The American Gifts of Fire and Ice
“One pack of Camel Turkish Silver, please…”
It’s become as common as the sunrise, such a trite and uninspiring statement. My daily habit. Lighting fires and inhaling the smoke. I’ve been wondering a lot about why exactly I started smoking–mostly over the cool warmth of irish whiskey on the rocks. That’s it, isn’t it? Fire and ice. Right hand burning; left freezing…double fisting my own demise.
On a deep level I wonder if I’m purposely killing myself. A subconscious desire to end it all, manifesting in the cacophony of packing cigarettes and lighter hinges. Wouldn’t it be fantastic…the mind recognizing its own agony and slowly poisoning its fleshly vessel? Or is it clearly conscious…which would only add to this tragic comedy. Am I trying to kill myself?
At its most basic level, the answer is yes. What other end do these activities ultimately yield? Its beyond conscious. I know exactly what is happening to my body, but I light up regardless, then wash it down with ice-chilled jet fuel. I used to destroy my father’s cigarettes. I hated him for smoking. Raised on the evils of tobacco and drugs in government schools, I viewed his habit as a betrayal.
And again, like so many other things, I am my father’s son.
Do I want to die? Yes. But not tomorrow. And that’s why I can continue to brandish the forces of fire and ice. Right hand burning; left hand freezing. I want to live a long and wonderful life, with friends and family–a wife and children if god wills. But for right now, right here, I make the conscious decision to jeopardize all of that, because its intangible…its a gamble.
And what are we if not gamblers? It’s the American way, burning hot in our blood like a freshly lit cherry. This is the West–the great frontier. Where Indians threaten and wilderness reigns. Yea, I’m a twenty-first century cowboy. I just don’t wear a damn ten-gallon hat.
Or at least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself…
One Response to “The American Gifts of Fire and Ice”
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October 8th, 2007 at 1:34 am
“Elliott re-writes the introduction to his senior paper to include a shout out to Bushmills…”
but seriously, you’ve pretty much just nailed down the american psyche in 300 words or less. i am not invincible, but my destruction will be at my own hand. i can not pay these bills, so i will screw the system. i will not win this war, but i’ll be damned if YOU remove me. i know you know better, but i refuse to ask…