Memorial Day

Baked

Enter at your own risk.

Following the aforelinked recipe will result in quiet introspection and nervous bowels, in the least. Be sure to pawn some off on unsuspecting squares.

When you wake up and eat breakfast, curse yourself when you realize what you've gotten yourself into, again.

Cleaning Up

Not a cigarette in over two weeks now.

That doesn't mean no nicotine. Nicorette, a billiard pipe, and shisha fill the void. A week in the promised land was the impetus for the change. I figured the fun and jet lag would break the "schedule" of the cigarette. Since then I've been trying to hold off until noon to dose myself - treating nicotine more like the drug that it truly is - so my mornings have been filled with the shakes and an exhilirating rage.

Additionally, I'm becoming an expert in the alterna-tobacco world. 1

Chet's sold me a Savinelli 2 for a reasonable price, and I spent the first two weeks stuffing it with the old classics: Captain Black Gold, Borkum Riff Bourbon Whiskey, and nondescript Apple Pipe Tobacco. 3

Not bad for starters, but a boring, hot Saturday ended up with a trip to the Owl Shop, where I got to sample tobacco in-store. I left with an ounce of Elm Park which their website describes as "smooth and mild, if you like to draw a crowd this is it" and and ounce of Cherry Blossom, purported to be "as sweet as it gets in taste and aroma". Apparently, these tobaccos are blended and aged right at the store, which makes me wonder if I could ever get off the grid and grow my own.

Brother tells me that the old guy at the counter, Frank, doesn't even smoke, but I took him at his word when he told me the Al-Waha Mango shisha was the best. 4

It's satisfying - maybe even overly so. As I've no one to share it with, I end up puffing away for 45 minutes, resulting in a migraine. It's so tasty, but so unweildly, my hookah is still out in the cabana, waiting for the next time I have an hour to spare to do nothing but smoke. 5

Pass the time, passing the time.
Wasting my time looking for the end.
Smoking like a dragon, drowning in my flagon.
Pumping like a work horse going 'round the bend.
Shouting and screaming 'til the walls go deaf.
Shaking my fire and brimstone fist.
Choking on dust as I cleanse myself.
Staining my eyes as I search myself.
I'll never, ever understand.
No one will ever, ever know.
Sticks and stones will break my bones
But cancer will probably kill me.
Filling the gaps with vice after vice.
None of which actually thrill me. 6



1 More of an expert than you, muta'fikah.

2 Well, I suppose the name is as descriptive as it can get, but who does their marketing? Shouldn't it be "Johnny Appleseed" or something?

3 Or at least what he called a Savinelli. Whatever, at least it has "Italy" stamped on the bottom. What do you expect to get for 38 bucks down by the tracks in Webster?

4 Frankly, Frank, I've had better, and it's never been as good as the apple shisha smoked at an Egyptian cafe in Manhattan on 09/09/2001.

5 Use your imagination.

6 From my hardcore hero, Paul Poplawski.