square one. (Do not pass Go and pick up a carton of Merit on the way.) But here I am, trying it all over again, swearing to retire the black and silver Zippo, while admitting that the romance of the coughing-outlaw, lunger-poet is definitely not all it’s cracked up to be, and is seriously inhibiting other areas of potential adventure. So wish me luck and look kindly on any weirdness in my though processes because this shit ain’t easy.
The secret word is Wheeze
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3 comments:
You can do it Mick. You may have seen this, but here's a link to help you on your way: http://digbig.com/4hqtc
I don't know you personally, but here's what worked on me: 20 years ago, I was lying on the floor of my SF Tenderloin apartment. Beside me was my girlfriend. We were both whacked on far too much of a strange drug we were given by a friend. It was called "Ecstasy". It was still legal at the time. We had no idea what a proper dose might be and we had clearly overshot the mark. We were busy imagining that we loved one another more than any two people in the history of the universe.
She said to me, "I worry about you smoking so much."
I said, "Oh, why?"
She said, "Because I LOVE YOU AND I DON'T WANT ANYTHING BAD TO HAPPEN TO YOU."
No one had ever said anything like that to me in my entire life.
I said, "You mean that shit?"
She said, "Yes, of course."
I said, "OK, then I'll quit." And I did.
I ran into her recently and made it a point to apologize for my frequent temper tantrums during my first year off tobacco, and to thank her for showing me so much kindness. She seemed genuinely happy to see me healthy and I was filled with genuine gratitude.
Odds are I'm going to die, but I would much rather be eaten by a mountain lion than have to cough my life away in a hospital.
So, here's the deal. As I said, I don't know you personally, but I'm really very fond of you. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. If I have to write an obituary for you, I want it to be many years from now, and I would prefer that it read:
"Mick Farren, the underground pioneer, experimental musician and visionary science fiction writer died today when he failed to outrun a mountain lion. He was (I'll let you and the mountain lion fill in the blank.) "
Until then, I remain your friend and I don't want anything bad to happen to you.
Thank you kindly, neighbours. Right now the jones is hard at work but I'm doing my best to ignore it. Jon, thank you especially for for story. I appreciate it. You're the kind of guy who gives Christians a good name. On the other hand, after all my work with felines, if I can't talk a mountain lion out of eating my ass, I guess that lion has my number on it. That doesn't, however, detract from the central theme. And I thank you for the concern.
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