So I was in lab today at around four, thinking about some Weighty and Momentous things, and could feel the anger burbling and gurgling within me, as acid splashed around my stomach lining and screamed for vengeance.
Stay calm, I told myself. Stay calm.
Yet that slosh of rage continued to boil caustically within me, threatening to explode out of me.
What is the matter with you? I asked myself. What's got you so upset?
Then I looked at my watch, and realized I hadn't eaten since a couple bites of chicken in the early morning.
Anyways, with that little intro, I present to you another guest column by fPendl:
Guest Column #7 (by fPendl)
People always look at me funny when I light up a cigar. They feel it's too septuagenarian, or too British, even too unhealthy. (Just so you know, cigars are like caffeine or cocaine: not addictive at all).
Yet I smile inwardly as they try to take a puff off of their cigarettes, or even more...*blunt* vices. That bull**** is for the rat races. Nicotine, marijuana, a shot of tequila, a shot at love, a shot at love with Tila Tequila, all of them are just ephemeral bull-rushes of pleasure that spark and fade away rapidly, leaving you crashing, craving more and unable to be satisfied with life.
But when you first light the cigar...the pleasure stays, not the center of the smoking experience but rather a peripheral texture that becomes the frame of the experience, in an oddly postmodern way. [Editors note: seriously?] Every time you try to focus on the calming feeling it writhes away, but by deliberately *not* focusing on it and instead thinking about (for example) the smoke burning your eyes, it creeps in around the edges out of the corner of your mind's eye. It's a fascinating experience, in a very Zen way: feeling pleasure by not focusing on pleasure. Try it sometime.
[Editor's note: I believe fPendl has truly gone insane]