THE WRITER MUST EAT -> patreon.com/trn1ty <- | \ | | blah! |\ | `\|\ | the rantings and ravings |/ |(_|| | * of a depraved lunatic <^> 2024-08-13 There oughtta be more trash bins around on the street. I eat my 50 cent Cow Tail (not the type of Cow Tail that the CIA paid DPRKoreans to cut off their cows to cause them to be unable to stand up, thereby compromising their food supply chain, but the Cow Tail that they sell at cheap corner stores - by that I mean expensive corner stores that sell stuff for a penny that sells at the Kroger a dozen for a nickel - with the cream filling and the caramel that looks so good and tastes so bad and gets lodged in your head as looking bad but tasting good) oh, you forgot what I was talking about because of the long fucking parenthetical? Good luck with Baudrillard. And I seek to throw it away and I can never find a place to throw my fucking wrapper. Tonight I held mine for the fifteen minutes' walk home. O me miseram et cetera sed fuck you I could have (and should have) littered my little white piece of cellophane out on the street. You never see garbage out on the street next to garbage bins - it's almost too much work to throw it next to a bin than into a bin. It peers at you from the puddle it landed in when you walk by. Wanna "solve" your homeless problem? "Solve" as in sweep all the unfortunate souls off to some outskirt of your city so you don't have to look at them on the way to your six figure job at some corporate firm conspiring with landlords to raise rent prices. Nobody's gonna wanna sleep on the street next to a garbage can. One every two meters - bam, fuck the homeless, clean up the streets, yeah yeah cool thanks Bezosito. George Carlin playing on the television. Myself playing with my little keyboard. Now they've put on Voyager. What's my religion? I saw a bunch of deer outside walking last night. Nearly ran into them. I thought they were statues at first; still, silent, elegantly grazing silhouettes standing in the grass lit by the occasional passing car. "Hello?" One lifted its head. "Hey." I gave a wide berth as I walked past them for worry that they had some sort of wasting disease but then I realized one said hello to me and they were simply some animals doing animal things. For a good while my Prime Directive was to serve Gaia; to give back to the world, make it better than it was before my coming. This was, to me, the most logical goal, or at least one that would serve me decently for the entirety of my life. There's only so much matter on this planet and, for now, no practical way to transport more water or carbon or anything else over. Why pollute it? Gaia has finite capacity for hosting human life - though we aren't close to reaching it. Why lower that capacity, and make everyone's life worse? Before learning about the Dharma I still had some sense of Kharma, though my sense was more of a feeling - treat people poorly, and everyone will be poorer for it. Treat people as best possible, and everyone will be better for it. Serve Gaia; make the world a better place. "Gaia" is what the Buddhists call Kharma; the health of our planet, spiritually, physically. I gave the deer berth and let them go on about their evening. And they didn't bother me either. i wanna take someone tie them to a post in my basement in a position where they can only stand up so they slowly get more and more fatigued break them mentally then cut them loose and watch them stick around without external relationships without ambitious desire without resistance without worries without hope i wanna take someone i want to keep them alone but really i am alone - that being said, <^> No rights reserved, all rights exercised, rights turned to lefts, left in this corner of the web.