Weird times, man. Recalling my PETA days. Yelling at my parents for calling things “gay.” Crying because my dad wouldn’t stop eating red meat and that previous summer I’d made friends with a cow on my Uncle’s farm in Croatia, so I like, understood them you know. I did it all for you, Morrissey. Then one night I got drunk, forgot I didn’t eat meat, ate a hot dog from a street vendor and never looked back.