13,072 Days Alive
So… apparently the fact that I associate colors/sensations/music with people is outside the norm. I was talking about it with Gwendolyn and J this evening.
We played the game of describing each other to one another.
J is the green of a well-tended aloe plant and the smell of unburnt tobacco and fresh cut grass. She’s slow ska music being played in the other room. Gwen is sunflower yellow, the scent of lilies and sun warmed pavement. She’s harajuku pop music. Reffie, she’s the milky brown of coffee with a splash of milk in it; the smell of freshly brewed chai, gardenia, and the sound of bamboo wind chimes knocking together. My dear Daniel is… he’s roses, vanilla, and bergamot. He’s the color of a raven’s oil slicked feathers and the sound of karaoke where you can’t stop laughing long enough to sing. Bill6 is the gray of a bonfire’s smoke, the smell of damp earth and sugar and the sound of New Orleans jazz played on a piano. Chelé is the purple of Concord grapes, the scent of laundry soap, baking bread, and the sound of laughter echoing in a bocci ball court or the sound of Ring of Fire played lowly.
Even I have my own flavors. I’m the purple of a night sky heavy with clouds. I’m Nag Champa, vanilla, and cinnamon. And I’m the pendulous swing from soft to cacophonous of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.
When I can’t remember someone’s name, I can remember how they smell, taste, sound. It’s odd, but it works well enough. Sometimes it’s all I have left of people, these shades of them.
I hope I sleep better tonight than I did last night. I didn’t get to sleep until almost two. This new sleep med doesn’t work for shit and it is super frustrating.
Anyway, mentally I’m a little fried. Work stress, and a job opportunity, has cropped up. I finally picked up my Adderall from the pharmacy this evening, so I will get to try it tomorrow, see if it helps.
I’m for bed. Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 