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7:37 p.m. - 2003-04-23 Today was the first day of employment for my new helper. Motherfucker was a no show. That left plenty of work for me to do all by myself, until late at night. I like smoking. I have tried to figure out what it is that is so appealing about the act of breathing poisonous vapors, and while I have come up with a few ideas, it is still remarkably dumb. I heard once that it harkens back to days long ago. Before the days of yore even. Back when we was cave people, and smoke meant fire, which meant warmth and cooking. Is it possible that the same thing that made my ol dog Maxine howl when she heard opera music, even though no other dog had taught her that it�s the thing to do, also makes me comforted by sucking up soot? I think for me it has a lot to do with indulgence. I have no real vices to call my own anymore. I quit smoking dope. I quit taking pills. I tried smoking pills and it didn�t work out to hot. I have nothing to fucking do. No little reward for myself. No act of pure selfishness that I can look forward to when things that are beyond my control are giving me the business. But I have to stop. I have to give it up because it is dumber than shit. And cost money. And makes me stink even worse than normal. And could shorten my ol lifespan giving me less time to play the maracas in my unywear. Oh yeah! Bean brought me back some maracas! Her mother actually sent them for me, and her sis picked them out! They have never met me before, but through beans account of my shenanigans they were able to ascertain exactly the dorky, annoying delight that would be produced by a maraca/heckafresh combination!
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