MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017—part 49)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence about anxiety and guilt, God, Satan, solitude, tennis, optimism, prostitution, crying, funerals, seals, strippers, cathedrals, echolocation, recidivism.
scent of the day: Duro, by Nasomatto.—A masculine bomb of nose-blinding aroma chemicals (which make this, like most of Gaultieri’s creations, more about impacting others than about the wearer’s own enjoyment), Duro—Italian for “hard” (and Gaultieri for “erection”)—combines aspects of several key fragrances in the bandaid-gasoline category of leatherwoods: the medicinal-lacquer oud of Amouage’s Opus XI, the animalic-boozy patchouli of Gucci Guilty Absolute, the metallic-mothball spices of Bentley for Men Intense—the result being a potentially-nauseating concoction, lasting for weeks on unwashed clothing, evocative of a man (think: Joan Jett’s boyfriend) wearing some stripped-down scent (javanol, vetiver, cypriol, musk) in the leather chair of a cigar room as he enjoys a Cytherea squirt show while sipping cinnamon-clove whiskey.
no guilt can change the past, but the merest anxiety can change the future those for whom the obsession with death weakens with age depression aggravated by success hoping the trauma will explain your bad looks at the funeral the highest form of female empowerment has become corner twerking prostitution— the greatest trick the devil ever pulled . . . in deepest solitude, with whom do you talk: to yourself (perhaps your ideal self), or is it to the Emerson greats, to God—to no one even? generations of sin-talk, penetrating beyond actions into thoughts and desires even, have breed us into expert self-hypnotists who can moralize the worst rage outbursts— and the best solution is to stop the arms race instead of ramping up the shaming medicating withdrawal losing oneself in the ecstasy of another electronic perfumes just on the horizon, right with taste-o-vision tennis feet lagging behind returned balls like guitar thumbs behind fingered frets leftover for each other after the rest pair up, the uglies of the two groups are disappointed with what they got is declaring one’s love of life more often a hopeful cause, rather than an effect, of love for life? thinking of the time before you were you, and thinking of it as the time before you were you is it so awful that you would need help to live with yourself even after fully grasping that oblivion is our end? downtown apartment cramped with roommates, all rehearsing smiles for fat-chance photo shoots bells knelling for no one serving as so-called “comfort woman” for the invading troops for his reputation, if not also for his conscience, the dealer would not sell to guys known to OD why take care not to deceive ourselves about the meaning of our no longer being concerned with making an impression? too self-conscious to pursue a lover, one who might even end up living in your space—but driven all the same prescription-drug refugees unable to cry despite the need to taking a moment to appreciate the athleticism of pole dancers just a little bit for old time’s sake—and he figures, to his fatal mistake, just a little less than he used to do is perfect for getting him trashed (since he has been away for years) while keeping him safe (since it is less than what he used just to get back to baseline) why the tie between weight and generosity when the weighty one seems to have taken in more than her fair share to get that way? not giving them the other arm to nail male seals competing for a mate by extending the length of their calls a music performance of silence— an awareness piece—forcing you open to ambient sound blind humans who echolocate, ears pricked for how tongue-clicks bounce back from surfaces flapping eyelashes to tickle a sleeping cheek let us feel immense, being of the same stuff as stars kids who find the night sky, as captured from beyond urban lights, to be a hoax the reverb in the shower softens, blurs, our songs, increasing their appeal gothic cathedral reverb compels whispering, reverential phonation, lest eyes fall upon the speaker