Diary of a Network Geek

I want to smoke.
Not just a smoke, but to smoke. I want to chain smoke clove cigarettes until the hazy cloud surrounds me like an airy, armored halo. I want to light my next smoke on the red-hot cherry of the last one and burn through the pack as fast as I can breathe. I want to sit very still in the damp fog that insulates Houston tonight from the ennui of this post Valentine’s Day euphoria that everyone feels but me and smoke until I can feel the nicotine seep through my pores like the sweat on a cold Scotch. I want to feel the burn as I suck the hot fire of my favorite Indonesian cancer sticks into my lungs. I want to see the cloud thicken as I blow the sweet, dark smoke out my flared nostrils. I want to smoke like a death row inmate wants his conjugal visit. I want to feel the tingle that starts at my hairline and cascades down my scalp as the tiny capillaries push that sweet lady nicotine through my skull into my brain and make me feel alive even as it slowly kills me. I want it as bad as I imagine a junky wants his fix after three days clean listening to his cell mate chatter. I want to start smoking and just keep on until my entire body is ash. I want to skip work, skip therapy, skip eating. I just want to smoke. I want to smoke my fear and my pain and my worry away in a sugary, spicy, clove cloud. I want my entire life to be consumed through a filtered krtek so I won’t have to be bothered with people, places or things again. I don’t want to move or even think. I just want to smoke.
Yeah, I could go for a smoke.

This post brought to you by the song “Lady Nicotine” on A Little Gun Shy, by Brian Douglas and French Kiss staring Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline.

Yeah, “magic”.
A guy by the name of Terry Brooks wrote a book on writing fantasy once, called Sometimes the Magic Works. Now, to be honest, I’ve not read the book. In fact, I’m not a really big Terry Brooks fan, but the title of this book has been so evocative for me that it has always struck a chord when I think of it.
So, here’s the thing. Magic is pretty rare in this muddy, mundane world of ours. We don’t get many chances at it, so when it comes, you’ve got to grab it with both hands and hold on for all you’re worth to see how far it takes you. Sometimes, it doesn’t go very far at all. Other times, it takes you farther than you can imagine. And, still other times, it just runs around in a circle. But, see, it’s not where you get that matters, because no matter the destination, it’s the ride that’s magic.

You know, most days, I feel like I’m a potter, working with low-grade clay trying to make a beautiful vase, but that I’m surrounded by amazing artists blowing glass into fantastic shapes. Still, I’m in the workshop, elbow deep in muddy clay, spinning that lump around, trying to draw out what magic I can. After all, the effort is the thing, not my end result, right?
And, who’s to say which is more magical? Those fragile, glass baubles or my sturdy, earthenware vase?