Years ago, I lived with a Febreze fanatic. The couch always smelled good, better than I ever expected couches to smell, as if it had been stuffed with fresh dryer sheets just before I sat down. I grew to like it, to expect it, to rely on it to mean that everything at home was [...]
I spotted a vintage Pelikan 100 in the wild — the reference desk, really — on Monday. It was burgundy with a bright gold “beak” clip and its owner let me write with it. It was filled with Private Reserve Chocolat, an excellent choice for this smooth writer. I let the patron write with my [...]
The dashboard widget said 8 minutes, so I power-walked. As I slid onto one of the last non-senior seats on the bus, I caught a whiff of rubber cement. The last time I smelled rubber cement on the bus, I was sitting next to the same person. The smell was not entirely unpleasant. It reminded [...]
I stepped off the 19 Polk with a mad grin. The driver had been brilliant, announcing all the stops and transfer points, and even complimenting riders as they stepped onto the bus. “I love those boots, girl!” “C’mon up, beautiful!” She told me she loved my hat and called me cute as I thanked her [...]
After writing like this for nearly eleven years, I have run out of titles, so I am recycling random things I hear that stick in my brain. Brain, brain, brain: offline life has become a morass of the brain. First it was grad school applications, then the short story that took over my subconscious, and [...]
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cygnoir.net is the diary and weblog of Halsted Mencotti Bernard, a writer and unlibrarian living in San Francisco. More »
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