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.
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