That song by Blondie.
That song by Blondie : “In The Flesh” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmONePejIIA)
…threw me back many years…way before that song was written..back to my apprenticeship years as a young blade on the building site. In the smoko room of a multi-story building site…
Back in those days..mid-sixties or so, we had a loquat tree in our yard at home and this year it was most proficient with fruit, so I used to take a small bag of them with me to work to eat at smoko and lunch…but in those days, I, and anyone I knew , used to not peel the fruit, but just eat them skin and all..till one day on the site, at smoko..this Slavic chap at the table watched me eat the whole fruit and then addressed me so;
(I won’t try to do his accent)
“Why, my young friend, do you eat the loquat, skin and all?”
“I don’t know”..I shrugged” I just do..how else would you eat it?”…He put his apple down into his lunch-box and said..
“Here..give me one..I see you have many..that big fat one there..they are the best to show you…” I gave it to him “ Yes..very juicy”..
He wiped the surface with his rough hand and then held it up in front of us both as in display.
‘This fruit is not just a lump of food..(pause)..this is a sensuous delight..not just to chomp down on like the glutton you are , my young friend!”..and he lay it clutched in one palm and proceeded to peel it with his other hand…a strip at a time ..all the while giving me..and those other bemused older men at the table, a running commentary…I have to admit I felt a tad blushing in those innocent days..
His eyes concentrated and his voice softened..
“This fruit is like a woman..you have to be very gentle..for she will bruise so if you handle her roughly..you like this fruit?..so..you must never be rough with that you love..you must gently peel away the outer layers of “garment” (he paused in his action to give me a querying stare) you understand?” (several other men stifled a guffaw) and when you have it down to the flesh…you gently , with both thumbs..so..spread the flesh wide so you can see the seeds..which you ease out with the index-finger..The hand..my young boy..is not only to be used for rough jobs..like I see you throw around those ‘Acrow props’…you must be more gentle in your work”..and he looked at me sternly.
He performed the whole procedure with all the care and sensuality of a lover..”And there”..he displayed the bare fruit in his open hand..and after a suitable pause for me to absorb the result, he raised the dripping delight to his lips and voluptuously pressed them down on the flesh so the juice oozed over his lips, which he dabbled with his napkin…His eyes rolled back in his head….he then spoke in a almost voiceless whisper..
“And then…my so young and innocent friend..when you bring your lips to touch on that forbidden flesh , you can feel both the fruit and your mouth yield to a higher pleasure than you will ever experience in your otherwise worthless existence …” There was a long pause while he held his pointed to the ceiling hand for a moment of appreciation..
“Pitchken dim..” he sighed.
There was a sudden outburst of laughter in the smoko room from the other men and I felt more than a little uncomfortable.
But now..at the other end of my life, I can reflect back on the incident with a somewhat sentimental smile at the Slav’s performance….and I recollect a poem (I have it somewhere around here) of Penelope (of Ulysses myth) saying goodbye to her secret lover as it was rumoured Ulysses was returning to the island. Her lover, a rugged but handsome young fisherman who travelled with the seasonal schools of fish for his livelihood.
She met him as he brought his catch to the house for purchase, his strong young body stripped to his fisher’s apron and his muscles a glimmer with the virile strength of his years. Aphrodite indeed did on this occasion bless his form with an inviting allure so that Penelope shivered with desire. Penelope would sneak out at night disguised as her faithful servant Eurycleia, to make love to Tomas (for that was his name) on warm sheep-skin rugs in the prow of his ketch, while Eurycleia would sit at the loom disguised as Penelope weaving the shroud…But then all fine things must end, and now there was a whisper that her husband was returning, and the lowly-born Tomas was in no position to claim affection for Penelope.
The young fishermen who was then moored at the wharf in Ithaca, asked Penelope for a token to take with him when he sailed that day as a keep sake, a talisman.. and (if I clumsily recall.from memory ) she spoke from her balcony to him below..:
“There sir, by your hand..a white Athens rose,
Throw it to me that I may grant your desire.”
Tomas plucked the flower and did as she sought.
Penelope pressed the stem to her bared breast,
So a thorn pricked her milk-white flesh.
A noiseless cry shaped her red lips and,
A drop of her blood rose upon the place,
As she pressed the white blossom upon it,
So a single petal held her blood token there.
She cast her loving eyes to Tomas,
And returned the flower which he cupped
In his hand ..then raising it to his lips,
He plucked out that single petal upon his tongue,
And took it into his body as a sign
Of his endearing affection for Penelope..
“Addio..( he softly whispered)…addio my sweet lady..”
I have that whole poem around here somewhere..I’ll have to search it out one of these days..
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