We just got back from searching for gourami fish. I want a specific type, we had to order them. It was extremely absorbing for me. A great fucking yawn for my partner. He was chivalrous about it though. So anyway, we just got home. It isn't at all practical for me to be setting up fish tanks cuz we are moving soon, but y'know, can't keep an alcy from a distillery 'n all that. Look, fish are awesome, until you've seen a catfish heroically fight with 'n conquer his zucchini (courgette) you can't say you've ever really lived!
So, annywaay... we did my things, which was look at fish shops, then we did his things (don't ask), which admittedly, are way funkier than my things. If you have the IQ of a snake that is.
As we are chatting n bitching away at each other discussing how massive his cock is and why do balls sag as guys age (we're gay, we don't talk about tits) the old poisonous bud in my bones begins with it's Memento Mori. It was quite painful. I didn't say anything for lots of reasons you wouldn't understand unless it was happening to you. It was just a few moments of recurring obnoxious ouch. I'm not complaining, I've had a very good run.
And yet, I am fucking moved to complain, to screech and whine. Why fucking me?! (immature I know) But, really, why? I have jumped through every hoop, I've endured things that well, were plain shit. Fuck fuck fuck... FUCK.
I don't want to be ill. I don't want to always pretend it isn't there. It's very exhausting. I don't regret my decision at all. Vivisection is pure evil, I don't want to benefit from it, I would have no liking or tolerance for myself if I did.
I'm 25, I don't want to deal with things like, "I feel bad he has to cope with all our cats, dogs, fish, goats n God knows what when I'm gone." I could go on and on. And on. There's lots of things that break their way into my thoughts. Mostly I ignore them. I'm an expert at cutting things and people from my immediate mind for the immediate moment, but it's never gone. Of course it isn't.
Well, I just wanted to whine for a bit. Aside from this, I have nothing to complain of tho. Life's beautiful. It kinda fascinates me: finally I'm free of dependence on slime bags, dependence on drugs, and financially independent. What do I do? I don't go on some crass spending spree, I 'don't fritter resources away on lavish statements of wealth, I just, y'know, adopt cats in need, look after goats, smoke weed, bake biscuits for my dog, worship the ground my partner, His Majesty walks on. (His Coolness if he's particularly awesome) You, know, just generally mooch along in a modest, easy going way.
Given the right conditions, we all kinda settle by default into the ruts of our inner nature, so you know, chill, peace out. Smoke weed. Luv on ya babe. Indeed. ;)
Cheers n Luv x
