Olfactory Confessions

A writer can only write so long without mentioning the biggest part of his or her life. For some writers this luming presence is a thought or an idea. For others, this gargantuan spectre is a childhood event or tragedy. What ever this humongous, gigantic, or enormous thing may be a writer can never be fully content or understood until he or she has dealt with it in real and honest terms. Shakespeare, for example, it is believed, wrote many of the tiny words seen at the bottom of TV commercials before he was able to slay his giant. "Irritable Bowl Syndrome" was not his best work, but it was a brutally honest portrayal of a terrible affliction. When it premiered, people were shocked, even appalled, but its therapeutic value for William can not be underestimated. Lost to time, this disturbing play opened the door for such great works as "Hamlet" and "Romeo and Juliet". For Shakespeare it was IBS, for me, as for most Taylor's, it's my nose.

My name is Paul Taylor and I've got a really big nose. If you don't have one or live with someone who does, you can't possibly understand what I go through. Just try to imagine, what its like to have your other senses deadened because your sense of smell is so strong; or never being able to turn your head and walk through a doorway at the same time; or wondering if today is the day your neck will give out from the sheer weight of the thing! Yeah, doesn't sound so fun now does it, you nosist pig? It's always "Mommy, mommy I want a big funny clown nose too!" Until your neck gives out and you find yourself face down on the sidewalk, too exhausted to lift yourself, and your dog is having its way with your leg while school children gather around and laugh. I can live with these things, I've done it all my life, it's the people I care about who suffer most. My poor wife can't kiss me without tying herself down to something solid, just in case, during a moment of passion I inhale too deeply.

It's not all bad though, I have my good days too. We all have handicaps. Some of them just happen to be more visible than others. Just because my handicap walks around in front of me yelling "Here I am big and bulbous blah...blah...blah!" doesn't mean I'm not petite and cute as a button on the inside, like a little Swiss ski jump. And, we all know it's the cute little Swiss ski jumps on the inside that count.

My name is Paul Taylor and I've got a really big nose.