It's a matter of taste

I taste the air today in New York, so hot and humid, it tastes like water just to breath. Not quite as swampy as a Tennesee Williams play, but definitely as thick. Maybe it’s more sweaty, like kids playing basketball in the park across the street.

I taste excitement and anticipation cause I’m going to Carnegie hall tonight. Going to see the concert of Show Boat. I expect that the air will be good and cool in there. Who knows though, it is a mercury retrograde.

I taste, I taste, I taste the air conditioner in my room, the cool air leaves a metallic feel on my tounge.

There was a time once when I tasted people’s emotions, I was doing these metaphysical meditations on the senses. The advice was to take it slow and do one sense at a time. I did all five and cracked open like an acorn.

I was tasting peoples emotions. At the time, I was in a play, and this actress had to play “angry”. She spewed this hateful fierce and fiery rage that felt like little darts in the back of my throat. It was a disgusting taste; very hard to swallow.

Bitterness is also hard to taste, and it usually comes with a side serving of gossip and criticism; phrases like “they don’t know who they’re messin with” and “she ought to know better” and “it’s not fair”

Sadness closes up my throat, I can choke on it. It’s kind of a mixture of salty tears and something acidic. Wonder if I’m allergic.

Joy and happiness are pleasantly sweet, unless it’s forced, then it’s like putting too much salt water taffy in you mouth.