Cigarettes

The cigarette is one of two things that simultaneously revolts and titillates me. The second, of course, being Nick Nolte. Its not the taste, the look or the ridiculously calm and debonair exterior façade it produces, but more the smell that causes me to get ever so slightly nauseous while dreams of old bowling alleys bounce through my head. Come to think of it, Nick Nolte’s smell is also what makes me queasy. He has such a good look.

But smoking has become less the Audrey Hepburn chic or Humphrey Bogart slightly-funny-looking-chic that it once was, and until it returns, I’ll shy away from my previous Virginia Slims habit. I can’t imagine what might make me light up again. Certainly I’d start again if Apple came out with a cigarette. We’d call them iSmokes. As I’d light it the cigarette would play U2’s “The Unforgettable Fire,” and as I practice my meager attempt at a French inhale, a Gerard Depardieu film would project in the smoke. Trendy, artistic and addictive. Much like Tamagotchis.