BLAST!

Marionette is in need of another trip to the doctor's. A couple days ago she began to make the sound of PFFFFSSSSHHHHHHH! (otherwise known as the sound of air decompressing) when I'd bring her to a stop or even a slight decrease in speed. She'll be limping to the doctor's tomorrow, but once she's out she'll be right as rain.

I'm currently sitting on the grass at school and in front of me is a large woman with obscenely long acrylic red nails ever so gently petting her phone.

The hunger gnaws.

I'm wearing shorts. At school. I've had these shorts since the 7th grade. That's not an exaggeration. They've been sewn and re-sewn over the years. They're quite comfortable. The grass isn't nearly as soft as it should be. I wish I had my camera with me. I'd be taking pictures of all of the hefty folk. Secretly. I should be reading. I'm not.

It would appear as though the hipsters have their own biker gang. But when I say "biker" I mean actual bicycles. A bunch of non-meat-eating, tattooed, earing-wearing, capri-sporting, fixed-gear using tools. They won't eat meat, but they'll smoke a cigarette. Just wait until your fad ends and meat-eating becomes the cool thing to do. Just wait until your hipster band tells you that the consumption of innocent animals is ok, then you won't know what to do with your life and you'll wonder what it was all for and you'll battle with the "moral" choice and the "hip" choice. You'll eventually cave. Whether it's that delicious smell wafting in your general direction from the local blood-joint (because all vegetarians refer to places that serve meat as "blood-joints") or that once friend who you've shunned for eating meat sees you and offers you a little taste of his gyro. It's cool, the gyro's healthy for you. Yeah, that'll be your first step. You'll say "well, it's healthy for me, so it's not as bad as those red-meat eating, pro-life loving, republican voting, plagues on humanity." Yeah, you'll justify yourself. You'll disguise it, but you'll soon develop that secret craving for it. You'll be a vegetarian around your friends, but late at night you'll have your secret rendezvous with the In 'N' Out Burger a town away. Because you can't let Lyle see you eating meat again. No, because Lyle would tell Geraldine and Geraldine would tell Mick, and Mick's cool, but Mick doesn't like people who eat meat. Mick can't know. Mick will never know. But you can't go a town over because all you have for transport is your fixed-gear bike. You'll have to kill Lyle. Or Mick. Or both. Not Geraldine, though, because that one time she burned you a copy of that Bright Eyes album that you really like. And y'know...you listen to Bright Eyes for their "artistic" lyrics. Geraldine's ok. Gerry for short.

For the record: Meat never has been and never will be cut from my diet.