Fuck You. I Quit.
by The Pirate
I made a big fucking mistake. I quit smoking. Ever loose a best-est buddy, or a good horse? I feel like someone shot my horse. All day long, I reach in my pocket and the fucking horse is just gone.
Me and my lighter, we still hang out, but it’s not the same, you know? I pull him out, give him a flick and we just stare at each other. We’ve got nothing to say to one another without a smoke to break the ice. I left him at home on a shelf today and looked in on him when I got back this evening. He wouldn’t even look at me.
The cigs well, they just aren’t around anymore. No smoke to wake up with over a cup of coffee. Coffee’s not even the same. The whole mood is wrong. The scent is off, taste, everything. This morning I tried something called teasan, flavored with some African rubber tree bark, or something like that. It was red and smelled like this medicine I was forced to gag down when I was 5 and got pinworms. Some things just stick with you, kicking you in the teeth when you’re down, decades later, I guess.
Food? Not the same. I mean, what’s the point of eating if there’s no smoke to look forward to after you’ve finished. I have no appetite, anymore. People tell you that you’re going to eat a lot, get fat(ter) and it’s all bullshit. I don’t feel like eating ever again. Pizza? Not without a cowboy killer to wash it down. That part of my life seems to be over, too. I’m going to be a skinny fucker from now on. Unhappy and skinny.
Sex? Again, after you’ve done the deed, what are you supposed to do-cuddle? Fuck. “Hey baby, that was great. I’ve got to get up and make a salad?” “Mow the grass?” “Adjust the clocks, daylight savings is right around the corner?”
You know those “special” moments like getting pulled over, loosing your wallet, the wife giving you a rash of shit about something you fucked up? Yeah, long, hot drag on a Marlboro and you’re on your way to coping. Or at least out of the house and away from the angry spouse and heavy objects. Close your eyes, smoke silently and you’ll remember you dumped your wallet in the wicker basket on top of the bakery stand. Get lost? Look at a map through your own cigarette smoke and you’re bound to find the way to the beer store.
What about cigarette breaks at work? What the fuck do non-smokers DO at work? Work? God, I hope not. Man, I sit a 12 hour shift. That’s a lot of smoke breaks. Many. Mucho. Motherfucker. My ass is gonna spread like a bloodstain on linoleum, which is to say faster than it does on cement.
Did that last bit make any sense? Of course not. How can it when I can’t contemplate my words over a smoke? No more drafts for this guy. Don’t like it? Have a smoke and re-write it your damn self, which brings me to the only good I can see coming from this quitting bullshit. I’ve now got a built-in excuse to be an asshole.
Smoke em if you got em, cause I don’t, Motherfuckers.
The Pirate's ass is spreading as we speak.
Any Port in the Storm Archives
Good luck, man. I've quit twice this year already.
Posted by: Dan | June 5, 2007 7:35 AM
If it's any solace dude, that made me laugh.
Now I'm going to go outside, watch this beautiful storm roll in, and smoke a couple of Reds.
Posted by: Uber | June 5, 2007 9:26 AM
Any fucker can quit smoking. It takes a real man to face lung cancer.
I keed. I quit in 2003. I could light one up again tomorrow.
But I won't.
Good luck Pirate.
Posted by: Dave in Texas | June 5, 2007 9:32 AM
I quit in 2004. And I blew up like somebody had an air pump up my ass. But I'm still glad I quit.
Posted by: Cullen | June 5, 2007 10:33 AM
Good luck with that, it's tough. I've been quitting every day for 6, sometimes 7 hours at a time, but it never seems to last.
Posted by: Richard Wallace | June 5, 2007 2:30 PM
Hardest thing you will ever do. Good luck.
Posted by: C. Charman | June 5, 2007 4:19 PM
I quit in January of 2005. Cold turkey.
Went back just this past April.
Ready to quit again.
Good luck to you. The first three weeks are the hardest.
Posted by: michele | June 5, 2007 4:21 PM
Good luck, man. I've made it one whole week in the last eleven or so years. You've got balls, my friend.
Posted by: Philbrick | June 5, 2007 7:36 PM
I may be fooling myself and all that good stuff, but i really don't think life has that much more to offer than a good Camel Light
so why bother quitting
Posted by: turtle | June 5, 2007 8:39 PM
I am nothing if not stubborn. Serious test tonight-I went out drinking with the crew on the last night before we hit the ship. Not one fucking smoke. Couldn't drink much before I was sweating for a Marlboro, but I fucking made it, surrounded by smokers, too. Bastards.
Posted by: Pirate | June 5, 2007 11:45 PM
I'm smoking my last pack right now and then I'm done. My reason for quitting? Love just smacked me upside the head and he's a non-smoker. Don't want to taste like an ashtray to the Boyfriend.
I'm going to miss my Camels. =(
Posted by: jo (from Amie & Dirty Laundry) | June 6, 2007 12:19 PM
Dude I quit back in 1999 and I still crave it. The craving never goes away, man. It's torture, the whole getting up every morning and drinking coffee without a cigarette to accompany it.
In fact, now that I think about it, I would probably have been happier if I just killed myself instead of quit.
Well, good luck with that anyway.
Posted by: QofD | June 6, 2007 10:50 PM
Keep at it. It's hard and miserable. I quit for a year awhile back. Um. I sorta lapsed.
Keep at it.
It's like blogging. I can't quit that either.
Posted by: Kim | June 15, 2007 8:40 PM