I quit smoking simultaneously with a friend from my high school days. We’ll call him “Dick.” Now, Dick is using The Patch to quit, which I disagree with, but he’s also reached day 5 with no real problems at all, except for, apparently, the same lack of concentration that I’ve been experiencing and really weird dreams. He was telling me about the previous night’s dream—he became convinced that his dog was Boba Fett and he was trying to kill the puppy with a lightsaber—when he stopped talking and turned to the radio, which was stuck on some easy listening station and playing “You Were Meant For Me.”
Out of the blue, Dick turns to me and says, “How much do you think Jewel weighs nowadays?”
There’s no better example of the way the nicotine-deprived mind works than that.

And what I’m for, a week late: Seattle (though a friend of mine taught me this unattributed expression that I agree with completely: “Loving Seattle is like having a beautiful girlfriend who’s sick all the time”,) books, any and every kind of fuckin’, politics, and everything that’s in the movie (not the book) To Have and Have Not.