Saturday, July 16, 2005

Lost in Translation 

I have been attempting to play my own private game of kodo by thinking of smells to accompany particular literary works, but it’s really hard. Perhaps my sense of smell is too dormant. Certainly in my line of work I certainly haven’t been trying to develop it. Perhaps like many things eastern, it’s too much for my hopelessly western mind and I am incapable of grokking it, like when I watched MTV India a few years ago. I could only handle about twenty minutes before I had to turn it off and go lie down in a dark room. The images were so alien and bizarre to me that they were upsetting to me and actually caused my brain physical pain.

Here’s my feeble attempt at kodo. I don’t think I’m doing it right, but it is an interesting synesthetic exercise.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: patchouli and b.o.

The works of Hemingway: whiskey, gun smoke and brain matter

The works of Mitch Albom: vanilla, or something else insipid but comforting

What a huge, deep-throated, down-to-the-stomach, good laugh I had over today's entry. You slay me, Foxy!
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