I was pressured into going hunting a few times with my dad growing up, and I ended up killing a few deer. It's something I'm not proud of, one among many things I came to regret later in life.

I used to think "If you can't or won't kill it personally, then you shouldn't eat it" was an argument in support of hunting. Now I think of it as an argument in support of vegetarianism. Funny how perspective changes everything...

What's also funny is how as a society we say things like "kids who kill bugs grow up to be psychopaths," yet we totally normalize hunting as a sport. Why is that? For that matter, why don't we say "anyone who eats animal flesh is a psychopath?"

As if being five steps removed from the suffering and death somehow abstracts the cruelty so that one can indulge in the pleasure of what is produced by it without bearing any moral culpability in the processes by which that meat arrived on one's plate?

Why is it only the forms of cruelty that society doesn't accept as cultural pastimes that are considered taboo? I should rephrase. Why does society accept some forms of cruelty and not others?

Maybe watch Dominion

+1 to the existential exploration.

A little more lot and she'll eventually stumble in to "Where did this existence come from? Why is there matter to have a universe, why is there any existence at all? If God exists, how was he created?"

Or she is on a few different neurospectra, and gets species dysphoria as a regular thing and finds it funny as well.

But yeah after stopping being a vegetarian I went and killed a lot of animals for other people to balance the scales. Now I prefer if my terrestrial meat had a name, not number.

"What kind of mushrooms did you put in the mushroom sauce?"

I feel for mom. I want to be vegan but I hate legumes. So instead of becoming protein deficient because I refuse to eat beans, I'll just wait for lab-grown meat to finally get USDA (FDA?) approval.

Or pre-hunter.

It was for me too. That’s why I opt for the tofu now.

You're just casually slogging through dissociative existentialism on a regular basis?

Also, what's wrong with being high as fuck?

I think it's more that this is from 'mom' as in, the parental figure, which is usually the recipient of existential dread of their kids, rather than the one expressing it onto them.

Having them? Sure.

I been procrastinating this translation for a while but now warhammer and poetry are in the same context, I simply have to.

(In case you wanna listen to it)

I want to be mechanized.

vroom, vroom, vroom!
clank clank clank!

I want to be mechanized.
This [feeling] comes from my brain, from my flesh, from my bones.
I go mad to get my hands on every dynamo.
My saliva-covered tongue is licking copper wires.
The auto-draisine in my veins is chasing down locomotives.

vroom,
vroom!

clank clank clank!

I want to be mechanized.
Certainly I will find a solution to this.
And then I will be content only
the day I mount a turbine in my abdomen, and
append a double-propulsor on my tailplane!

vroom vroom
clank clank clank!

I want to be mechanized!

- Nazim Hikmet, 1923. Makinalaşmak İstiyorum.

//  I cooked a steak tonight 
//           and was feeling    alien
// 
//  How weird this gross piece
//           of cold raw flesh
//             on a cold plate is
//
//  and I was thinking 
//                I am just an animal 
//  with the luxury of packaged flesh
//              and is it human flesh? 
//  Like 
//                    I wouldn't know

//  We just believe it's a cow  but
//
//                         we don't
//
//               have fucking proof
//
//                      of anything
//
//  
//  The knife went through the same
// 
//          as if it was my own leg
// 
//  -Mom

OP's mom definitely has a lot of dick in her, if that's what you're asking.

Only if it's not flowery language. Im too neurodiverse to understand metaphors.

lol right? Mom smoked a bit too much green before starting dinner

Fuck that, get her elected

This goes back way further than ownership. We’re talking millions of years. Dinosaurs feasting on dinosaurs. We’re a little speck of dust on a speck of dust in the blink of an eye to the vast, uncaring universe.

Fucking hell, man. I'm already depressed enough as it is.

Gummies kicked in!

#tooktoomuch

Prose Poetry is a well established tradition that many are unaware of.

Greek Scene 

He dismounted, hitched his horse to the huge mulberry tree, took a leak. 
The horse was looking at him. He slapped its neck. 
“We’re young,” he said. 
The sun was calling out among the osiers. 
The cicadas were coming on strong. 
The fig tree’s shadow banged against the stones. 
A huge red sail was flapping above the plane trees. 
The horse was twitching its ears, sometimes the one, 
sometimes the other, while below, 
two young boatmen were rolling the huge iron barrel along the road.

Yiannis Ritsos (transl. from Greek)