What do you do with an old smoker's lighters now that the old smoker is dead? This, my darlings, is a play on that phrase, "What do you do with an old woman's shoes now that the old woman is dead" but I can't for the life of me remember from where it comes. Do you?
Not to dawdle but today marks Day 6 in my quest to quit smoking and forever abandon my beloved tobacco sticks. It's fucking hell as my usual modus operandi after a shitty work day like today is to make love to my music collection and write nonsense on this old blog with lots of wine and lots of smoking for company. Instead I've been stuffing my face with anything I can get my hands on and by stuffing I mean food, not fellatio unfortunately, though undoubtedly the latter would far more greatly benefit my waistline and my ego.
Until this shit storm passes and I can drink wine or enjoy a bar again without the uncontrollable compulsion to suck nicotine from the mouth of my fellow bar patrons, I'll be holing up with lots of books for company. Here are 3 I picked up just today...
Not to dawdle but today marks Day 6 in my quest to quit smoking and forever abandon my beloved tobacco sticks. It's fucking hell as my usual modus operandi after a shitty work day like today is to make love to my music collection and write nonsense on this old blog with lots of wine and lots of smoking for company. Instead I've been stuffing my face with anything I can get my hands on and by stuffing I mean food, not fellatio unfortunately, though undoubtedly the latter would far more greatly benefit my waistline and my ego.
Until this shit storm passes and I can drink wine or enjoy a bar again without the uncontrollable compulsion to suck nicotine from the mouth of my fellow bar patrons, I'll be holing up with lots of books for company. Here are 3 I picked up just today...
Long time lover of Murakami, I'm hoping at least half of these stories mention whiskey, cigarettes, sex and ears.
In one afterlife you
may find that God is the size of a microbe and is unaware of your
existence. In another, your creators are a species of dim-witted
creatures who built us to figure out what they could not. In a different
version of the afterlife you work as a background character in other
people’s dreams. Or you may find that God is a married couple
struggling with discontent, or that the afterlife contains only those
people whom you remember, or that the hereafter includes the thousands
of previous gods who no longer attract followers. In some afterlives
you are split into your different ages; in some you are forced to live
with annoying versions of yourself that represent what you could have
been; in others you are re-created from your credit card records and
Internet history....
Author of Stiff, The Curious Lives of Corpses. It's a funny sciency approach to sex.
UM NEED I SAY MORE?!
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