The Retrospective Writings

V for Veiled – Written 7/7/16             Many of you who read these stories consistently know that I have mentioned that there are a lot of memories of mine that have been erased due to the many years of alcohol abuse that I have subjected my brain to, making it hard to recall most (if any) details about specific events in my life. The year that I spent living with one of my best friends, Kyle, produced many memorable moments (and many that I’ve tried to forget), most of which I’ve found difficult to fit into this semi-humorous collection due to their harsh and “real” nature, but that I still feel the need to map out on paper anyway. Some of them may someday fall into another collection with a more apt theme, but for now, there are still some that stick out to me as remember-worthy and that I think are appropriate to look back on at this point in my recovery. I try my hardest to look back and laugh at both the good and the bad while still learning from each experience and usi

On Smoking – Written 7/9/16             My earliest memory on the discovery of smoking was upon visiting my great aunt’s house as a kid. When I asked my father what that horrible smell was, he simply said, “That’s the smell of cancer, son. Cancer and cats.”             “And cancer is bad?” I asked.             “Yes, it’s bad. And cats. It’s caused by smoking on a death stick, of sorts. It kills you. You cough until you die.” As directly as it came, that was the end of it. It’s no wonder why I grew up a dog lover.             It was just a few years later that the anti-tobacco folks showed up at our grade school, throwing pictures of cancerous lungs and gums into our untainted minds, shattering all beliefs that the chain-smoking bad guy in James Bond was cool. They gave us all the facts: you’ll lose all your teeth; your fingers will turn yellow; you’ll burn a hole in your throat; you’re really smoking fiber glass in menthols; the word “light” is just a ploy to trick idiots into