|Blogs > rm_rsp54 > Not "Bi", merely "Sexual"|
Doing the domestic thing today. Free apples=applesauce. My family refuse to eat the commercially processed type.
Picking my tunes for the job. Started with Neil Young(This Note's for You.) Quickly moved on to things more raucous; I feel like being boisterous and disorderly! Finally ended with Velvet Underground Loaded(Love the cover art) Rocking out to the VU always makes me want to have nasty sex.
Peeling and coring can be such fun if approached from the proper perspective. It is not a good to wield a very sharp knife while too seriously under the influence of anything.
The quality of good applesauce is a lot like that of cider. My grandfather had a farm. He had an ancient horse powered cider press. When the horse died, us kids used to power the press. Whole apples went into the press, so did worms, dirt and assorted bugs. The greater variety of apples used, made the cider better. Using different varieties of apples for sauce makes it much better, too. I used three different kinds. It's on the stove cooking, now.
Well, isn't sex much like cider and applesauce, also? The more experienced, the spicier it becomes. Oh Sweet Variety!
11/6/2005 6:48 am
.....and on the subject on cider.....|
Jarvis Cocker (of Pulp) is about to have a poem mounted (this weekend in fact) on a 30 ft high University campus wall in Sheffield...it's called 'Jez is getting trashed on cider'
Within these walls
the future may be
Jez is getting trashed
But when you melt
you become the shape
of your surroundings:
Don't they teach
you no brains
at that school?
'When you melt you become the shape of your surroundings'
melt right into the shape of a tree.....
And yes, Velvet Underground have the same 'nasty sex' effect on me too....
11/11/2005 12:51 am
Shiny,shiny, shiny boots of leather...mmm! Venus in furs,coring apples. I'd peel the skin in one continuous spiral, so that I'd have a coil to play with. There she is, artfully denuded, down to the white, moist, slightly tarty flesh. I want her core, her ovaries, I want her pips to squeak. Will I bite deeply, examine the traces of my teeth marks, or surgically slice off mouth size portions? I check for bruises, check for worms, I'm running out of apple, the pleasure will soon be just a trace in my mouth, a smell loading my sinuses till the next sense experience adds to my store of pleasure memories. I'll go back to the tree. A green one, a red one, one with gradations of autumnal colours that have no name. What goes with apple? Mother, pie, Eve, ice cream, childhood, shiny ipods, the Beatles, and now, a Venus in furs. Too many strange connections, from idyllic and bucolic to perverse to modern. I must reframe, from this daydream. Now, what's reality again?|
Sorry about the horse.
11/11/2005 4:49 am
An adventurous mind will find the erotic in just about anything!xo rose|