Ancient, Anew

Autumn, ablaze~

The inescapable haze

of déjà vu.


                                 The bottles are gone.

The bottles of my smells, the scents of my rooms I'd become so familiar with; gone.

I moved, and so much is here, it seems like too much has stowed away with me somehow,

                                                     just not the things I wanted; the things I needed.

I'm a simple girl, or so I thought.

                                                          What's a jinniyah to do without her bottle?

In what will I drift restlessly across the expansive, endless sea of time?

                                 

                                                                          
                                                                              Answers are found in the past.

Grapefruit

             I found Yoko Ono's book quite by accident, right next to a Joe Orton anthology I was looking at for a theater report. It's called Grapefruit, and it's very abstract. After I was able to take a step back from it and gloss over the fact that it is a bit hippy-dippy-bourgeoisie and just appreciate it for what it was, I realized it's still thought-provoking and enjoyable. It's divided into nine chapters on various arts, the first of which is music. I particularly like:

" TAPE PIECE II

Room Piece

Take the sound of the room breathing.

1) at dawn
2) in the morning
3) in the afternoon
4) in the evening
5) before dawn

Bottle the smell of the room of that particular hour as well.

1963 autumn "

                  I think I like this because I've serendipitously bottled the smells of my rooms at various hours, by burning different wax melts and pouring the used wax into a large wine bottle. I have the sound of the room breathing, only it's not on tape

                                                                                                              and in my photographic memory.