I smoked my last cigarette nearly ten days ago. Supposedly, I’ve regained the sense of smell I would have had if I never started smoking. I fucking believe it. Being able to smell like a normal human is already terrible.
I keep catching whiffs of things I wouldn’t have noticed before I quit. Napoleon (our chihuahua) suddenly smells like old sweat and dirt. I can sporadically detect the scent of beer even though I haven’t had any drinks in the house in weeks. Suddenly I hate the smell of laundry detergent, so much so I’m having trouble sleeping on pillows which are now obnoxiously fragrant.
Last time I tried quitting I couldn’t focus on anything and cried for the first time in my adult life. This time, my symptoms of withdrawal aren’t bad enough to distract me from going about my day. Even so, I don’t feel like updating this blog right now (I’d rather punch it in its goddamned face to be perfectly honest), but I’m still doing 31 Days of Gore, an October-long film marathon in which I review 31 horror movies in a row. (More on that soon.)
I’m worried my blog posts might seem a bit more angry in the future. If that’s the case, just remember that’s probably the nicotine junkie talking, not me. Probably.
In other news, I was browsing OOP (eBay lingo for “out-of-print”) movies the other day and stumbled upon a VHS copy of Sonny Boy, an early 90s exploitation film which features David Carradine in drag. I remembered reading about it in a Fangoria about a million years ago and was tickled to death to rediscover it. I’ve always wanted to see it (at least during the period of time in which I remembered it) and, thankfully, I won the auction.
$8 to see a forgotten masterpiece like this? Hell yeah.
10/3/2016 Update: Sonny Boy is now available on Blu-Ray from Shout Factory and I’m still an ex-smoker. No noticeable weight gain and my tolerance for spicy foods as well as my newfound love for dark chocolate have gone through the roof.
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