What are your favorite scents? If there are memories attached to them, what are they?
Limes-they drive me wild. Coconut tanning oil. Roses. Yves Saint Laurent “Parisienne” perfume. The scent of your loved ones t-shirt. Lilacs. Burning leaves. Old books, especially the Redwall series. Coffee-it smells so much better than any taste it’s supposed to have. In Annapolis and Old Town Alexandria they have roasters near the shops. Smelling fresh roasted coffee in cool mornings is borderline intoxicating. Magnolias-I used to read for hours in a magnolia tree. Tomatoes on the vine. Honeysuckle-it always smells stronger at night. When I go for middle of the night walks it’s usually what I smell. The fresh crisp smell when it snows. Good romano cheese. Sandalwood. Gasoline. Ginger. The ocean. Garlic. The boxes that apples are packed in. Pine trees. When I was three, my mom got me a doll that I could put glittery tattoos on (awesome). It came with a green spoon of cherries that you could feed her and they would snap into a hidden compartment inside the spoon. The spoon smelled like vanilla and other secret notes and whenever I infrequently catch trails of it I surge back to those moments.
Thank you. I've always loved your words. Lately they've been heartbreaking, though. I wish you always had those colors and bursts of beauty surrounding you at all points, like a kid walking through a science museum for the first time. Until then, I shall send you the odd tidbits of beauty I find hidden beneath the grime and smog of Los Angeles. Keep your sense of wonder.
You say you base things off what you can visualize in your mind. Tell me something beautiful you can see.
Something beautiful I can see. I’m full of half-dreams; wisps of creative clarity that I forget because I don’t write them down. To really explain myself I need to be in the moment, so I’m going to listen to some music to get it started. Generally it’s an interlocking space of colors and feelings. If I look off but the direction of my eyes is unfocused/inward, I’m trying to cut out the visual distractions so I can see more clearly in my head. When people argue I try to build their words into a frame and see from past experience what they’re saying and where exactly they’re coming from. From that frame I can counteract my words with what wraps around their framework snugly. I’m trying to be specific so this is wordy. Mea culpa. I’m listening to Ani DiFranco and feeling the grimy alleyways of her distaste in people and her own choices of associating with them in life. When I hear metallic long guitar notes I see the note as a glassless neon vector that bends based on the song’s direction. I can feel the weather of songs, and the temperature, but not always the words. If they don’t apply to me it’s hard for me to be attached, even if they’re beautiful. It’s why I hate some music so much; I can’t see any depth in it. I’m switching to Train. Some days I have bursts of imagination and some days it’s something that rolls on all day. The other night I was staring at the stars on my back on a path in the harbor, and when I lifted my feet I could see a space where I could set my feet down like a luxurious sparkling floor and walk on the sky. The way that translates from my feely-thoughts to sentences is that I’d like to do a shoot of night exposures making people walk on the sky. I’m very sensitive to tone/temperature changes, and sometimes smells hit me right where the original memory hit me however many years ago it happened. Sometimes it’s a glorious reenactment of the golden life I captured and stored in my jar of thoughts; others it envelopes the breath of my memories and hardens. The life I cherished can’t breathe in my realization that it’s not coming back. Sort of like if you say you don’t believe in fairies one dies. Once it dies it’s so hard to feel that memory again and in time, it fades. And I’ve lost that rush of color and feeling. Shells of memories are ugly. Sometimes I catch a new rush of inspiration and I just follow where it moves. When I’m in love I feel those rushes of exhilaration and longing, and I lose myself in that deepness. Those moments are the ones I’m thankful for because they’re the most beautiful thing I can experience. I hope this explains part of it.