Fruit

"Fruitful Conversation" is what this post was previously called, but lets all leave that in the back of my mind for now. I didn't want to attract any readers to this in the first place, I mean it's not like I get any reader because this place is as empty as Death, but whatever. No one will read this. No matter how many times I post it on Facebook. No one will glare into these unfortunately awkward words I will type onto this digital white canvas that will just take up valuable internet space. How fun! If you're still reading. No? Okay then. I will digress, now.

At an event, that I had graced everyone with my showing up to, I came across a group of wonderful elderly Caucasian women who also graced me with their conversation. Their conversation of fruit. And oh, it was as marvelous as you think it was. Oh, yeah I forgot. No one is reading. However, in all cases, the absence of a reader or fellow blogger is not needed to tell the fable of "Fruitful Conversation", which is nothing but completely unfortunate. Fruit doesn't define who you are, and thank God, because otherwise I'd resemble a gargantuan grapefruit. According to certain Facebook quiz. Those things are evil. Those things are Death. Thank God no one is reading this or I'd be "hella" embarrassed. In any matter, it was quite the hour-long convo. I had no idea that elderly Caucasian women could go on and on about purchasing, eating, cutting, grinding, serving and maiming fruit. It was great, and very insightful. I lift my hat to them. A full hour of sitting down with young-looking elderly Caucasian women and chatting about the graces of fruit. Especially, muscat grapes. If there is one thing an elderly Caucasian woman knows, it's her muscat grapes. They are quite the grapes! Powerful too. The convo was high-larious. I love the fact that they were so open about what they do with their fruit. The stories of fruit purchases were the best. I just wanted to yell, "Oh, presh potskins!" But that would have further complicated things, so I left that on this unread blog, which I am thoroughly embarrassed about. I mean who uses three coupons to pay for four apples. That is a child that wants to save money, and who wouldn't in these awful economic times. Free apples is what I believe in. "Hella" yes.

You haven't read anything yet. The best thing is what my imagination came up with when such thing were being said; such as me imagining my own "ridunkulous" grandmother using a chainsaw to cut up her cantaloupe or kiwi. That is something to behold, which you could only understand if you know my grandmother. Also with me sitting down with the wives of elderly Caucasian men, things were quite unfortunate for me. And can I just say, that I think elderly Caucasian women love conversation with young African American boys such as myself, because everywhere I go, I either experience it or I witness it, and it is pretty much the definition of "So Much Love". The dwelling on "Fruitful Conversation" is not a wonderfully productive way to spend time, but it is rather informative. You learn an abundance of things! It's "ridunkulous" how much "Fruit Knowledge" you will obtain. Was it biblical? No, but it was an epic conversation. And I value that very much. I have a new appreciation for fruit. What more can you ask for, especially from elderly Caucasian women? But I'm just going to keep "Fruit Conversation" in the back of my head for now, because no one will read this glorious post, with all the words. And not only because this country (USA) is getting more and more lazy everyday, but because I cannot, for the life of me find out a way to end this in a graceful, and on-topic manner.


I think that if you shake the tree, you ought to be around when the fruit falls to pick it up- Mary Cassatt



And boy did I catch some falling fruit!