If you are going through hell, get a map of the Star's homes

Canada is no place for a raspberry…they are really discriminated against here. Fucking Canada’s price for them is close to $4.50 a box, so when they’re 2 for $5.00 even the Indians on the Kanawahke Reservation shut down their gambling parlors and illegal cigarette trade and hi-tail it in by dogsled into the big city.

So I lived dangerously and popped a raspberry into my waiting, unwilling mouth.. waiting for that newly familiar, genetically modified lack of taste as was my last recollection from July. But this was different… it tasted like the wild ones I used to pick in the Adirondacks, when lunchboxes meant something other than carrying lunch (and maybe a lousy quickly browning apple…)- it was your favorite cartoon or spy show…

What had made things different about this holy grail of a raspberry that just fell into my lap with out the usual goosing? Had someone last night put a gun to my head and cocked the trigger, thereby making an ‘everything seem better today’ situation? No.

Had I finally met my soulmate, the girl of my dreams and my heart was soaring and everything was finally right with my bathroom plumbing? No.

Had I been finally victorious in popping that huge painful zit on the side of my back that I couldn’t reach, no matter what kitchen utensil used? No. I was groggy so that skilsaw would have to wait)

Was it the fact hat I had eaten nearly a whole box of Fiber One cereal for a late night snack with almond milk and hours later I cut a fart so noxious that it actually woke me up and tinged in my CPAP mask so I was like a jet-figter pilot just breathing in fart for a long while afterwards….cigarette smoke would have been a welcome respite, so I banged on my wall at 4 am begging my neighbor to start smoking for a change…so No.- but i was beaming, proud to have been able to achieve such an accomplishment

So what gives?  Why did these raspberries taste like sweet memories? They were from California where I am prepping my visa to move to in the next few weeks to be closer to raspberries amongst other reasons…maybe I’ll take a weekend and sojourn to raspberry mecca in Watsonville and pretend I work for Vanity Fair doing a piece on raspberries…yeah sounds very plausible…