6/15/2004

Something has crawled under my house and died. I noticed the smell yesterday. The kitchen was clean when I got home from my girlfriends, but I took out the garbage anyhow. I looked in the fridge, the stove, in the cupboards, and shelves, but I could not find the source of the stench. There were frequent trips outside to get away from it.

I burnt twelve sticks of Nag-Champa and sat outside smoking while I waited. The smell didn't improve; instead the stink of rot was now layered with the sweet smell of sandalwood, confusing my poor nose.

My room was far enough away from the kitchen, that the smell didn't bother me too much. I retreated there to get away from the horrid smell.

Something about this whole thing bothers me intensely. There is some carcass lying underneath my house. Some pitiful creature dragged itself under my house to die. I'm not sure if I should take it as a bad omen, or a good. On one hand, it's just got to be a bad omen to have a dead animal crawl under the house. On the other hand, the poor creature must have chosen my house because it felt safe. That's got to be a good thing.

The stench of rotting flesh made me ponder the greater questions of mortality, of free-will and determinism, the connectivity between all life, and all death (be it insect, plant or mammal), and my own physical decay. Did this animal choose to crawl under my house to die? Or did circumstance bring it to this final place? Did this rotting vermin once contain a soul? (Mu) Or is it merely the field of origin for new life? Are these questions really the same? The pathways burned bright. The neurons and dendrons whispered in an arcane, electric language. I was for the moment fully experiencing the smell. I was fully engaged in the fundamental and allegorical implications of the stink that had filled my house.

I suddenly remembered the process of smelling, how it is actual particles that the sensory organs touch. The dead rodent had actually entered my body through my nose. I was breathing in minute particulates of its existence into my lungs. Flesh screening it for usability.

I reflected for a moment on the type of animal that had most likely found its way through the broken window into the pit below the house. Most likely a small mammal, maybe rodent, maybe marsupial, maybe feline. How did this creature die? The scope is a bit broad for any accurate analysis.

For a second I imagined what it would be like to die in a cold, damp, and dark place, away from the things of life. I felt the dirt beneath me, and the oppressive feeling of a house above me. My eyes closed.

"What the hell is that smell?" My roommate's voice brought me from my trance. "How can you stand to be in here?"

"That smell my friend, is your future."

That was yesterday. The roomy talked about crawling under the house to get the body out. We went to the bar until late. Today the flies arrived. Big black buggie-eyed things that buzz like a miniature airplane. This is their world. They are born and die upon this body. One is watching me type, occasionally making its path around my head.

The smell is still here lingering in the back of the nostrils underneath the scents of sage, vanilla, and sandalwood. The doors are open and there is a strong breeze coming from the east rushing through the house. I can hear the leaves rustle, and cars go by.

My daughter is coming back today. The ex will be here soon. She will be rushing, on her way to work. I'll meet her outside so I won't have to explain the smell to her.

My daughter will notice right away. She'll smell the rot, see the flies, and ask me why. I think I'll have something to say.