Please pass the mop

One of the bonding moments I remember having with my mother during my early adolescence (they were few) is watching Leo Buscaglia lectures on T.V. I remember that he always said that sometimes he went for days without taking a shower so he could remember what he smelt like. And that as a culture we have forgotten the primal desire for smell. I love that.

My friend Emily who writes for New Yorker (this is what she says, I say she has been in the New Yorker twice) also claims that when she is writing well she will look like shit. She says when we knock on the door and she looks like this, to go away b/c these are her “inspired” times.

So if cleanliness is next to Godliness, it is possible that filth is in direct contact with the muse?