doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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Affair Between an Amorous Doctor and a Wanton Married Woman
doomsday_disco replied to Jenjin's topic in Lupercalia
Note: I'm not sure what gurjum balsam smells like, but I can say that I don't get any of the Christmas-y balsam from this. I grabbed a decant of this because I thought it would be a good scent for when you're ill (kind of like Only a Sip), and the lemon and ginger combo definitely does make me think of drinking hot tea with fresh ginger and lemon slices in it when I have a cold or sore throat. The clove cozies up to those notes also adds to those tea-when-you're-under-the-weather vibes. Although I am not familiar with the balsam note, I do think it might be what's lingering in the background after a few hours, adding a gentle woodiness to the scent. I like this enough to keep my decant around to wear when I'm not feeling great... but I haven't yet decided if I need more of this before the Shungas go away. -
And the weaver said, Speak to us of Clothes. And he answered: Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful. And though you seek in garments the freedom of privacy you may find in them a harness and a chain. Would that you could meet the sun and the wind with more of your skin and less of your raiment, For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind. Some of you say, “It is the north wind who has woven the clothes we wear.” And I say, Ay, it was the north wind, But shame was his loom, and the softening of the sinews was his thread. And when his work was done he laughed in the forest. Forget not that modesty is for a shield against the eye of the unclean. And when the unclean shall be no more, what were modesty but a fetter and a fouling of the mind? And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. Sunlight on skin: sweet amber, honey dust, golden sandalwood, and soft musk.
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Green grapefruit, a shudder of grass blades, peppery geranium, green tea, orris stems, rice sprouts, and white ginger. Nishiyama Hoen
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A chorus of moonflower, princess of the night, woodland tobacco petals, white gardenia, narcissus, cashmere wood, green apple, and datura alight with a maestoso gust of incandescent incense smoke. Jean-Joseph Benjamin-Constant
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Sheer white vanilla with strawberry cream, star jasmine, mallow blossom, vanilla sugar, pink lotus petals, lychee, rosehips, russet amber, and pink sandalwood. Alphonsine De Challié
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Copoiba balsam and sour rhubarb churning with fir needle, blackcurrant bud, red grapefruit, red ginger, pepperwood, and olibanum. Edvard Munch
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Then a mason came forth and said, Speak to us of Houses. And he answered and said: Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls. For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone. Your house is your larger body. It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream? and dreaming, leave the city for a grove or hill-top? Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow. Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments. But these things are not yet to be. In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields. And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors? Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you rememberances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain? Tell me, have you these in your houses? Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master? Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires. Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron. It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh. It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels. Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral. But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast. It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down. You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living. And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night. Morning mist and the songs and the silences of night: a soft, hazy nocturne of moonflower, dew-touched lavender buds, rose hips, and night-blooming jasmine.
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Looks like someone’s been nibbling a bit too much grass! A sun-faded, plasticky shell of rice milk and marshmallow illuminated from within by 420 watts of weed-wafted glowing green amber.
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Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye. Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing. Wasn’t that a dainty dish To set before the king? A delicacy to be puffed and then passed, dainty as you please: rye puff pastry crust splitting apart to reveal a cacophony of musky wild blackberries stewed in kush-infused butter.
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Helps you hold onto what you have. Contains: alfalfa, patchouli root, Irish moss, five finger grass, sassafras, cinnamon, bay laurel, bergamot, allspice, and thyme.
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Mushrooms and Moss.
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Vetiver Root and Swamp Oud.
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Iris and Wild Patchouli.
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Honeywort and Sage.
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Fern and Black Lichen.
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A soft ploop casting ripples in still water: linden blossom, pond moss, vetiver root, squished mushroom caps, damp soil, honeywort, purple flame iris petals, and creeping jenny.
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An impossibly sweet concoction of green tea and frothed almond milk poured over fresh rose petals and glistening tapioca pearls.
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Gongsun Sheng Uses Magic to Cause Heavy Rain and Strong Winds
doomsday_disco posted a topic in Lupercalia
Ebony musk shot through with scarlet, tobacco absolute, a crack of ozone, and sandalwood-dusted rosy skin musk. -
A big, wet blue raspberry blown to the idea that asexual people never get off, don’t enjoy relationships, or are generally anti-sex.
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Pinon and Blackened Lavender.
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Hot, heavy slaps of dragon fruit punctuated with pink pepper whimpers and a grunt of patchouli.
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Rosenkuchen, coffee, and steamed milk with a burst of celestial amber musk. Paul Klee
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Make some noise if it feels good! Make some noise if it feels bad! A paper pouch of popping peach and sour cherry candy.
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“We must not look at goblin guys, We must not buy their truffles: Who knows what chocolate they wiped On their pantaloons and ruffles?” “Come buy,” call the goblins Hobbling down the glen With their choco pies. Sorry, that was terrible. Coconut covered chocolate lumps, gnarly patchouli, and sweet benzoin.
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Billowing bulbous blobs of grapefruit marshmallows.