Got A Light?

I want to sit on the steps leading up to my apartment and have a smoke. This is very odd since I don't smoke. This is, excepting, of course, the pack I split with Austin Bauer in his parent's garage at age 12. I didn't inhale. At any rate, it's odd. It's the first day of Autumn and, even in San Diego, despite the sun, there's a faint chill in the air. The sky is clear. It feels a little like everything before today and everything tomorrow is collapsed into just today-- the first day of Autumn always feels this way-- and I'd like to sit out on the front steps and stare out into the street and think about that. I guess I'd like to have something to do with my hands while I do that. Something to fiddle with.

I can be a real asshole when I talk about smoking, but I suppose I do understand the appeal.