Cannabis Flower Cologne, Anyone?

So today on a facebook thread someone totally turned me on to this  fascinating little line of creatively-named all natural and cruelty-free fragrances that sounds so fun it’s almost poetry.

I will tell you the names in a paragraph or so. . .we need to get your eyes moving down this page  after all.  For now, I can give you a teaser preview though and I will begin with this one:  Wet Garden, Play-Doh, Sex on the Beach.

If, when you get there, you find  yourself yawning at something as familiar as dirt, my apologies. Sadly  I  don’t get out much. . .

So anyway, it was a thread where someone  had started a conversation about overpowering scent and how obnoxious it can be to get ambushed by a fog as far-reaching as thirteen floors after the offender has left the elevator.

Pretty soon we started typing about the ones we COULD tolerate and wear.   And in no time, it became something of a consensus that fragrance should at least be clean and  free of  noxious cloud formations with the stunning and stopping power of apocalyptic taser pistols.

And I was saying how much I like the Origins Ginger Essence and also Lemon Verbena by L’Occitane (the latter I fell in love with shortly after a very sweet student presented a bottle as a thank-you gift. )

demeter fragrance bar at loblaw

demeter fragrance bar at loblaw (Photo credit: wyn ♥ lok)

And  with that, the thread’s author mentioned a line called Demeter, specifically its offering called Thunderstorm, which really got my olfactory imagination going.  So I googled it up. . . and what an interesting list of scents I found there.

Lots of foodie names at first: Banana Flambe, Bubblegum, Jolly Rancher Green Apple, Vanilla Cake Batter, Gin and Tonic. . .

Banana Flambe, aka Bananas Foster

Banana Flambe, aka Bananas Foster (Photo credit: Nealy-J)

My brain gave way like a Land Rover on the High Street as I read those product descriptions.

The reviews on Amazon were pretty positive for the most part too. . .

And how about these names :

Angel Food

Tomato

Paperback, Pipe Tobacco, Hello Kitty, and another called Cannabis Flower.

 Cannabis Flower?  How is that even legal?  

I guess maybe the R and D department has devised a  way of mixing stuff like peppermint and  cabbage to get it.  But still, the only frame of reference I have at this particular juncture of my life is occasional brushes with contact high on the Metrobus.

Actually I carry a small flask of rollerball cologne for quick application on the end of my nose for such occasions. . .the ginger works nicely, though it stings a bit if you use too much. . .

So after facebook, I found myself chatting all of this up once more to a pen-pal best friend in Sweden and he was quick to correct my preconceptions.  “It’s not like tobacco,” he wrote. “More like incense.”

Not sure if he meant the flower though.

But then he’s a guy from a country where the official state bird is pickled herring. . .so that would invariably have an impact on one’s olfactory preferences I guess.

Still I’m intrigued. . .

sugar_frosted

sugar_frosted (Photo credit: sillydog)

Hmmm. . .

So what’s  your favorite scent, gentle reader?

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Dear Sisyphus: Today’s Craziness!

Dear Sisyphus,

There is no me.  That was just Buddha and Krishna messing with the cosmic vibrations again and having some fun at your expense.  Let go of it already.

Love,

God

PS. . .this post is in no way intended to poke fun at anything except myself.

So you can cancel the doomsday PR toot sweet.  (Damnit Man! I never could spell in French.)

PSPS Love you more.  xoxo

And Now for Something Completely Strange! Poetry in Motion Clips. . .Tom Waits’ Smuggler’s Waltz and Ginsberg Can Dance!

Poetry in Motion   --Ron Mann, 1982

Anytime I want to light a funny fire under my creative writing students, I just bring this video to class.  It has everything:

comedy,

(this is long, I know, but insanely worth it for the last line and the story. ..and you won’t forget it. ..EVER)

drama,

tragedy. . .

Seriously, I love this clip. . .even if it is kind of the pinnacle of silliness.  Ginsberg is amazing!

and Micheal Ondaatje, the author of “The English Patient

. . .like a. . .desert romance. . .only ten degrees hotter. ..

and this is just complete insanity, but worth the ride. Enjoy ! :

(OK, that’s all I have for today.  If you are a girl, I HIGHLY recommend a second viewing of Ondaatje, just for the fantasy factor!)

Ten Best Lines from Comedy Films: “These go to Eleven.”

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!   People who don’t like socialism be advised and enter at your own risk.  There are a lot of Marxist ideas in here and I don’t want anybody getting injured from laughing at how crazy it is to live in America without them!

OK seriously, this is just a random assortment of lines and segments from films that I like so please don’t throw shoes if you’re disappointed with the writer for not spending more time on research, reason, or numbers.

Besides the only person who gets permanently hurt when someone throws shoes is George Bush, and sadly he can’t leave the country just now because he is wanted in sixteen states for torture.

( And by states, I mean mental states. Mine. And by torture, I mean the the horse’s mouth: . . .”And so during these holiday seasons, we thank our blessings.”)

But take my word for it; you don’t want to go there. Not even on a sunny day.

Please also note that the quote from “Best in Show” is at the top of this list because I liked the irony of having a slutty waitress from”Best in Show” in first place.

To begin, I thought I would start with  this one I found as I was editing, post-publication, just because squinting to remember that scene from Fargo will be a good exercise for when you have to try and figure out why I chose these quotes:

“For what? For a little bit of money. There’s more to life than a little money, you know. Don’tchya know that? And here ya are, and it’s a beautiful day. Well, I just don’t understand it.” —Marge Gunderson

10. (this one is a series of lines. ..I just didn’t know where to stop cutting and pasting.)

From Stepbrothers (Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly):

Dale Doback: You yelled “rape” at the top of your lungs.

Brennan Huff: Mom, I honestly thought I was gonna be raped for a second. He had the craziest look in his eyes. And at one point he said, “Lets get it on.”

Doback: That was about the fighting. I am so not a raper!

Brennan Huff: Look, I didn’t touch your drum set, okay?

Dale Doback: I witnessed with my eyes your testicles touching my drum set.

I am not sure what Brennan says back, but you can bet it has nothing to do with helping you figure out how George Bush ever slithered into this conversation!

9. From “A Day at the Races” (with Groucho Marx):

Random Stranger:  Are you a man or a mouse?

Groucho: Put a piece of cheese on the floor and you’ll find out.

8.  From “Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail” (with John Cleese):

I blow my nose achoo, English peegdog.  Your muhzzair was a hamstair and your fahzzair smelled of eldairberries.

Castle Stalker - 03

Image by leguan001 via Flickr

7. From Groucho Marx:

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

(not sure what film that’s from, or if it is even from a film. . .but still it’s a good one. If you didn’t get it the first time, just close your eyes and think of what happens to a banana on the windowsill all summer.  Did you see how the banana grew some wings and then went sailing to the moon?  If you did, then you have a MUCh better imagination than I do.  Close but no Tiparillo.  Try again and don’t go all the way to outer space this time.  )

7. From “A Night at the Opera“:

Groucho: “Get outta here before I get arrested.”
Chico: “Nah I’d like to stay and see that.”

The stateroom scene. Groucho says, "Is it...

Image via Wikipedia

6. From “Better Off Dead” (with John Cusack):

[Lane (Cusack) waves to two tree trimmers from the cargo hold of a garbage truck]

Tree Trimmer: [to fellow tree trimmer] Now that’s a real shame when folks be throwin’ away a perfectly good white boy like that.

5. From “Better Off Dead” (with John Cusack):

Lane Myer: [indicating to Mrs. Smith’s accident] Gee, I’m really sorry your mom blew up, Ricky, guess she won’t be able to eat any spicy foods for awhile

The contract scene between Chico and Groucho

Image via Wikipedia

4. From “Raising Arizona” with Holly Hunter (Ed) and Nicholas Cage (H.I.):

H.I.: Wake up, Son. [aims gun at the clerk]

H.I.: I’ll be taking these Huggies and whatever cash ya got.

Ed McDonnough: [sees H.I. from the car] That son’ bitch. That son of a bitch! You son of a bitch!

H.I.: Better hurry it up, I’m in dutch with the wife.

Raising Arizona

Raising Arizona

Raising Arizona (Image via RottenTomatoes.com)

3.  From “Fargo” ( ):

Marge Gunderson: Say, Lou, didya hear the one about the guy who couldn’t afford personalized plates, so he went and changed his name to J3L2404?

Lou: Yah, that’s a good one.

2.  From “A Night at the Opera”(Groucho Marx):

This one has a Christmas theme!

Groucho Marx: Well, I don’t know, you must have been out on a tail last night. But anyhow, we’re all set now, are we? Now just you put your name right down there, then the deal is legal.
Chico Marx: I forgot to tell you, I can’t write.
Groucho Marx: Well that’s all right, there’s no ink in the pen anyhow. But listen, it’s a contract isn’t it? We’ve got a contract, no matter how small it is.
Chico Marx: Oh sure. You bet. Hey wait, wait. What does this say here, this thing here?
Groucho Marx: Oh that? Oh that’s the usual clause, that’s in every contract. That just says, it says, ‘If any of the parties participating in this contract are shown not to be in their right mind, the entire agreement is automatically nullified.’
Chico Marx: Well, I don’t know.
Groucho Marx: It’s all right, that’s in every contract. That’s what they call a sanity clause.
Chico Marx: You can’t fool me, there ain’t no sanity clause.

1. (with Catherine O’Hara)

Malcolm: I’ve banged a lot of waitresses in my day, but you, you, you were the best.

Cookie Fleck: You don’t forget the best.

–Best in Show

English: Groucho Marx & Eve Arden in At the Ci...

Image via Wikipedia

Because What They Say is True–It’s Easier to Put on Slippers, etc. : Wise Words from Stuart Smalley

I will take Al Franken’s comedy over his politics any day of the week.

But please don’t misunderstand my point here.

Because I would vote for him all over again had I actually been able to vote for him in the first place.

I mean here is a creative genius with a pencil at the ready and plus he can find the state of Missouri on a hand-drawn map:

http://parentingsquad.com/al-franken-is-a-geography-god  (not exactly sure about that source, but this photo was too good to pass up.  I will totally pay the twenty five cent fine. . . if there is one in the end so no worries to the scholars in the crowd)

His quotes as politician are priceless too.

“If you put the two Bushs together in their over seven years of their two presidencies, not  one new job has been created. Numbers do not lie. If you extrapolated from that, if the Bushs  had run this country from its very beginning to the current time, not one American would have  ever worked. We’d be hunter-gatherers.”  – in response to the 2004 SOTU address

And with this one, he’s really dead-on:

“[G. W. Bush’s] pro-air pollution Clear Skies Initiative is designed to clear the skies of birds.”  – The Truth (with jokes)

By no means am I saying I disagree with someone who can turn a phrase like that and have it make sense, especially in an age when a lot of guys are saying things that make no sense. . .as a matter of fact, it’s the unfunniest stuff that just makes your stomach churn. . . instead of . . .well, uhm. ..shaking like a bowl full of jellybeans or something.

Instead I am simply saying I was already on board as a supporter, years ago, while Franken was still wearing a blow-dried wig and a sweater.
And, in my own humble opinion, I think he may have garnered more love and attention for things like gay marriage and the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill in putting a warm and shaven face on these issues, and becoming this weirdly familiar kindred spirit, one that made us feel a little less alone with our own neuroses and isolation.

I mean, what’s not to love?

“But today, I’ve decided to take a risk, and wear a new sweater. It was sent to me by a recovering sex addict, Melissa D., who knitted it herself; she said it gave her something to do with her hands.”

This was a guy we could all laugh with, regardless of religious or political affiliation, secure in the knowledge that our fragile hearts would still go on beating as long as we heeded his nutritional advice:

[Stuart serves a patron in a restaurant]
Stuart Smalley:   Have you had enough time to look at the menu?
Patron:   We’ve had enough time to memorize the menu.
Stuart Smalley:   I’m sorry, I’m having a personal crisis. Can I take your order?
Patron:   For my wife, the Penne Arrabiata; and I will try the oso buoco.
Stuart Smalley:   You know, the oso buko is extremely fatty. You might want to try…
Patron:   I’ll TRY the oso buko. And also the mixed baby field greens.
Stuart Smalley:   Lo-cal vinaigrette?
Patron:   Creamy Caesar.
Stuart Smalley:   On the side?
Patron:   ON THE SALAD.
Stuart Smalley:   Thank you.
Patron:   And I’d like another double-scotch.
Stuart Smalley:  [smiling] No.

And in these days of the worst politically divided climate since dinosaurs ruled the White House, who could argue with universal wisdom such as this:
“Because what they say is true – it’s easier to put on slippers than to carpet the whole world.”

(Film Quotes and photo are from “Stuart Saves his Family,”  Paramount Pictures, 1995; directed by Harold Ramis; screenplay by Al Franken.)

Aint That Right, Bus Driver?

On the bus ride through the rain and cold tonight, at various stops and starts along the route from the Central West End to Southtown, I found myself locking smiles and bumping fists with a woman who, at regular intervals, was deriving a great deal of joy from the act of lurching into the center aisle, over and over again and shouting:

“Aint that right, bus driver?”

And each time, the driver would respond, as if by synchronicity through the shared experience of holding one’s own against the rain and rudeness of these glistening city streets. . .replying in the most melodious and throaty of tones: ”That’s right.”

And each time afterwards, the woman would wrap her arms around her own waist and
roll back in the seat laughing, seemingly pleased with herself for having elicited one more positive response from the person in charge.

In response to that bit of repetitive interaction. . .for the whole twenty-minute ride home, between spasms of laughter and fidgeting, I could feel that oddly familiar sensation moving through my skin, sensation that can only be described as being caught between the wish for someone to make it stop and waiting for it to start all over again.  This went on until I pulled the bell cord for my corner…though at times she would mix things up with the obsessive repetition of news flashes and singsong bits of wisdom:

“Everybody thinks Popeye was strong, but really he was a sissy,”

“Read my lips; catch my drift,”

and “Stare too long, you’re doing it wrong.”

At one point, she stopped to unwrap a very large sandwich and fondle it in anticipation, all the while casting her weary eyes down at its wrapper like a prized catch, the bag emblazoned with the name of the priciest gourmet grocer in the Central West End , most likely anticipating the moment when the rain would let up just long enough for her to leave the bus and enjoy it.

But for now, she had found a warm place to seek refuge from it all, no doubt thanks to the means of strangers, the first one with money enough for that sandwich, the second letting go of a transfer pass that paid for the ride. . . followed by the brown-eyed girl behind the wheel. kindly and obligingly saying those same two words over and over again. That’s right.

A loaf of bread, a jug of vitamin water and thou. . .

It was so very wet and cold on the walk to my place and I could feel the rain pelting my pant leg as I gripped the handle of the umbrella to brace against the elements. In a matter of minutes, I could see the stop on the street running perpendicular to my own ride. As I approached it, I realized I would have to raise my umbrella enough to clear the height of a man for whom I could not yield the right of way without taking someone else’s eye out.

And aside from the sound of his laughter as I passed, accompanied by that of the wind and rain, all I could hear in my head was the echo of the broken record lady.

“Read my lips; catch my drift.”

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Like Butter, An Introduction to the Language of Flowers

photo by Tess Farnham

“And the wand-like lily which lifted up,  As a Maenad, its moonlight-coloured cup,    Till the fiery star, which is its eye,      Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky.”
–Shelley

Close your eyes if you will and imagine the enclosure around a bowl and fountain, its  gray painted sides alive with the hieroglyphics of those come to baptize the blank slate. ..

sequestering themselves away with only the sound of running water to inspire…

as they peed and pondered the mysteries of the universe,

sharpies at the ready and poised to scrawl those innermost thoughts. ..those odes of undying devotion.. those offers of meaningful connection at the click of a couple of digital buttons. ..

Consider too  the lowly scoreboard. .  .

the blatantcy of facebook page and relationship status,

the mobile’s greenish screen and keyboard. ..

if only to name a few of the places where alliances are forged, born, and broken these days.

But have you ever wondered what the pioneers did for PDA/PDBreakup before the saturation of mass technology?

Before the bells and whistles,

before the misspellings and abbreviations, the glows thrown off by text message light. . .

And what of those gentle Victorian ladies who hid their hands and ankles,  lacing themselves up so tight, it tournequeted the circulation from heart to head. ..

so much so that the menfolk were put upon to fashion special couches for them to fall on. . .

The few the proud, the ones who got there first. . .  nevermind this modern shock and awe delivered at the door of  far flung incontinents. . .here was hand to hand interacation.

Hold your fire until you see the whites of their eyes kinda stuff.

Here lies beloved, her poor corseted form flung across the velvet upholstery and hands kept dainty inside  silk gloves. ..till he arrives extending his intentions all neatly arranged in a bouquet. ..Depending upon the intent of the sender, a man could make or break his relationship with just one trip to the florist’s shop.For Next Time:Like Butter. ..Lily in the Language of FlowersMeanwhile, check out theImpressionist and flowers-inpired art here:  http://www.etsy.com/shop/tessilu?ref=si_shop

Cosmos and Iris, acrylic on canvas, Tess Farnham