Photo from Shutterstock
  • Photo from Shutterstock

Each year, I cut back a little more on smoking. A far cry from my pack-a-day undergrad years that were spent cramming for modern American lit exams, delivering pizzas, playing in inept punk bands, and not really giving a shit, these days are exhausted with being hyperaware of a slowing metabolism and a 30-year-old body that’s starting to break down—I finally just overcame a death cough that’s been lingering since Christmas, for example.