In university girls didn’t take to me immediately so I started using the pages I had written my stories on to either roll cigarettes or for toilet paper. I felt that smoking them did me more honour than using them to wipe my ass but I did both. It didn’t change the way girls acted towards me right away. But I would say that in the end it did. It definitely did.
I wanted to eat every day, but only once a day. Sometimes I didn’t eat at all. I was busy smoking my stories. I spent all my money on tobacco and sometimes people bought me lunch. Lunch is the meal you need if you plan to eat only once a day, because, obviously, it is strategically located. Though, of course, it’s even better if it’s a late lunch.
So what else does a person need besides a late lunch, tobacco, and stories to smoke the tobacco in?
Not a lot, really, though a beautiful true love affair would have been nice. But not vital.
Life is possible without love. Life is infinitely more complicated without tobacco.
For a while I wore a beard. One day as I was walking to the school I attempted to light one of my stories, which I had rolled very poorly, and the flame went running up the paper and onto my beard. I was mostly displeased because I was closer to the school than home and I didn’t feel like walking all the way home. When I finally made it to class that day, with my beard shaved away, the girls all started noticing me. (That is a horrible lie, it’s very untrue, I just wanted to say it because it seemed so clever to me, because I had already said that the stories would help me get their attention, and this seemed so really hilarious – that they had helped me by burning my beard off! But it’s a lie, it’s not true, and what’s even worse it’s so obvious you probably guessed right away and it’s not that clever after all.)