who am i without my meat?
fibonacci spiral (anarchy april #2)
1snails and how americans think its gross to eat them when really they’re fucking expensive and fucking delicious here. and then i think about how bloodless they are and maybe we really shouldn’t eat something that’s animal and bloodless. it’s like eating a vegetable that barks. i have a mango tree and i got over excited and plucked the biggest one my hands could reach that was of course not ripe and its sap spilled onto my hand like blood from a nicked artery. moment of silence for that little seed that never got to grow up to be juice. i like to think that it screamed but in a frequency that i couldn’t hear. and i’m a carnivore through and through and i just eat the animals, i don’t kill them and at the first thought of my hands getting dirty this time, i couldn’t stand it. so maybe, i really shouldn’t be eating meat. but there’s nothing else to eat here, you know, for protein (you know but beans or milk or soya or soya milk) and i hate three of those things. but i suppose i could still commit but how many things could a girl commit to without whirling off the track entirely. who am i without my meat? that sounded dirty and gross and sexual and the truth is i don’t even eat beef, not really. just chicken and eggs and fish and cheese. and maybe i really could let go of these things but i really don’t want to. but i don’t like to imagine fields of dead chickens either. but i keep doing it, so maybe i don’t really mind the dead chickens. i flinch when the axe lands but the stew still runs down my hands. back to the snails. they’re bloodless and shy like me when i give a presentation in class. and they’re slimy but we have good memories, don’t we? me and my cousins and my favorite aunt from the biggest city coming to my home for a week. in the mornings of early august, we’d go around picking snails from the walls and the edges of open brick fences and some were lurched between car wipers waiting to be crushed only to be saved by us only to be boiled by us. fun times. i miss her. but maybe i shouldn’t eat things in memory of her. but why not eat everything? we die and then we’re buried to be food for worms or burned to be a plaything for the wind that carries us to fertilize a corn field that feeds the chickens that die to feed someone or something else. maybe its fine. maybe i’m evil now but i’ll get my own soon enough. maybe that’s why i’m so ravenous. maybe it isn’t even about the animals but about me. maybe its about if i’m okay being mean. and my aunt, would she prefer it if i kept eating snails because of her, or stopped in spite of her? is she even looking down? is she even looking? is she?
love love love!!!
babe omg