Day 2-Nostalgia
My first cigarette was inspired by an episode of I Love Lucy. It was all in black and white but I could imagine her in color. Red curly hair pinned in a bun, a collar dress I knew was light blue emphasized her small curves, and the light gray air that flowed from her mouth. She would sit in her clean living room after taking off her apron and pensively smoke. It would be short lived since there was always a knock on the door.
I have always seen myself as a Lucy. Wanting to do everything, anything, something along the lines of artistic but not having the right amount of talent. Being surrounded by folks that do is a cock tease of what I could achieve if I believed in myself enough. I am here to be a cheerleader. I am here to scream loud enough hopping for acknowledgement.
I quickly found out that cigarettes were better with booze. I discovered Janis Joplin in college. Janis was a working alcoholic. I would listen to her recordings and hear the slurring of words, rude exchanges with band members, changes in original lyrics, mid-song rants, and the way she would sometimes drop her mic on the floor after a performance. She was brilliant and I fell in love.
Being a host for a poetry slam melded these two personas together. I became respectful of folks on the stage since I couldn’t do it myself. I began to drink since I had stage fright. I started ranting between poets, being rude with whoever was willing to be shat upon, and proceed to drink myself into a blackout.
I went from an awkward person who slowly drank herself to corky that end up at self-loathing asshole.
I am not these women.
I am ready for a change. A change in the pace my life is going. I don’t know myself anymore. What do I have to say without being inebriated? Would I talk to this person if they weren’t holding my favorite cigarettes? I need to find a balance.
*This blog sponsored by Elliott Smith*
I have always seen myself as a Lucy. Wanting to do everything, anything, something along the lines of artistic but not having the right amount of talent. Being surrounded by folks that do is a cock tease of what I could achieve if I believed in myself enough. I am here to be a cheerleader. I am here to scream loud enough hopping for acknowledgement.
I quickly found out that cigarettes were better with booze. I discovered Janis Joplin in college. Janis was a working alcoholic. I would listen to her recordings and hear the slurring of words, rude exchanges with band members, changes in original lyrics, mid-song rants, and the way she would sometimes drop her mic on the floor after a performance. She was brilliant and I fell in love.
Being a host for a poetry slam melded these two personas together. I became respectful of folks on the stage since I couldn’t do it myself. I began to drink since I had stage fright. I started ranting between poets, being rude with whoever was willing to be shat upon, and proceed to drink myself into a blackout.
I went from an awkward person who slowly drank herself to corky that end up at self-loathing asshole.
I am not these women.
I am ready for a change. A change in the pace my life is going. I don’t know myself anymore. What do I have to say without being inebriated? Would I talk to this person if they weren’t holding my favorite cigarettes? I need to find a balance.
*This blog sponsored by Elliott Smith*