rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The local supermarket in my old neighborhood sold a large assortment of candles. I bought a number of votive candles, and some of those plain glass containers for them. (They also sold containers with various Catholic images on them.) I also bought a couple of those large candles in colored jars about eight inches high -- the kind Diane diPrima called "nonessential bohemian candles." One jar was red and the other blue.That night, I had them all lit and arranged around my room, and I made a concoction with cranberry juice, and we sat around in the flickering light until the late hours discussing movies and Whitman and Kerouac, and I poured a bit of peppermint extract into a mayonnaise jar lid and set it on fire to see what would happen. It filled the room with a peppermint scent, but the smell of candle wax remained stronger.

What this thought has reminded me of is that it has been years since I used candles for anything other than emergency light during power outages. I wonder what made me give up the decorative candles? I don't recall making any decision to do so. I simply quit using them. Of course, I have no idea why I began using them in the first place, other than to create that atmosphere of nonessential bohemianism. They were an affectation of the time, I suppose, and yet they always seemed to be conducive to conversation. They were not conducive to memory, though, as I've forgotten all the details of what was said. Again, I am left with visual and olfactory images, but the sound is no more than a tone, warm and soothing, but without content. Words are the things which have always escaped me, Now, I find myself using words to write down what was never speech, and unable to record what was spoken. I waited too long, and end up with this irony.

That was what happened on November 17th then.

This year, there was a bit of sunlight and some white clouds. Nobody spoke.

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