Mom is stoned.
“What kind of mushrooms did you put in the mushroom sauce?”
Trip ≠ High
An overdue existential crisis, or moment of clarity, caused by a lifetime of routine alienation between the consumer, the product, the store, the factory pen and butchery.
Mom should read Marx, and The Jungle.
Maybe pick up hunting, if she wants to see what it takes from her own pov.
Maybe watch Dominion
For busy moms who don’t have time for a full documentary, try 3minutes.wtf.
my last straw was Meet Your Meat
+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?”
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?
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?
This, and as a vegan it infuriates/despairs me when people whom I otherwise like and respect just never turn a thought towards this dissonance in their lives. They may care deeply about social injustices and oppression, but see no problem with continuing to participate in the mass torture and murder of non-human sentient creatures. So by now when someone says they “love animals”, my first (internal) reaction is a bitter snort, because it’s extremely rare that such people are even vegetarian, let alone vegan.
The principal difference ia that you see the death of a non-sapient animal as murder and I ascribe it the same ethical weight whether a person or a lion does it. It’s not “dissonance” it’s a foundational disagreement on inherent morality, our place in nature, and the “value of life”.
There’s lots to complain about regarding the factory farming industry (environmental impact foremost in my mind, and the needlessly inhumane conditions they’re raised in) but eating meat is not imo itself a cruel act.
This is why I prefer chicken, I know I can take one on 1v1.
You’d be surprised, those descendants of T-rex can be fierce!
Kidding, but I fully agree with your comments. I write a lot about the public perceptions on nature in my work. The stories we tell ourselves sometimes, I swear.
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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.
Yep, not a hunter myself, but I do respect someone that actually does the work, does it well, follows the rules, ain’t an insane gun nut, lets the local butcher sell the bits they don’t want for themself.
Food is fucking weird
I’m pretty weirded out by everyone in this thread saying Mom is high as fuck or having a mental break because this feels like a pretty normal series of thoughts to me, and not like something that would be distressing or brought on by distress.
It was for me too. That’s why I opt for the tofu now.
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Post the spider poem
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The shift in the unseen eyes as the thread takes hold, suffocating and spinning; a meal for me, an annoyance for you. In the corners you don’t check, a cornucopia of opportunity as yet another morsel is discarded, attracting them by the droves, your apathy to your own glutton as forgotten as the coconut you keep under your bed. (And, scene.)
It does probably help a lot with poetry, too, to look at the world for what it is, rather than navigating it on auto-pilot.
I think you hit the nail on the head here. Very few people are capable of examining their loop for what it really is, let alone going off autopilot.
Some people just have a very narrow existence, I bet your spider poem was great.
You’re just casually slogging through dissociative existentialism on a regular basis?
You guys are getting through?
If you’re going through hell…
Keep going. Why would you stop in hell?
Who said anything about a regular basis?
a pretty normal series of thoughts
The person I was replying to.
Aren’t we all?
Also, what’s wrong with being high as fuck?
Mom is beginning to see through her cultural conditioning to things that the owner class meant to be invisible. Mom is made of meat and the flesh on her table was once an individual like her, maybe even a mom like her, and Mom let herself become complicit in a system that makes one victim the victim of another victim all for the enrichment of the cruel and hateful creatures with economic power.
Fucking hell, man. I’m already depressed enough as it is.
Right?
I’m already in a perpetual exesential crisis. I don’t need more reason to be.
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.
John Capitalism invented eating in 1901. Open your mind. Breathe.
We are the universe just as much as anything else. And this universe is likely teeming with life, at least this planet is. Therefore, the universe very much cares.
Fallacy of composition. A car’s tires are made of rubber, doesn’t mean the whole car is made of rubber. Caring is a thing individuals do, not the systems they belong to.
We’re all living in a capitalist society. Does that mean capitalism cares?
Pre-vegan thoughts.
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.
There are many more vegetal protein sources though, and if you really can’t bear those either just eat eggs
Then they would be vegetarian, not vegan
Even chickpeas, lentils, or peanuts? I dislike western beans but I’m fine with these others which are (IMO) quite superior.
Especially chickpeas, lentils, and peanuts. Peanut butter is alright, though.
Valid!
Tofu, seitan, synthesized pea or soy protein… where I live, you can get vegan nonfat skyr that tastes every bit as funky as real skyr, and although it does have a hollow, oaty aftertaste, you can counter it pretty easily by adding a fat (I tend to carefully temper melted vegan butter and just add that) or using it with something (like jam, oats, and wheat germ/flaxseed) or as a thickener/creamy/cultured element in a recipe
I avoid soy protein because I heard it can promote estrogen production. Correct me if I’m wrong.
That’s a misunderstanding due to the term phytoestrogens, afaik.
Or pre-hunter.
That’s because it is poetry. Mom might need a psych eval, but it’s still poetry (and I love it).
// 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 // // -MomTrying desperately to recall AP English classes to remember which poet was particularly renowned for doing unusual spacing and alignment in poems like this. Hemmingway?
ee cummings?
THAT’S THE GUY
Thank you!
Interesting, I didn’t know there was actually a guy kind of famous for that. These days, it always feels like a bit of a meme, like,
oh i wrote my text in a way that made you read it different now its pohetrykbyethx
Behutiful
Some Ezra guy?
The various spacings make this read to me like a William Shatner impression
Sounds like mom just took a hit of some gooooood shit.
Is this your mum?
From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal… Even in death I serve the Omnissiah.
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 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.
Thank you
Thank you for this!
Don’t you go aristotling on me
Someone got into the edibles lol
that lady is dissociating. get her some therapy.
Fuck that, get her elected
Deep Thoughts by Werner Herzog.
Mom trippin balls.
lol right? Mom smoked a bit too much green before starting dinner
I place the rotisserie chicken onto the cutting board and grab one wing firmly, then with a practiced hand, twist and dislocate the wing from its shoulder. I pause for a moment to look at the joints in my own fingers, then continue to dismember the rest of the chicken with my bare hands.
