Cancer Sticks Are Too Damn Good!


I got a bad drug habit, me.

I am trying to quit smoking.

The world is a bleak place when you are trying to quit cigarettes. I am jittery like an amphetamine victim, have eaten way too many sweets, and am helpless to do anything but drink herbal tea and keep myself from going outside to Broadway where I can bum a smoke off someone.

I feel like Renton from Trainspotting coming off heroin. I always need just one more hit to ease the pain.

No longer rational, I would throttle a blind nun in an alley for a puff. Seconds later, when the ugly attack passes, I can unclench my jaw and resume my tumultuous nicotine-less tranquility. I almost feel as though I have beaten my disease.

Five minutes later, I go rigid and thoughts of cigarettes again dominate my unkind mind. I am so un-Zen. I am a materialistic whore. I need objects to make me feel loved. I jump up and make a cup of Chamomile tea.

Crack, junk, and crystal are ALL bad 
Without them, the addicts of the world are sad 
I stop to ponder what makes them tick 
But for that I'd need a cancer stick

My love affair with nicotine began when I was 12. My friends and I would run down to the grocery store and buy or steal $.79 tins of Copenhagen or Kodiak snuff. Then we would sit on my porch for hours getting high on the bursts of nicotine and spitting bitter brown juices on my mom’s flowers. To add to our fun, we would see who could take the biggest dip without throwing up. Oh joy, oh rapturous festivity.

It wasn't long before I could not go two hours without a pinch of the shit.

It took me a few years to figure out that snuff was not a one-way ticket to bliss. White, hard sores began to develop around my gum lines. A couple kids had their lips go under the scalpel. And what’s more, by some cruel trick of nature, girls do not consider Skoal to be the most sexually attractive pastime ever invented.

Don't be told otherwise, snuff is fucking impossible to quit. All my friends who dipped when I was twelve, are still users now in their late 20’s. Nobody has ever managed to the quit the stuff except me. I do not find this hard to believe because IMHO dipping is about twice as addictive as smoking.

When I was 14, I would shake like a leaf in a hurricane when I was in withdrawal. Once addicted, it is not a choice to have a dip of tobacco. It is a commandment from God.

Why else would people dip in bars, restaurants, cars, boats, planes, and other people’s living rooms? Some of my friends tell me that they even dip during sex. Addicts, all of them. Fucking useless without shredded tobacco in their mouths.

I was one of the lucky ones, though. I moved to Paris when I was 19 and snuff was thankfully unavailable. I soon became quite hooked on the cancer sticks though. At least SOME people find that attractive, like me for instance. When I see a beautiful woman smoking I get tingles up and down my spine. Smoking is so sexy and so suave and so fun and so cool. I am hardon in love with women drinking and smoking.

But I am at an impasse now. I want a cigarette really badly but I am not capable of dealing with my addiction. I don’t know what to do.

I sit and crave nicotine all the time and every time I crave a cigarette I take a bong hit.

Substitution is evolution 
Fuck whoring your brain out to television

Admittedly, I’ve been totally, totally stoned off my face since I quit smoking. And I am not a stoner.

I have been smoking marijuana casually for about 10 years now. Unlike cigarettes, I have no desire to quit smoking marijuana. Nobody has EVER died from smoking marijuana. Marijuana is a highly creative and positive pastime that enhances just about everything. Nicotine doesn’t enhance anything but...


So I sit soaked in a pool of sweat, I haven't shit in two days, and I eat everything within sight. When I feel the itching return yet again, I don't get angry, I just feel sad. Pathetic. I hope I don't explode and leave a giant bloody shit stain all over my room.

I am helpless to resist, because I don't really want to. I am only quitting out of fear. But even worse than the fear of cancer, I fear that only the husked shell of me will remain without nicotine. I light up a Marlboro, which I nick from my roommate.

I am 28 now and over such brain-deadening devices like nicotine addiction and pragmatism.

Yeah right.

Peace, love and cigarettes (but not too many) for all