FMS - Makalonca
"In strawberry fields, there bloomed white blossoms. And from tiny yellow outreachings came yellow dimples...I can't do this."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm looking at a table laminated in an endlessly repeating strawberry pattern. And that makes me think of strawberries, but that's not what I'm actually thinking about."
"And what are you thinking about?"
"I'm not sure. But the strawberries were obvious; they were just there. I suppose I could use them as a metaphor, drawing off the role they played in medieval art, as a symbol of sin and the delicious, aftertasteless commission of a sin. I could think of New York and Central Park. Music and death."
"Then why don't you do that?"
"Because my chest is tight and my nose is runny. I'm drinking hot water with whisky and lemon. The aesthetics of sin are the last thing on my mind. Strawberries actually sound gross now."
"What got you sick?"
"What do you mean 'What got me sick?' Staying out late. Smoking too much. Walking home in the cold and damp. Is that what you're looking for?"
"I'm not looking for anything. I follow you."
"Like a shadow, or the sound of a footstep?"
"No, like a little brother. I copy you."
"What does that mean?"
"Did you know yesterday that today would be sunny?"
"Of course not. It rained yesterday."
"But what did you wear today?"
"My black leather jacket."
"In case it rained?"
"Yes."
"Well there you go."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm looking at a table laminated in an endlessly repeating strawberry pattern. And that makes me think of strawberries, but that's not what I'm actually thinking about."
"And what are you thinking about?"
"I'm not sure. But the strawberries were obvious; they were just there. I suppose I could use them as a metaphor, drawing off the role they played in medieval art, as a symbol of sin and the delicious, aftertasteless commission of a sin. I could think of New York and Central Park. Music and death."
"Then why don't you do that?"
"Because my chest is tight and my nose is runny. I'm drinking hot water with whisky and lemon. The aesthetics of sin are the last thing on my mind. Strawberries actually sound gross now."
"What got you sick?"
"What do you mean 'What got me sick?' Staying out late. Smoking too much. Walking home in the cold and damp. Is that what you're looking for?"
"I'm not looking for anything. I follow you."
"Like a shadow, or the sound of a footstep?"
"No, like a little brother. I copy you."
"What does that mean?"
"Did you know yesterday that today would be sunny?"
"Of course not. It rained yesterday."
"But what did you wear today?"
"My black leather jacket."
"In case it rained?"
"Yes."
"Well there you go."
posted by J Wilson at Friday, September 23, 2005
6 Comments:
The Sibyl-sewn handkerchief that Othello gives to Desdemona was "spotted" with strawberries. Willy's diction here may suggest the purity of the Virgin or virgin (and blood spotting the sheets). Alternately (and apropos your earlier post on binary opposition), there is some evidence that strawberries were meant to suggest genitalia.
Strawberries have always held a strong fascination for me. I remember being in my 11th grade art history class and being transfixed by Bosch's rendering of them in "The Garden of Earthly Delights." All those little polyps of white and red.
The first time I was in Ljubljana I convinced my friend Vesna we should have strawberries and champagne for breakfast.
Memory is a fun toy that breaks easily.
I like strawberry shortcake, one of the few desserts I truly do.
Und vergessen Sie nicht die Choleraerdbeeren von "der Tod in Venedig"...gesmäckvoll!
Geez, my German sucks.
Meins ist sogar falscher.
mein ist schlechter. siempre comen mimosas para el desayuno.
Post a Comment
<< Home