the peach analogy: a new theory on value.

Take little naps where the roots all twist
Squished a rotten peach in my fist
And dreamed about you, woman,
I poked my finger down inside
Make a little room for it to hide
Nature's candy in my hand or can or a pie

Millions of peaches, peaches for me
Millions of peaches, peaches for free

Look out!
-"Peaches," Presidents of the USA


LILAH
My name's Lilah and just so you
know, this isn't a car lot
baby...no lemons here.

Lilah leans in and whispers into Jimmy's ear, her lips just
brushing the edge, her breath warm.

LILAH (CONT'D)
...only peaches.

-Centipede, some dude's original screenplay


"I got a real peach this time." --Aidan, on Gia


On this particularly awkward morning (I dunno; one of those days), I am processing a conversation I had yesterday with Mina. I brought up my current state yesterday via the descriptor that things were just rotting--how's that for an update, folks!!--and she proceeded to follow that simile for life and how things might be. so here's how it goes: instead of life getting increasingly better and better with age--i.e. a cognac analogy--it's actually a matter of growing, peaking, and then slowly wrinkling and bruising until you fall off the tree and get stepped on or made into a pie...ok so it's not that dismal, but totally resonates with how things feel. being out here is also a constant reminder that superficially, things only go downhill from their very best. you can't really preserve the surface. i don't know if i'm scared more that i peaked already or what, but literal rot is the way things are feeling these days. work is a blast and i'm learning, but work for me has never rounded out those parts of me that need to be stimulated. i don't need constant bells and whistles or some crazy social life--god knows i don't really want that--but it's almost like sometimes i feel like i'm in this cell with everyone's phone number and an outgoing line. i can't get out and see things, but i sure as hell can reach out and stay connected.

but i digress from the peach--i also feel very much like being a woman is being a peach. it's this juicy wonderful soft beautiful part of nature that primes for like a DAY and then you move on to others. there's always another one hanging on the tree; there's always another one just a little younger and newer and smoother. [totally sicking myself out here by comparing myself to a fruit] this is point where i am totally interested in people's feedback on yuppie courting rituals in places other than Hollyweird: is it truly the case that a potential mate can hold your attention only as long as until the next--and better--thing literally walks by? or is it possible to be captivated enough to be done shopping around, at least for a while. kind of like rent-controlled apts? man i'm tossing the stupid analogies all over the place.

just needed to get all that out so as not to ruminate the day away. i think i'll stick with bananas for a while...thicker skin.

ok so seriously...

all other things aside, i have one big bitch for the day:

if i hear ONE more person explain that they were, and i quote directly from many of you, "slammed at work," i will scream and cry. you are supposed to be working at work, and you aren't being slammed; rather, you are WORKING at your JOB which apparently interrupts your CYBER NETWORKING with people you don't even see in the flesh but stare at all night long hoping they'll check out your "new pics" from last weekend's impromptu kissy-face self-portrait photo shoot. mm hmm that's right.

**and i'm not writing this during work, stupid. that's what lunch hours are for.