Zed's dead, baby.

Hooligan here to take a piss

merigoldstuttercup@gmail.com

I cast two shadows on the snow. The snow muffles everything except for the sound of my breathing and taking shallow puffs of my cigarette. The only will-o-the-wisp I have ever known. I am disconnected from the earth around me but I also know this is but the distance I put between myself and it. I know more of my purposeful remoteness than I lead others to believe - I am included in this. I will never be able to cut myself off from the world like I may attempt at times, I hope I never do achieve this. It would mean the end to purpose. Perhaps, however, purpose is the wrong word. It is not so much a reason for living as it is living in itself and living in other. I will have to at some point seek out this otherness fully but it’s terrifying or at least I will hold onto this notion for far too long. I will never be alone like I would want to be (at times). I am a magnet for vibrancy in small spurts. Otherwise I contend for the disillusionment.

I am so close to a real connection but cut it short. This is fealty on my part but I am not yet too bothered. I will continue to hold onto silken threads and their tendrils. I need to push myself to something not necessarily better but greater. Only because I know I have the propensity to hold out. I wane in the face of alcohol and basically inebriation but even that in itself is not much of a barrier. It is an excuse. It does not hinder me like it might someone else or like I may wish it to do to me. It is an excuse.

I will give someone a reason to heed my words. More than one person, I should hope, but hope is a hard thing to wrap my head around most of the time. Despair seems much more human or at least the thing to do if one is to in any respect respectfully (overly) regard notions of humanity. To go with the flow. I chortle silently. I mock myself, silently. I whisper the words, “it is so quiet,” in no other company other than my own. I own these words. I want to place the blame on the group I am a part of but it is my own misgivings.

DO NOT FORGIVE YOURSELF FOR RELINQUISHING GENUITY DO NOT RELEASE YOURSELF FROM REPUGNANT DISQUIET AND ALL THAT THIS MAY ENTAIL FOR YOU ARE YOUR OWN AND YOU OWN YOUR THOUGHTS AS MUCH AS YOUR THOUGHTS MAY WISH TO OWN YOU

tinykitchenvegan:

Avocado and Chickpea Salad Sandwich

hell yea
Princess Jellyfish
Girl with Cigarette (1925) by Agnes Goodsire

"The human louse somewhat resembles a tiny lobster, and he lives chiefly in your trousers. Short of burning all your clothes there is no known way of getting rid of him. Down the seams of your trousers he lays his glittering white eggs, like tiny grains of rice, which hatch out and breed families of thier own at horrible speed. I think pacifists might find it helpful to illustrate thier pamphlets with enlarged photographs of lice. Glory of war indeed! In war all solderies are lousy, at the least when it is warm enough. The men that fought at Verdun, at Waterloo, at Flodden, at Senlac, at Thermopylae - every one of them had lice crawling over his testicles."

Homage to Catalonia by G Orwell

Gotta keep feeding my dad ramen and reminding him dropping bombs on Syria is not a good idea