A Meditation on the Smell of Blood
I have been sitting here for two hours and 45 minutes and I can smell my bandage. I know it's my bandage and I don't know how I know it. It’s not like I know the smell that well. I don't smell this every day. It really stinks, though. All the blood's drying. Maybe that's the problem. When I cut it at the shop, it really gushed out. I've never seen so much blood. It didn't even hurt when I did it. It didn't hurt at any point. That's probably why I just kept working, until I saw that I'd gotten a big ass gob of blood on the matting. It was a good thing I saw it when I did. I could have put that lady's Mary Cassatt print right on top of it, and then, boy, would she be pissed...