You know, you need, you know you need (In which we discuss my infatuation with the city)

For those who don't know, I have what is medically referred to as 'anosmia.'  Colloquially, i can simply say 'my nose don't work no more.'

I can still breathe through my nose, my tongue still works so i still taste basic flavor (salty, sweet, savory, spicy, etc.), and I remember what smells are like but, due to an accident i was involved in down in Tennessee, i am now without a sense of smell.

Take a sniff of the world around you.  Yes, yes, i know it's a weird thing to do, but bear with me; i'm going somewhere with this.  Are you cooking something in the other room?  Do your socks smell from a long day of walking?  Are you at a library, surrounded by the dusty musk of old and new books?

These sensory experiences, or whatever experiences you are having through your particular olfactory sampling, are unique amongst our passive senses in that you are absorbing some of the actual matter of your surroundings.  Whatever physical particulate exists in the air, you are ingesting and processing and translating that into 'smell.' Taste does this as well, but that is something we rarely do to our surroundings.

What an incredible organ the brain is, no?

When i had it, i loved my sense of smell.  Food wafting from any kitchen, perfume trailing after a pretty girl walking the other direction on the sidewalk, scented letters kept as mementos from friends and loved ones, even the less than pleasant smells in life; the experience of it was always a thrill for me.

The loss of this passive appreciation for the state of the world around me has contributed to a general disconnect from my surroundings.  Nothing so overt as to ruin me socially, but i acknowledge in myself a feeling of impassive objectivity i wouldn't have spotted had i not been given cause to think on it due to a loss such as this.

Periodically i'll ask whomever i'm walking with to tell me what the world smells like.  After a while, some folks just know to tell me.  My friend and tour mate 'Dola has become very good at volunteering the smells of road life.

"dude, it smells like baby diaper full of shrimp"
"wow...fresh shrimp?"
"No.  the opposite of fresh"
"gross"
"yup"
"thanks"

It is not the same.

Why, after all this talk of the city, am I bringing up this less-than-cheerful sounding topic?  Why should you hear about my disability-induced disconnect?


Because I visited a place that brought me back into it.

The occupation of Wall St. as a demonstration of general social unrest is a thing i've no place talking about here or anywhere; i am so very ignorant of the social/political state of our nation that all i can confidently say is that i lean 'liberal' and i'm 'pro-' to allot of stuff: pro-choice,-marital rites,-peace,-crastinating.  wacka wacak.

Anyway.  occupy wall st.

So there i am, surrounded by a throng of song and dance and words against perceived wrong and a tent city now many days long and...and i'm overwhelmed.
the antithesis of a bloodhound, I have caught the scent of the presence of my peers.
I've seen this place on television, on my smart-phone, on my laptop screen.  i've heard these words from every media venue and now i'm here.

i am, ostensibly, a part of it.

And it feels amazing to just watch and Feel with these people.  To observe what is, for all intents and purposes, history in the making. It may be a small blip in history, but these occupations (for they are spreading to other cities) are still taking up enough space in our collective consciousness that they won't soon be forgotten.
What a thing to say i was there.
Let the historians and more capable minds discern what, if any, effect these days have; let me simply say 'i was there.'

But then i leave the protest and re-enter the city and it is the City that i am infatuate with.  I cannot smell this world (i'm ok with that, i think) but i can feel it in my bones as the subway runs under my feet, and i can hear any kind of music you please in my walk, and i can imagine i smell Thai, Chinese, Indian, Italian, greasy spoon, Any kind of food.  this city inspires in me an imagination to make up for my sheared-sinus sensitivity.

I stand at the corner of Union square, looking at the light pouring off the Empire State Building and i'm overcome, simply overflowing with an inarticulate push to show the people around me that i have heard the call; i have felt something pluck at the tips of my fingers and i want to follow the pull to the end of the rabbit hole.  I want to help make this world better by making this city better by being better for being here...

I love New York and i cant wait to go back...i guess is all i wanted to say.

thanks for reading.  Tune in, next time, and maybe i'll even make sense.


P.S. I am desperately insufficient in the department of editing and syntax; any suggestions on how to find a volunteer/basic grammatical primer online would be most welcome.
P.P.S.  That is assuming, of course, that this isn't just my mother reading this thing over and over again to make me feel good about my 'reader numbers'  ...Hi, mom, thanks for reading.