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Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Wrist Opening Day

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When I rolled off my mattress into a graveyard of empty beer cans, pop bottles, and two overflowing ashtrays, I realized my life is long overdue for an aggressive regimen of simplification. I need stark purity. I need streamlining. I need masochistic discipline. Time to clean absolutely everything until it shines to blindness.

The symptoms are overwhelming. Every payday eve I rue the frivolous purchase of energy drinks in the morning, the harmful inhalations of thirty cigarettes a day, the frequent ten dollar hot lunches from purveyors of exotic cuisine. Then there's the 100 cheap beers a week, all in the evenings.

That's just the financial aspect. There's my health and happiness to consider, too. Aside from the tobacco, all this sludgy fuckery has made me slow. I've suffered two weeklong illnesses so far this month, and it's only the 23rd. One was fevers and aches, the current one, brochitis. Besides the illnesses, my general state of being leaves a great deal to be desired. I'm so lethargic and morose that I've lost my appetites for friendship, creativity, sex, conversation, and tomorrow. I'm coasting on autopilot. I'm a sad shut-in. I'm fucking appalled with myself.

My recourse: removal. Erase all my habits. Subtract my entire lifestyle.

I'll eat less. I eat all the time when I'm not hungry. Usually, this is just a salve for boredom. Exercise will make a spectacular substitute. The mild beergut will melt off, my muscles will define themselves, and my step will spring once again.

I'll change my diet. Fruits, vegetables, brown bag lunches. I'll get all those wonderful vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, and save some cash in the process. No more italian beefs and chesseburgers and hefty plates of Pad Thai and Curry Beef. Pizza can fuck off. Not only will my temple thrive, my step will spring once again.

I'll quit smoking. Last time I did this, I lasted four months. I became a high-strung asshole. My inner tension led me to lash out in all directions, snapping derisive verbal jabs at people I like. I grew holier than thou. Not about smoking, but in other ways. (I will never, ever be able to chide someone for smoking cigarettes.) Playing a song I hated was grounds for me to burn down a friend's entire span of cultural interests in one hateful rant. The slightest criticism of me was grounds for me to shred the merits of that friend's deepest hopes and dreams. I was a nasty fuck. This will probably happen again. But, I figure, it's part of this whole simplification process. This will not help my step spring. Not a bit. I'll be lucky not to kick dogs and chew people's ears off.

Alcohol. If I quit smoking, the booze has to go, too. If you take the shithead I just described above and give him a couple drinks, he becomes five times worse, loses his clothing, and urinates in inappropriate places. See my archives from January to April 2005 for examples. No smokes? No booze. Clean Steve, all the way, and damn the withdrawals.

So what will I do to fill these voids? Easy.

I'll wander around like a crackhead, wondering at the sunrays, gaping at babies in strollers, a simpleton with no brain activity, wandering lost and bereft. I've always liked walking, and there's so many places to stroll. I may get bored from time to time, but it'll be for my own good. This will also separate me from my friends, keeping all my potential victims strangers.

I'll read books at bus stops, in grassy parks, on el station platforms. I'll be a city idiot, purposeless and aimless, a rube among sophisticates. Oh yeah, I'll stumble through libraries, too!

Without all the greasy fast food, poisonous cigarettes, and sloppy libations, basically, all the crappy things I use as substitues for living like a real human being, I'll be some sort of serene Zen fuckface with a santimonious expression but not a word of judgement to offer.

I will be empty, clean, and ready to write my mind anew.

Or, I'll be hopelessly adrift, disconnected from myself, and deeply depressed.

It might be a new leaf for me. More likely, though, upon success, I'll be celebrating Wrist Opening Day.

8:23 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


August 23, 2006 11:36 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey cunt, I recommend quitting everything cold turkey except for the cigarettes. Ween yourself off those bitches. Use the patch or something. Just remember this when you feel you have nothing to live for:"Don't kill yourself because then you might miss the world ending in some sort of cataclysmic or apocalyptic way. That would be a way cooler way to go." Also, if you do kill yourself, at least take out some high ranking government officials. Then we could martyr you. Go fuck yourself Gilatalia.

August 23, 2006 11:42 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

You took me seriously, you dumb fucktoon. I'm no suicidal headcase, moron.

Thanks for tickling my assring with your tongue though, David.

August 24, 2006 5:53 AM, Blogger if_i_had_a_hammer said...

I was at a pack and a half a day when I quit cold turkey two and a half years ago. I haven't had a whole cigarette since (though I'll steal a drag from someone here and there if I feel like it and I'm out on a Saturday night). I tried to quit slowly, but it just didn't work and when I went back to smoking, I was practically lighting a new one with the one I'd just finished.

I guess it's different for everyone. Cold turkey was definitely the way for me, though I think around day three I wanted to bite the heads off of kittens...and coworkers. I'm a chronic walker, partly out of necessity, and like you said, while I'd never get in someone's face about lighting up, walking post-smoking is much more enjoyable. Of course, I drink a lot more now that I'm off the nicotine. Good luck with the clean living. Let me know if it's all it's cracked up to be.

August 24, 2006 9:20 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Looks like ya ate some corn recently. Prick.

August 24, 2006 10:04 AM, Blogger Nobody special said...

I'm doing the same shit. Two days were pure started getting easier on the third. I say quit cold turkey. Nothing drives me like a good old fashion test of will power.

August 24, 2006 11:03 AM, Blogger Trix said...

Oh, Christ. Does this mean I'm not getting invited to any parties? Shit. I was looking forward to that.

August 24, 2006 5:51 PM, Blogger ginger said...

Ummmm.....nice to meet you ?

August 25, 2006 1:42 AM, Blogger Lostinspace said...

Come to me here, and I promise only frivilous purveyors of exotic cuisine ha ha

August 25, 2006 9:27 AM, Blogger Anonysis said...

Its worth it.
Really is.
And my opinoin would be cold turkey.
And take a 3 day weekend if possible, and avoid as much contact with people as possible.

August 28, 2006 4:50 PM, Blogger da buttah said...

damnit. i rather enjoy the shithead.

oh..and if you're stalking me? well that's swell :D

September 03, 2006 7:55 PM, Blogger Basho said...

I just celebrated my 4-year anniversary of no smoking. I found that everytime I wanted a cigarette, I'd enjoy an alcoholic beverage instead. I was such a mean, horrible cunt that it is truly amazing that anyone still speaks to me... and there are a few that still don't. Oh fucking well--I didn't like half of those fucks anyhow. Damn that nicotine curse! ;)


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