The Joys of Smoking

(originally published at World Online, 16 August 2001. Alas, it’s no longer online.)

I LOVE life. I love it because I love smoking. I’m drinking coffee and smoking away as I write this. At my desk, in my room, where I CAN smoke.

Not too long ago, at some literary thing in Cape Town, I bump into the editor, skulking like James Woods behind the giant Strelitzia, sunglasses in one hand and dragging on an absolute or final light cigarette. ‘Fuck! Absolute lights!’ I laugh in derision.

As scum of the earth, we naturally huddle around our common plight. ‘The last enclave of offense against bourgeois health,’ I joke.

That Nescafé Moment

(originally published as “Bean me up” in Student Life – now SL – Magazine, in March 1997 [!])

I’M ADDICTED to LIFE because in life I can drink Java. When I die, I won’t wake to smell the first 500 mils. of the good stuff. Waking with that dried cow-pat feeling in the mouth, nothing starts my day like a toothbrush and half a litre of fresh brew.

This past season was a special pleasure since Santa delivered my funky Bosch grinder. Lazily, I ground the bean and brewed away, rolling a cigarette before I poured the coffee. Aah… don’t forget the cigarettes.