went shopping for funeral attire. when leaving the department store i spied a guy selling cherries. as he poured my buy from their green jails into a paper sack he asked what i was wearing. like so:
him: what are you wearing?
him: mmm. you smell really good. that's you right? no. no it was that lady.
him: no it's you. that's nice. what fragrance is that?
me: i dunno. i think i might have accidentally-- um it's from in there. (gesturing at storefront)
him: (much laughter) god bless you. god bless.
i don't much wear perfume. but i did inadvertently walk through a cloud of dubious man-spray. irresponsibly wielded by sister. who thought it was lady's eau de toilette. and because my hands were looking kind of dry i sampled some awful hand cream. so i'm glad that my chemical stink made some preacher's day. he was a preacher btw. a cherry-vending preacher. with hair like that british jewel tea guy who used to come door-to-door and sell my gran sundries.
anyhow. the cherries are tasty. and they led me to think of neneh cherry. and then rip rig and panic. and now all i want is to hear their song "you're my kind of climate." but i can't find it anywhere. hopefully one of these new fangled mp3 blogs will post it for my listening pleasure.
little shoes came away with me. like a mish-mash of bensimon and cons and ballet flats and kung-fu shoes. i've made them sound ugly. they're not. and the price was small which also pleases.
sandalwood smells nice. spikenard. amber. vetiver. demeter's russian leather
(what's with the leather daddy hat? i'd rather envision library chair). quite often i think people smell pretty good without.
well. to bed.
listening: der telefon anruf-- kraftwerk.