Ted (merovingian) wrote,


Last night was a wonderful last night. I went to a show, a hula dancing show, and I heard somewhere that hula dances are a coded language and they tell a story. I don't know the language so I didn't catch the story, but I could guess glimpses of it. Halfway through the piece it smelled like someone had just broken a French vanilla bean under my nose, and this morning I woke up again to that same sweet sharp smell.

And I remembered glimpses of the hula dance story so I wasn't all too surprised when my room was filled with scarves and the scarves wrapped around me and turned to a dozen gliding wings, or perhaps tendrils, carried by the wind.

And when I went outside I still smelled that vanilla scent, not like the vanilla extract flavoring smells you get in ice cream and perfume but the old plant smell that spawned it, and there was comfort in that.

And when the sirens wailed and the beasts roamed the street for us, and we all did battle, all claws and scarves and disaster-movie dilemmas and fangs and quick motions and terrified nobility, I was not too afraid because I sort of caught hints that this would happen in the hula dance the night before, and I didn't despair because I still felt that sharp gourmet olfactory companion.

And when the fire got bigger and I saw the second sunset as the cityscape crumbled down to landscape, my second thought was that we were in big trouble, but my first thought was oh, look, a sunset, how lovely. And my third thought was, oh, the sunset goes so nicely with that smell of fresh dried snapped vanilla bean. And my fourth thought was oh, hey, rooster-lizards, better hide over there. And my fifth thought was, oh yeah, like in the hula dance.

And my sixth thought was, hey, I'm glad I caught that show last night.

And my seventh thought was I better blog this while we still have internet.

Sleep safe, my brothers and sisters.

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