Jamaica, Mahn - Day 2 - Paradise Lost

11/16/14

Norman Manley International Airport, Jamaica

And so our brief time in this little piece of paradise has come to an end.  In 24 hours, I will be at the cigar store, telling my friends about an amazing trip, in stark contrast to my mood of last night.  It is amazing how 8 hours of sleep in a real bed, a cool breeze, and some shade can work as such a panacea.  I will be back to my daily life in New York, probably not leaving the island of Manhattan until Thanksgiving.  Our jovial driver for the day kept telling us all the things to do the next time we came here.  We smiled and nodded along.  There will be no next time, not here, or at least not for quite some time, not the way I travel.  There are too many islands in the Caribbean, the South Pacific, the Mediterranean, and all around the world.  There are too many other wonderful places in the world to visit.  It will be a long time before I return to this particular paradise.

We allowed ourselves to sleep in, not getting down to breakfast until after 10 AM, and we were a little worried that we were too late.  We were not.  After a delicious breakfast consisting of fruit, coffee, eggs, and jerk sausage, we went back to the room to relax, and I smoked my last H. Upman.  We got a taxi to take us to Fort Clarence and got some fried fish and lobster.  Our driver was all too happy to show us around Kingston, including stopping somewhere for me to get some Blue Mountain Coffee.  I lit up my OpusX, and we worked on the rest of the rum as we ate our meal.

After the meal, I finally allowed myself to relax.  It was not too hot, and I had nothing in the world to bother me.  Gone were the stresses of work, the typical stresses of travelling, my worries, everything was gone.  I was in paradise with someone whom I loved very dearly and one of my closest friends.  Nothing else mattered.  As I saw her frolicking in the ocean, I remembered the vision I had of Fiji a few months ago, and, for the first time in six weeks (the night we planned this trip), I was truly happy.  Yes, reader, there have been plenty of things in my life I have been happy about, and I have thoroughly enjoyed almost my entire life, but that is not what I mean.  What I mean is that I was purely happy with not another thought on my mind.  I have a very active mind, and it is so rare that I can shut off the rest of my mind to focus on one emotion like that.  There is always some negative emotion or stress or worry permeating my mind.  At that moment, there was not.  Or I am checking my messages or Facebook or Instagram.  My phone was in my pocket the whole time.  We were in paradise.

I soon came back to reality, realizing we would be leaving in a few hours.  Sure, we would be going to Florida in few a weeks, and there would be plenty of great trips in our future.  After my OpusX, I joined her in the water, getting my feet wet.  That was when she splashed me.  At that moment, I remembered exactly why I wanted to start dating one of my closest friends.  We started splashing each other, and I didn’t care that my clothes or the things in my pockets were getting wet.  I was happy again, nothing else was on my mind, but the water soon started to bother me, so I left.  I moved my towel into the sun to be next to hers.  I lit up a Cohiba, and I dried off.

After the cigar, it was time for us to leave, and our driver took us back to our hotel.  I washed my feet and changed into my suit.  The driver took us to Port Royal, a place I knew very well from Pirates of the Caribbean, and we saw the remnants.  We could have stayed longer, but I was nervous about getting to the airport with enough time to write this entry.  We got some coffee to drink, checked in, went through security with minimal problems.  They made her deflate the soccer ball she bought for her cousin, and they almost took away the bottle of rum that I had filled with sand at the beach.  I got three bottles of rum at duty-free, and then we found some seats.  I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close since our flight is about to board.

Jamaica Mahn - Day 1 - Hot as Hell

11/15/14

Kingston, Jamaica

I suppose that by my typical Travelogue standards, the events of today, when written out, would seem rather boring and underwhelming.  We left the hotel around 10 AM, picked up some souvenirs, did one activity, eating a meal on-site, left at 3:30 PM, got ice cream, went back to the hotel, went out for a casual dinner, and were back at the hotel around 7:30 PM.  Boring day, right?  Wrong.

Day 1 properly began the moment I woke up on the airplane, and we soon landed.  We were the first ones off the plane, being the only people in business class, and we went to immigration.  There was some kind of issue with my passport, and the agent seemed to think it was a glitch from their end.  They wound up asking my multiple times if I was here for business.  That was the only question they had for me, and I told them it was for pure tourism.  It was not a long process, but it was a new experience, and an unexpected one.  This was the land of Bob Marley and “Yah, mahn!”  It seemed odd to be subjected to such scrutiny.  It didn’t matter.  We weren’t on any type of time crunch.

My original plan was for us to head to Parliament, take our pictures, go to the hotel, be unable to check in, change into our beach attire, have breakfast, go to the souvenir shops, get my souvenirs, and be at the beach at 9 AM.  We were able to check in early, which allowed us to catch a much-needed nap.  As exhausting as the day was, without that nap, it surely would have been even more tiring.

However, I was starving, having nigh naught but a cupcake in well over 12 hours, so we got breakfast first.  I got what the waitress called the Jamaican national dish, saltfish and ackee, which was really good and quite a challenge to eat with chopsticks, and a perfect first Official meal in Jamaica.  The coffee I had with breakfast was not conducive to me getting a good nap.  As mentioned in the opening, we left the hotel at 10 AM and got our taxi for the day, which seemed to be overpriced, but it was what it was, even if I was convinced that there was racket going on between the hotel and the taxis.  I got what I needed at the souvenir shops, including presents for Ryan and Emily, unable to find something for Sokol.  The only other person for whom I would have wanted to buy a present was standing right next to me.  She got some souvenirs for her family.  I’m not sure if she got anything for herself.

From there it was time to go to the beach, and I chose Hellshire beach, renowned for their fried fish stands.  We ordered some fried fish, which as delicious as it was difficult to eat with chopsticks, with all the fixings and a pair of Red Stripe beers to go with it.  I lit up my Ramon Allones, the last from the box.  It was fitting that it would be the cigar that it would be my first Official cigar in Jamaica and the cigar that allowed me to say, “Jamaica Complete.”  She gave me a congratulatory high-five, though it was a particularly difficult task, not having to hit any WHS or Olympic Stadiums.  I joked that now that I had said “Jamaica Complete,” we could head home.  We had not yet set foot on the beach.  She did not find the joke funny.

I’m sure my reader knows that I am not a huge fan of the beach.  When I was younger, hell, the last time I went to the beach even (5 months ago), I went for no other reason than to check out the women, being in a very happy relationship with the woman lying next to me, I had no desire to spend an afternoon “checking out women.”  After minimal cajoling, I get my feet wet and sandy.

It was shortly that my world slowly started to turn to hell.  Nine hours later, I was depressed and almost yakked.  Why?  One simple reason.  The heat.  Yes, reader, I was in paradise, but it was as hot as hell.  I do not handle the heat well.  I never have.  I have always preferred the cold to the heat.  It was ten degrees too hot for me.  I have never been able to segregate feelings of hunger, dehydration, and exhaustion from sadness.  It was what happened in Fredericton a month ago, and it was what was happening here today.  I was constantly hungry, eating past the point of satiation only to be hungry 20 minutes later.  No matter how much water I drank, I could not hydrate myself.

By the time we got back to the hotel from dinner, I was sick or sad, and I couldn’t figure out which.  Now, sitting on the balcony with a nice cool breeze, writing this entry, I am neither, though I am still hungry, despite having eaten four big meals today.  Now, I am in familiar territory, recalling the happy memories of St. John’s and Basseterre.  Now, all is well.  Three hours ago, that was not the case.

My vision of paradise is the Canadian Arctic or Greenland or northern Scandinavia in the summer, not escaping the New York winter to go to someplace that is hot as hell.  I caught a nap and went to get some fried lobster, no easy feat to eat with chopsticks.  I bought some more gifts from a vendor there, and our driver was soon there to pick us up.  We went to I Scream (the number 1 rated restaurant in TripAdvisor for Kingston) for some delicious ice scream, and then he dropped us off at the hotel.

She watched a movie while I took a much needed nap.  We (she) decided that we would reenact our little adventure to McDonald’s after the wedding when we were dressed to the nines.  The thing about us is that we both are and would settle for nothing less than “anything but ordinary.”  We got dressed up in our best outfits and headed to get some jerk chicken at a little joint.  It was so good, and I got another red stripe.

At first I thought I was toasted, but then I realized that I was actually starting to feel sick.  I was dehydrated and exhausted and/or sad.  I couldn’t figure it out.  I just wanted to be back in the cool hotel room.  By the time we got back to the hotel, I was hungry again, despite not being able to finish the jerk chicken.  When we did get up to the room, I took another short nap and then lit up my 2008 Christmas Pipe, put on my Idina Menzel Christmas album, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, since I am mamash tired and ready to pass out.

Jamaica, Mahn! - Day 0 - Fading Friendships

11/14/14

Aboard BW 16, En route JFK-KIN

As we make our way to Jamaica, I am forced to remember the last time I travelled to the Greater Antilles.  It was 7 years ago, and I got utterly and royally toasted with three of my friends.  We decided we wanted to fly to Paris to get ortolan, but we didn’t all have passports.  Instead, we chose Puerto Rico.  The details of the trip are unimportant.  What is important is the details of those friendships.  I have been pre-writing this entry for almost a week now, and the conversation we had earlier this evening touched on many of the points I had planned to make and reinforced the importance of this entry.

I have written enough times about the list of 20 people in the world I love, and how I honestly don’t care about the rest of them, the other 7 billion.  I’m sure my seasoned readers know me well enough to know that that is a real list, an actual list on my phone of 20 names (well, initials).  No, I will not be posting that list.  There are too many people who would be shocked to find themselves included and others who would be angered to find themselves not included.  What is interesting is that I made the same list when I was in NYU, around the time of that trip to Puerto Rico.  Other than my family, there is not a single overlapping name.

Reader, think of that for a moment.  My closest friends at the time, the people whom I most dearly loved outside of my family, all of them, out of my life.  More importantly, they are not only out of my life, but they are now exactly the same as the 7 billion.  They mean nothing to me.  I have neither any positive nor negative emotions towards them.  I am still fond of one them, the one with whom I ever have any contact, the last one of them to have left my life, but I no longer love her.  She was my best friend for a year, and now she means practically nothing to me.  On the other hand, the ignoring my family again, and I will lump my sister-in-law into that group, because I consider her as much my sister as I consider my brother to be my brother, the women at the top end of that list are people who have all entered my life within the past 30 months.  That, outside of my family, the four women in the world whom I love most were for 90% of my life total strangers or not yet born.

I am focusing on the women because the three men that fall into that range are people who have been in and out of my life for quite some time.  My best friend, he fell out of my life for over a decade before we rekindled our friendship three years ago.  He is now very high on that list and likely will be for the rest of our lives.  My favorite coworker, someone who has known me my entire life, one of my favorite people in the world, has been in and out of my life as I worked or did not work at my father’s company.  To know him is to love him.  The old manager of the cigar store rounds out that list, and, there was a gap when I stopped going to the cigar store.  We had a special bond when, 8 years ago, I walked into that cigar store looking for a pipe tamper.  That was his first week at the store.  8 years later, we had become very close friends, and now he has moved to another store.  We have discussed some creative venture together that may or may not pan out.  If they do, we will continue our friendship.  If they don’t I expect we will slowly and eventually drift apart, in which case his name would slide off the list.

That leaves the aforementioned four women.  The first, of course, is my girlfriend.  Two years ago, she was a stranger.  A year ago, someone with whom I frequently interacted on Facebook, interaction that slowly became more and more flirtatious as I started to develop interest in developing feelings beyond the bonds of friendship.  3 months ago, she was a girl I wanted to date.  Now, she is, well, she’s her.  No other words are required, nothing else needs to be said.

The next on that list would be a girl from my philosophy class.  She is one of the smartest and most interesting people I know.  A year ago, she was a stranger.  7 months ago, I fell in love with her, and I decided to ask her out.  After the final, I forgot about her for 3 months.  She was out of my life.  About 2 months ago, she became one of my closest friends, along with another classmate.  I grouped the two of them together, unable to separate my feelings for them.  The male was the closer friend, but we drifted, and I started developing a closer friendship with the female classmate about a month ago.  I love both of them very dearly, but they will both be out of my life in two months.  I know for a fact that, while I will always remember them fondly, just as I do the girl from the Puerto Rico trip, the girl who was my best friend for a year, if I do not maintain regular contact with them, they will slip off of my list.

The next two are women who are out of my life in person but with whom I maintain regular electronic contact.  The first one was a stranger three years ago, practically a Facebook friend a year ago, and is now one of my best friends.  She will always hold a special place in my heart.  She was the girl who reminded that I would one day fall in love again.  After the disastrous experiences with women I had at NYU, I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I would never fall in love again.  I had forgotten what it was like feel desire.  I had forgotten the meaning of the word passion.  Three years ago, I was practically dead inside.  Three summers ago, that all changed.  When I saw her, I felt alive.  I saw one of the prettiest people I had ever met.  I saw someone who reminded me that I wanted to fall in love again.  I felt desire.  I asked her out a few times, she always had a different excuse why she couldn’t join me, though she never outright rejected me.  After three strikes, I called it an out, and I moved on.

We hung out a few times, exchanged a bunch of excited texts.  It was a far cry from the summer fling I had hoped to have with her, but it was more of an interaction with a woman (well, a girl) than I had had in quite some time.  It never would have worked out for a variety of reasons.  I was not in place where I was looking for a serious relationship.  I was looking to have fun.  I did have fun with her, just not the type I had hoped.  I flew off to Nashville, and she was back in Florida by the time I got back to New York.

She was out of my life, and so were my feelings for her, for the most part.  I always held a certain fondness of those memories, and those lingering feelings were used in many philosophical debates to defend the merit of “irrational happiness.”  We maintained sporadic communication through Facebook and text messaging.  We had periods of more and less frequent communications, lasting a day or a week, but she was never really in my life.  Then, something changed two months ago.  We had lunch together the day before my 27^th Birthday.  She acted like I was her best friend.

Wait, when did this start?  Well, a week later, we fell out of touch again.  Then, two weeks after that, when Aliyah and I made our relationship status Official on Facebook, I instantaneously got an angry text from her, demanding why I didn’t tell her I had a girlfriend.  Since when did we have that kind of relationship?  We didn’t.  I made a joke, and I didn’t hear from her for another two weeks.  She came back to New York, we met for a drink, and we were back to being best friends.  That was the last time I saw her, and she was out of my life once more.  Then the new Taylor Swift album came out.  That gave us something to talk about, back to being best friends, texting every day, sometimes multiple times a day, about Taylor Swift and Harry Potter and movies and our shared interests.

Relationships require a deeper connection, but a friendship, especially one that is solely maintained through text messages, can easily be based on shared interests and nothing else.  Eventually, we will run out of things to say about Taylor’s new album.  She may even fade out of my life once more, but she will never drop off of that list.  The memory of that night in the summer of 2012 when I finally woke up, when I stopped being dead inside, when I remembered what desire felt like, that memory will never fade, and I will always love her for that.  Wow, I did not mean to write that much about her.

Now, to round out that list we have one of my former co-workers.  4 months ago, she was a stranger.  3 months ago, she was a crush.  2.5 months ago, I realized that I loved her for no other reason than that she was such a happy person and that I would hate to see such happiness diminished.  A month ago, that foreshadowing came true.  Such happiness was diminished.  I was sad, very sad, to see that light fade away.  It is amazing how someone who was a stranger 4 months ago, someone whom I have not seen in a month, someone with whom I really only ever interacted electronically beyond saying good morning and good bye, how someone who should by all means be considered an acquaintance is one of the 20 people in the world whom I love.  Eventually, she too, will fade out of my life, and that will be the end of that.  She will slowly drift off of the list, unless we maintain regular communication, which I don’t see happening.

As of now, there are three people I text every day.  8 years ago, those three people were as strangers to me.  Now, the people I used to text or message every day are as strangers to me.  It is amazing how these fading friendships cause us to stop loving the people who used to be the most important people in our lives.  This is slightly more than I meant to write on the topic, and I am mamash tired.  However, this entry would not be complete without briefly, and I mean briefly, recalling Day 0.

After a harrowing day at work, I headed to the cigar store where I enjoyed an Opus, having recently treated myself to a box of them.  I biked home, finished the cigar as I backed up my files.  I had had no appetite since I left work, though I had not really eaten much all day.  I certainly had no desire for dinner.  I had a few peppermint pretzels just to change the taste in my mouth between the cigar and the 2007 Christmas Pipe I would later light up as I finished packing.  It was Officially that time of year, so I put on the Christmas music.

Aliyah came over shortly after I finished the pipe.  I lit up my Ramon Allones, and then we headed out.  Oh, the cupcake.  Aliyah bought me a cupcake, which was a very sweet thing of her to do, pun intended.  Under any other circumstances, I would have been delighted to have a pumpkin cupcake.  It looked absolutely delicious, yet I had no appetite.  It did not take much convincing from her end to get me to eat the cupcake.  It was as good as it looked.  I used Lyft to get us to the airport, which was overpriced due to peak pricing.

When we got to the airport, we quickly realized that we were the only white people on the plane.  We were able to upgrade to business class for 40% of the ticket price.  My cut-off is 50%.  Any more than that, and it is not worth the premium.  We went through security and headed to the lounge, which was empty, so we enjoyed being silly and having the lounge to ourselves.  I made myself a martini, which I continued to drink as we headed to the plane, getting there as they announced final boarding call.  Just as we were the only white people on the flight, we were also the only people in business class.  I joked that it was like a bus in Montgomery in 1963, the segregation.  Again, I had no appetite when the food was offered, so I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.

NE/NB/NY - Day 3 - New York

10/13/14

Scarsdale, New York

I’m tired, I’m exhausted, tonight’s entry will be short.  I made no progress on my meditations from last night, and I am prepared to say that, in the end, free will is an irrelevant topic for the philosophers.  Sure, the biologists and neuroscientists and psychologists can debate and research the topic, but, with our present knowledge, there is no point continuing the debate.  If free will is not possible, none of it matters.  Otherwise, free will is possible, and the debate is over.  Until and unless the biologists or neuroscientists or pyschologists have found a way to disprove free will, the proper philosophical answer is to continue to live our lives as if free will is possible.  With that out of the way, I can now move on to recounting the events of today, the adventures that brought me back through New York to my parents house in Scarsdale.

I slept as late as could, until I knew that I could not fall asleep.  I had thought that I was on no set schedule, that I could take my time, that the only variable would be how late I arrived in Scarsdale.  However, I was wrong.  I had forgotten that I wanted to arrive at the State Capitol in Albany before dark.  I got out of bed around 10 AM, having woken up around 9 AM and not being able to get back to sleep.  I probably should have just gotten out of bed when I woke up at 9 AM, that would have given me more of a cushion, but it was what it was.  I had completely forgotten about that variable until it was too late.

I did go to the Frontenac for breakfast, stopping at Parliament for my Official picture along, and I was glad that I didn’t just eat at my hotel, my parents always reminding me how good that buffet was when we went half a lifetime ago.  They had not lost their touch.  It was probably the best breakfast I’ve had in North America, other than some that I’ve had in Manhattan.  The best part was the eggs, they were perfectly cooked French-style scrambled eggs.  When scrambled eggs are prepared right, they are as good as any food.  These were cooked right.

After breakfast, I lit up my Churchill and went to pay homage to the plaque again.  I got some more pictures, not that I didn’t have enough pictures with the plaque from the three other times that I went there.  As I explored a different part of the old city, I realized the time crunch and that I was risking not getting to Albany before sunset.  I found my way to the fortifications and walked back to Rue Saint Louis atop the wall.

I took my traditional picture with the Winston Churchill statue, having him smoke my cigar, getting a kick out of it that I was smoking a Churchill, before walking back to my hotel.  I considered stopping at the Casa in Montreal, but, when I put in the State Capitol into my GPS, it was showing an arrival time mamash at sunset.  There was no time to spare, and I wanted to pick up a bottle of whiskey at the duty free.  I lit up a Gurkha and was on my way.

Due to construction and holiday traffic, I lost even more time.  As I was driving, I saw someone tailgating a gas tanker.  As I approached him, I thought to myself how stupid it would have to be for someone to do that.  Either pass him or keep a safe distance.  Then I saw the car flash its brake lights three times as I went to pass him.  He was obviously warning, about what though?  Was the tanker driving erratically making it unsafe to pass?  Then I saw it, a cop on the median.  I slowed down and, for the second time in two days, I narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket in Quebec.  I soon made it to the border, not quite having finished my Aging Room, which I ditched in the parking lot, and the lines at Duty Free took far longer than it should have, costing me 5 precious minutes.

When I got back in the car, my arrival time said 6:40 PM.  Nautical twilight began at 6:44 PM (dusk as it’s more commonly called).  I figured that I would make up some time on the road.  By the time I crossed the border, it was now showing 6:50 PM.  When the officer asked me where I was from, I said New York.  He said, “New York’s a big state.”  I did not think that to keep repeating New York until he realized that I meant the City of New York would be conducive to getting to the State Capitol before nautical twilight began.  Instead, I replied by saying “Park Avenue and [my cross street] in Midtown Manhattan.”  “Oh, downstate.”  I set my cruise control for 13 mph above the speed limit.  By simple math, the arrival time should have went down by a minute every 6 minutes.  It was not.  Had my GPS gotten used to me usually driving 13 mph above the speed limit and accounted for that?  Something was definitely off.  I lit up an Opus, and I resigned myself to defeat.

I knew that the Capitol would be well lit and that I could take a good picture of the building.  The photo with would just be shit.  I was right.  I wound up ditching the cigar outside the Capitol, and I got a decent enough picture to say “New York Complete,” adding that it only took 27 years, but I would like to come back to take a more Official picture.  I’m sure I’ll have a chance to stop by Albany at some point in the next three years.  I called my father, telling him I was in Albany and to turn the oven to 200 degrees.  My parents know what that phrase means.  It means that a bucket of wings will be getting delivered within the hour.  I called Candlelight and made it so.

As I was driving away, I realized that I hadn’t realized the significance of that moment, that I finally said “New York Complete.”  Without the daylit picture, it just didn’t feel triumphant.  I stopped at the first service area I found on I-87 and filled up.  I debated if I should take a U or “make it interesting” for the two hours to Scarsdale.  It turned out there was no way to drive from the gas pumps back to the service area, it being one way.  “I guess I’m making it interesting,” I announced as I drove off, putting on Les Miz and lighting up an Avo, a combination I have used to close out so many trips and long drives.

The last song came on as I was pulling into the driveway, and then I heard a crash. 1500 miles of driving with no problem this trip, in addition to the 25,000 or so I had done this year without an accident, only to hit something as I pulled into my parents driveway?  It was just a tree branch that hit the mirror.  I doubt it did any damage.  The wings were ready for me, and I polished off most of the bucket while I chatted and joked with my parents, absolutely starving since I had had nothing since breakfast other than a liter of water and five cigars.  The funniest quote was as follows.  We were discussing the “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” painting.  I said that it was painted by Van Gogh or Cezanne or Picasso, some French guy.  My father replied that they’re all French.  I shot back that Van Gogh was Dutch and Picasso Spanish.  He agreed with that, leaving only Cezanne.  The three of us cracked up for a good minute.

I then had some ice cream and went to weigh in.  Figuring between all the crap I had eaten this week (and the last seven weeks for that matter, since I weighed in Portland), and the pound of wings and the two large glasses of water, I must be well over my most recent weigh-in.  I was wrong, I had stayed at the same weight and will be even lower in the morning.  That also means that I have weighed in lighter than my brother for the first time in probably a decade.  I sat down with my father and chatted some more before I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get some sleep.  In the end, I set out to say NE/NB/NY Complete, and I suppose that I did.  I still don’t have that last stamped brochure from Saugus, I didn’t get my souvenirs in Fredericton, and I need a better picture in front of the Capitol, but I did say NE/NB/NY Complete.  Next stop: Jamaica, man!

NE/NB/NY - Day 2 - New Brunswick

10/12/14

Quebec, Quebec

Reader, when was the last time that you were so happy that you skipped down the block or danced across the street?  That was mamash what I did this evening as I walked past Parliament from my hotel to the restaurant in Vieux Quebec.  All was well.  I had said “New Brunswick Complete,” and I was in my second favorite city in North America.  New York will always be my favorite place in the world, always.

However, before I recount my adventures in Fredericton and Quebec and the journey between those two provincial capitals, I must continue on from my meditations of yesterday.  I realized that the questions I had asked in the opening were the crux of this argument.  If we are to argue that a dog does not have free will, then I will say that neither do humans.  A dog’s actions are consistent enough that if they do not result from at least some smidgeon of free will, it counters my argument of consistency proving free will.  I have rejected the argument that free will exists because we feel we have free will.  That is a bad argument.  What then about computers?  If you want to argue that a robot cannot be built, whether in a decade or a century or a millennium, that can have free will, then I will argue that neither can humans.  If we are to accept that consciousness is anything other than a gift given by god, we must needs allow that it is something that can be recreated in a machine with sufficient scientific and technological advancement.

I am still no closer to figuring out where I stand on these issues, but I am better understanding the form that my arguments would take.  I repeat, I refuse to allow that free will is only possible for the 7 billion or so human minds on the earth.  I refuse to allow that free will came into being 2 million years ago.  If we are to argue this, then when do humans develop free will?  Does an infant have free will?  A two-year-old?  A five-year-old?  Where do we draw the line?  My argument would be one of scales.  As we reach maturity, we develop more and more free will, just as we evolved more and more free will over the millions of years.  I refuse to allow that it is a black and white thing, that this species has free will and that all others do not, that we develop free will at a certain age and had no free will the day before that.

So, then, what do I say to someone who agrees with me on those aspects? Do I say that I believe free will is possible?  No, I do not say that.  I say that I think it could be possible, that I see no reason to refute it.  When it comes to the existence of god, I have no such doubts.  I say that I believe that god does not exist.  I do not say that I do not believe god exists.  Those are two very different statements.  I guess then, with free will, I would say that I do not believe free that free will is impossible, that I do not believe in hard incompatiblism.  However, I cannot say that I do believe free will is impossible, that I believe in libertarianism.

I only believe in what I can observe with my five senses or deduce through my reasoning mind.  I’m not sure how emotions fit into that mix, since I am not exactly deducing them me my reasoning mind.  I am just observing them.  The same can be said about what we call free will.  However, free will is seen to be an Efficient Cause, while emotions are seen to be a Final Cause.  There is no reason to doubt that my happiness exists, since by feeling it I am experiencing happiness.  I take actions to increase my happiness.  I do not take actions to increase my free will.  I use my free will to increase my happiness.

The answer to this, to be perfectly honest, is that it doesn’t matter.  Short of a proof that free will is impossible, I will not start engaging in hedonism and eschew responsibility for my actions.  I will not start eating boxes of cookies and quarts of ice cream and smoking in the office, saying that it was determined that I would do so.  Even if we had a proof that determinism was true, it would be irrelevant.  If determinism (or hard incompatibilism) is true, there would be no way for me to change my actions.  It is a catch-22.  With that, I will close my mediations for today and pause to fill up another bowl of my pipe.

I had no real schedule for today.  Well, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but there was no time crunch.  I had a dinner reservation in Quebec at 6:30 PM, which meant that I had to leave Fredericton by 1:30 PM.  All I needed to do in Fredericton was have brunch, have a Cuban, see the Legislative Assembly, and get my souvenirs.  It was the last item that gave me the most trouble.  Without a New Brunswick flag pin, I would have to return when I went to Nova Scotia two summers from now.  There was no way around that.  I slept as late as I could, getting up I think a little past 10 AM Atlantic Time (New Brunswick is an hour ahead of Quebec).  I took my time getting ready and took a shower, and headed down to brunch.  The brunch was disappointing for how much they hyped it up.  In fact, I just hit the breakfast items, not really being in the mood for shrimp and scallops first thing in the morning.  I went back up to the room, got my stuff, and checked out.

I dropped everything off in the car.  It was about a 30-minute walk to the Legislative Assembly, perfect in this crisp fall air.  The timing would be great, too.  I would light up my Churchill, walk to the Legislative Assembly, take my Official picture, oh, wait.  Almost as soon as I lit it up, I realized that Canadian Legislative Assembies don’t get cigars.  I had never established an Official protocol, but US State Capitols most decidedly do not cigars, and I had not had a cigar for my Official picture in front of any Canadian Legislative Assembly.  I had to rearrange the schedule.  I would wander around Fredericton, check out the gift shops, finishing my cigar before I headed to the Legislative Assembly.

As I walked into town, I realized how beautiful a place this was, especially in the fall.  It was like New England on steroids, even more charming and even more beautiful.  I soon got to the heart of downtown Fredericton.  This was where I ran into a problem.  Most of the gift shops were closed on Sunday or closed for the season.  The one place that most definitely sold flag pins was closed for the weekend.  Fredericton is a very small town, about twice the size of Scarsdale, and the tourism season for Canada ended a week ago.  What was I to do?  I asked at the VC, and he told me to check the VC by the Quebec border or the one in Edmundston.  No, that was too far away.  That wouldn’t be Official enough.  Granted, it would be better than no pin, but it wouldn’t be a great option.

I finished my cigar as I headed to the Legislative Assembly, took some perfunctory pictures, but my heart wasn’t in it.  I said, “New Brunswick Complete,” adding that I would probably have to come back.  I headed back along the waterfront trail, which was very scenic with the fall foliage in full bloom.  However, it was not enough.  I thought to myself that I should have just cancelled this whole trip and spent the weekend in the city.  I checked the map as I walked, and I realized that it would only add two hours to stop back in Fredericton as I drove from Miguasha to Halifax when I went in 2016.  I got back to the hotel, and I tried to call the VCs.  No answer.  Was I really going to just wing it and hope that a VC over two hours away would have what I needed?  The one by the border was closed for the season, so I entered the one in Edmundston into the GPS.

Not long after I left Fredericton, I saw the sign for Kings Landing, and the sign showed both a VC and a gift shop.  Sure, why not.  I’d get a funny Game of Thrones picture, and I could take a chance.  It was close enough to Fredericton to be Official.  There was also a gas station nearby, and I needed gas.  I had lit up an Aging Room when I left Fredericton, and most of it was still left, so I parked right out front of the entrance, in the passenger drop-off area, left my cigar in the car, and put my blinkers on.  I asked at the front desk if they had flag pins.  He pointed me to the gift shop.  Could I be so lucky?  I walked in, and I saw one of those spinning racks of keychains.  Those were the only place where they had traditional souvenirs.  There it was!  On the other side of the rack, a New Brunswick flag pin.  I grabbed one and mamash kissed the pin.  I got a few other souvenirs, took some pictures, put my hotel in Quebec in the GPS, and headed to the gas station.  When I got back on the road, I was happy.  All was well.  I said “New Brunswick Complete” again, meaning it this time.

As I drove, I realized that New Brunswick was like a combination of New England and continental Europe.  The highway certainly was, since it had the fall foliage of New England and the driving culture of Europe, which meant that I was able to drive fast, easily breaking 161 just keeping up with the guy in front of me.  My plan was to drive nonstop to my hotel in Quebec.  After I finished the Aging Room, I lit up an ESG.  My next cigar was a Tattoo, which I would wind up ditching outside the hotel.  I made great time on the road, getting to my hotel before sunset, the first time I arrived in Quebec before sunset, this being my third trip here in 2 years.  An interesting thing happened in re: my Quest bars.  I have had three Quest bars this trip, one each day.  Each time I reached blindly into the bag, planning to eat whichever one I grabbed, but thinking to myself which flavor I mamash wanted.  I had 12 bars, 3 each of four different flavors.  Each of the three bars I grabbed happened to be the flavor I mamash wanted.  I calculated that the odds of that happening were 9/440, almost exactly 1 in 49, or about a 2% chance.

Anyway, it was a rather uneventful drive, except for one thing.  With 20 km to my exit off Aut-20, I was keeping pace with the car next to me, us both going about 30 km above the speed limit.  All of the sudden, he started to slow down.  What did he see that I didn’t?  There it was, two cop cars on the side of the road.  I saw them too late and hit the brakes.  Yep, one of them started moving.  I moved to the side of the road.  He put on his sirens.  I slowed down and prepared to face the music.  Wait, he had driven past me.  Was someone else going even faster?  Had I really been so lucky?  I was so lucky.

After I got to my hotel, I checked in, but I got lost looking for my room.  When I finally found it, I was delighted that it had a view of Parliament.  Unfortunately, the windows were bolted shut, so smoking in the room would not be an option.  I got lost again as I tried to find the elevator, even unsuccessfully trying to go out through the exit stairs.  I found a staff member, so I asked him, “How do I get out of here?”  He laughed and asked me where I wanted to go.  I told him the elevator, and he pointed me in the right direction.  As soon as I left the hotel, I realized that Parliament was right across the street.  That was what led me to the scene with which I opened this entry, so I will pause again as I finish my pipe and head back up to my room before I finish my entry.

Besides New York, Scarsdale, parts of White Plains, and a small section of Brookline, Massachusetts, I know Vieux Quebec better than I know anywhere else in the world.  I did not need a map to find the restaurant, I just need to know where on the map the restaurant was.  Rue Saint Louis is nigh as familiar to me as Park Avenue or Crane Road and at least as familiar as Mamaroneck Avenue or Harvard Street.  It was still light enough to take a decent picture in front of Parliament, but I will probably go back to take my Official picture in the morning.  My sheer happiness did not end until I arrived at the restaurant, walking by all the familiar sites, even going through the alley where I had taken my first Official U of 2013.

I will not go into the details of the meal, but it was good even if overpriced and with meager portions.  I pretty much ordered the same thing I got when I went to the French restaurant by Lincoln Center with Aliyah: terrine, a game bird, and a glass of rosé.  After my meal, not liking any dessert options enough to justify either the dollars or the carbs, I lit up a Punch and headed towards the plaque.  I stopped at the first souvenir shop I saw to get a flag pin, a much easier task in Quebec than Fredericton.  Quebec is about 15 times the population of Fredericton and a much more popular tourist destination, so the souvenir shops are open late, even on a Sunday, even this late in the year.  I then went to the gift shop by the plaque, getting a keychain there, not that I don’t have enough keychains from Quebec.

Then it was time to pay homage to the Plaque.  This is, by far, bar none, the most mamash WHS Plaque in the world.  There is even a plaque to the Plaque, it is that mamash.  I knelt in front of the Plaque, paying homage to the Plaque because it properly pays homage to the WHS.  I took some pictures, decent enough in the dark, but I will probably take better ones in the morning.  The great thing about this Plaque is that it is available to the public, 24/7/365.  To see the Plaques for the Statue of Liberty or Independence Hall, you need to go on a tour and only during a certain window of time.  This Plaque is just out in the open for all to enjoy.  Canada knows how to treat their Plaques.

I walked back, and I got a nice t-shirt for myself.  That just left the gift for the one person who will be receiving a present from this trip.  Actually, maybe I’ll get some maple syrup candies for Ryan and Emily at the Duty Free.  I found something for Aliyah, and, when I walked by the register, I saw a cute cashier there.  Well, I found her cute.  I don’t think any of the guys at the cigar store would have found her attractive.  Actually, they probably would have laughed about her as soon as they walked out of the store.  We have very different ideas of aesthetics.  She had a pimply face, but she had a great smile, and there was a je ne sais quoi to her face.  I was reminded of New Year’s Eve 2012 when I convinced myself that I fell in love with a clerk at a souvenir shop, and, when we got back to the room after midnight, mamash toasted, about to pass out, I had told Sokol and Larsen that I was going to move to Quebec and marry her.  They had told me that I would need to learn French, and that was the end of that dream.  Okay, back to the present, I gave her a big smile, and from the way she laughed embarrassedly and started playing with her hair, I knew that I had made her day.

Done with my shopping for the night, I went up the fortifications, also available to the public 24/7/365, for no charge, and explored a little and ditched the cigar before going back down.  I took some more pictures at Parliament and was soon back at my hotel.  I was hungry.  Those meager portions, my Quest bar, and the disappointing brunch buffet were not enough food for me the day.  I wanted a cookie.  I asked at the front desk where I could get a cookie.  The receptionist looked at me like I was crazy.  She said I could ask at the bar for cookies and a glass of milk.  They did not have cookies, but they had an overpriced dessert menu.  I would wait for breakfast.  Hell, I might even go over to the Frontenac for breakfast.  I went up to my room, grabbed my computer and pipe, headed back down, lit up my Ardor on a bench in the driveway, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep.

NE/NB/NY - Day 1 - New England

10/11/14

Fredericton, New Brunswick

The second beer was a mistake, as was getting Romeo y Julieta Churchills instead of Cedros.  Why do I lead with these examples?  Because I made those choices out of my own free will, or did I?  In my previous mediation I established that I believe free will is possible.  However, today I realized two things.  First, if we accept that free will exists, can only humans have free will?  What about a chimp?  A dog?  A bird?  An ant?  Where do we draw the line?  Can we truly allow that free will only came into being about 2 million years ago?  Then, what about the question in the opposite direction?  I’m sure that we could all imagne a robot that was sufficiently advanced that it looked like and functioned like a human being in every respect.  Could such a robot be advanced enough to have free will?  Even if it did, would what we are calling free will be anything other than an illusion that results from its programming, from the RNGs that allow for what we consider to be random choices.

It was from that example that I realized I was one step closer to understanding how determinism could be true even with the lack of randomness.  If our brains are like computers, than we can imagine that are genetic code is the programming.  We have evolved in such a way to minimize the randomness of our decisions, that I that I always get Chinese before I leave because the DNA has programmed me in such a way to minimize the chance of not doing it.  What then is this thing we are calling free will?  Could it simply be nothing more than the awareness felt by our consciousness of the decisions that are the result of our genetic code, decisions that were determined.  To clarify, I do not believe in determinism.  I reject that is utterly false.  Due to quantum mechanics, there must needs be some basic randomness.  What I am considering here would be called “hard incompatibilism,” meaning both determinism is false and that free will is not possible.

By this theory I am positing, we cannot affect the choices we make through our mind, our consciousness only being aware of the process that leads to our actions and falsely believing it could have acted otherwise, though what those decisions will be are not predetermined, since various things could have happened otherwise if the right electron was in the right spot at the right time.  While this theory alleviates some of the arguments I made yesterday, it raises even more questions.  How do we react to stimuli?  Where do emotions play into all of this?  What about people with certain mental disorders?  I think these questions better belong to the biologists and psychologists.  I am neither.  I am a philosopher with a very good understanding of basic physics.

By the time I arrived at Fredericton, I was leaning back towards determinism, or, I suppose I should say hard incompatibilism due to the quantum effect, but I was no closer to coming to any kind of certainty than I was Thursday night.  All I was able to do was come up with a quick rebuttal to those are argue that they know free will is possible because they have felt it.  The answer to that it could be like watching a sports game, it seems like either team can win, that by your cheering, you can influence the outcome, that anything could happen, which is true.  Either team can win, but you cannot control it.  You are merely observing it as it occurs.

The same could be said about free will.  It feels like you have free will, but you are merely observing the decisions that are made as a direct result of your genetic code, the laws of nature, and the particles in your body.  By this theory, I had no choice in whether or not to have that second beer.  If I said, “I had that second beer because I am who I am,” none of my readers would doubt or misunderstood that statement.  Unless I was an alcoholic, my readers, however, would not believe me if I said, “I didn’t have a choice.”

In the end, I made a bad choice, and I did not enjoy my evening as much as I might have otherwise.  It is now well past midnight local time, and I arrived at my hotel four hours ago, yet I am just now getting to write this entry, and my heart is not in it.  Today should have been a great day.  In fact, up until I took my first Official U in New Brunswick, it was a great day.

However, the past 6 hours or so have just been all around shitty for a variety of reasons.  It wasn’t really that anything really bad happened, nothing that would not be fixed by the time I get back to work on Tuesday.  It was just a string of minor disappointments that reached some critical mass and made me feel sad in for as long as I can remember.  Sure, I have felt angry, stressed, disappointed, apathetic, annoyed, even upset, but I cannot remember ever feeling sad like this in quite some time.  I chalked it up to being hungry, knowing that I often feel negative emotions when I haven’t eaten in a while, but the food did not do much to improve my mood.  I suppose I am jumping out of order here, and it makes little sense out of context.  However, I will need to pause before I continue, since my laptop is about to restart itself.

That’s 20 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.  The disappointments continue to mount.  Okay, so I suppose we should rewind to this morning.  I allowed myself to sleep in, waking up around 9 AM, and I headed down to get the usual Hampton Inn breakfast, a morning start much like any other.  My first stop was to be Portland Head Light, a beautiful lighthouse.  I lit up one of the cigars that Jimmy gave me, allegedly a Partagas, but it didn’t taste right.  I’m pretty sure it was fake.  I know he shafted me with a bunch of fake cigars, but I had thought these were real.  I was wrong.  Either that or his uncle just didn’t know to take care of cigars, which caused them to acquire a funny taste.  Either way, it was a perfectly decent cigar, but it was not the exceptional cigar that a Partagas should be.  I took my pictures at the lighthouse, and I got my souvenir, but my heart wasn’t in it.

I stopped at a cigar store to get some butane, and I picked up a Perdomo, which I lit up right away as I drove.  The second lighthouse was Pemaquid Point Lighthouse.  This was the more significant one, it was the one on the Maine State Quarter, and it was the one that Windows 7 uses as a wallpaper.  However, I couldn’t quite remember the angle for the Windows 7 wallpaper, and I didn’t have cell service.  I got my replica, just as I did at Portland Head Light, and I was on my way.

I was a little behind schedule, and I needed to stop for a lobster roll.  I was looking at a 5:30 PM arrival at the border, which meant that it would be dark if I spent more than an hour at the border.  The lobster roll was great, and I lit up a My Father after I ate it.  My second cigar of the drive was an Aging Room, and I made it to the border at 5:15 PM, enjoying the beautiful fall foliage as I drove.  The search and questioning actually went pretty quickly.  They asked all the usual questions and some unusual ones, but I was honest with them, and there was nothing on me that could have gotten me in trouble, so they sent me on my way.

It was actually before sunset by the time I got to the sign.  There was a path behind the sign that could have served as a hiking trail if I so desired.  I just used it to find a secluded spot to take my first Official U in New Brunswick.  I lit up my Davidoff Colorado and headed to the cigar store in Fredericton, which was disappointing.  Some stuff was decently priced while other stuff was overpriced.  I got a bunch of cigars, including the box of Churchills.  However, this was where I fucked up.

The Churchill is too big of a cigar for the purpose I needed it to serve: my post class discussion with the Ryan and Emily, and the weather is going to start getting too cold to sit in the Citicorp Center and finish the cigar while I write my philosophy.  I guess I should see if I could exchange it for the box of the Cedros, but that would be an even worse decision.  The Cedro is a lesser quality cigar, and it is half the size, but the price is only 20% less or so.  I guess I’ll just stick with the Churchills.  Maybe I have enough of those Andorra Ramon Allones to last the semester.  I’ll have to check when I get back to the office.  I went to the hotel and issues checking in.  I got settled in and went for dinner.

That was when I realized that I was sad.  I quickly told myself that I was just hungry, and I waited for my surf and turf to come.  They gave me a coupon for a free beer at check-in, which I was glad to utilize, but I was very thirsty, so I finished it before my food came.  On top of that, it was from Vancouver.  I was in Fredericton.  I wanted a beer from Fredericton.  I ordered one.  Big mistake.  I am still hungover.  That was four hours ago.  I then got more toasted and chose a few people on Facebook and liked about 50 of their posts each, so that they would have a notification icon that said 50 when they next checked their Facebook.  After my meal, mamash toasted, I went outside a took a selfie with the moon in the background.  I went up to my room and was practically ready to pass out, but I knew that I wanted to get the 10/11 date on the byline, which I couldn’t do if I was asleep after midnight.  I think I might have caught a few minutes of sleep, but I was still sad.  This should have been a great day, all the big things went right, but too many little things went wrong.  That is why I’m sad.  I will be happy when I say “New Brunswick Complete.”  Until then, I close.

NE/NB/NY - Day 0 - Free Will

10/10/14

Portland, Maine

Having exhausted my philosophical musings on love during my previous trip and having come to the realization that the Greeks got it right, that there are four types of love (agape, eros, philia, and storge), and that any discourse that would try to come up with something that explains all four types in one manner is an exercise in futility, I will focus on a new topic for this trip, possibly the single most vexing philosophical topic in all of philosophy: free will.  In order to even begin to have a debate on free will, you have to answer three basic questions.  What is free will?  Does free will exist?  Is free will compatible with determinism?

I was telling Ryan and Emily last night that this was probably the one topic in philosophy where I didn’t know where I stood.  The physicist/engineer in me agrees with Hawking that the brain is made up of particles and that particles is follow the laws of physics so that free will is an illusion.  The philosopher in me disagrees and rejects it as too simplistic that the laws of physics that control the particles in my brain are what prevents me from jumping out of the 27^th floor of my office building when I look down out the window.  At work today, I was thinking that there was a better way of looking at it.  Our actions are not random enough for it determinism to be true.  Whenever I leave for a trip, I always go to Hop Won for my last lunch before I leave.  That cannot be attributed to the laws of physics.  It can only be the result of my mind choosing to do it.

As I was driving today, I realized that I might have gotten it wrong there.  Maybe that is just how my brain is wired, to want that kind of consistency.  I’m sure all of my readers at one point in their lives have uttered the phrase, “I am not the kind of person that is capable of X.”  In that case, are you not simply saying, it is determined that I will never do X?  Are you not saying, the way the particles in my brain are wired prevent me from ever doing X?  Is that not a form of determinism?  I’m not going to even explore the quantum aspect of this other than to briefly mention that I considered that consciousness is us simply being aware of the effects of the quantum mechanics of the particles in our brain.  Under that theory, what we call free will would simply be the quantum choices that are made, according the laws of physics.

I rejected that since there is not enough randomness.  Why would I not have a burger lunch before I leave for a trip if quantum mechanics was what was making the decision for me?  It does not make any sense.  How is self-preservation explained by quantum mechanics?  Now, there are many arguments to be made in favor in determinism, and I could argue plenty myself.  However, I refuse to listen to any argument unless said proponent of determinism can first explain to me what consciousness is.  There can be no debate on determinism until that question is answered.  First, explain me to me how the laws of physics and interaction of particles give rise to consciousness.

I understand that is a very dangerous game to play since someone turn the argument around and then ask me how to explain consciousness without the existence of god.  I’m not sure how to answer that.  In fact, I can think of no explanation that allows for both atheism and free will libertarianism.  The only answer I can offer is that just because I am unable to explain it does not mean that it is not true.  It certainly does not offer any evidence to support the tradition Judeo-Christian view of god, but it does lend credence to the Cartesian idea of god.  It is on that note that I will end my meditations for today and move on to the adventures of the day.

I woke up relatively early, but I hadn’t packed last night, and there was so much to do get ready that I wound up being 12 minutes late to work (5, technically, since 9:07 is considered the latest I can arrive without being late).  My pants were not back from the cleaners yet, so I had to scramble to find my old grey suit.  I couldn’t find it.  Eventually, I realized that I had just repurposed that suit into a pair of slacks and a sports coat.  I had been wearing the suit pants all week and that jacket had come back from the cleaners earlier this week.  I was in such a rush that I wound up forgetting two things.  I realized I had forgotten my coat as soon as I walked out the door, but I was already running late, and I didn’t want to turn around.  I figured that I could just tough it out.

It was a busy and funny day at work, and I wound up making up the 15 minutes at the end, staying past our 3:30 PM official closing time.  I got my usual at Hop Won for my pre-departure lunch.  As I was eating and thinking about all the pre-departure lunches I had there, I realized that I had forgotten something else, something that I could just tough out: my passport.  I biked to my apartment, got my passport and coat, and went back to the office, and I finished my day at work, spending too much time joking with Young about cigars before we reviewed the last proposal.  There was a 4:21 PM train and a 4:42 PM train.  I would be taking the 4:42 PM train.  I picked up some Quest bars as I headed to the cigar store, and I bought a few additional cigars to supplement my stash.  I lit up the Tattoo, and finished it with enough time to make the train.

I realized that I had forgotten to transfer my photos to my computer and was stuck with over 1000 photos on my phone and no way of backing them up to anything other than the computer I was bringing with me.  I also forgot to refill my water bottle and my lighter.  I forgot a lot of things today.  The train was crowded, and I transferred my photos to my laptop during the ride.  I got my car, got situated, and got on the road.  I lit up my Nic Toro, which is always my first cigar of the first long drive of my trip, and I soon hit some traffic.  It didn’t matter.  All was well.  I was happy, I was listening to Frozen, and I had my Nic Toro.  After the traffic cleared, I stopped at a Burger King not far off the road, but the drive through line took like 10 minutes.  I ate as I drove, and I lit up my Avo, putting on Les Miz.  After I finished the Avo, I had a Quest bar and lit up a La Duena.

I did not finish that cigar by the time I got to my hotel, but I sat in my car for a minutes and browsed Facebook.  I saw that one of the guys from my Birthright trip had posted that he was eating a restaurant on Fore Street.  My hotel was on Fore Street.  Was it the same Fore Street in Portland?  It was.  I messaged him, but he had already left Portland by the time he saw it.  It was too cold to smoke outside, and I didn’t want to sit in the car for 20 minutes.  I wound up sneaking the cigar up to my room, and I had a smoking room, so that was good.  I took my time getting settled in as I finished the cigar.  I then lit up an Ardor and proceeded to write this entry.  The bowl smoked way to fast, so I refilled it.  The second bowl is smoking slower but still too fast.  It is now 1:30 AM, so I will close.  I can take my time in the morning, but I would like to get a decent night’s sleep.