05 March 2006

For Esmé with Love and Squalor

Sometimes I do things to myself, destructive things, and I don't remember them until later. It's as though a force is guiding me and I wake up some time in the middle of it or it eventually occurs to me that I have just done something self-destructive.

Tonight, on the way home, I stopped at 7-11 and bought a pack of cloves (I don't smoke...except for the past few days, I suppose). I got on the T, intending to go to Porter Square, but in a moment of blind spontaneity, jumped off of the train at Harvard Square and decided to walk home from there, so that I could talk to Peter and smoke a clove.

So, here I am, smoking my cancer-stick, cell phone on one ear, ipod blaring in the other, walking alone late at night.

It's like playing a game of Russian roulette that might last forty or fifty years. Which instance of self-destructive behaviour that I perform in my early twenties will kill me years from now?! You decide!

Now Listening: Stars - Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

1 comment:

Matt said...

I'd really have to say that destructive behavior is really underrated.