I wonder

Why is it that I like summer fruit when it’s just a little unripe? There’s something wonderful about the slight tart taste of a not-quite-ripe nectarine. I think it goes back to that apricot tree in the back yard when I was growing up. We’d wait all spring for the fruit on that damn thing to ripen. More often than not we’d end up taking the half-ripe fruit off the tree, eating the side that was more orange, and chucking out the rest. I think somewhere along the line I developed a taste for that not-quite-orange side of things.

Not bananas though. Have you ever bitten into an unripe banana? Ughfurryugh.

So tonight I’ve been looking at National set lists, when I really should be washing up. For obvious reasons the songs City Middle and Karen are very very high on the list of pleases for these National gigs in January, but given recent history I think either of them are unlikely. The good news is Apartment Story is almost a given. This song is special for a lot of reasons, and I have no doubt I will get overly emotional if/when they play it.

I’m put together beautifully
Big wet bottle in my fist, big wet rose in my teeth
I’m perfect piece of ass
Like every Californian
So tall I take over the street, with highbeams shining on my back
A wingspan unbelievable
I’m a festival, I’m a parade


What a weird and whacky week. I feel like I’ve been sliding through near disasters at work all week by the skin of my teeth, and then yesterday a near brush with something resembling Bad News (plus assisting on the scene of a fairly terrible accident and giving an official statement) has me in a funny sort of head space.

Writing reminders to future self –

– What a beautiful face I have found in this place.
– Some say we’ll see Armageddon soon.
– Return of the Meany Cat.
– Sisters.

Although the intertron is unlikely to get anything else from me between now and next week. This girl is spent, and more than that, has some shit to do.

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