January 12th, 2009
Jack in the Box
Have you ever felt completely frenetic, only to realize you are bouncing around on a short spring? How does the air taste where you live?
What is the creepiest present you can receive?
Transcriptorial: and everywhere to bounce at once / did you not promise / the air tastes like ecstasy?
In Austin, Texas, the air tastes like clean laundry and copper.
I don’t do frenetic unless I have previously done too much caffiene.
Here in S. Spain the air tastes of leaded gasoline, black tobacco, garlic and geraniums. And dust, in summer.
I don’t think I realized that I wasn’t breathing.
I think I wore too much tight clothing that gets me frenetic.
Here? It tastes like global warming. All sweet and spring like IN THE MIDDLE OF JANUARY! Where is the rain, the dreary depressing cold? Where is the antimatter of my freneticism, or at least the antithesis?
Hmmf, haven’t played one of those in ages (and eons).
Where I am, it tastes like salt and brokenness. And snow. We’ve got like eight inches of snow.
In my city and flat the air tastes of incense, old smoke, rain and old paper. And the bread in the summer.
What air scents I detect vary with where I’ve bicycled to… Spices, beer brewery, the Southside sewage farm, the river, the factories, the old tobacco warehouses… I don’t have much sense of smell anyway, those are about it for me.