A Silver Post 1.30.05
Today I use capital letters; this post is a note-taking distraction.
I am eating the greatest apple.
I should be offended by this apple. Red, delicious, and contraband in the bowels of the newniversity’s library. I sneak it out and take a few bites; the Indian girls reading their business texts with their headphones on don’t seem to mind the deafening crunch of apple, or my furtive glances to make sure no library officers (or whoever holds the peace in this joint) step to me.
My mother bought it. From CostCo. I don’t know what possessed her, really. It came in a frickin' bag. Plus they are mutant-sized apples. She and I are both offended by the concept of fruit and vegetables from a warehouse; how do they survive? How do you eat that much in bulk? We are both impressed with the amount of packaged food goodness that can be bought at once; this living at home thing means quantity is often preferable to quality. For me, it’s because I’m in school and not cooking.
This apple is great for undoing a bit of my mood. I’ve been on low-level murder for a hot minute now. I told ‘Echo that I could chew nails and spit fragments out in people’s faces for a laugh. I am hella angry, and frustrated, and tired, and unmotivated, and just not feeling “it.” Which includes looking for a job, going out, getting up, chasing skirt, writing, actually doing my homework, dressing in a coordinated manner, talking—all the basics that should be part of my life.
It’s unexciting to talk about, and high on the revelatory scale; it’s that time of the year, I’m stir crazy like you probably are. And I want my project to be over, and I want to magically have my life set for the next year or however long I have my job. All the wanting in the world doesn’t make it so, and I can’t find it in me to get up off of my sweet l’il black ass. Some of my people would probably have fleeting sympathy, but this is me, and how I work out my problems, and it’s like that.
Oh Lord. I sound like a blogger. Apologies.
But I do love this apple. It’s holding my stomach back from eating itself; and keeping me from getting even more generally annoyed. The apple is like the gentle giant in a band of homies who quietly says it ain’t worth it, it ain’t worth it. Hold me back, nukka, hold me back. You know I got my two strikes against me. Don't want to get lock'd up like Akon.
Just playin’. But I added a chapter to my novel. And I am listening to KEXP through the wireless connection.