Smells are the invisible trails on which our thoughts like to meander. Work smells like coffee and cigarettes. The smell will stay with me for the rest of my life. It’s a smell particular to my boss’ American Spirits and the office coffee.
The bowling alley smells like wood polish and dirtiness. You can smell it when you get close. The ventilation pumps the fumes into the air from morning until the last pin falls.
Rammstein blasting through my headphones, I prepare to do battle on the hardwood once again. The violent beats focuses my thoughts narrowly and viciously. I do not like it, but I love it. What about this music makes a person feel evil? It’s like alcohol or drugs, best used in small doses.
But bowling isn’t about the other team. It isn’t about your team. It’s about you, the ball and the hardwood. If you are good, you can perform exactly the same way every night. Slick lanes, slow lanes, fast lanes, they are the only factors. Consistency is god. Inventiveness features as only a side kick.