rolled cigarettes these days. it’s easy: fold paper, add shag, compress with fingers to desired consistency, lick gum, roll into cylinder, push filling back with butt of matchstick, roll one end closed, grab the other end and flick to pack. light rolled end.

draw should be around that of a commercial straight, maybe a little bit harder. affected by any number of things but mostly the amount of compression and the amount of flicking. skinny ones provide a more consistent flow of nicotine; fat ones tend to soak it up in the butt for the first half of the smoke and then release it all at once.

learned from andro. learned flick trick from pam. prefer skinnies because of jodi.

have lost track of when and where, except for the important ones: sunday at the pub, thursday at the marina, wednesday at home, saturday at the pub. ~~~ your cigarettes your smoke-filled kisses still drift in sunlit corners like blue angels ~~~

the sea, today, drags at me. i think it always has, only some days it’s stronger than others. tom waits complains, “the ocean doesn’t want me today”; i never had that trouble. tis i who dinna want the water.

is everyone afraid of drowning? like all children i feared death, or rather the act of dying: when i learned that i would have to die i tried to imagine the least painful way in which it could be brought off. some of my friends - how they should know - claimed that drowning was peaceful. i even now would prefer a gunshot.

the ocean doesn’t plan to drown me. i don’t think it plans to drown anyone: but i don’t know. melville thought it was cruel. i wonder if it isn’t only much too strong.

i think i would prefer to die against something strong. i think i would prefer to live in an occasional fear for my life. i think i would rather love than be loved.