Just a bunch of streaming thoughts around the exterior of its skin, as if it has eyes. as if it has a voice. or maybe even invisible arms that give a hug; as warm as my idea of a steady morphine drip. but nope. i'm just going to eat it. im going to eat it raw. using it to cook with for flavoring other things seems a waste. i have one here with me right now. a red bell pepper. it isn't very big. but it has a presence. i can almost hear it talking to me, but mostly all i hear is doubt. and wonder.
i can barely reach my keyboard right now. im afraid to move anything. oh technology. oh computers. digital print media. 3d print me a bell pepper, ha! as if. i already know what that would prove. bell peppers are more than just material, an idea, or even a thought. i used to be so scaredof bell peppers. im still scared of ketchup. but who isnt?
i bought two mexican cokes today. the tall glass ones. but the thought of them makes my stomach bloat right now. i just heard my phone click or pop or whatever you call that sound, to indicate facebook activity. i almost reach for it, but look at my bell pepper in response to some notion it told me. it told me about bent fingernails. like in the movies. like that imaginary thread one holds onto. a bell pepper is more than a crawfish, or an ant.
i want to remember why the bell pepper dreams of what is in store for it. earthbound and delightful, sharing this amazing experience. the edge that matthew mconawhatever however u spell it, his character in that hbo tv show about detectives, how it appeals but also seems tired and based on character traits we're supposed to be a bit freaked out by.
i call home a few times a week. only talk to my mom and her sister. this bell pepper gives me thoughts. i see atlanta like i see old high school hallways. im going to check my fb responses on my phone now. pictures of dogs. cute ones. i laugh. like this. this is a picture of a dog with a red bell pepper for a head. or it might as well be. c'mon. shock my senses. maybe i need to move on from you bell pepper. check out the trinidad scorpion.
i eat bell peppers at work. in the big break room, the silence of the ping pong table measures the weight in the air. the mixture of peppers is colorful. like a happy cartoon of a moment, but healthy. not to say cartoons are unhealthy.
once upon a time there was a forest. it didn't know how big it was. it thought, if it did, that it was the be all end all of everything. this forest was fuzzy. i mean fuzzy. its tops obscured the clouds with intertwining branches and strange plumage. not an allusion to lynching there, not an allusion to growth cycles, or akkadian scribblings still hidden in their deeper layers. bark. bell peppers. truth. hybrid curiosities and grotesque monuments to the texture of a vegetable. why am i so scared of that word. vegetable. i don't really eat red meat anymore. same reaction i get from the thought of that mexican coke. bloat. even tho it doesn't really matter.
i wonder if i could sneak a bell pepper into a bikram yoga class. i wonder if i will ever wake up every day with the same continuous plot line and conflict resolution path flowing. some say to heck with that approach to narrative. im sure when i eat a bell pepper, it winds its way thru dark odd paths. but, aaah. wait. the weight of it all.
so now where do i go dr. pepper. i'm going to talk to somebody today. i almost want to just bring a sheet of paper, filled out with all the specs. indicating the perspective on the topics as well as the topics themselves. lets cut to the chase. right? fear and desire..is that from point break? maybe i should rent that movie. or simply acquire it a know. wasnt flea in that movie does he shoot his foot behind a door, flea..i read the other day about a shitty mid90's group that had a guy also die at 27. pff.
we all love bellpeppers. i like coffee, as well. i despise unctuous conversation. honesty is nice. but it doesnt have to lather and yank. gimme a break. i like cookies. but i dont usually buy them. theres cookie dough under peppers in the crisper, the crisper that wont let the fridge close if i am not careful. if you know what i mean.
Thursday 23 January 2014
The Bell Pepper. I think of Sylvia Plath for a second. I think of her husband. And then I think of Natalie Wood. And how creepy Christopher Walken was in The Dead Zone. Bell Peppers float. They have vibrations around them. And mystery. Often what we find happening in and around the details of our lives, the breath on the air, the yummy value you coat your jowls with, that pink inside of your face is a special place Which brings me to the first chapter of this long journey. It is called Bellping.
What is Bellping? Everyone does it in some way or another. Have you ever seen a movie where the central character is the shunned, the rejected, and she goes on a journey, becomes the hero, that whole archetype? I want you to go pick up a bell pepper right now, like a momento mori of sorts. Put it next to your computer, maybe carry it with you. Belping happens at some point with you. If you recall what I said a moment ago about "that pink inside your face is a special place"..do you? I know you do. Well, I want you to close your eyes. Put one finger on your bell pepper and stop reading this for a moment. Use your tongue to draw a bell pepper around the interior of your face.
Did you notice I said "face'? You are drawing a fully dimensional bell pepper. What color is your bell pepper? This is a good place to start. Spend some time there. Do not eat your friend the bell pepper today. I want you to abstain from bell peppers for now. I now this may seem strange, given how short life is, but trust me. I will see you when it is time. The pepper will find you as well. Maybe in the shower. I will let you know about my experiences with bell peppers. I will eat them today. But this is about your journey as much as mine. Ours. We share.
Pepped Belping in your travels my friends!
See you soon, Eggtooth.
WHAT WILL YOU DO?
If you think you think you should heed the warning of your mother and sister and not risk uncertain sorcery,turn to page 25
- ► 2010 (57)