Sunday, 26 March 2017 —
Sunday morning. 2:30am.
I’m sitting here thinking. Thinking keeps people up late at night. There’s almost too many thoughts drifting throughout the Universe at night versus the day. Think about it: day comes, you go to work, have a little brainstorm session and… nothing. Not one shitty thought comes about except maybe, “What’s for lunch?” or where to have a quick drink after work. “How many hours left at work?” you may even think.
So here I am, 2:32 am writing and sipping cucumber water. I’m not really into fruits and vegetables in water. I’m not trying to be healthy. I generally have a lemon (literally half a lemon) kerplunked into my glass and Google-search alkalinity and why it’s so important in this acidic world of alcohol, coffee and chocolate I live in (let’s not forget the occasional piece of the most unkosher prosciutto). When the lemons have gone for the week, maybe I’ll see lime laying around the refrigerator and off that goes into my glass. Now, I’m out of kerplunkable fruit. Onward to cucumbers, cucumbers are incredibly alkaline and good for you to sip on if you hate the taste of regular ol’ boring water. God, water is boring. It’s so boring it’s expensive boring. We pay for the bottle, the name and right to drink what makes 3/4 of our world. It’s so fucking stupid. It’s like charging for air. I know we pay big bucks for the filtration of good water and even have special pHs of water available now for unitary tract disorders and overall better organ function, but cucumbers cut into the water make for a quick alkalinity worker. So, there you have it. Now… back to 2:32 am…
2:37: Up. Golden Girls on Hulu and Chris is asleep on the floor of the living room with cushions thrown under him. My sixties-style mid century reading chair cushions are serving as an informal bed since I have decided going to bed is not in the cards for me.
I slept until 10:00 yesterday morning and met my friend for lunch at 1. We ate copious amounts of sushi and I drank a couple of bottles of good sake, super cold and talked about kids and home-life (two things I know nothing about and cannot relate to). After, I came home and decided that today’s day off field trip would include smoking a cigar. I’ve never smoked a cigar before. I wanted to know what the fuss was about. Chris came with me.
I walked into the cigar store today and the girl came to the front desk and I said, very nicely in my blazer and Kosher 90210 shirt, “hello there. I am on an adult field-trip today and would like to see what the fuss is about. I want to smoke a cigar. Now, tell me, where do we start?”
She said, “Follow me.”
I followed. Chris giggled.
We walked into a room that felt like sweaty Florida. It reminded me of Ft. Lauderdale. I wanted to book a plane ticket instantly and have some of that Cuban-tinged Crab Bisque I had last summer. Oh my goodness that soup was delicious! The room brought me back to the humidity that we so often lack in dry Colorado. Everyone here looks like cornflakes if they don’t moisturize. You don’t have to try to be moist in Florida, it just kinda happens. The room felt like that. It just kinda happened to be damp. The air smelt like an old Dominican, maybe even Cuban man. I made side conversation by telling her, “in 33 years, I’ve never had a proper cigar.” She just giggled. Chris was covering his face by now. My dialog was like a really dressed up Lucy Ricardo. I was ready for a Tobacco adventure. I selected a beginner-grade cigar called Romeo y Julieta. It is a Dominican variety. I instantly wanted Rum, but Whisky is better. She cut it, I paid and off we went to smoke behind the building like naughty schoolboys preparing for holiday break.
Chris helped me light it. I puffed like a boss. “Don’t inhale this,” he said. I puffed like a champ instead.
We walked around the corner. He lit a cigarette, I chewed on the end of the cigar a bit.
“Why do people chew on cigars?”, I asked.
“I don’t know, Bubs.” he said, “they think it brings out flavor. I think its useless really.”
I stopped chewing on the end and puffed and walked some more.
“What do you want to do now?” Chris asked.
“Oh yeah. That’s rather nice, isn’t it?” I said puffing away. Mesmerized by the glory of smoky tobacco.
“You enjoying that?”
“Oh yeah, babe. This is fabulous. Cheers mate. A real past time I could get into.” I said.
He giggled some more.
“Let’s go for a little drive.” He said. And off we went.
The window was rolled down, I was sitting in the passenger seat puffing and looking at the world. Why do people smoke marijuana when a cigar is better, I thought. Why do people like stinky cigarettes with dry oregano-style tobacco laced with poison when a rolled tobacco leaf does the trick. I googled “Tobacco” and read about its many addictive qualities. It’s a stimulant. The Spaniards, Portuguese and Italians brought it back to Spain to grow, yada yada.
“Look bubs! Smoking a cigar is practically my heritage!”
He slapped his forehead.
I googled opening hours for a bar I like. 4pm. Okie dokie. I said, “they open at 4pm according to Google.”
“I guess that’s where we’re going…” said Chris.
Onward James! Drive on.
We had a couple drinks. Literally, a couple. I’m not much into binge-drinking these days and besides this new grown-up cigar-smoking 33-year-old wasn’t gonna be seen getting sloppy. I just wanted to enjoy myself with Chris.
We talked about God, the Catholic Church, my fascination with Hinduism and Greek Orthodoxy and how I almost converted to one of the two as an 18 year old rather than being Jewish and talked about Togo-Benin lineage in my ancestry.com results and the practice of Voodoo and the Loa and what pagans don’t understand about African ceremony. I googled Loa and found that they like cigars and alcohol.
Here I was smoking a cigar, puffing.
Some spiritual folks believe smoking a cigar offers assistance in transporting prayers to God or the Universe. The smoke serves as a vehicle. I don’t know about that. I think you can get the job done with incense, but I guess it’s the same concept. I smoked my cigar and thought about the Sabbath. I took this Saturday off to celebrate the Sabbath in my own way. I guess I did.
On the way home, we stopped at McDonald’s and I ate an ice cream cone. Chris was laughing at my childlike fascination licking and chewing and slurping and carrying on with this frozen treat. We pulled up at home and he asked me where the ice cream cone had gone.
It was gone. I ate it. I grabbed the remainder of my cigar and we went upstairs. I made a cup of coffee and fell asleep on the couch.
Not such a bad day off. I did nothing except eat, drink, smoke, walk and talk. This could be such a decadence seeing as many people are observing lent. I’m not Catholic anymore (haven’t been since I was a teenager), but I’m aware that today was a bit gluttonous.
Tomorrow we’re back to vegetarianism, healthy water, healthy get-up times and gymming and working and stressing about the week… I still have half a cigar to push me through the week though.