Sorry I didn’t write for a while, but once again I got on a
busy streak and did a little travelling. I just came back
from London.
I have to say airports really make me horny. You see so
many people from so many countries smoking and almost every
country in the world has smokers that are more into their
smoking than Americans. You see women at every “smoking
area” chugging down smoke as if they’re trying to patch a
leak in their lungs as fast as they can.
Particularly sexy are the duty-free shops. Has anyone
noticed how much of the floorspace in these places are
devoted to cigarettes. It seems to be the number one
sought-after item for travellers by how much attention they
pay to cigarettes. There were shelves and shelves of
cigarettes at very reasonable prices.
The thing that really made me excited was the Marlboro display. It was beautiful: They were offering 5 CARTONS of Marlboro Reds or Lights for 80 dollars, which is a good bargain. More importantly, however, lots of people got very excited about it. I pretended to examine merchandise on the shelf next to it while I overheard the women in the crowd excitedly noticing it, one after the other. So many women’s eyes became wide with awe as they saw the massive box containing cartons and cartons of cigarettes. There were actual shouts of glee and women were declaring “oh oh oh, we HAVE to get this!” It genuinely stirred a great deal of excitement in them to see so many cigarettes. Wives were forcing their husbands to stop and buy it (and it went the other way too, with husbands convincing wives, but I didn’t find that as interesting.) All ages were captivated by the bargain, young and old.
My mouth was practically watering when I saw the women
excitedly heave the box off the shelf and take it up to the
register. I couldn’t help but picture the contents of the
massive box being emptied into the women’s gleeful chests.
These beautiful boxes of Marlboros would soon become a deep
layer of stain inside each and every one of their lungs and
they couldn’t possibly be any happier about it. I wished I
could magically open up their chests and gently slide each
carton inside them on the spot, watching the cartons
dissolve into smoke as it touched their lungs, with them
smiling all the while. A couple of women actually bought 2
of them or even more, for all I know. I had to wonder if
any of the women in the room with me at the time were going
to actually get cancer from one of the many cigarettes they
would consume from this treasure chest. That would truly be
a great bargain and the most wonderful gift they could ever
give themselves. If I had the power, I would have gladly
placed a sweet little tumor in each and every chest into
the room, right inside their lungs, under their soft
breasts, where it would be hard to notice until it had
plenty of time to grow and grow.
There’s something so magical about seeing a woman hold so
many cartons of cigarettes. They usually hold it around
their breasts. When they hold it, it’s on the outside of
their breasts, but you know that very soon it will be on
the inside and the woman just can’t wait to put it there. I
picture all the women in the store having lungs filled with
sweet tar, just collecting on the delicate surfaces. I
picture their lungs being various shades of brown: some
have a few stains that have soaked all the way through
their lungs, with a light dusting of tarry cream covering
every tube inside their breathing organs, while others have
deeply saturated tissue with severe wounds that are not
allowed to heal – their lungs being visibly shriveled and
hardened, perhaps bulging at points where air sacs have
been left for dead and are inflated with emphysema. All of
the women are working up to that point and I wish them the
best of luck in acheiving it. And their hearts: each of
their hearts are growing large from the pressure of beating
through blood vessels constricted by nicotine. You almost
wish they could smoke enough to make their swollen hearts
pop. They know that there is a transformation taking place
in their body. They can feel the changes, but it doesn’t
make them feel sad at all. Instead, they’re proceeding with
it at full steam, noticing over time that their body is
different than it was before. They relish the comfort of
the shortening of their breath and the diminishing of their
endurance. I myself am so glad that I made the choice to
begin smoking so long ago and beginning the process that is
much farther along in my body today.
Another topic: Smoking in the workplace. Even in Europe there seem to be few places where that is allowed, but I got to hang around in a smoking-allowed workplace for a little while and I absolutely found it to be heaven. I saw men and women just smoking up a storm at their desks, their smoke drifting around the room and being breathed by co-workers. My eyes actually got a little irritated from the constant, thick smoke and I noticed other’s eyes were a little bit red. I couldn’t help but breathe a little harder than usual to make the most of my moments in the building. I would find it an absolute dream to be trapped for 8 hours a day in an environment in which my lungs were CONSTANTLY exposed to smoke, without even the possibility of a break. I silently thanked god that the women in the room had to be trapped in the smoke so much and was very happy to hear some of them had worked there over a decade. There was only one non-smoker in the office and he was a male, so all the women both smoked and breathed second-hand smoke all day. From the feeling I got doing actual work in an office saturated with smoke, I have no doubt at this point that second-hand smoke must make a very big dent in a person’s health. It’s not as concentrated at any given time as a deep self-inhaled puff, but it truly is relentless and unending. Your lungs literally never breathe fresh air. My nose got plugged from it. I would give anything to work like that every day, but at least I know that the sexy women in the office do indeed live that reality. They had pretty chesty coughs and I’m hoping the worst for their near-term health.
That’s all for now, Raucher