Our sense of smell is intricately linked to our moods, our emotions, and our memory. It has been firmly established that certain smells can spontaneously trigger long forgotten events.
Brent was ‘odor obsessed’, with a keen interest in the magical use of herbs, oils, candles, incense, perfumes. He even tried to pull smells out of rocks and dirt we’d collect from places we visited.
He always had incense and scented candles going, often times attempting to blend scents to create a unique experience. He experimented with oils and philters, like an alchemist seeking the philosopher’s stone.
He also had an array of colognes. He wore Polo and Aramis, all the hip designer fragrances, but I remember how excited he was to receive Calvin Klein’s Obsession for Men for Christmas in 1986, the year it debuted.
But there was a flip-side to his obsession, because I never knew anyone to delight in clearing a room by passing gas more than Brent Smith. I even had a nickname for him — Stinkor, Evil Master of Odors.
Man, he would rip one and flash that trademark smirk of his and laugh his ass off while we would all gag and moan…
And I’m not talking about something he did as a kid here. Hell, the last night we were together, while playing D&D, he dropped a bomb that sent us all diving for cover.
I can still hear Shaun groaning, “Christ, Smith, did something crawl up inside you and die?”
We laughed. We always laughed. My cheeks hurt from grinning so hard as I type this.
It’s the little things like that that stay with you, that keep him alive for you. Damn I miss that guy…