Monday, August 8, 2011

Someone Else Must Be Driving this Boat

It's true, I've been accused of sensing life in a sortof backwards, strange-handed way. I buy magazines based in their texture. I've been known to smell bags of marshmallows in the checkout line at the supermarket, even if they belong to perfect strangers. I love the feeling of my sinuses clearing so much that I can't carry on a conversation while it happens. I'm unable to eat a variety of foods simply because their squeak against my teeth is so jarring.

It gets much stranger... When I hear any song, of any genre, from any time period with a backbeat, I think of my friend Natalie.

I've told you before how the metallic and musty scent of violin strings conjures up early childhood memories of songs I haven't heard in 20 years.

A song is in my head right now, one that doesn't exist for anyone but my family... I've looked for hours for a trace of the song outside my parent's kitchen. My dad calls it the Indian love song or Indian lullaby. I only know one stanza:

A loaf of bread,
A jug of wine,
And you on an island...

There's also a beautiful haunting melody that passes after with a whistle. The reason it suddenly appeared in my subconscious? I'm not sure, but I noticed it there after Anthony Bourdain said the word 'consanguine'. Humans are so strange and wonderful.

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