MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017--part 74)
scent of the day: Mongolian Mriga, by Prin
Such piney goodness here. Wow this only has gotten better. This could easily fit into the Pineward aesthetic and it would be the best out of all of them. mongolian musk, the ingredient, is a spicy chocolate, buttery feel like sandawood plus a sort of animalic radiance of ambergris (more to the former because here Prin uses the pod) / smoky chocolate here definitely:carob and chocolate i get both in Of Wolves and Men and in Mongolian Mriga—comes a lot from the Mongolian musk. / piney chocolate musk is clearly the protagonist. / camphor of the other mriga but this one is more smoky. there is a salvadore dali sour edge to the Mongolian mriga dry down that is not in regular mriga. / I pick up on some of the mildew soil notes of figment man / very vivid but less bright than regular mriga and definitelyu more ambbery warmth / this almost is to regualr mriga what au couer du desert is to LDDM: the base here is chewier and it seems less bright and radiant / Aside fromt eh real mongolian deer musk, there is also wild oud from Myanmar as well as Yuzu oil, Chota Raw absolute and Clary sage absolute
It really is denser than I thought /. I love the forestal aspect and that the bright cut-ins of yuzu and bergamot keep it from sinking entirely into tar and carnality / Musk pods (real, Mongolian): thick, oily, deeply animalic, more barnyarded than Siberian—less clean-fur, more glandular and leathery. / Yuzu: sharp, aromatic, not juicy-sweet but tart and almost pithy, like citrus peel ground with herbs. / Bergamot: gives aromatic freshness, a green-citric breath that briefly lightens the musk’s density. / a great tension, in effect: bright citrus slashing through warm, feral musk (an immediate tension between ascetic sharpness and carnal weight)
the heart is smoky and leathery mainly due to the Burmese oud: tar-like, resinous, less sweet than others like Cambodian (more bitter) / Choya ral: burnt seashells, tar, smoked resin—salty, iodine, ashy (gives me a TSVGA feel) / Balsam fir plus black hemlock plus pine tar plus pine needle povides the full conifer arsenal: terpene brightness, resin stickiness, smoke, and bitterness—fir gives clarity, hemlock brings balsamic darkness, pine tar adds acrid smoke, pine needle a sharp green stab. / all together I get a forest inferno accord, albeit one muffled precisely by the transfixing musk /
Prin’s spice-floral combo is here in the dirty yet radiant heart (funeral bouquet almost) but the cumin is toned down to let musk shine/ Orris: waxy, rooty, violet-powder, smoothing but also dusty, corpse-petal like in this setting. / Jasmine: indolic, oily, radiant, mingling with musk to emphasize animality. / Rose: deepens the resinous oud, less romantic than fleshy, bruised petal—gives me more texture than actual aroma / Cinnamon + cumin: hot-spice, bodily sweat—cumin in particular amplifies musk, making the animalic core more carnal. / Costus: sebaceous, oily, lanolin-wool note—goatskin, scalp, dirty pelt (one of my favorite notes, and so I’m unsure if I like that it si so recessive/ Sugandha kokila (Nepalese laurel berry): spicy, camphoraceous, slightly medicinal from what I have researched
the greens are great like in original mriga but here denser, more inky moss leather of mousse illuminee but with almost noine of its Irish Spring soap / Vetiver: rooty, smoky-earth, more soil than grass here / Jatamansi: valerian-like, damp-earth, fungal (gives laomy undertoen with pine, moss, and costus) / Oakmoss: bitter, inky, leathery, grounding in forest floor rot./ Clary sage: herbal musk, a faint ambergris-like diffusion, aerating the density (and makign it have this 80s masculine fougere side that might have been boosted if there were casrnation and lavender in here) / Patchouli: earthy, damp, chocolate-leathery—really boosts the chocolate of myusk pod / Sandalwood: lactonic softness, creamy counterpoint to the resin-smoke (securing that creamy chewy base) / Galbanum: bitter-green resin, knife-sharp, gives cut to the thick tarry mass (more like Dryad than Beach Hut here). /
To me a landscape perfume: burnt conifers, sweating animal, crushed blossoms, resin smoke rising. / So many Prins give me this so, despite the loud and clear musk pods difference, it is hard to keep the images clear between the many scents—that is probably on me though: I need to spend more time/ Stil I get things like: a musk-anointed pelt drying by a pine-tar fire, citrus peel and herbs thrown into the flames, garlands of jasmine and rose wilting in smoke, soil and moss damp beneath, the air thick with tar, sweat, resin, and fur. / I would classify as a conifer-animalic incense, sort of like Nisatirkuk but the musk her ein mongolian miroga is more glandual and chocoialt and grainy/
Onthamara has a similar musk (Siberian) but it comes across as much more camphorated. The real connection is with Nisatiruk. I really need to see better how it contrasts with Nisatiruk (aside from just the difference between siverian musk and mongolian musk pod) ./ as of now I would say that they diverge in how they shape the musky animalism at the core, which is softer and velvety in the Nisatiruk and here more gonadal and leathery: (1) Nisatiruk is more herbal, rooty, medicinal whereas Mongoliam Mriga is more coniferous and tarry, more burning moss; (2) Nisatiuke florasl are indolic and ouily and waxy (decayed but still recognizably floral whereas her the jasmien and rose are like sweat-soaked gfuneral garland; (3) Nisatiruk spices are more clovey and medicinal and tea liek than fiery and sweaty and phenolic; (4) If Nisatiruk is the ground hoof stomped with musk (fungus and herbal), I am not sure what this is—pine tarred musk pod? Whateve rthe case , they both seem to exist in the same forestscape—only Nisatiruk puts emphasis on mushroom foraging as oppoosed to guuttign out the deer gland onto pine needles.
MADE FOR YOU AND ME 2: hive Being (Stanzas 2017—part 74)
retreating sea ice at least trims weak-swimming polar bears
tossing and turning over mishaps long dead
hookups with the ex to smooth the transition into being all alone
curating confirmation from social media followers that your life is on track
scrying into the black mirror, the nightmare rectangle, in every hand now
floored by mossy tried-and-true (fasts, bare feet, firelight) plus knowing well that apes crave tribal nods and that no finite voice could be more than echo, in clear conscience she—nurturer—adopted prefab scripts instead of shaping the prōtē archē in newer light
“Listen son—. I mean, we could’ve just avoided this talk. But—. Jesus. This is the goddamn living room! You gotta put something under the desk (a towel, a sock) if you’re gonna go at it like that!”
we come with such different perspectives that one cannot help but “Tell it slant” when one says almost anything
do you strengthen your vessel of death simply to evade death or also to ensure longer journeys?
which voices coursing through us are older, deeper: those that say “Throw stones at the sunning snake” or those that say “Feel ashamed for such cruelty”
having forgotten that you already hit on this one, you tell the former student that you thought it wise to come to her only now—given the power differential.
surely an all-perfect being, excusably nose-less, would create beings able to tap into the smell of a Granny Smith
should we hold Jews to a higher standard when they partake of the same oppression that they—of all people—know so well?
seduced by fantasies of success into devoting less fire
imagine an intelligence independent of consciousness
it might not be reflected in the monocrop of pop art, but there are virtuosos still— and remembering that is not only to keep you going in times of reality-TV presidents where bling-consumerism is venerated, it is to keep alive the flame of higher men
a date-rape that was not even a rape, tranquil nostril exhales sweettalking his testicles into spasms (“smell ’em baby girl”) bobbing like Adam’s apples the sole contact—after hair held back at the toilet—in the tiptoe blackout
social media posts that indicate desperation to showcase how good things are for you make us wonder how bad things are for you
right out of the FBI playbook: as the 9/11 craze dies down too much to justify the bloat, activist groups manufacture— and even bait—racist villainism to keep money flowing in
jobless for such a habit-making stretch, one falls into the role of favor-man—washing the car, vacuuming—for the home at which one stays
tucking the chain through the projects
diagramming how the stars will look to a later age for that later age is a longsighted wet-cement hello
never getting out of prison because of what you have to do to ensure respect—life—inside
college instructors fired over published poems, students kicked out over paintings—might one day off-putting mistypes on Microsoft Word be reported?
on grounds that he is not of the right blood line, rage is shown towards one claiming to be x— something with no biological reality even
did most generations sense, like us, that they were living on borrowed time, the bottom about to fall out anytime?
battling mainly through threat poses— like gangs in a Michael Jackson video— explains the scar-less bodies of sea leopards
