New York City 1948


12:09 p.m.-2001-10-30

something's in the air

There was a time when we didn't have solvents to scour our skin with. After cleaving your way through a pack of warriors, covered in blood and guts, all you could do was splash some water on ya. Had to scrape the tough shit off with a stick. Now we got soap for each part of our body. Belly button soap, inner thigh cleaner, upper lip scrub. Poor little beneficial bacteria fighting to stay alive just to stave off disease from wracking our bodies, and all we do is assault them with an acid attack.

Course who wants to be around a stinky weiner or cootchie. Nothing like sharing a subway car with a sour smelling individual. Got an ecosystem on them more active than a yogurt processing plant.

Don't like being around people that are scared of their scent neither. Pheremones are important. The hunt starts when the scent of prey is in the breeze. You ladies know you like your man to smell like a man, and not a strawberry field. You just don't want us smelling like a donkey sphincter.

My favorite spot for my nose to be, other than smearing around in the juices of a lovely creature, is in the back of my lover's neck. Just breath in her scent deeply so that sense memory etches itself throughout my being. Yummy.

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