Monday, January 18, 2010

My Muse Is a French Prostitute

We writers spend a lot of time searching for our muse. Most muses are fickle, flighty, and fairyesque. By fairyesque I mean more myth than reality. Rare is the writer who has any tangible evidence his muse even exists though some us like to imagine what the creature might be like.

But I was fortunate to have a brush with mine last night even if I was too dense to recognize it as such at the time. Let me set the scene for you.

There I was up stairs in my writing office. I'd been happily writing away for several hours when suddenly an aroma began to tickle my nose. No not the aroma associated with consuming far too many Shiners the night before while celebrating the Saints victory. This aroma was decidedly sweet. Decidedly flowery. And decidedly feminine.

Yep, it smelled like cheap perfume.

The only female in the house was my wife and she was downstairs happily watching her collection of DVR'd Snapped episodes. And yes it is a bit disconcerting to have a wife who loves to watch a show about women that off their men in strange and horrific ways, but I've already blogged on that subject here if you missed it.

So back to me and the mysterious cheap perfume smell. As I said my wife was downstairs and besides that this assault on my olfactory senses smelled nothing like anything my wife has ever worn.

Finding it strange I typed up the following Facebook message before shrugging off the aroma and getting back to work writing.

I'm sitting in my office, happily writing away with the door shut and suddenly I smell women's perfume -- Cheap women's perfume. Is my office haunted by some deceased tart with poor olfactory taste?


Then this morning, I smelled the exact same smell again while Jennifer was getting ready for work.

I asked her what perfume she'd put and she replied with, "I haven't put any perfume on."
"Well do you smell that?"

Jennifer looked at me like I was crazy and said, "No, I smell nothing. Maybe you're muse wears flowery perfume."

Then lo and behold I check my email and see that Betsy Dornbusch AKA Sex Scenes at Starbucks has made the same comment on my original Facebook message.

I believe they are correct. It is my muse. I'm flattered that suddenly my muse think I am perfume-worthy and I can only hope that since she came around again this morning that my calling her a dead t art with poor taste did not offend her. Also I hope she looks something like Holly Madison does in this outfit.

26 comments:

Carleen Brice said...

Hahahaha!

Terrie Farley Moran said...

Hi Travis,

Perhaps you should buy your muse some Chanel.

Terrie

Debra She Who Seeks said...

I think Tiger Woods had the same experience. Be careful, Travis. Very, very careful.

JohnO said...

Don't know about cheap perfume, but I'm sure my muse would visit more often if I stole Holly Madison's headgear.

Hilary said...

That was highly amuseing.

Crystal Posey said...

LOL How funny.

Janna Qualman said...

As long as you don't start writing in French. Oui?

huddlekay said...

May your French prostitute bless you with many words... and um whatever else you may need. :)

Sharla said...

Hey, you're lucky! You could have been "mused" by the "Where's The Beef" lady! I don't think she'd look as good in the french outfit! ;))

your other wife said...

I am alittle scared that you imagine your muse like that!!!!! Told you I have been reading your stuff!!!!

Brian Miller said...

hahaha. aMUSEing!

Travis' wife said...

I am glad you have a muse...I need a pool summer is on the way!!!

Cloudia said...

um OK.....



Aloha, Friend!


Comfort Spiral

the walking man said...

Muse or a short circuit in the olfactory receptors but at least it didn't smell like Red Vinaigrette dressing because that way you'd know your muse is a salad.

Colleen said...

Nah... if she's French, her perfume's gonna be great.

Charles Gramlich said...

I hope my muse brings lemon pie. OH wait, she did last week. Lana brought me home a lemon pie. man it was good.

Aleta said...

Lol. Never had an encounter of that kind. Nice though! For me, I have a name for my muse - Tesa. It came about when I was painting in water colors. It's amazing to see how the painting looks after it's dried and I wrote a poem about my muse doing her magic on the painting while I sleep. I called her Tesa in my poem. Not long after, I was in the thrift store and found an orange bell with a strange looking bird hand painted on it... with the name, "Tesa" Yep, I bought it for a whopping 10 cents and it still hangs in my office area where I make jewelry, etc. :) Sorry for the ramble :)

sybil law said...

Hmmm...
I worry about what your French prostitute is covering up!

Lana Gramlich said...

I think my muse has been passed out in a ditch in the French Quarter since I moved here, but I'm doing alright w/o her. ;)

writtenwyrdd said...

don't know it this helps, but every time I sneeze for no apparent reason, afterwards I smell perfume. *shrugs* I'm probably just weird.

Eric said...

LOL. If we could all be afflicted by such an attractive and interesting muse. Alas, I know for a fact my muse is some genetic mutation from the monkey family, who loves to screech and holler anytime I am not giving him enough attention. He also likes to defecate sporadically, which explains the times when my writing is exceedingly poor.

Corrie Howe said...

Glad you found her. I had to laugh about your wife's choice of shows. I watch a lot of reality forensic shows and detective shows. It worries my husband. I said it should comfort him because since everyone knows I love these shows, I couldn't get away with my husband dieing unexpectedly.

lyzzydee said...

Never had a muse, but I have had an encounter with a ghost in the toilet at work, does that count???

angel, jr. said...

Wow, you found your muse? I was thinking most muses look like Olivia Newton John in that one movie Xanadu.

Bernita said...

Watch it, Travis, that may not be a muse but a succubi...

"And so our stories go..." said...

Wow. I was smelling perfume out of nowhere 2 weeks ago on more than one occassion and I don't wear it--nor does my hubby, unless he's keeping a weird fetish secret from me. ;-) I wonder if your muse stopped by my house for a visit? Or maybe our muses are related?

Jenny