Noted in Passing: Smoke ’em if you got ’em
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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2001-2022
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
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That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
Comments on this entry are closed.
not the 70’s. nice attempt. clothes, glasses, and head gear slightly wrong. especially the 2000 something car in the background.
yah had be there.
yep..
at 0:24 just as she’s getting into the T-Bird, you can see a Lexus in the parking lot behind her.
Great catch! Had me fooled.
Production values aside, she’s too soy-fed and carb-loaded to be from back when and not be Barbra Streisand.
Not bad though!
it’s video and looks it- first reveal.
Just finished my last Marlboro of the day.
“Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff and if you puff yourself to death
Tell Saint Peter at the golden gate
Lord, you hate to make him wait
You gotta have another cigarette.”
One day a few years ago my girlfriend—she was 25 at the time—came up to me and asked, “Mike, I want you to teach me how to smoke.” I was happy to oblige her. Probably going to Hell for that one.
To smoke properly involves a certain style so you don’t look like a novice—or worse, an idiot. Bogart and Bacall knew how:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZPUZyOfwZU
If you ever find yourself backpacking to the ruins of Kuelap in Peru, feel free to light up:
http://mikeaustin.org/Peru/img0021.jpg
Ok then, one more Marlboro.
Been smoking for about 44 years now. I quit every night when I go to bed. Damn if I don’t pick the habit right back up the next morning.
I have actually quit several times over the years, the longest period, three months, before succumbing to the siren song of the evil Nicotine.
Harder habit to give up than Heroin, or so they say.
I was a moderate smoker for 18 years, my preference Camel Filters. But when my wife was pregnant with 1st child, she asked me (didn’t tell me – asked) to consider quitting to help prevent possible asthma for the kid.
So I gave up smoking in spring of 1998. Been holding since.
Still miss it, especially this time of year. Favorite part of waking up was getting out of bed, putting on a jacket and lighting up inside the carport in cold atmosphere. Oooh – I miss it. But not enough to start up again. Especially with price of them now.
You did the right thing. Tried Camel filters—not bad. Also tried Luckies, Kents and Cool Menthols. All good.
Wake up in a tent right before sunrise. Step out into the cold and fire up the stove. Look out at a small, fog covered lake. Listen to the fading howls of coyotes. See my trusty Surly bicycle parked against a tree, panniers covered in dew. Set my camp chair. Grab my coffee. Light up a smoke.
God is good.
I quit on the operating table in 2008 just prior to having the same aneurysm repaired that killed my brother 15 years earlier (and almost killed his son while he was on the operating table).
Mine was spotted by accident, the surgeon told me I didn’t have a year left in it.
remember, cigaret butts ar not litter.
A pack of smokes costs $16.00 in Canada now…
New York City $12.85, $4.35TX
an internet search shows we have five gas stations, one in my neighborhood.
can’t vouch for accuracy.
Tobacco is a dirty weed, I like it
It satisfies no normal need, I like it
It makes you thin,
It makes you lean,
It takes the hair right off your bean,
Its the worst damn stuff I’ve ever seen,
I like it.
Cars.
Cigars.
gitarz
I’ll see your cigars, and guitars and raise you: girlz.
You WIN!
gurlz gunz gitarz, wut else do you need?
I fold, Casey. Girlz is the winning hand!
Sweeps in his chips. Lights a cigar. Tips each man back one chip.
Another giveaway: one of the T-Bird’s passenger side tail light’s bulbs is burned out or missing.
And I love me my smokes that have been giving me pleasure for fifty-two years now. Can’t smoke the store-boughts since the Regime in every state forced tobacco companies to make all cigarettes the “FIRE-SAFE” kind, because the chemicals that retard their burning continuously turn my stomach into a wretched, upset, writhing cauldron (plus, you have to hot box – take much too frequent drags on those “FIRE-SAFE” smokes so they won’t extinguish themselves). So I’ve since been making my own, on a Supermatic machine, with the filter-on empty tubes and Bugler tobacco. Just one more instance of the Regime snuffing out another pleasure that’s none of the Regime’s damned business.
Auntie, I tried rolling my own but could never quite master it. My cigarettes came out looking like the joints I smoked in college.
My dear Mike, I don’t hand-roll my smokes – that’s a feat that always escaped my mastery. Using the Supermatic machine (which can no longer be bought – it’s been discontinued, but there are other machines not as good that are still sold) and pre-made tubes that have the filters already attached, turns out very nicely made ciggies that are the equal of store-bought ciggies, without the store-boughts’ downside of “FIRE-SAFE” self-extinguishing chemicals.
Thank you kindly. I’ll give it a go and report back.
Mike, I just put up a picture of various home roll tools on my ipernity site; http://www.ipernity.com/doc/319805/51075550
The crank top machine or the Bugler push, both using Top pre made tubes, are easiest to use producing consistent results.
The one that looks like a cigarette case is a French made roller, nuff said.
The old standby, double rollers wrapped with an apron still works fine if you want non-filters.
Thank you! Going to get moving on this.
A long time ago I rolled one by hand and it looked like one of Mike’s joints. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In those days, post-army, I was a professional smoker but that hand rolled one treated me like a beginner. Ever smoked a Pall Mall filterless? Like that, but much more harsh, and dense. 2-3 hits and I was suffering from nicotine overload. Yes, that’s possible. I didn’t have an urge for another smoke for several hours. My guess is that the manufacturing process for the store bought kind with a filter renders a smoke that is very mild and therefore you want another one pretty quick. Hand rolled is like putting a blower and headers on it. You get ALL the benefit and zero coddling. You’ll smoke less too.
I was a professional smoker but that hand rolled one treated me like a beginner.
I’ve known that feeling, too, Ghostsniper, but it was from rolling my own smokes with Drum tobacco, which a buddy recommended. Bout knocked me on my keister the first time I smoked one. Went back to tailor mades after that.
“Gitanes”.
2-3 drags, they were like getting shotgunned (the weed kind) through a stovepipe.
Shermans. And champagne for breakfast. Frampton was right.
The film quality is too good. Can’t believe anyone was fooled by this. Of course, it sounds like you just in a pissy mood today as you are bashing cruises and being duped by an easily spotted fake.
Charles, have a shot of whiskey. It will lighten up your mood this cold November morning.
One tequila
Two tequila
Three tequila
Floor
Another tell is the girls eye mascara swoop thing at outer edge. Too 2020, reminds me of election fraud. The great truck, though, reminds me of full forensic audit. Dunno why, just the way my mind works.
I started smoking tobacco cigarettes as a teen. I never really liked it actually. The smell, the nasty breath, the dirty ash-tray, etc. That shit is poison!
I had habituated it, as sort of a timing mechanism at work.
I quit when my son was born. Never looked back. In fact, I laugh when I realize that when I quit they had reached the awful price of $1 per pack of 20. Now they are $10 I think. My logic, in addition to the health benefits for all members of the family, was that @ $1 per pack / per day = $365…I thought, Hey, I could buy a new rifle every year for that kind of money….so I did for a decade or more.
Been smoking weed for more than 50 years now and would never consider giving up on Mary-Jane. She is my first love and I’ll never quit her.
I’ve never smoked tobacco!
God I’m bad,I thought the chick was a hooker, with her date picking her up. Sheesh!
VI
I’ve gone a few rounds with cigarettes. Even though I no longer smoke, I don’t mind the smell, and I don’t get tempted to start again. There are few buzzes quite so pleasant as a fresh cup of hot coffee, and a Marlboro. Last time I quit was in 1999. Nicotine withdrawal doesn’t have much to recommend it, but when it came time to quit, I figured I bought the ticket, and may as well take the ride. It’s not that bad. (Abundant weed helps, though.)
JWM
My dad quit smoking when he was 43 just to win an office cold turkey group bet during November and January. Everyone else dropped out right away just to have a cigarette, but had to keep paying into the pot. He wanted the money so bad, that he won. After 8 weeks he had started to really taste how good food was again, so he decided to stop for good. I’m so glad he did. Our house had stunk like death from his smoking, dirty cigarette and cigar butts, overflowing ashtrays. His teeth were yellow from it and all of our clothes and hair reeked off it. My eyes were constantly red during my first 13 years of life. I was most glad that he stopped though, because I got to have him in my life until he was 87, when his smoke ravaged lungs finally did him in. Smoking had caused him agony with gum disease and losing most of his teeth in his 50’s and 60’s. Lots of painful periodontal visits, all for naught. In his 70’s and 80’s he began the cycle of hospitalizations for pneumonia—the major sign that the cancer is eating away at your lungs. Very common in smokers and ex-smokers. In his final few years, the cancer grew to the size of a tennis ball between his lungs. This was causing congestive heart failure. He never told me. Finally learned about it from his doctor at the end. He fought the good fight at the end, beating the pneumonia, and was scheduled to leave the hospital when one of those lovely hospital based infections hit him. He was gone 8 agonizing hours later, slowly suffocating as his lungs filled with fluid, too weak and lacking in breath to even speak. My dad was always a very active and social guy, up at the crack of dawn, eager to start his day and also a night owl. I believe that if he had never smoked that he probably would have made it in mostly good health and with his sharp mind to see 100. I so wish he had. I miss him every day since his passing 4 years ago. Smoke if you must. Smoke if you enjoy it. Just realize that those who love and care about you will wish that you didn’t. You will too some day.
To each his own Annie, I’ve no problem with your opinion on smoking but I do feel it’s rather presumptuous of you telling me I’ll wish I didn’t some day.
Smoking has to be done right, or it looks silly. Her smoking is too deliberate. I see the same sort of thing when I see the rare millenial with a cig. Every part of the ritual: reaching for the pack/box, tapping one out, putting the box back, lighting up, and drawing the first puff, looks rehearsed for the camera. Same sort of thing goes with the tokers who waited “until it was legal”. They look like plastic hippies. 😉
JWM
Then there’s Pulp Fiction Smoking. Red Apples, anyone?
@Rev.Bro. Generik Broderick—that bird-wing swoop of eyeliner has been around for a long time. The mid-50s at the least. The style comes and goes. Go back and watch the early Raquel Welch movies, and you’ll see her wearing it. Sophia Loren in the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80, 90s etcetera. She’s still wearing it, in fact. All the Bond girls wore it, especially in the early movies. My oldest sister is 75 and she is still wearing the bird-wing.
After 30 years of menthols of one brand or another, I smoked my last on 9/25/02 and haven’t touched tobacco since. I still enjoy the occasional whiff of secondhand smoke – getting rarer and rarer these days, but I have no desire to ever return to that bondage. Good riddance to it.
Never got addicted to cigarettes, but cigars crept up on me a few years ago. Convinced myself that there could be no harm in one every few days… Plus they would annoy all the right people. Pretty soon they were whispering to me morning and evening begging to be sprung from the shiny new humidor and taken out for a walk and a puff in the park.
Had to put a stop to it. And that was painful for a while.
The other dead giveaway besides production values and Lexus was the lingering bell-bottoms closeup. Pudding over-egged.
My physician said he can’t wait to turn 60.
“I’ll start smoking again. I’ll be dead before I get cancer.”
My kinda guy.
“Doc, how about a prostate exam?”
“No need. You’ll be dead before cancer kills you.”
He believes that coronary artery disease is caused by tiny blood clots that get stuck and accumulate. Then inflammation. Then calcify. Then a larger clot gets stuck, and that’s that.
Hence, aspirin.