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So. I hadn't eaten many peaches since my disappointing experience about half a week ago. You see, the thing about peach eating - good peach eating - is that you have to think a couple steps ahead. You can't just go into the supermarket, buy a peach or two, and just munch them like they were your regular everyday Granny Smith. No. Peaches are too classy a fruit for that. You have to woo them. That sounds really disgusting, but it's true. You have to bring them home, ignore them a while - and if you do nothing else - you have to wait. So I had a bag of peaches in my pantry.
I dunno if it's just ambition, but when I get to the end of the day without having done anything that could be seen as productive, or great, or improving, I feel like I've failed life in some huge and miserable way and I shouldn't deserve anything good ever again. The same sort of feeling most people get when they look at their credit card bills. Anyway. So I got home one afternoon, feeling like no matter how hard I tried I would not get anything at all done of any great import. I wasn't sure I was able to get done those necessary tasks of small import that one has to do, like take out the garbage, or buy new cereal, or put on pants. I stood around a little bit, feeling displaced.
And then it hit me, I knew what to do.
I sat out on my nice porch and had in front of me a plate of four ripe peaches. They were screaming at me to be eaten. I touched their skin. Soft, with a nice bit of give. I brought them each close up to my mouth, feeling their velvety texture, smelling their bouquet. I set them down on my porch and looked at them.
Oh and it was a flurry of passion, oh it was something fantastic, oh it was disgusting. I ate those peaches so quickly that by the end of it I didn't know what was happening, where I was, or what I was meant to be doing. I wish that I could remember each peach experience in great, literary detail. But all that's left is a feeling of dizziness, and something akin to something close to something spiritual.
I encourage you all at home to do it, too.
Here's something for the peach fans: I was chatting with my next-door neighbor, and it turns out that the tree overhanging her carport is a peach-tree. The fruit are small and green and fuzzy, about the size of a small apricot, and they'll be ripe in a couple weeks. She said I could have as many as I want. I'll keep you updated.