Prompt: "A song specifically chosen to piss off someone, preferably but not necessarily someone participating in this Song Challenge"
Selected by Zach
"Peaches"
The Presidents of the United States of America
The Presidents of the United States of America, 1995
The office life was not for her and so she went off on her own. To be a farmer, to dig the tips of her fingers into the limestone-heavy soil! Ah, what pleasure.
The days of attending punk concerts were over. Everything was new. The sun beating down, pulling up a turnip or two, fresh peachy liquid running down her face after a particularly juicy bite. The city was a place for other people and their empty salaries and mortgages. A small percentage of those salaries would soon be making its way into her pocket after she had her way with the city dwellers at the farmers market. They'd tell others they just joined a CSA, the virtue-signaling so easy to read on their tired faces. Her CSA! She couldn't believe it.
Tomorrow she'd leave that apartment of hers. Tomorrow she'd buy that pickup truck and drive north. "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow / Creeps in this petty pace from day to day." Tomorrow she'd be much more like Shakespeare than anyone else left in her life, even more than any of those professional writers she'd associated with for so long. This was her, a creator. Let the others get their words in, let the others play their basketball. She'd lie on the ground whenever she wanted, looking up at the stars, the sound of crickets penetrating her bones.
2 comments:
1) If the person to whom this blog post was directed does not respond, he is a coward.
2) This blog post was not directed at me, but I feel the need to say, definitively, that this song sucks shit.
A sprited attempt! Peaches do come from a can, but they were put there by a woman.
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