Pipes and 'baccy

It's HUMP DAY!!! Wednesday is here at last. I sat today and had the most remarkable smoke. I filled a bowl of Shortcut to Mushrooms in my newly acquired Gourd Calabash pipe. It was incredible. The pipe itself is a wonderful smoker. The only drawback is that it is HELL to light. Once you get it lit, however, it is a very even cool smoker. The tobacco is a refreshingly pleasant, semi sweet. It has a very pleasant room note and if smoked slowly, it has no tongue bite at all. I have found that all tobaccos will bite if smoked hot and hard enough.  This fine tobacco can be procured from Just For Him, tobacconist, in Springfield, Missouri.  It can also be ordered online at www.justforhim.com

     As promised, here is the next installment of the madness of the Moose. I submit for your perusal the following exercise in self torment. 

Reflections

Blackness, Despair, pushing down with

The crushing force of the

Weight of the universe.

Defeat is inevitable,

But still I cry, try, and strain

To stave it off.

For every victory,

I get thirty defeats.

Worthless, Hopeless,

These words haunt my sleep,

My dreams, even my waking hours.

Desperately I cry out for help.

Finding little, I make mistake after mistake.

The monkey is my constant companion.

I never gave him away, but I’ve been

Given him back an hundred fold.

Where does it end? Where did it begin?

Does this game end before I really get

A chance to play?

This blackness that is my soul consumes me.

Hatred; confusion; longing; love; these emotions

Run constantly through my head.

Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the Beholder.

But, what, if the Beholder is blind?

Nowhere to turn. Embarrassment. I turn away.

I’m told to turn my eyes inward. This

I have done. I find nothing. Self-pity I care

Nothing for. Self understanding I cannot have.

Running scared, just beyond the shadow of

My uncompromising, inevitable fate.

The wall was built long, long ago.

I am now adding more bricks to it.

The wall is high and impenetrable, but for few.

Introspection is a dangerous game,

One I seldom choose to play. Better to

Play the game, never understanding the rules,

Always uncertain, wanting to win, but

Knowing full well that the deck is stacked

Against me. I want to strike out blindly,

To give back some of what I’ve been given,

But I know that I cannot. For when I do

I am condemned.

Mistakes long since made, rise up to haunt me,

Waking and sleeping.

I think of all this sometimes and scoff at

Myself for foolishly blowing it out of proportion.

Am I truly two-dimensional in a 3-D world?

Or am I just another delusional, ignorant

Victim of his own psyche.

Self doubt, self hatred, they spring from

The black well that is my soul to harass me.

Cold, bleak, stark, barren like the tundra.

I am not without feelings! I feel! I hurt!

But what does it matter. I desperately want

To fit in. Always, even when among family,

Feeling like an outsider. I see myself analyzing

People, situations. Always the cynic. Always

Expecting the worst.

Misunderstood by all, hated by most, I try

To just make it from day to day.

My one soul mate, my other half so to speak,

I can never communicate this to. I see some of this

Reflected in his eyes, yet I can’t. Story of my life.

“Have you heard about the lonesome loser…….

“He’s a loser but he still keeps on tryin’…….”

 I am not a nut to be cracked, picked apart.

You think you people can get in? Do you

Honestly think you’ve hurt me?? Ha!

Their arrogance amuses me.