Author: Alex West
After many minutes of quiet pursuit, I have discovered the appeal of cigarettes. To the reader: please keep in mind that the claim I intend to make does not concern itself with the romantic smokers of the past who mightily puffed their hand-picked and -rolled cigarettes as they surveyed the smooth landscape of a land or woman just conquered.
Those were a different kind of smoker whose motivation is now lost along with their valor and age. Instead, I intend to analyze the smokers of today who buy cigarettes sold in packaging imposed upon by a bolded label warning the purchaser of the dangers inside. The modern smoker stands in bold defiance of physical health and his reasoning is rare and valuable.
The appeal of the cigarette lies embedded in the universal wish of the na’ve man once rhetorically illuminated by Franz Kafka in correspondence with friend Max Brod. The yolk of the na’ve man’s wish is, “To die and watch others crying over him.” This wish adapted to fit the current topic of discussion can be read as such: The yolk of the cigarette smoker’s wish is, “To publically engage in the process of dying and watch as others cry over him.”
The average man walking down the street sheds life little by little yet this goes ignored, purposefully and paradoxically. He dies constantly yet no one will notice and no one will cry over him, save for maybe himself huddled fully clothed in the corner of his moldy shower.
The cigarette smoker wears his death brazenly as he breathes it into the faces of the dying. He does this not to open their eyes to their own hypocritical decay for their lives do not concern him. He does this simply to win the tiniest measure of sympathy from a concerned and captivated audience.
Though the patented smokers frown might say otherwise, each cigarette is an extended arm and an open hand. The smoker chooses to die publicly in order to secure the privilege of watching many cry over him. The non-smoker will have to wait for old age to experience this. The worn warning, “That will kill you, you know?” is a eulogy to this man who wants nothing more than to dangle his pain loosely in his lips and have his struggle verified by the frowns of others.
Perhaps this article has served only to show why I continue to smoke. Why my heavy chest is not enough to make me want to give it up. Or maybe I have succeeded in highlighting the plight of a group of a generation that willfully carries the torch of our predecessors.
Alex West is a junior ECLS major. He can be reached at awest@oxy.edu.
This article has been archived, for more requests please contact us via the support system.
