11 July 2006

They say that scent is the one sense tied closest to memory.

Or something of that nature. Christ, I think that's from a commercial or something. The two scents I'm thinking about don't necessarily remind me of a specific memory, but more of a place, or a feeling.

Today on the bus, I smelled something that made me think of Booty Call Matt's cologne, post-coitus. But only if he'd been out drinking before he came over. I can't remember the kind he wears. It's one of those fairly ubiquitous ones, though. Like Cool Water or Aqua di Gio or some cologne that I used to really like the smell of, until it became tainted. Not that he tainted it. The tainting comes from the assdarts who bathe in the stuff before they go out for the night. Dude, come on.

Oddly enough, the other memory-tied scent is from the bus, too. Actually, it's not that odd. There are smells on the bus. Loads and loads of smells; like the guy who sat in front of me yesterday and ripped ass the entire time. Nice. Should I ever end up pregnant, I will not be able to ride the bus. There are days that the smells are too much for me now, especially in the morning.

Anyway, the scent from the bus last week was identical to the smell out in the concourse of the Metrodome -- sweat and onions laced with spilled beer. The bus was even kind of humid, just like the concourse at the Dome. I could have sworn I was at there, getting a beer and a hot dog before the game.

I actually really like how smelling something can instantly transport me to a specific time or place, or to a memory. It's a pretty cool phenomenon.

No comments: