Since I came across quite a lot of books that reminded me of The Secret History, whether that’d be characters, themes, concepts, conflicts, and writing style I think some of you guys would be interested in reading some of these works.
My girlfriend likes to play a game called Name That Meat.
She sends me text messages saying “Name this meat: It’s shaped like a log and goes really well with applesauce.”
I write her back “tofurkey”
She writes me back “No. Pork tenderloin, Andrea.
This is like playing 1960’s trivia with a 3rd grader.”
I write her back
“Well then, maybe you should find another girlfriend to play your perverse games with because this one knows that it takes 50 square feet of rainforest to make a single quarter pounder and I do not eat the death of the planet for lunch and therefore do not know the edible names of the animals you munch without thought of supporting an industry that makes Nike look like Mother Theresa.
Xoxoxo I can’t wait to see you tonight.”
We got nothing in common.
Or so it would seem from the outside.
On the in breath, we’re having dinner.
She’s eating her 50 square feet of death.
I’m eating my organic, vegan, local salad. No meat, no cheese, and please hold the dressing because I don’t want to exploit the little honey bees.
But when we meet you,
She will be a thousand times more likely to greet you with open arms than me.
I’m uptight and selfish.
She’s sit down and join us. You look heartbroken. How’s your family?
And I’m choking on my lettuce about now.
Begging the cows to come home and prove me holier than now
But it’s not going to happen.
I’ve got a closet full of protest signs buried by all the times I wish I had been kinder to a friend.
I wish I listened better than I did.
I wish I walked these lines to your doorstep the night you were holding your last breath like a kite string in a lightning storm.
These things confuse me.
Gandhi was a nonviolent peace activist who treated his family terribly.
He could have collected as much salt from their tears as he did from the sea.
While the most gentle person I know is touting an M-16 in Bagdad right now.
How does heaven decide who its angels will be?
How do we?
When hearts take the shape of fists beating and smoke stacks form clouds the shape of lungs breathing
and a handful of bad seeds will form a string of prayer beads under the right conditions.
Nothing is ever as clear as it seems.
My friend’s conservative, Republican, Catholic mother woke every morning at 5 am for 4 years to pray my family would one day see that any God worth calling God would be a God that loves queers.
We all grow in two directions, one toward the skies.
Limbs holding hymns or war cries that all the world can see.
The other beneath the surface.
Roots griping a truth less obvious.
This is the pacifist clenched fists on the nights when songs turn into bombs one too many times.
This is radical feminist writing “White Only” signs between the lines of their revolution.
This is a US soldier seeking refuge in the open arms of Canada.
While Canada arms soldiers that opens fire on Afghanistan.
Some days, even the sand in the hourglass doesn’t have time.
Some days the sunshine casts shadows and bullets faint at the sight of blood.
I’m never gonna eat a hamburger, love.
You’re never gonna not say hello with a smile in your eyes like a porch light welcoming this broken world home.
And this is how we’ll grow, in every direction.
The answers are easy. It’s the questions that are hard.
What can you teach me?
What can I learn here?
Whoever you are, are you also looking for a soft place to sleep?
Are you also in search of a dark night holding the quiet light of 6 billion wishful stars?
The op of this post said i could write something based on their headcanon so here it is.
ETA: now jaradel and I are co-writing this verse, over at AO3!
How he can wear flannel in this weather is anyone’s guess.
But Bitty doesn’t mind the way he sweats as he moves carts of ripe tomatoes and bulbous squashes from truck to table. A bead glistens at his forehead, slides down the slope of his nose to linger on the tip of his chin. His arms stretch taut, muscles bunched, around the crates as he hefts them. The mop of dark hair above his eyebrows is damp, misshapen from the press of his baseball cap, discarded at the side of the register. As Bitty watches, a tuft of bangs becomes unmoored from where he’s combed it aside and flops down almost to his eyes. He doesn’t move to dislodge it. Bitty itches to cross the aisle and slide in behind the Zimmermann Farms table, lift one hand and brush it out of the way without a single word.
He bites his lip and looks down at his own table. Really, he should be rearranging the scones or sorting the loaves or something, but every single week, as this “Mr. Zimmermann” (Bitty has no idea of his first name) unloads his wares, Bitty’s reduced to a staring, flushing mess. Nobody ought to look like that. Nobody especially ought to look like that when they’re toting vegetables. It almost makes Bitty want to eat a healthy diet. Or grow green beans. Or something, some excuse to have a conversation with this square-jawed, droopy-eyed farmer who, when he smiles at a customer, makes Bitty’s toes curl up in his sandals. Maybe he should pick up some rhubarb for a pie.
Yes, rhubarb… and it’s a little early in the season for pumpkins, but when fall rolls around maybe he’ll have pumpkins and … and oh dear Bitty is staring isn’t he.
It is a frequently cited fact that English has two sets of words for farm animals and their corresponding meats. The living animals are expressed with words of Germanic origin–calf (German ‘Kalb’), swine (G. 'Schwein’), and ox (G. 'Ochse’)–because the servants who guarded them were the conquered Anglo-Saxons. The names of the meats are of Romance origin–veal (French 'veau’), pork (F. 'porc’) and beef (F. 'boeuf’)–because those who enjoyed them were the conquering Norman masters.
- ‘Holistic’ is not a regulated word and means jack shit. Any food claiming to be 'holistic’ is trying to put one over on the consumer.
- 'Organic’ and 'Made with Organic Ingredients’ are different. Companies don’t need as much 'organic’ material to make the latter claim.
- ’[Meat] Cat Food’ is required to have significantly more of the named meat than 'Cat Food With [Meat]’
- Ingredients are listed by weight
- If the first ingredient is not a named meat, walk the fuck away
- Non-specific 'Meat’ and 'Fish’ and any by-products or meals of such are highly suspect.
- ’[Meat] by-product’ is questionable because it means any squishy part that isn’t counted as 'flesh’, aka giblets and offal. While some of those (liver, heart) are healthy and good, others are meh. Needless to say this should not be the primary (and thus first-listed) source of protein.
- ’[Meat] meal’ is actually preferable to just ’[Meat]’ in dry cat food because the weight of 'Chicken’ might include water weight, while 'Chicken meal’ is weighed without moisture and is thus a more reliable measure
- Corn and wheat are distressingly common and are completely useless for your cat. If they’re anywhere in the first five ingredients, your cat is gonna eat twice as much and most of it’s gonna end up in the litterbox.
- Re the last point, Meow Mix is utter shit. So is Friskies.
- Filler carbs are necessary to hold the pellets together but should not be one of the first two ingredients.
- Soy, beef, dairy, and fish are the most common cat allergies and can develop at any time
- There are a fuckload more reviews for dog food than cat food
- Regulation in the pet food industry is frankly apalling
I’m a slave to AU’s not that anybody is that surprise I mean cmon it seems. Here’s that one nalu meat bun au comic that I created at 2pm I really don’t understand I’m 98% sure I was just hungry really but I mean me being hungry allowed for a pretty nice au with cute nalu because I’m aggressively ignoring the likes of canon rn so like two birds with one stone, amirite?
I’m going to be posting a lineart version of this soon since it has occurred to me that I haven’t posted lineart in 9203473290 years rip.
my dog just burst through my door acting all frantic, and i thought he needed to go outside. so he led me downstairs and when we got there, he went straight to my niece’s hamburger, which was sitting on a plate, and looked at me like i was supposed to give it to him