Motorhead

It is amazing what addiction can do. Unwelcomed, though tiny, thoughts invade your think-space in that slick, non-verbal jumpy frogleg way. As I write, trying to capture this moment so that I might reread it next time I think it'd be nice to go out for a smoke. I was 2 days short of a 3 week non-smoking stint that was quite unlike my others. You see, this bout with nicotine freedom was preluded by a very uncomfortable case of tonsilitis, which took the slight annoyance of craving a smoke and turned it into chronic pain which resulted in days without much water, sleep or tabemono. When you spend a week and a half in a miserable fever haze, tabako no jidou hanbaiki isn't much of a mirage-y oasis. My point is that after I recovered and began feeling good, I didn't want to do anything mean and yucky to my poor body. I was so nice to it. Only feeding it fruits, veggies, rice. Taking it out for afternoon walks. Buying it beautiful smelling soaps, no pickling, no suffocation, no disagreeable chemicals. I somehow convinced myself that it'd be pretty disgusting to do any of these things.

That is until I wanna relax. I know that sounds stupid. And I'm not referring to the type 1 relaxing that I had been engaging in since the detox. You know, where after a nice brisk walk through a humid afternoon, I'd do a bit of showering, putting on some musik and reading beside the lovely summer evening breeze sauntering past my bed. That's good too. But I mean the type 2 relaxing. The kind where you drink deliciously frosty beverages while focusing on other things: perhaps chatting with a friend, watching movies, or writing incoherently inside a notebook or perhaps atop a keyboard. Type 2 gives the added option of not only relaxing your body, distracting your mind, but also distracting certain emotions. It gives a small vacation from things like the autumn willys. And unfortunately, frosty beverages walk hand in hand with smokey cylindrical pleasure sticks.

In summary, this short reunion with my vices was not that intense. I smoked maybe about 5-6 in total. However, that was all that was necessary to make my after work kaeru fall back into my old desires of smoking 2 on my front porch as a welcome back Toby party today. And as I began this post, nothing sounded quite as good. And even now, as I'm preparing to leave you and depart for the shower/pajama/cold glass of water/cat power/roald dahl/sleep, all that would really satisfy me was an umeshu and soda highball outside the porch beside a half packet of Mild 7's number six. My thoughts run like wild children awaiting the end of a typhoon. My motorhead seeks refuge. It is amazing what addiction can do.