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carose59[Originally posted January 9, 2001]
I was peeling a tangerine this morning because I was feeling guilty (because somebody gave me a whole bag of tangerines and my mother gave me three grapefruits), and what kept going through my head was "Today the pits . . . tomorrow the wrinkles! Sunsweet marches on!" That and a line from a story I wrote about tangerines.
That is, the line is about tangerines. The story isn't.
I wish people wouldn't give me fruit. Except bananas. Because they're phallic, and as a slash writer, I need some phallic in my life.
I wish people would stop giving fruit to my mother, too, because my mother is mean and gives it to me to go bad at my house. (Yes, that's exactly how she says it, too. "Here, take these grapefruit, they can go bad at your house." And what do you say to that? No? If you think the answer is no, you do not know my mother.) So I take them, and after a while they look like they should have William Holden's signature on them. (I'm playing to the audience in my head today, so if you're actually following any of this, you're way ahead of the curve.)
I don't like tangerines, or oranges, or things you have to peel. They're too much work. If I'm going to have apples, I'm going to make applesauce, so I need a bunch. No, wait, that's grapes.
I'm allergic to kiwis, not that anyone has ever given me one.
Grapes are all right. And, actually, I love pears. And I love gooseberries, but when was the last time you saw a gooseberry? Have you ever seen a gooseberry? They're green, pale green, and they used to put them in fruit cocktail and tell them to pretend to be grapes. But the other grapes could always tell.
Plums . . . don't taste like anything. Peaches are nice, and so are nectarines. Peaches are sort of like biting into a small animal. So are kiwis. (The fruit. Obviously biting into a bird would be like biting into an animal; birds are animals.)
(I have no idea what's wrong with me today.)
Anyway. If you're planning on sending me food, please send chocolate. Do not send fruit or I'll just bring it to work and make everybody watch as it shrivels & dies.
ETA: Fuck! It's not William Holden, it's Richard Widmark! Jeeze, what is wrong with me today?
I was peeling a tangerine this morning because I was feeling guilty (because somebody gave me a whole bag of tangerines and my mother gave me three grapefruits), and what kept going through my head was "Today the pits . . . tomorrow the wrinkles! Sunsweet marches on!" That and a line from a story I wrote about tangerines.
That is, the line is about tangerines. The story isn't.
I wish people wouldn't give me fruit. Except bananas. Because they're phallic, and as a slash writer, I need some phallic in my life.
I wish people would stop giving fruit to my mother, too, because my mother is mean and gives it to me to go bad at my house. (Yes, that's exactly how she says it, too. "Here, take these grapefruit, they can go bad at your house." And what do you say to that? No? If you think the answer is no, you do not know my mother.) So I take them, and after a while they look like they should have William Holden's signature on them. (I'm playing to the audience in my head today, so if you're actually following any of this, you're way ahead of the curve.)
I don't like tangerines, or oranges, or things you have to peel. They're too much work. If I'm going to have apples, I'm going to make applesauce, so I need a bunch. No, wait, that's grapes.
I'm allergic to kiwis, not that anyone has ever given me one.
Grapes are all right. And, actually, I love pears. And I love gooseberries, but when was the last time you saw a gooseberry? Have you ever seen a gooseberry? They're green, pale green, and they used to put them in fruit cocktail and tell them to pretend to be grapes. But the other grapes could always tell.
Plums . . . don't taste like anything. Peaches are nice, and so are nectarines. Peaches are sort of like biting into a small animal. So are kiwis. (The fruit. Obviously biting into a bird would be like biting into an animal; birds are animals.)
(I have no idea what's wrong with me today.)
Anyway. If you're planning on sending me food, please send chocolate. Do not send fruit or I'll just bring it to work and make everybody watch as it shrivels & dies.
ETA: Fuck! It's not William Holden, it's Richard Widmark! Jeeze, what is wrong with me today?