The Sweet Scent of Decay

/ Jeff Cann

It started as a running blog. I named it Running, Writing, Other Stuff. Sure, sometimes I wrote about other stuff, but the emphasis was running. Five of my first eight posts focused exclusively on running. It morphed quickly, though. There’s only so much you can write about running, or maybe I should say there’s only so much *I* can write about running. Plus, how many people actually want to read about running? Based on the sales of my book Bad Ass, which is entirely about running, not so many.

Other topics tugged at me. Sobriety, mental health, rock and roll, right-wing fascism… Two years later, I renamed my blog. Now it’s all about The Other Stuff.

Which other stuff?

Any other stuff, just about—all those topics listed in the last paragraph plus literature, celebrities, humor, my memories, even some fiction and poetry. But the one topic I’ve studiously avoided is sex. I’m not the kiss and tell sort of guy. At Sunday morning breakfast in college, some of my friends bragged about the gory details of their nighttime misadventures. I kept my mouth shut and blushed whenever someone tried to pry. 

Not too long ago, I read a blog post by a guy I follow(ed). He wrote about an encounter with a woman that got as graphic as “and then she reached down and unzipped my trousers…” Luckily, he didn’t elaborate on the dot dot dot, but it all left me feeling queasy and uneasy, and after a bit of thought, I unfollowed him.

You’re probably thinking, “What a prude!” Whatever. It made me uncomfortable, so why read it? And if I can’t read it, imagine me trying to write about sex.

A few days ago, I read a post by Georgia Kreiger* where she talked about writer’s block and how prompts are an effective way to get unstuck. She listed ten prompts and invited her readers to give one a try. I commented “I could use a prompt right about now. I’ve been sitting with a blank brain for a week.” As it turns out, one of her prompts shook loose some memories, and I immediately started crafting this story in my head.

“Write about your memory of a fragrance or odor.” I thought about my prom night kiss with Laura Fritz.

Georgia responded to my comment: “I hope one of my prompts will spark your interest.”

“Oh, one already has, but it’s a topic I’ve always avoided.”

This is where you chastise me: “Oh, for God’s sake Jeff, are you still talking about sex? A goodnight kiss isn’t sex.” Maybe I am a prude. Besides, to seventeen-year-old me, that kiss was sex. Laura was only the third girl I ever kissed. And it was the first kiss I didn’t like. I never mentioned it to anyone.

The band Camper Van Beethoven has a beautiful song called All Her Favorite Fruit**. The tune is haunting, enveloping, captivating. It often plays in my brain as a backdrop to my daily activities. But the lyrics, the lyrics stop me in my tracks every time I hear them:

I drive alone, home from work, and I always think of her
Late at night I call her, but I never say a word
And I can see her squeeze the phone between her chin and shoulder
And I can almost smell her breath faint with a sweet scent of decay

Wow, poetry! When I read that lyric, I think of my kiss with Laura Fritz. Her mouth tasted weird. It didn’t taste bad, not like halitosis, or garlic, or how I imagine my mouth might taste around 10:30 a.m. after three or four cups of coffee. Laura’s mouth tasted like the sweet scent of decay—but that’s something I didn’t know for another decade while I waited for All Her Favorite Fruit to be released. “Eww” is probably the word I assigned to it at the time.

It’s incredible what writing prompts do for me. I seem to have an infinite number of stories trapped in an asteroid belt in my brain. The right prompt nudges a story out of its stagnant rotation, allowing it to hurdle into the center of my consciousness. In my biweekly writers’ group, our leader gives us a prompt and up to forty minutes of writing time. I never fail to get a flash of inspiration. I read the prompt and within a minute or two, I’m furiously writing as if I’ve been planning the story for a week. I’m sure prompts don’t work like this for everyone, but for me, recently, it seems to be my best source for story ideas.

Happily, Georgia’s prompt sprung free a forty-five-year recollection of an unpleasant kiss. And given my love of music, I’m unsurprised that memory is mashed together with a song lyric as well. While it’s my preference to keep my intimate encounters private, I’m grateful for the excuse to weave together this story. If you know any sites that feature interesting writing prompts, please send them my way.

* This is the fifth time I’ve referenced Georgia’s blog in the last ten months. You should probably check it out. Person on the Page (georgiakreiger.com)

** All her Favorite Fruit is inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s book Gravity’s Rainbow, a story that takes place near the end of World War Two. Staying on theme, the song contains an old-fashioned term for Black people that might offend some listeners. 

Photo by mododeolhar

25 thoughts on “The Sweet Scent of Decay”

    • I forget what I’ve written too. I’ll see that someone has read a post of mine I don’t remember and go read it. For me, it’s a neat way to revisit the past. Like finding a diary under the bed.

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  2. ‘The right prompt nudges a story out of its stagnant rotation…’
    Very nicely put.
    ~
    I like your crochet approach to telling this story, it’s interlocking strands and the way its parts are stitched together.

    DD

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  6. Oh, so blocked. My asteroid belt is constipated.
    I had my own version of a Laura Fritz but it wasn’t the weird taste, but more a sense that a frog was trying to eat my face.
    Not a prude, just aware some things should stay private because they are more precious that way.

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  8. I love this post, Jeff. What an excellent description this is, ‘I seem to have an infinite number of stories trapped in an asteroid belt in my brain. The right prompt nudges a story out of its stagnant rotation, allowing it to hurdle into the centre of my consciousness.’ Goodness, I wish I had an asteroid belt in my brain that could churn out stories like you do.

    I didn’t know you when you solely wrote about running, although we had many conversations about sobriety and mental health. We must have met when your blog was renamed, ‘The Other Stuff.’

    I don’t write about sex, either, nor do I want to read about it. With me, it’s helped by the fact that I live alone and have for many years. At a young age (19), the only person I had kissed was the man who I turned out to marry (a big mistake followed by a messy divorce seven years later). Although I’ve had a few relationships up until about 7-8 years ago, most of them have been either abusive or unpleasant, so I tend to block them from my mind. I’m pretty happy as I am and don’t desire any more relationships. I have plenty of good friends, and that’s fine with me.

    I love that you are inspired so much by prompts, and I’m very impressed with how well you manage to write in your writing group. My main reason for opting out of the only writing group I know of near me is that I can rarely write anything from a prompt.

    Having said that, thanks for introducing Georgia in your blog. I was intrigued by her prompts that you found so helpful, so I thought I’d hop over to take a look. Contrary to what usually happens between me and prompts, which is silence, I found one there that really appealed to me. I’ve read a couple more of Georgia’s posts and like what I saw there, so I am now following her blog and looking forward to reading more of her work. So, thanks very much for the introduction.

    How are your family (and you, too, of course), Jeff? You haven’t mentioned Susan and the children for a while. I hope you are all well. X

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    • Georgia is a writing professor at the college level. She offers a lot of great tips and suggestions for writing. But I really like it when she writes creative nonfiction. She has written some really powerful stuff since I started following her about a year ago. My family is all great. I’ve been intentionally NOT writing about my family. Everyone is great, but I decided to try taking my blog in a slightly different direction.

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      • Wow! I’m impressed that Georgia is a writing professor at college level. Although reading some of her post, I can see what an expert writer she is. I will have to look out for her creative nonfiction.

        I’m glad you and your family are well. I had noticed that you hadn’t mentioned them for a while, but I have noticed how your writing style has changed over the last few months. How are you finding making this change to your new style blog? I did that after I’d had a break from blogging for three years (I really don’t know how I managed without it and my friends here for all that time, looking back now). I came back in 2022, having changed my blog design, site title name and theme. Also, I think my writing style changed during that absence, too. That must have been when you and first met, I think. X

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  10. My only previous knowledge of Camper Van Beethoven is Take The Skinheads Bowling. I like this one too. I also love the album name, especially since I had a piece of Key Lime pie for breakfast yesterday😂

    I also forget what I’ve written, and seem to have an endless supply of memories, and Music in my noggin. I think that may be why I can’t find things I set down less than five minutes ago.😂

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    • Huh. I Just realized that Take the Skinheads Bowling isn’t on my spotify playlist. I’ll correct that oversight now. Today, some one seems to be reading my entire blog. I’m getting notifications of page views of posts I haven’t thought of in years. The titles are familiar and I then think, I wonder what that’s about… Have you moved yet?

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      • We haven’t moved yet. Daughter is back at work, but her schedule is wonky. I haven’t been able to find even a 1bd apartment that we can afford. Hopefully when her schedule is more regular, we’ll have a better idea of what we can afford.

        A lot of other Casa Cuckoo stuff has been happening, but the entire world seems to be dealing with stress right now. I’m rolling with it as best I can.

        I’m around still. Y’all can’t get rid of me that easy 😂

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