The Second edit, of the First half, of a Short Strange film.

 

Acting: Eoghan Regan  and David Greene

Camera: Dylan Kyrslake and David Greene

Written: Eoghan Regan, David Greene

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Why I smoke (Can’t stop)

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When you smoke, you’re slightly more aware of the fact you will be dead, before people who don’t. You know because it’s on the packets, you know because the adds tell you, and show you; and show you again, and again, and again. It makes you more aware of the word ‘mortality’. Sometimes you catch yourself working it into conversations; which makes you look nuts. “What time is it Eoghan, if ya have it?” “The final hour…” (drags deeply). How can you not when you’re being shown versions of yourself in the back garden, having a smoke after dinner while half your body is a skeleton, and little cancerous cartoon people, dressed like Hitler are A-bombing your lungs. You’re fucked. “Smoking Kills”, shit this must be dangerous, this might kill me? Fuck, I’ve smoked them. I must be dead by that logic. Why the fuck am I doing this? Fuck that, no way, it’s not my fault they’ve got me. It’s strange being a smoker.

 

There’s a comfort in smoking; you sort of have a grasp on what it is that will kill you. Sure it’ll destroy your teeth, lungs, skin and (so I’ve read) your sex drive, but it’s on your terms. Well, actually it’s on the cigarette terms, but smokers enter into an unspoken agreement with cigarettes. Kill me and I’ll grant you a better chance at social interaction at nightclubs, smoke me proudly and drunk girls at parties will ask you for a lighter, try to quit me and I’ll make you more irritable than a cat hooked to a car battery.

 

Currently, Leo Varadkar, current minister for health, and James Reilly, former minister for health; are battling the dreaded cigarette scourge in a High Court battle over branding. Reilly, a former doctor and a picture health himself, is trying to leave behind a legacy in Irish health reform. The final societal ill, after homophobic marriage laws, defunct abortion legislation and an Irish water catastrophe which looks like Tahir Square, but with the occasional 15 bus in the background. They are planning to remove the vibrant branding and alluring colours, which keep the ash-lunged masses sucking years sucking their life clock.

 

I suppose it can’t be condemned, to want to save lives, and end bad-breath. But they can get fucked if they believe I’ll be a better person for it. Healthier? Certainly. Better, Doubtable. It’s the indefensible and I’ve I have no intention of defending it. This is merely a little rant, it has no purpose, it barely makes sense, but at the very least it’s cathartic to describe my seedy relationship I have with cigarettes. My body in crumbing under the weight of my own delusion, but I would be straight up lying to you if I told  you I didn’t like it. I started smoking because I thought it was cool, and I guess I still think it is. There’s a grace, and fluidity to occupied hand movement’s, waving blue carcinogens in the air. “Watch out baby, I’m dangerous”. I’m dangerous to myself, and others, and children and cats and dogs. I’ll sit in the frozen rain just to bum ends of a filth-lipped hobo. If you want to quit, make sure your serious about it. Those sexy little sirens are masters of seduction.