#nyquil thoughts

[timelesseternity]

early supernatural and its grittiness and dirty lenses and storylines within the backroads of americana will always be nostalgic

[ericboyd]

I'm sick for the first time since the start of the pandemic and it's so weird. I feel a little bit like a failure, which speaks to how successfully people have been made to think personal responsibility can somehow prevent life from getting in our way. I'm boosted + a flu shot, wear a mask around customers at work (and all of my coworkers are vaccinated) so a little cold really isn't anything to stress about-- but the past two years make you feel like you've become a fortress and, no matter how hard you try, something can always get through.

In a way it's further cemented my fragrance obsession; on the off-chance that I did have covid, I've been trying different scents, or even just reminiscing about ones I've tried over the past year. I'm so enamored with gourmands and ambers, yet it's been chypres and fougeres that come to mind. Green scents, yellow florals. Chamomile and sandalwood.

Every once in a while I open a doc with scent ideas based on locations and times in my life. My childhood home, its backyard torn out by construction to dig a ditch for a creek, the trees and grass leveled into dry, red-brown clay; off to the right--spared by the construction--what seemed like an endless forest of bamboo. The way beams of sunshine came down through. What did that smell like? I have ideas.

I've looked up fragrance labs and vendors, found specific scents that can reproduce notes resembling dirt or rust or blood.

Would it be possible to recreate the potpourri I made in jail? I'd fill a sock with dried orange peels and cherry scented vomit absorber we called kitty litter, hang the sock on the air duct pushing stale air into the cell. While I know it couldn't have been a good scent, it still feels magical to think of. Orange, a powdered cherry. A bit of cocoa. A mix of moist and dry tobacco. Civet for a feral edge, ambergris for a touch of salty sweat; build around a foundation of the plain baked cake we'd often eat for dessert, only mildly sweet with a touch of vanilla. White musk, similar to biblichor, to hold it all together. The smell of the things that grounded you in that hellish place, surrounded by notes of the distractions you needed to get by. Both a resignation and a celebration.

Alright, bed time.

[timelesseternity]

[timelesseternity]

the dog days are over, old sport

[timelesseternity]

another night falling in love with the moon

[timelesseternity]

wandavision's villains are the persistence of unresolved traumatic memories aided by bottomless grief that's inconsolable when it has already swallowed and broken apart the human soul and spirit; and a white guy named tyler on a power trip

[timelesseternity]

in a downward spiral thinking over that a duffle bag was baby sam winchester's improvised crib for a while and dean was always curled up sleeping at his brother's side

[timelesseternity]

hbo spn wouldn't have dipped on sam winchester's physic powers