William Matheson (nova_one) wrote,
William Matheson
nova_one

Synesthesia exercise: Yma and her dog

Her voice sounded like a blueberry muffin and her hair was the colour of music. I relied on her too much.

There's an Alanis Morissette song called "You Owe Me Nothing In Return" and like many of her post-Jagged Little Pill songs there are parts that have the effortless grace of letting bowling balls roll up the basement stairs but they're so full of meaning to me. I tuned into Alanis' interview with Jian Ghomeshi and I was floored by how effortlessly the feeling of her words massaged my brain. I'd been watching her songs so much that in some small way I became her.

you owe me nothing
for giving the love
that I give

you owe me nothing
for caring
the way that I have


I wrote you that to convey the idea that my friend Yma was spookily unconditional in her love for me. All I had to be was am, and that was enough. I loved the taste of her arms around me.

Then she got a dog. A small dog.

It smelled like a tax return and barked like a pineapple. When we walked together, the dog would dash aggressively at other dogs and it was all strawberries and raspberries and mangoes between them. I didn't understand how it thought it could win.

"But I'm worth it!", Yma would say.

I hear the biophysicists are working on a smell cancelling device. When it smells a tax return, it generates a birthday party to cancel it out. When there's an audit, it generates a party where you bought the perfect gift that was thoughtful and needed and appreciated and unique but not too ostentatious and the birthday person loves you a little bit more than they already loved you, which was a lot.

I don't know what I'm going to do about all the tax returns on the living room floor, though.
Tags: writing exercises
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