On the Price of Blue Roses

 

To the hypothetical reader

Welcome to the ever-deepening rabbit hole (rabbit warren?) that is The Catnip Pages. You may very well be confused. The intent behind this particular blog post is to allay some of your confusion. You will probably leave with more questions than answers.

You have probably found this blog via a short story or poem of mine that another institution has published. Perhaps you followed a link that someone posted on their social media. I do not personally use social media for self-promotion. I will not begrudge writers practicing such self-promotion, but I believe that the success of creative works ought to lay in the work's content, not on the reader's emotional investment in the author's purported life. The argument can and has been made to boycott certain writers' works based on immoral actions or opinions that said writers have put forward in their public lives but, at the other end of the spectrum, supporting a creator's work because of said creator's perceived high falutin' virtues has, well, a slimy salesman vibe, the gist of a psychopath with digital nous enough to manipulate people to their ends and thus-far get away with it. Also, I am liable to have a few drinks and get into flame wars where nothing is learnt except for new lows of bad punctuation: I am socially awkward, not a bad person. In lieu of social media, my form of internet self-promotion is this very rabbit hole/rabbit warren/digital wall at which I drunkenly throw words and see what is sticky.

It is yet to be seen whether this works.

The Catnip Pages seems to be undergoing yet another aesthetic revamp but generally focuses on fictional characters producing magical goods and exchanging them, via barter, on the black market. I try to post a new episode every month, Tom willing. However, if you are reading this on your phone, you may want to click the 'View web version' near the bottom of this blog. You will thereby find, in the top-right corner, a box titled 'On the Shelf' which contains links to other posts. These are the blog's 'foundation posts' and the commodities most often exchanged in the fictional market.

The price of these commodities is measured in CatScript, symbolised by ₵$, a currency which does not actually exist, so that it may be used as a pricing mechanism but not as a store of wealth. These prices change weekly, Tom willing. These prices are determined by real-world factors - some outside of my control, some from my personal life, so that I may inform my hypothetical fan base of how I am going, much like a social media page. The hypocrisy pairs well with a Château Tanunda 'The Château' 2019 Cabernet Sauvignon.

In order to secure emotional down-payment in my writing, I shall divulge the meaning behind the price of Blue Roses: it is like my 'relationship status'. The price of Blue Roses represents one of six terrestrial rose colours, alongside their florist-recognised symbolisms, which I bequeath to the current subject of my courtship/lust. As a bonus: if said woman is Googling me, which is the type of light insanity probably requisite for a relationship with myself, this blog post should explain the intention behind my gift.

And so, a listicle:

₵$5 - White Roses

Symbolising innocence, purity and new beginnings. First date material. As such, I am not sure if the woman I am seeing is batshit, a cunt or Danish, therefore am wary of sticking my dick in on the off-chance the condom breaks. Alternatively, this serves as the 'single' status.

₵$10 - Yellow Roses

Historically, yellow roses symbolised jealousy, but here represent the more marketable 'friendship'. I have friend-zoned the woman as much as my wiener permits. This is not a bad thing - dinner and conversation with a friend of the opposite sex can be a delightful way to spend an evening. Also, I could really benefit from some practice dates.

₵$15 - Pink Roses

Symbolising grace and admiration, which I translate to: 'I like you. Like, like like. But not like Like Like. Save that kink for when the marriage gets stale.' This message is best conveyed with roses because I cannot speak hyperlinks. Alternatively: 'You could get into my pants or, rather, get me into your Like Like.'

₵$20 - Orange Roses

Aaron gots the lust. Admiration? Maybe. Condoms? Hopefully. Brain thoughts? Irrelevant - outsourced to loins. In lieu of a modicum of respectability on my part, the woman is offered wholesome dick-on-clit in a venue of her convenience. Congrats?

₵$25 - Lavender Roses

Lavender roses symbolise Love at First Sight. I am sceptical of this phenomena and therefore doubt the need for this entry in the listicle. But, then again: one May Saturday night, I downed a Bleasdale 'Mulberry Tree' 2020 Cabernet Sauvignon and two stouts. I hit the sack feeling all right and drifted to sleep, only to wake vomiting an hour later. Daylight investigation revealed mess on the floor, the curtains, the floor skirtings, the pillow slips and the quilt cover. However, my regurgitation somehow missed the mink blanket, on top of the bed and the hardest to clean. Miracles do happen.

₵$30 - Red Roses

The big time. The woman is classed amongst the confusing matrix of arbitrary obligations, which narrows my path to a meaningful life, that compose my 'loved ones'.

Listicle over.

Before you go, hypothetical reader: I estimate that only about half of The Catnip Pages is worth reading. Unfortunately, I do not know which posts are the good ones or the bad ones (except this post, which is definitely bad). If the whim strikes you to share this rabbit hole on the deeper rabbit warren that is the wider internet, could I trouble you to share whichever post most tickles your fancy and thereby put this blog's best metaphorical foot forward?

Cheers,

and I told you that you would leave with more questions than answers,

Aaron Nobes