being jo

in the long quest that is quitting the repugnant habit of smoking (no such luck yet) i reward myself with the thought that there will be a window of time between 80 and 90 that i will allow myself to take it back up again. it will just be goodbye for now to my sweet little sticks of death. i plan to wear caftans, and kimonos, bejewel myself in treasures, wrap my head in turbans, and with my nightcap of the dirtiest martini i shall stand on my sprawling veranda each night and smoke one gold papered lady stick perched in an opera length tortious shell cigarette holder. i’m aware this is a skewed sense of what one’s hopes and dreams should carry but perhaps this fantasy could aid many who have ripped off patches, and had heart palpitations from nicorette followed by cigarette- if i have helped just one soldier in this war against these devilishly delicious creatures, my job here is done.