January 18, 2013
7:51 am — 01:14
(prologue: disparate group, in clusters, at a bar. There is no indication of this in the voice memo, but that’s where they are)
He’s gonna stop whomever he’s talking to and forget what the conversation is about already and say: “Whoa, whoa, ho, ho, wait a minute, uh, hold that thought.” Turning to someone else, “What did you say?”
“uh, wha did I say about wha?”
“What were you just talking abo — what did you just say about licking?” “The taste of my skin.” She relishes the confusion in his eyes and says, “Don’t you taste your skin? Like when you’re at the beach, and it’s got that tasty sal-ti-ness to it?”
“eh, no, i’ve never licked my skin.”
And she says, “Well, not when you’re sweaty, but just when it’s got … all that sand and earth and sun on it. It’s really good. I was just saying.” So they all have a chuckle, and they go back to their own conversations, but the surgeon keeps thinking about it as they speak. On his way home that night, he has a strong desire to roll up his sleeve and lick his skin.
he shakes his head.
Thinks about what he’s done in his life and that suddenly all he wants to do is taste the salt on his skin. He gets home, watches tv, and prepares for the next day, and just as he turns the bathroom light on, does take a taste of his skin and smiles. And says, “I get it.”