I’m on a break. The sort of break that involves lots of strangers asking me lots of questions. The same questions every day, multiple times each day. I need flashcards. It also happens to be one of those rare times that I find myself going blank. I want to talk about it because it’s an important part of my narrative as someone who has Crohn’s disease, but I haven’t quite put all of the pieces together yet. I’ll get there eventually, once the fog lifts.
Certain things can bring an old memory to the surface. Sometimes it’s obvious, like when I see roses, I think of all of the ‘death flowers’ I dried and collected from funerals of relatives. If I see black light posters, I think of my colorful history painted by certain plants, resins, and fungi. If I’m worried I’m going to trip and fall on my face, I remember the one time I slid down an icy hill and smashed my nose into the ground. Ice is excellent for smashed parts so there I stayed, face against the ice until it was completely numb.
Music, I associate with plenty of memories. Some good, some bad. The playlist I had during 2014/2015 has since been deleted because it was the playlist I defaulted to while I was trying to drown out all of the unpleasant hospital sounds. It wasn’t the individual songs so much as it was the order in which they played.
I was listening to a random radio station playlist in the wee hours this morning, and a (way overplayed) song by Fuel was next in queue.
I saw Fuel at X-fest in Cleveland one year along with Hed P.E, Staind and Breaking Benjamin. Fuel was no good. Hed P.E was terrible. Somehow, I completely missed Breaking Benjamin. By the time Staind took the stage, I was on the other side of the pavilion in a sparsely populated area of the concert grounds looking at the water because the number of people there was overwhelming me to the point of a panic attack. Ah, those were the days. After a little doobie therapy, I was almost good to go. I was also recovering from being ambushed by PETA.
Before the bands started playing, there were vendor tables set up selling band merchandise and other junk. There was also a PETA table. Shit.
They had a small television playing a video about animal cruelty in chicken farming. In the video, chickens were being handled like they were nothing more than garbage and it even showed them being dumped into boiling water while they were still alive. I stood there horrified but I couldn’t look away. My eyes were filling up with tears and I continued to stand there until my boy-thing rescued me and dragged me away.
Ugh. Fuck you, PETA. I was clearly not the target audience as I was already a stinky, tree-molesting vegetarian and only a very small number of meat eaters will give up meat when they’re enlightened to the, uh, nuances of factory farming. I guess that’s the goal – if one person shuns meat, then traumatizing the masses is worth it. Some of them might put effort into sourcing humanely raised meat (sick animals produce nutritionally devoid meat, after all), but a vast majority of them won’t give a shit. “Chickens are stupid. Cows are stupid. Pigs roll around in their own shit. They deserve to die.”
Hmmm, plenty of people are stupid. Ethics obviously don’t matter, so why aren’t we eating people too? I’m not suggesting we farm humans for meat because they’re (we’re) a bunch of resource hungry heathens. The need for sustainable living is thanks to the human population exceeding what the planet can handle. There are more than 7 billion humans. That’s a whole lot of meat ripe for the picking. The average person is worth 35,000 calories. Food for thought? 😉
I could say that jumping from a song to the idea of noshing on man-meat can be blamed on pain medication and delirium but let’s be honest, this is 100% me in my natural state. Some things will never change.