Smoke and fire

I love the smell of cigarettes. The hazy stream that emits from the end. It is how I smell when I've accomplished an excellent Friday night. It's the smell of a bar with good friends, it is the smell of Shitty's aka Pancake City with even better friends. It's the smell of freedom, of relaxation. It's the smell of rebeliousness. It's the smell of a great Friday night.

There are two kinds of smokers: those with habits, and those who are rebels. Those with habits smoke becasue they are addicted. Those who are rebels smoke becasue it's supposedly bucking social norms. The rebels gather in their smokers' circle trying the exude the Marxist revoltion from their butts ;)

Freshman year; the debaters would stand in a Smoker's circle. Walsh, Tyson, Chris, Tyler would stand around smoking acting cool and in control-ready to decimate next rounds opponets. To get the smoker's circle and listen to these supposed masters, you had to stand the smoke. And thus, my association with smoking and cool was born.

The smell of cigars is even better, a smell that comes on Summer sunday nights, shared with none. My own personal vice and liberation.