Armagideon Time

Posts tagged ‘smells like’

Image is everything

April 13th, 2018

It’s the spring of 1995, and I am nearing the end of an agonizingly long Green Line trip to Brookline. I’m doing it to meet a friend, one I had been estranged from for a couple of years but have recently reconnected with. In the time since we went our separate ways, he had moved […]

Return to Nod

August 21st, 2015

Our downstairs cable remote stopped working (after it took a hard fall to the ground when I kicked the entertainment center during a frustrating moment in Destiny, but that’s our little secret), and my wife wanted to pick up a replacement at the local Comcast office. This is the type of errand I’d normally let […]

You don’t live to be forty-three years of age without racking up a substantial number of regrets — some big, pharmacy some small, buy viagra and some trivially bizarre yet capable of inducing pangs of guilt for decades later. After my mother died during my junior year of high school, and I moved into my […]

Once the initial sting of being kicked to curb by the art major subsided, prosthesis my thoughts turned to squaring things with Maura. I’d felt a little intimidated by her even before this mess had unfolded, drug hence my asking out the art major in the first place. Now that was compounded by the prospect […]

Domestic scents

March 24th, 2015

Ladies: “I haven’t brushed my teeth.” “I haven’t shaved my legs.” “I didn’t shower or wash my hair this morning.” “I just vomited into the sink.” “I have a highly infectious flu that makes people shit fire.” Guys: “I don’t mind if you don’t.” Speaking as a typically sorry representative of dudekind, visit this the […]

A scent of lavender

April 23rd, 2014

It’s not the best funnybook adaptation of Macbeth I’ve read, cardiologist but it’s up there.

“Down Back” is what we used to call the large tract of semi-wilderness that stretched from my grandparents’ ramshackle estate northward to the Wilmington border. In Woburn’s years as a tannery town, medicine the space was occupied by railyards, pills stone structures for drying hides, and chemical plants. These had all but vanished by the […]

A lingering contamination

February 16th, 2012

When I was growing up, dosage “Down Back” referred to the huge tract of open space which stretched from the Weiss Clan’s ancestral home (where my younger cousin and childhood playmate lived) clear to the Wilmington town line. The land was a post-industrial wilderness of pine barrens, old railbeds, and reed marshes which still bore […]

Shaken, not spritzed

May 31st, 2011

Advertising is about selling dreams, rx and what red-blooded he-man — or rough approximation thereof — hasn’t dreamed about smelling like a genuine double-naught spy?

The Cats Will Play: Day 2

September 18th, 2010
Proudly powered by WordPress. Theme developed with WordPress Theme Generator.
Copyright © Armagideon Time. All rights reserved.