I'm an Animal

No glimpse of Tom the Handyman today but hope springs eternal. He made me laugh. Nice wall - that'll screen out the highway noises. That's the plan. Thank you KZE for playing Stella a little while ago. I was out walking and missed it but appreciate it all the same. I have a fantasy of encountering a good looking stranger who asks my name. Stella the Aah-tist, I say, saying the word with a Boston accent, the way David Gray sings it. What do you do? I write. What? Poetic love letters. Loss, longing. Blog equivalent of the blues. Janis Joplin. Rosé though, not bourbon. Lilacs - I like the way those things smell. Yeah. Here - inhale. What I should have said. Oh emissary brain why must you always lose my chance? I kept walking. I could have stopped! How sweet it might have been to pause in the middle of the road on the innocent sunlit day, extend my arm, observe him inhale, create a memory, make his day. It won't happen again, not that way, the lilacs are almost done. Inhaling lilacs - what I'm doing now. They're on my desk and the fragrance steals over me. I experienced an olfactory dream last night, the most delicious sensation in my sleep, scent applied after her bath by a beautiful lover, unfortunately not me, but I inhaled as she passed. She entered the bedroom to meet her waiting lover and shut the door behind. Oh intoxicating fragrance and lucky man to behold the pale gray satin she had slipped on just for him, feathery white ornament in her soft dark hair, sandals on her feet, and the bouquet about her, fragrance of Parisian design, not innocent as a nosegay, muguets des bois or French lilacs, but a consciously applied pheromone to love, explicitly designed to draw him in...