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Pressing question 176: Were cigarettes really so self-medicating that they diluted this swarm of one thousand tiny things currently stinging me like salt encrusted darts; did they actually make me oblivious? Observation: Quitting seems to be contagious to other avenues of my existence. Examples: I am struck with the inexplicable desire to quit my job, organizations, friendships and conversations I may be currently in the midst of. Observation: Given the populace of shopping malls as evidenced by recent visitation, random mall shootings are not as iniquitous as I once believed. The current trend seems to be for shop, kiosk and food court employees to hawk their goods like medieval fish-mongers, wading amid the throng bearing trays of lotions, perfumes or orange tempura chicken, thrusting them into the faces of shoppers, so unfazed by refusals that their miens never change from the plastic, grotesque mockery of grins that have been stamped upon them by the overlord Commerce and the tyrant Hourly Wage. Random acts of violence would do well to target them first. Pressing question 177: What have I become? At age sixteen I despised cowboy boots and all that wore them, seeing them as the regalia of simpletons. Yesterday upon above mentioned trip to mall, I spent one hundred dollars on a pair of Steve Madden, designer quasi-cowboy boots. Observation: The city looks less like it was snowed upon than some god of frost blew its wad all over everything. White, cum-like slush clings to streets, sidewalks and cars, squishes beneath feet with the sound of something being sucked from an orifice. Revelation: If I were to attempt to quit drinking now, on top of smoking, it would be reasonable to assume that I would transform into a denizen of the ninth circle of hell and the world would ratchet one notch further down on the scale of “Doomed” Post a comment in response: |
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