SMOKING :                                          


       Yes, I realize that this is yet another uncouth, unusual topic, but it's one that's been on my mind (and in my lungs) for quite literally the entire duration of the day. First and foremost, I must provide my stance on smoking - I think it's one of the worst self-afflictions you could bring upon yourself. Honestly, why burn both holes in your lungs AND your wallets? If you want something to help relieve stress, why not try something productive that can also double as a stress-reliever, like yoga? And if you smoke because you use the argument "I like the smell," buy yourself some darn incense, okay? At least they won't harm you and those around you by inhaling the fumes. It sucks being in the smoking capital of central civilization. Your lungs take a pounding on the daily, whether or not it is your choice, and that's what I hate the most. I understand the argument that they chose to buy a product and they should have the right to exercise the utilization of a product they bought at a time of their own convenience, but it should NOT come at the expense of others' health. If you want to exercise that right, you should do it in a private setting with others who willingly agree to breathe the smoke in (i.e. others that you associate with who also partake in smoking) this way, the non-smokers don't have to unwillingly have their health marred. What really does it for me is the inherent audacity of some smokers -I apologize to a good population, this rant seems very biased and  ad hominem, but this is meant to be in response to the kinds of smokers who literally have zero regard for those around them - some will dare to give you an offended look if you pass by them and try to hold your nose, or swat the smoke away. Umm, HELLO?!?! When did I agree to have my health endangered by your decision? I never ONCE consented to that notion, so I will gladly swat to my heart's content.
       This in mind, today was a bit of a challenge for me. My rowdy, smoker relatives from my Procreator's side visited, and the ceiling clouds are still tangible. My mouth tastes like the inside of a chimney. Or like I licked freshly-paved asphalt. Or someone backed up a tanker of tar to my mouth, inserted a nozzle, and forced me to drink. Bleh. I've brushed my teeth and gargled four times in the past two hours, alone. It's hard to make small talk with relatives you hardly even know, especially when you can barely utter two syllables without contracting The Black Lung. There's about as much haze in this place as a Louisiana swamp. But this is nothing in comparison to a few weeks back at Personality Crisis (an Indie gig at Shea Stadium Brooklyn). The gig went on from 10:00 PM - 4:00 AM. I left at promptly 11:35 PM, preempting a swift, onset asthma attack. Every article of clothing I had on that day smelled like I had been in a seedy Russian tavern during the 1960's. All the Mentos in the world couldn't rid my mouth of that disgusting tar-like aftertaste. I swore off gigs like that, for the sake of my health. I'm more suited for Bowery Ballroom, Music Hall of Williamsburg, or even Webster Hall. Let's just hope my lungs thank me for being smart. In the meantime, I'm going to ingest a Swiffer Duster in the hopes that it'll clean all of my internal organs during the digestion process. Wishful thinking, to say the least.