October 20th, 2003

Stab Time

I have no nose and I must scream

Cleaning up last night's cat party, I found a bottle of scented lotion I haven't seen in at least a year, roused from wherever it was hibernating. I had taken to wearing it frequently, but now, looking at the bottle, I couldn't remember just what it smells like. A tentative whiff proves overly perfumy. Not just heavily scented, but that particular sharpness of the scent that indicates automatically, through whatever evolutionary mechanism, "This is meant to be worn on the neck." I recall one time in particular, having applied this lotion from neck to toe, how the omnipresence of the scent seemed to change it's shape.. it smelled so different and I didn't think I liked it anymore. And now, even waving it back and forth under my nose, I get the disconcerting impression that I just don't know what it smells like at all. That all I have are impressions of scents and memories of scents and that my nose is not actually relaying information.

I decided to throw away a handful of old perfume bottles. The ones I never liked, the ones bought for me, for when they grow on me, that I kept only because they were gifts, and not to wear. Maybe it took me until this morning to realize just because something comes wrapped up in smiles and a soft touch doesn't mean it's not fucking patronizing (as the old saying goes).*



*Or maybe I have to use forcible excuses to do away with this enduring packratism, and really needed a way to close the paragraph, and anyway, was feeling kinda shovey. Either one.
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In Dreams

(no subject)

"I don't know what you believe, and I'm not going to question you on that, but just know that I believe, and the strength of my faith, and anything you ever need just tell me, and I'll pray for you."

A week and a half ago someone told me "She's still your mom."

They were right.
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