though i have eaten salmon and occasionally other seafood over the past four years (since quitting all other meats and dairy), i have been passive about voicing my opinion to others about their meat consumption. i figure if they want to eat animals, there is nothing i can do about it. everyone wants to strangle the self-righteous vegetarian, and no one likes to know what it is they are actually putting in their mouths.
no one cares! it's so easy not to care.

we grow up thinking it is necessary to eat animals. that it is a sign of prosperity, and that it is delicious.
i used to cook pork chops and steaks for my ex-boyfriend when we lived together. i never liked eating the meat. i ate it because he "needed" it- he felt "weird" when he didn't eat meat with every meal. in my experience, this is not uncommon among men. i have a few girlfriends who love a charcuterie plate more than a good session of pussy eating.

and how judgmental we are of others.
vegetarians and vegans are, in my opinion, not as bad as the meat eaters!
we may hear a guy from alberta say he hates people who don't eat steak: sumthin' wrong with 'em.
my ex mother in law was from wisconsin, the dairy state. she covered everything in arm's length with a pound of butter and cheddar cheese. she was a fat, moody crier.
i grew up on the west coast of canada. i like salmon. it's dark orange-red, clean. these are the associations i have. it makes you feel good, it's "brain food".
it's still... a dead animal.
untreated by antibiotics (wild salmon, anyway), out of the cold waters an hour away. not raised in a stall in the dark, starved, medicated, injected, defeated, untouched, prodded, abused, filled with fear and wildness, before dying in a surge of adrenelin and desperation that fills every cell with the pain of its life before it hits your plate....
...but an animal nonetheless.

i can rationalize any way i want. so can you. but the reality is, we have no excuse anymore. with the availability of information at our fingertips we should be ashamed that to eat an animal is to vote for death. this torture is the very example of luxury, success, good business. globalization. millions of animals slaughtered to feed our fat mouths and the mouths of our children. to be educated about the fuel that powers your body is true power.

steaks, filets, chops, breasts, sausages, casseroles, stews, mince. our intestines clogged with the decaying flesh of any animal that in its natural setting would be grazing, snuffling, running, nudging, breeding, swimming, pecking, frolicking, raising its babies. for what- so we can get cancer in our 40's, even 30's? so we can be sluggish, fat, "tired", medicated, processed, wrapped in cling wrap and frozen?

our heads are  up our own asses. removal would be so easy, but like europeans ignoring the holocaust becuase admitting reality would be too hard to live with, we continue to consume, and vote with our dollars everyday in favour or enslavement, torture and slaughter of innocent animals.

things were better back then

right now i'm like an old man stroking my wife's disgusting veiny hand and staring into space, mumbling about how much i miss the days of yore....only i'm by myself wearing shorts that are possibly illegal (definitely not arab-friendly) and alone, as usual, with the hum of the fridge.

LOOK AT HER. I MEAN, JUST LOOK!!!!

the hair, the face, the breasts, the voice, the jumpsuit. the lack of gameplaying with the lens. the talent that you can feel, the emotion.
dude....THINGS WERE BETTER BACK THEN!
or were they??
uhhh..psssshaaaa, when it came to living in vancouver you bet your ass they were.
i've grown up hearing the stories; you and your stoner friends each throwing in 50 bucks a month to rent a seaside mansion; nude beach inspired orgies; rolling out of university into a decent paying job.
not to mention the zany clothes, mountains of lsd fueled fuck sessions, and the best music ever written!!

i guess people still had the same concerns, trials, tribulations, and ailments they have now back then, but it just seems so much more exhausting now. the lack of privacy these days is really getting to me. since i'm tall and exotic looking (read: kind of strange), i've had strangers come up to me lots of times and ask to take my picture. i've always said yes, thinking they will just take the snapshot home to germany or japan or wherever and glance at it maybe a few times in their lives, perhaps not even. but now it makes a creepy feeling come over me.
"they are going to put this online," i think, and then someone will download it, or at least look at it, and i will never meet that person but they will have seen me and to see me is to know me.


times are viral!
the whole world has going viral! look at all those little d-bags at the canucks riots who thought they were invisible (or didn't care) and now half the country and people all over the world have seen their zitty faces grinning as they lit up a cop car or threw a garbage can through the window of a pizza joint.
i hear there is a no hire policy for five years enforced for those individuals who were recognized. that means if they want to apply for a job as a fuckin sandwich artist at subway the owner can google the nerd's name and BOOM you, sir, are not for hire.
you are the weakest link- goodbye! (these days if you drop that line people stare at you blankly.)
you are going to be in a world of suck for a looooong time!

even the friendly neighbourhood flasher on the commuter train isn't there anymore- too many cameras. maybe he took his show on the road, or went with the classic "hide in outhouse" method.
though i heard that was an urban legend.

i'm over everything being photographed. narcissism is only fun if you pre-approve everything that is recorded, and half the fun in that is knowing your audience. if your audience is potientially the whole world, dang! no fun in that! i feel i should include an asterix here*

if a time machine ever gets invented for real- not like back to the future, or the one uncle rico bought in napoleon dynamite but a real bonfide, badass time machine- i'm setting it to a fleetwood mac concert in 1978 and having sex with 28,467 men, women and farm animals in one night on six hits of acid, a field of mushrooms, twelve grams of cocaine and three hundred handrolled marijuana cigarettes while wearing an orange corduroy thong and eating a can of spam. you can all kiss my ass. even though i'd be dead at the end of the night, at least no one would know what i'd done- unless they forgot to burn one of the polaroids.

*not that anyone gives a shit about me, or you, anyway