Mad Man (with a blog)

I decided to go outside and smoke a cigar tonight.

I’ve haven’t done that in a long time.

I think the last time I did that was back in April earlier this year.

Snow has finally fallen in my city, so I prepped myself.

Thermal underwear, thick socks, fur-lined boots, fingerless gloves, washable scarf, fleece lined hoodie, an old winter hat and one of my fleeces.

I went outside, grabbed a lawn chair from the garage and lit the cigar.

It’s a cigar I’ve had since my birthday that I hadn’t found the opportunity to smoke yet. Sometimes circumstances seem ideal, but I didn’t want to put the effort forth to go outside and drown my lungs in smoke.

But tonight, after driving through the first snowfall of the season last night, the horror of last-minute Christmas shoppers and cleaning the hell out of my house, I decided that I earned the chance to reach death faster than the rest of my generation.

I sat back in the chair, inhaled the first drag from the White Owl and exhaled with relief.

I shuffled through my phone to find a good song to smoke to.

A pastime that I’ve used before when I’ve done this, I looked for something old, something new, something to try and make me forget or to make me remember, just something to calm my mind and help me focus.

I continued to take drags from the cigar, not minding the cold sensation that slowly taking over my index and middle fingers. My thumb stayed oddly warm throughout this intermission.

I leaned back, looked at the sky and it seemed so strange.

There were no stars.

There was no moon.

There wasn’t the chance I was staring at an alien life form in a galaxy far away.

There was just the grey sky blocking everything it was overseeing. 

There was just the snow nestling itself in every available crook in my backyard.

There was just the night air filling my lungs between drags.

There was just this emptiness that seemed almost soothing as I became engrossed in it.

And as I sat there with smoke getting in my eyes and my fingers starting to crack and bleed from the cold, I reminisced about what my life has become.

I don’t know how and who beat the piss and vinegar out of me, but I can’t wait to show them.

I can’t wait to show them that everything I’ve ever said wasn’t just talk, but I meant it.

I can’t wait to show them how wrong they were about me.

I can’t wait to show them; just show them.

I’ve had a good run for the past few years, but it’s time for more. More, specifically, of my potential that everyone has been able to recognize and see in me that I haven’t been able to utilize for years.  

I finished the cigar, snuffed out the last bit and came inside.

I threw my hoodie, scarf, gloves and fleece into the laundry room for when I do wash tomorrow.

Now, it’s just making good on my word.

Easy enough, right? 


About ryantpoole

Ryan T Poole is a former broadcast public relations specialist and morning show producer. His time is spent updating this blog, watching and analyzing TV and movies, reading, listening to music, taking care of his pets, and refocusing his energy into more productive outlets. He likes cold coffee, hot tea, long conversations, and obscure references.

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