Smells Orangy

Yesterday I tweeted (or maybe it was fuck book) that I could smell rotting oranges despite the fact there weren’t any rotting orange for miles.* In addition to this I noticed that the cotton sack which I carry along my daily dilly dallying smells like money. Funny because I haven’t had any money in it for months (actually I haven’t had any money anywhere for months and am half expecting men to come knocking any-moment-now). This got me thinking about the money smell and how money doesn’t actually have a smell at all. What you’re smelling is use. Filthy, stinky hands (and feet maybe I don’t know) rubbing, sweating, sniffing and oozing.Actually that’s as far as I got. Some highlights this week are that DPM have secured the Pearsons Florist account. Yay. Yes we are cool and we deserve it. I’m launching Tammy’s foray into the blogosphere via and I need $15,000 for Stav’s Drum Sheet. Sadly the latter is not going to happen any time soon but there will be some drums recorded and it will happen here in the building. I’m listening to Beirut and really digging it. I’m also talking to a lot of folk from the UK who seem to really dig GITNB. Man I really need a bigger database.

*I can’t smell then anymore so pretty happy about that. Also, I’ve always preferred miles as a work to ki-lo-met-ters. Especially as a musician. I mean just try fit that into a song. I would would 500 ki-lo-me-ters… It’s just long. I heard that’s the main reason the US won’t go metric.


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