MADE FOR YOU AND ME 3: hive Being (Stanzas 2018--part 8)
scent of the day: Bengale Rouge, by Papillon
Holy crap this is good. It is very much like a feminine form of Eau de Mystique by Wesker. Both are resinous-floral fragrances rooted in a dirty goo of labdanum and honey dusted with cinnamon and tinged with rose. Bengale has this dirty antique feel in base, perhaps more than Eau de Mystique, but citrusy christmas-time cinnabon on the top—Bengale more cinnabon and Eau more citrus. Bengal is more gourmand leaning but it is hard to say either are.
A tobacco touch, from tonka, is present and both—ashier in the case of Eau (think: Back to Black) and more almondy in the case of Bengale (think: Chergui). Tobacco forms a bridge away from the gourmand in both. That bridge goes more to tar-smoke leather in the case of Eau (styrax augmenting the labdanum effect) whereas the bridge goes more to an earthen-rot leather in the case of Bengale (oakmoss plus myrrh), the woodiness here in Bengale mistakable for cinnamon-style of oud almost. Both scents are more cozy than gourmand and Bengal is the cozier. Eau goes a tad more piney aromatic and floral (and with louder projection to match) and Bengal goes more animalic and musty (more restrained in projection). While Bengale has more a hint of animalics Eau has more a hint of booze.
I find this the ultimate baked-goods holiday scent but not so much representing the sweet treats themselves as the midwestern woman (the one who wears those tacky christman sweaters unironically perhaps) who has too many cats fro the backside of the drum in her washign machine note to be caked with hair that giives her sweaters a tinge of mustiness. Yes, like the marketing narrative, this does has an animalic undertone. It could just be the honey or maybe some civet is in here. The fungal-licorice aspect of the myrrh (very much like Au Couer du Desert) boosts that dirty impression.
This is something Russian Adam wished he would have made. I would love to see the formula given to Russian Adam so he can oudify it with even more antique woodiness that I do find enough in the base that I could wonder about some oud being in here. But otherwise the people who sell their Papillon to fund their chase of the overpriced artisanals (the four thousand dollar Ensars and even just the Areej) are not appreciating what is under their noses.
MADE FOR YOU AND ME 3: hive Being (Stanzas 2018—part 8)
a creator force that wants you to blow yourself up
donating your body for necrophilia
homeless and high on crank, what better to do than direct traffic?
the teen became comfortable in her body after a social-media detox
would there have been good art if everyone had been invited to the party?
it is rape in this society but not in that
“that African American chick over there is from Barbados”
the plan to living your life: as your dad would not
alienating everyone before they alienate you
psychedelic reboots do not fix the hardware
through us evolution can see ahead
at least the cat you had sex with was female
letting yourself fall for someone who may—but only may—wind up fissuring you
if only it could somehow be a competitive closet-rod sander, the ideal weed sac would be the ideal woman: fat, pungent, no seeds
beware of tripping: since it can lighten daily annoyances (like sitting in traffic), how might it alter your sworn enemy?
deprogram your jealousy: let her touch and be touched by another while you drink a beer on the sofa
yelling before the doctor long enough that metastasis happens before diagnosis
and now the time has come for what you long said was too soon to consider
fake capillaries in the fake eye
“treat others as you would have them treat you” has a rather sexy suggestion: allow your tastes to guide your conduct
embracing the new world where mere accusation means guilt, by deeming it payback for the old world where assault victims were disbelieved by default
if your kind is the target of a witch-hunt, at some point the urge will rise to mock the ridiculousness of the hunt through wild accusations of your own—accusing family even (Salem?)
if you cannot let go of your poop, how will you let go of you yourself while dying?
having the “too” in common: a friend too sympathetic and a toothbrush too big
but if we really believed that global warming is the end, which it is not (despite what everyone signals for benefits social and sexual), we would turn to atomic energy
what is lost when we think of this— this adventure, this event, this trial— as a metaphor for something bigger?
being bonded by dysfunction alone might be enough for a relationship in a life of unknowns this short
feeling charitable in giving it all away even though you gave it all away because it all burdened you
a music solo of nothing but humanoid grunts, the most ones of noverbal pica spastics
a grand piano surfing an urban street wave
loved by your primary caregiver more for your talent than for yourself
tragedy too good of a conversion godsend, he warned no one it would happen
expecting someone to commit political suicide just because the argument is sound
thinking your strength is what has those close to you do what you want when really it is your fragility
it was not that back in the day we were afraid to say it was racist for the white lady to dress up as Mr. T for Halloween—barring malicious intent and inappropriate context, no one saw it that way
hard it is to find a veteran who is not the State’s victim precisely by being a veteran
the marriage crumbled once your chemical data field became detectable to her, off the pill
the horribleness of its methodology might more easily go unnoticed if the article reinforces popular bias
molding the future to your desires is compatible with your future being ultimately beyond your control
a hoax—such as race—further entrenched by its use as locus of solidarity to fight an oppression fostered by that very hoax
churches going out of business once the parishioners get their wish: the deportation of illegals
gay, but indoctrinated enough to feel sick to his stomach seeing two guys kiss on screen
a strategy consisting merely of hope
just one more hit to start that journey to recovery
haunted more by its lore than by its presence
homosexorcism
unburden your life by throwing rocks and shrieking in a field
geese eyes through the ice granules of a cloud
loaded needle for the morning (like a loaded coffee pot)
experiences that reliably trigger memories of the dead
kids best learn from the experienced, and yet why not when it comes to their first sexual experiences?
what is there really to do after finding out that our Fruit Loops is considered toxic almost everywhere else, countries that force Kellog to use different ingredients (since it is marketed to kids)?
people it is not pc to challenge are less likely to be fined for whistling at women; the socially repulsive—lacking the right face or speak or clothes or so on—are screwed
smooth, confident, only with the sort of women knowingly bad for you: dysfunctional, damaged— the very trash around whom you were raised
since some diseases are reversible, construing addiction as a disease need not undercut one’s power to overcome it (even though with real-life people it most likely will)
