I don’t smoke, darlings. Not anymore. And I hope it’s for good this time. I’m at the point where I’ve stopped counting how long it’s been since I’ve had a cigarette because the daily cravings have passed. But, there are times, when I’m watching a certain film or listening to certain music, that I just really really really want a cigarette. I seriously almost fucked up today and lit up because of a song by Rilo Kiley — a sexy little number called Smoke Detector:
And god oh god do I ever want to light up when I hear Otis Redding’s sweet voice sing Cigarettes and Coffee:
Then there’s this (and this one’s for Samara) — Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth. You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette.
When I’m writing, I listen to a lot of Tom Waits. I mean, fucking-A, man, Tom Waits and cigarettes is like Hank Williams and Jack Daniels. So how this song ended up in a kids movie I’ll have no idea, but here’s Little Drop of Poison (which I actually discovered on the soundtrack to a Wim Wenders film called The End of Violence)…. There’s a line in it that always resonates with me – “I’m all alone. I smoke my friends down to the filter. But I always feel much cleaner after it rains.”
I love Ani Difranco. I make no bones about it. I have a huge grrrl crush on her, I want to have her little Righteous Babe babies. If you only listen to one song (dear god, don’t just listen to the one song) listen to Marrow, off of her brilliant double album full of amazing musicians making fantastic music called Revelling/Reckoning. This is one of my favourites, with the line “You were smoking me, weren’t you, through your yellow fingers. You’d just inhale and exhale without saying a word.”
Then there’s Rufus Wainwright, who, ahem, smokes in bed, and whose song Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk says it all: “Everything I love it seems is a little bit sweeter, a little bit fatter, a little bit harmful for me.”
Hawksley Workman. The man is sex on a stick, darlings. And he’s a rock and roll animal, riding that sex, drugs and rock and roll train to oblivion. Is it any wonder that I discovered him during that laissez-faire self-destructive period of my life that I just chronicled on Sandy’s blog (you haven’t read it? What’s the matter with you?) And he loves to romanticize smoking. I’ve included three amazing songs that you will simply fall in love with.
“I’m jealous of your cigarette, and how you wanna suck on it, and not me”
“Your eyes must be filled with the mist of underwater cigarettes”
An ode to debauchery… I’ve been there… it’s easy to romanticize, but I’ll agree. “I have never felt quite this close to hell…”
So…. who needs a smoke?