This painting stinks

Have you ever killed several roaches at a time? Remember how their broken corpses ooze in the worst way possible, and then, as you're frozen in horror, their stench wafts into your nostrils like garbage and decay? That cloud is what made me dig this painting out from under my bed, along with a pile of other drawing and paintings made during my high school career. They lived in a flimsy plastic/cardboard hybrid portfolio that I had to stuff in the trash under the front porch.

Pulling this smell old watercolor out released a strange torrent of memories. I remember sitting on that lawn in early October, painting some administrative building at the state hospital and listening to The Postal Service on repeat. The media class came by to interview me, asking why I listened to music while I painted, and making a conscious effort to keep from mentioning a break-up I knew they didn't care about. That week spent painting this building in hour-long increments was one of the first times I was able to feel okay. That album always takes me back there.

All sentiments aside, where the fuck did the rotten insect stench come from? Nothing was found in that crappy portfolio other than mediocre art. No eggs or guts or anything. If I didn't know any better I would say those memories wanted to swim to the surface so badly that they planted a phantom stench in my brain.