Band Pages
Vinyl Preservation Society
Listen to Noel
PERFECT Interview
Music Reviews


Feelin' Moody
Celluloid Sky
Cawfee Tawk
Debbie Harry
From the Street
"Pretty Vacant"
Weird Stuff


Trash Fash
Dr. REVOLT's Graffiti Page
St. Mark's Place
Live & In Concert
Scene About Town Photos
Photos by Sandy
Bob Gruen Scrapbook


(Bad) Advice
NYTrash Chat Room
Hot Links
Guestbook

Ode To Reason

Hey, do you smell that? What do you mean what? That! What, you mean you really can't smell it? Well I smell it all right. It's right under my nose. See?...I just got a whiff of it now. Yummm. The sweetness...True temptation.

Of course you wouldn't be able to smell it. How could you? How silly of me to even think you could understand. Hey, ya' know what truly sucks? Well, I'll tell ya'. Yeah, I'll tell you! A mere six short blocks away from my doorstep lies a mecca of sublime-anxiety-free-paradise.

Wait! Let me finish for Christ's sake! It doesn't matter what I say or how I say it, you won't, can't and shouldn't get it. Nonetheless, you're here to talk to and it's better than talking to myself, I guess. You know...sometimes when I walk on Park Avenue I can smell it, taste it, Long Island even. All I do is open up my nostrils wide and the scent rushes in; so quick. Yeeaahh. So..so..quick. And I swear I can feel it right in the clench of my sweaty, excited palm.

Six-fucking-blocks! Listen! Don't interrupt. I need this. Can't you help me...even a little? Another silly question. Why should anyone help anyone else? And they don't, believe you me. I have a best friend, but I can't trust her anymore. She's betrayed me too often. She makes me sick! Sick with delirious fever. She makes my muscles want to break free from my body.

There it goes again. The smell I tell you! Damn You! Can't you listen?!.... I don't really blame you. How could I, does anyone do anything that doesn't reward them in the end? Perhaps...but rarely.

Sorry, I had to think for a minute. I know "the why", yeah definitely "the why". I know all about "the what" and its secrets. "The how" is an easy one. "The where"? Well, it changes all the time...but never goes away. But "the when"? This is the problem. Solved by an everyday visit, but somehow that doesn't satisfy me. Ah-ha! There it is! The mystery.

For me, when is the hardest part. Is it today? Tomorrow? Next Friday? Next month? Maybe never. Never, never, never, never!....Never again shall I know the warmth; the warmth which sort of... ummm... sorta takes ya' hostage and you have just enough time to say...Thank God. Yeah, that's exactly it.

How many times can I say it and fool myself into believing it. And I do believe it! That is, until I feel the insides of my body trying desperately to make their way out. Screaming through every pore and every orifice. My ears and mouth become filled with unease.... no torture. The torture of true desire. Damn, how selfish and pitiful have I become?

Do you remember your first time smoking pot? What? You must be kidding. What am I doing talking to a dork like you? What, are you straightedge or some shit? Wait, wait, I didn't mean that at all. The fact is I envy you...and your white picket fence surrounding three acres in Connecticut. I bet ya' have a dog named Rover and a wife whose sole interest of late lies in which surgeon should do her tit job. There I go again. Insulting you, to make my own life seem meaningful.

Hey, do you know what's tattooed on the back of my neck? Nah, I didn't think you could read Chinese. Well, it says to seek truth...or so I had planned. But since I got it, it's been interpreted by at least fifty different Chinese to mean almost fifty different things, most of which I care nothing about. How's that for irony?

Back to the point. What is the truth? Come on I know you know. Don't they teach ya' that in school? No? Well what do they teach you? Short story monologuing?

You know, it's really odd, but I know I smell it. Fer sure! But we're on the fucking 15th floor. The scent isn't that strong, it's much more subtle.... No, I can't be imagining it. God damn it! I know it. I know it better than I know how to fry an egg. There is some here and I will find it. You know I'll find it. No, it isn't in or underneath the couch. But, it is extremely close. I knew I wasn't crazy after all. Unfit maybe...but definitely not crazy. I'm getting warmer.

Wait, wha'd you say? My session is over? But the little bell hasn't gone off. I know what your up to and I'm not fallin for it. I'm lockin' the door! Yeah, that's exactly what I'm doing. We're not going anywhere until you show it to me! There you go with that fucking question again. It doesn't matter what "it" is. You're "it" isn't my "it"! Oops...I've gone too far again, haven't I? Anyway, I know you have it. Everyone does in some way or another. Don't they?

- Kristie Dowling

 

Read Kristie's previous features, "Pay Attention Please" & "Truth in Nature."

 

Copyright ©1998. New York Trash. All rights reserved.