Thursday, October 31, 2002

The Zyban Chronicles (Day #41 to #45)

Doing excellent. No smoking, no cheating. That's 13 days with two cheats. 8 days from now will be the magic 21 that psychologists say breaks a habit. For me will be a month that makes it really happening. I'm glad kids nowadays aren't smoking as much.

Nicorette is helping when things get sticky. I'm taking Zyban with lunch and it seems to work best. Fades by bedtime. I've been noticably more active and going out after work during the week.

---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/31/2002 01:35:00 PM



Sunday, October 27, 2002

The Zyban Chronicles (Day #32 to #41)

OK. I rocked for the first five days. Then went to a singles mixer and bummed a smoke after having a cocktail. I even bought a pack of Dunhill Reds on the way home and smoked one. Half way though I chucked it and left the pack at a bus stop. During the time I also tried taking 2, 100ml tablets a day, one at breakfast and one at 3pm. I has some seriously vivid dreams! Gerald Ford walked into one. Anyway, I didn't like it so now I'm taking one 150ml a day, but in the late morning. It seems to be good.

Last night I cheated again. It was at a raging Holloween party. I just fell and had three bummed ones. Then coming home around 4am after hanging at some people's houses, I bought a pack and had one, but put it out quick. This morning I tried one and it tasted terrible so I put it even quicker and destroyed the pack.

I think I can make it this time, but the partying is going to be tough forever...and interestingly it is tough the next day when I seem to crash a little emotionally the following night. This is what I think they mean by Alchohol being a depressant.

---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/27/2002 10:29:00 PM



Friday, October 18, 2002

The Zyban Chronicles (Day #22 to #32)

Today is my quit date. I have actually been planning it and talking about it as a real quit date. I even went to the dentist for a cleaning to prepare my teeth, which don't show any nicotine stains, but it was a gesture to good breath at least. Last night I went out for a drink and finished up a pack with 5 left. I think smoked, ashamed, as I am, the few smokes I'd put out at home that were only half gone. This was sort of a panic to get it in while I could. Not smart, since it builds up the desire, but done.

I'm nervous about quitting today. Sometime feels like it's missing already, something that I need to help me cope with the world. Thus a feeling of vulnerability lurks. A tool is gone. I have a new tool, Zyban, but it is a band-aid that will have to be taken off sometime. Thus what really is happening is that a new chapter is starting, a chapter that is a sequel to an earlier one that ended when I started smoking at 18 in college.

Now that I write that I feel as though I'm going back to being 18 in a way, while at the same time growing up and letting go of any glamour or rebellion that smoking may have left. Not there's much in today's United States. Smoking really is getting more uncool every day. Or maybe I'm just saying that since I'm quitting...or maybe it was never really cool...

So there we go. I'm going back to 18-year-old lungs and life without nicotine hits to help ease the weight of the world. And I'm going forward for the next 18 with a more solid health plan.

---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/18/2002 10:35:00 AM



Monday, October 07, 2002

The Zyban Chronicles (Day #14 to #21)

Wow. Time slipped by with a house guest in town from back east where I grew up. She provided a good view of my life from a nuetral party and things are in fact looking good. The Wellbutrin must have something to do with that. I feel waves sometimes of whatever body chemical its uptake inhibitor is inhibiting that moment. Also worse dry mouth, like a jet fuel taste, but it may be the mixing with acidic coffee breath? Also, occastional hot flashed. But today I think the 150mlg dosage is settling in. I'm actually setting the quit date on Oct. 18th when I visit Dr. Covner. I'm even telling folks. And sort of looking forward to it as the start of a new chapter in my life. I have down times like we all do, but they seem to last less time. I think the Wellbutrin will help me quit.
---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/07/2002 10:56:00 PM

The Zyban Chronicles (Day #9 - #13)

Day 9 was the same. Day 10, felt extra good. Great therapy session. Into Ph.Ds again. Dry mouth still big but I went to a bar and stayed all night without smoking. Didn't even realize it but I was talking to an interesting woman. Day 11 was tough at work but made it. Feeling tired and forgot to take the blue pill until 11am. Day 12 had out of town guests come in, felt ok and smoked a little mary jane for the first time in months. Felt OK vs. the usual hyper feeling and I bought a new used car. Today, was fine, beach and sun are OK and had a good date. Seems overall that I'm feeling it less. I go up to 150mlg on Tuesday. Basically smoking less and finding it easier to do that.
---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/07/2002 12:04:00 AM



Saturday, October 05, 2002

I FINALLY got a new car. You’ve ridden in it if you’ve been arrested a few times or taken cabs. For the last 6 years I've had a 1980 Dodge step side pickup. It's a bear to drive, a standard with an indestructible slant 6. It's only failed me once in 6 years and I've spent a total of about $5000 on it total, including the $500 purchase price. But with no air I had to lean forward in the summer if I was dressed up to keep from having sweat soakings on my back. The breaks were always new and with excellent tires, but with these new ABS break laden cars nowadays I still found myself in death grip breaking situations that everybody else seemed to just consider a “slow down,” leaving me looking around for others who are glad to be alive and not finding any takers. Also, with a 20lb clutch, it really drained me driving, especially on hills when I’d paranoid I was going to roll back into the car behind me. Not my problem, but with all 1/2 steal bumpers a big problem for the plastic covered foam that always seems to be right behind me.



Oh, and my mechanic recently told me it had been running on 5 cylinders for "maybe a while.” He made his point by pulling out the #5 spark plug wire while it was idling and pointing out that it had no effect on the engine, upon which he said with a grin, "You're driving an Audi.” But he said it was OK if I just ran on premium gas. Surprisingly he’s been mostly right, although in a seriously anthropomorphic moment my truck did refuse to start after I drove it to see in actual reality my first used car a month ago. Then 5 minutes later it died on the highway just to make sure I felt enough fear to get the message. I barely found my hazards in time and got to the shoulder alive. But the message could be either “don’t you EVER look at another car like that again," or "Buy now, I'm tired,” I’m wasn’t sure but favored the later as my truck as always been nice to me.



So, after torturing all my friends for months with endless car talk, I finally took the plunge today. By the way I’ve found surfing autotrader.com car ads (Picture, profile) to be scarily similar to surfing online personals (Picture, profile). Both activities seem share some challenges, such as book marking disease, wherein you bookmark, but never make the call and take a test drive to gather any real data. And also visual first impression disease wherein you make endless snap judgments based on a few unanimated pixels as your total bandwidth. And being in southern California where a car is your image, whether you like it or not, this is all a very loaded decision.



Anyway, my purchase happened at a car tent sale of all places. I put myself at a $5000 limit months ago because I like to fully own my car and be frugal with my debt load. I'd been thinking of Toyotas, Subaru AWD station wagons, and lately, Ford Crown Victorias, all early 1990s. The Crown Vic idea came from rides in Yellow cabs, which I really enjoy. Powerful, smooth, but not too boat like. And they can do battle with SUVs without being one. Sure, I’m crazy, but I grew up brainwashed by the Blues Brother movie and have a Pavlovian response to American V8 sedans.



I called today about a low mileage maroon 1992 Crown Vic I'd seen inland at a dealer.

It turned out I got the cell phone of one "Discount Dara” who was at Qualcomm stadium's parking lot at a massive multi-dealer tent sale in full swing. I did a Lemon Check on the VIN number - it's clean and the mileage looks real. I research the model and Blue Book price and fuel up at Peets, bracing for voluntarily going to a place full of used car sales people. Sure enough, thousands of cars were in the huge parking lot with enough used car dealers milling about to cause me to think of writing a Fear and Loathing book.



The jackals close in. Discount Dara is a high-octane white trash powerhouse of a woman. She is direct and not too shifty. She shows me the car and then pushes me off pushes me off on a Jr. jackal named Rick for a test drive. She’s got 3 or four groups she’s selling at once. I like her. Rick on the other hand seems like an ex jock frat boy who still is not at all sure how he ended up doing what he’s doing. He’s nice though, and mellow.



Under Ricks glazed eyes I start it up and play with every button I can find, all the windows, radio, etc. It all works. I do a savage walk around. The doors shut well speaking well for the frame. The trunk is clean, the spare is unused, and there doesn't seem to be any undercarriage scars or big accident areas. I pop the hood. It's pristine. It says “V8”. I listen to the idle, pretending I know what I'm listening for. I kill the engine and check the engine oil between my fingers looking for metal. I admire the duel exhaust and notice it has four disk breaks. I'm an ace detective, but the jackals are not impressed at all.



Rick and I slide in and without words spend 5 minutes playing with the 480 position electric bench seats while the air kicks in. It’s just something that seems natural and right to do and Rick seems glad to just be in the air conditioning. I notice an airbag and a silly control for raising and lowering the antenna electrically to any height you want, while at the same time not automatically doing anything - only in America. The original manual is found in the glove box with all the oil changes recorded right where you are supposed to and in different color ink and pencil but with the same handwriting.



We check out of the lot with the rent-a-cops and I floor it from the first stop sign. Once again, I’m faced with an unimpressed jackal. They really must get a very special kind of jaded at this job. The acceleration is silky V8 torque with that unmistakable real-wheel drive feel completely that is absent of that "torque steer" feeling some front-wheel drive cars have that makes me feel like there's weights on the steering wheel and a huge string on the front of the car pulling me around. I have a totally irrational need to be able to do a donut or fish tall at will, so rear, or all, wheel drive is a must. Also, almost all good racecars are rear-wheel drive, and I do a lot of real racing...As I said, irrational. I'm sure we've all felt the ride of this car when packed in a Yellow cab driven by an aggressive driver, or when arrested and taken on a chase on the way to jail. Cops and cabs are often this very model of car with a police or taxi package. We hit the highway. There’s very little road noise. On a recent trip to NYC I asked a cabbie how long they last, and he said 300 to 400 thousand miles driven 24/7 but maintained extra good. 2 exits in and my seat is finally comfortable and I'm done with the buttons. Craig isn't though and comments, "Hey, there's a lumbar inflator." Sure enough I'd missed a button! It's nice on the lower back. We cruise. We return.



I ask for an out the door price and we go into the tent. The tent. Oyi. Huge with hundreds of tables with distressed looking people being corralled by jackals, or left to die in doubt when they can return and feast on the carcass. There's a man in a Vegas Tuxedo who is announcing every sale on the loud speakers by going to the table of cringing buyers and saying something like,



"We've got another sale! Joe Six-pack has just bought a 1999 Ford F150. Hold the sign up Joe so the folks can see you, there you go! That's a real fine choice there, congratulations, Yeaaaaahhhh!!!. Lets have a big had for Joe!" (four people look up from their torture and clap, 2 are kids goofing around).



I can still here the Yeaaaaahhhh!!! as it was the same every time and they were selling lots of cars. $4502.23 the computer spits out for me. Turns out that's tax, title and registration, no trip to the DMV needed. That alone might be worth 4K I think.



I offer $4000.00. They shake their heads, saying they can wholesale it for more then that. They bring me behind the curtain and show me the screen calculations. I don't believe a number I'm seeing and stand firm. So do they. I walk away. On my way out they try a transparent last move. A new Jackal comes up as I'm leaving and says, "Hey, got the keys to the Crown Vic? Someone wants to drive it and they look serious." I walk away saying, "I'll think about it, try and sell it if you can." They don’t follow. Hummm.



Out of sight in the parking lot I think about it. The price is good; I'd done my homework. Its private party Kelly Blue Book was $4,500, so tax would make it more. Billions of them have been made so it's cheap to work on. There is that class action lawsuit for cop car models exploding if hit from the rear at like 120mph, but I'm not too into high-speed pursuits. Gas mileage is actually not as bad as one would think due to the small block V8 and unlike SUVs, a low profile, so it's about 25 mpg hwy, 20 cty according to user comments on the car talk site.



I call a friend and give them the skinny. They listen. I remember that my life is better if I love my car, vs. only tolerate or respect it. I love big sedans and V8s. I walk back in and say, "OK. $4,500 out the door tax and title." The jackals spring into action and the printers whine. I drive home and get a friend to drive me back and drop me off and bravely walk back into the tent and have a seat in their little bullpen.



I'm surrounded by 9 jackals working and just passing the time. They are a bizarre demographic. Most are unhealthy looking and sort of worn down, but with an air that they are really good people that are just burdened with a job society brutally teases. I'm taken back into a back tent room with one of the lead jackals. A closer. He's been doing this for 12 years and goes into auto mode. There's no warranty, but I can buy one for $1,500. No dice. I've never had a warranty in my 8 cars, why start now? There's a $300 car alarm I can get put in now in 10 minutes that is normally $500. No dice. I'd rather have it stolen then have it randomly yell at people. We close. I drive away. I'm cool. I'm listening to a radio I can actually hear. I'm pretty happy. I see a Subaru and have a panic attack, but it passes as I think I can get one later when the peppy new WRXes are used. I take the back way home and floor it at a traffic free stop sign. It won't burn rubber off the line, but it will if you turn sharply and floor it. It even fish tails. I'm happier. 75mph feels like 30. I drive around for a while. It's sitting out side now in front of my truck. It looks vaguely governmental or retiree, but I can handle that. I think it will be good to drive with ease after 6 years of truckin’. It’s damn hard to get a roomy, safe, reliable, comfortable, and fast, low mileage car for 4K. And I hear you don't get tickets as easily it being in the cop car family and all.

---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/05/2002 10:23:00 PM



Tuesday, October 01, 2002

The Zyban Chronicles

Day 8
Starting to feel like I really want to quit and up the dosage to 150 to handle it. Interesting. Am I feeling this because of the drug, the dry mouth, or becuase I'm taking the drug want to feel this and am ready for it. Plus I switched to unltra light American Spirits and they are terrible on the chest compared with the Organic Lights.
---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/01/2002 09:06:00 PM

The Zyban Chronicles

Day 7
Same dry mouth and I like my theory. Less spaciness.
---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/01/2002 09:04:00 PM

The Zyban Chronicles

Day 6
They many not know how Zyban helps smokers, but I think I do. Oh I do...it's the fucking drymouth! It makes smokes taste especially bad. Think about it. What if all the psycho re-engineering is just wasted and it's just the drymouth? You might as well just reach under your dresser and eat a dust bunny every time you want a smoke. Hell, you could sell tins of dust bunnies to smokers to help them quit. Now there's a business...
---------------------posted by Caleb John Clark on 10/01/2002 08:16:00 AM