Thursday, January 17, 2008

"When you die, can I buy a ticket to ice-skate on your lungs?" Danny inquired as I lit my post-joint Marlboro Menthol Light.

"You crack me up!" Puffs ran over my tongue and down my windpipe with the sweet and familiar minty taste, yet my lungs responded by surrendering a good amount of volume to the tar attack.

Minor asthma that had developed from years of smoking had helped me quit...except of course when i drink or chief. Like in that country song..."she only smokes when she drinks," or some kind of shit like that. I don't really listen to much country.

"Just get it wet and stick it in there," I instructed.

Danny held his brush almost timidly. He had never watercolored before. He didn't know what he doing. We sat deep within the trees in a small clearing at Toad Suck Park. We couldn't been seen or heard, and we were only hoping we wouldn't be smelt. But we probably were. Being "smelt" that is. I don't think anyone really cares anymore. You'd be surprised to find out how many turn to the green for a bit of relaxation or recreation. From homeless crackwhores to grade school students to teachers all the way up to wealthy business owner millionaires. whatever!

Awww, I needed this bit of nature and this chance to do something I enjoy doing. It had been way too long.