(no subject)
the first glass out of the tropicana carton is my favorite - skimmed off the top like cream, smooth and very sweet. its meniscus is so pale and light that it's barely there, escaping. it's not that i don't like pulp, it's just that the more you pull from the carton, the denser it gets, the stickier it feels. my love for the top pour gets me into trouble about halfway through. and it would probably make sense to shake it every time and get a more consistent juice, but there's something so intoxicating about that initial taste that i'd just rather sacrifice the rest to someone who's willing to pick up my orange juice slack. in the end i just think that the entire world must be organized that way, in that no thing can really be finished alone. and that maybe aristophanes was right and plato wrong, that i once had a full palate that's now cleaved in two, and more than anything that there exists a tongue that is entirely complementary to mine.