Memories ....

I walked into a friends house the other day, and a wafting smell enters into my nose. What is the smell, you ask? Mold, mildew, dank dead air, rotting wood. I couldn't of loved it more.

So many days were spent in my grandmothers basement tooling around on the good ol' Nintendo as a child, back in the place where there was a storeroom nobody ever went into, drawrs filled with miscelanious nic-nackery that you just couldn't keep your hands off of. A vernable void of taboo that we were the kings of. The basement. So many places that we were just right next to but knew we were never supposed to really be.

There was a small area that was very homey, set up like a little living room. Nice lightning, furnature, carpet. You can tell it had intention for people to be here, but it never really happened. Right outside was a kitchen you could tell nobody ever used. Taken over by time and insects, and never given to upkeep but mystery revolved around every corner of it. The bathroom that had the broken toilet, but had never been used or hooked up. The Stove that was spotless, but rusted and had parts missing. What could of happened in this world that never was?

To this day I can not help but think about old videogames when I smell the dank dead air filled with mold, mildew and 'basement musk'. Overflowing feelings of Castlevania and Contra fill my mind, and eradicate any other thought process. I can sense the very being inside of me revert to a kid, and an absolute urge to play these and many other games has such an influance that it's as if it should be public knowladge. I lose inhabitions and remark on the 'wonderful' stench, when it's truely embarassing for the house owner.

Does that stop me from reliving my past? Why of course not! Complete sensual takeover revives all the old enigmas of that basement. The rooms I never went in, the things I never touched. The things that I DID touch but could never figure out what they did. The chimney that I could never figure out why it was there, or where the smokestack exactially came out up top. What exactially was in the jars inside the pantry nobody ever entered, and how long the stuff had been in there.

Will I ever know the answers to these riddles of life? Most likely not. They will continue to haunt me upon any sense of the dankness that I call my childhood, and even though many other kids spent thier days outside in the sun, fresh air and green grass... I have the fondest memories of a 'god knows how old' carpet of yellow and black knit and an old videogame console that still sits in my closet today.