Showing posts with label on smoking and sublimation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label on smoking and sublimation. Show all posts

Friday, January 15, 2016

On Smoking, and Sublimation.






























Louis Shalako





When I got up this morning, I had two smokes left.

Normally, I wouldn’t leave the house until around ten o’clock.

I’ve developed quite the routine. To go to Seven-Eleven, get a cup of coffee. To drive down to the rez, and pick up anywhere from one pack to a carton of smokes…to take back a few empties to the beer store and pick up a few more beers. I go to the grocery store for one litre of milk when it really is cheaper to buy the bag of three litres. It’s a matter of killing time.

It’s a make-work project. It gives me something to do.

Let’s face it. I live alone. I’m not married, I don’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend. I don’t have kids or grandkids. I don’t have a job.

I don’t have any hobby outside of writing, although at one time I did.

Smoking is accessible—anyone can afford to smoke. You can buy a pack of shitty smokes for two bucks. You can get a can of beer for two bucks. It does bring a kind of relief—for what it’s worth and for how long it lasts.

A lot of the time we don’t even get any enjoyment out of it. It's a kind of sublimation of some other personal desires, at least that's my theory.

It's possible to look back to a time before I smoked. I was happy enough in not smoking...

What in the hell happened...???

How many times have I squinted through the smoke, choking and gagging a bit, as I tried to put in my password to get in to the email account?

It doesn’t make any sense.

Today, I skipped the shower, got dressed and rushed off to get them damned smokes.

So far today, since 7:30 a.m., I’ve had thirteen cigarettes. It’s about 4:30 p.m. and this is actually pretty good for me.

Normally I would have been onto that second pack by now.

It is true that I have spent many happy hours, in front of the computer, with a pack of smokes, a cold beer and working away on yet another story.

Part of it, I think is boredom—sheer, unmitigated boredom. It’s like I don’t quite know what to do with myself.

At one time, this might have seemed like the perfect life.

I also think that quitting—especially smoking, cold-turkey, would be a little too traumatic.

The time to quit is while I still have money!

That might be a good motivator.

It’s a question of how long I can keep it up.

There is the question of what I might replace it with…

Some question of where do I go from here, I guess.

But almost anything would be better than what I’m doing right now.


END