Monday, May 23, 2011

Caution, I got my license to write from a Cracker Jack Box

(This post is rant and ramble at its best. I've been fighting off writer's block and trying to finish a legal paper at the same time. This is my attempt to find my way back from where I've gotten lost in the woods. 

This post also contains language not appropriate for minors. Read at your own risk, and please do not email me to complaint about this post. You assumed the risk when you marched forward. Enjoy) 

Love is everything. Love starts when you realized there is someone else there, someone else who is real and who matters to you.

Love is everything.

You can pay for love, or what is suppose to be love, at the Bunny Ranch.

The Bunny Ranch is a house in Nevada. A lot of beautiful women live there selling love as a commodity. They take us for fools, and we take them to be whores – a misunderstanding on both. But that is the way things goes on this planet. We all seem to misunderstand each other.

So we gladly buy what they sell and we don’t call it love. We call it sex and we make laws about it to make us feel better. Because we can’t seem to find love, we like to tell others why they shouldn’t find love either; if we are going to pay for this stuff, we might as well make it hard to buy so we’d have more incentives to enjoy the fantasy we are buying.

And in the course of a few thousand years, we learned to make laws that made no sense; there are a lot of things about humanity that made no sense. We keep on making laws about those things as well.

Most of us live with a law that says we can’t buy love, as if we know why love is sacred and cannot be bought or sold. We also have laws about how we must find love. A lot of us still want to impose our idea of love onto others.

The Bunny Ranch in Nevada is in a place where people are told how to find love, but at least they are sensible enough to allow knock-offs for love, knock-offs they believe to be reasonable substitutes for love.

Young men who are sent to war goes to the place to buy love before they die. They are too young to know what true love is. We pay the government, who then pays these young men to kill or be killed. They use what they get from us, from the government, for the value of their short lives, and they buy cheap knock-offs for what I think of as love.

It doesn’t seem fair.

The Bunny Ranch doesn’t think it’s fair. I’ve heard that if you are one of those young men on an active order to a war zone, you can get a credit for some free love from the bunnies.

An active order to a war zone is like a winning lottery ticket to a place where confused young men and women are sent to get blown to pieces by home made bombs. Some people of this part of the world misunderstood one thing or another about us and they think of these young men as their enemy, infidels. I was trained to help these young men as a medic in those idiotic explosive experiments, I had to try and save some lives before it’s too late for all of us.

That meant I had an automatic winning ticket to a war zone. I never got to cash-in on my free love.

But that’s okay. I found my love. I got to come home in one piece to find that love and learn its wonderful meanings related to the whole complete world.

Having made it home in one piece made me feel the faint acceleration of life taking hold. Having met Lauren led me to find ways to discover my self in love. I’ve come to see love as not just who I am metaphysically, or how I speak of cheesy things in tacky poems. (I once thought of love in a deep introspective way, and I forget that what I am is but an insignificant part of the whole – a whole so monumental that makes me so meaningless, but my love for the world so meaningful.)

Having learned to see things less anthropocentrically, having found a love that forces me to look at things outside of me, I’ve come to appreciate love in a whole new different way.

by Kahlil Gibran
Love is more than a metaphysical concept. Love is a way we connect with the world. Anything you put love into you will receive equal amount in return.

But we have lost that sense for love. Great prophets gave us specific instructions to love the world, but we seem to not want to learn the lesson. We want what is cheap and easy, we want a book to tell us what to do, not a philosophy to tell us how to love.

We devised bibles, manuscripts, and stories to enhance the metaphysical love. We pass laws about buying love, some we allow: mail-ordered-brides, best-selling trashy novels, classic tales about love and death, of Romeo and Juliet. Some we prohibit: gay marriage, growing our own crops.

I’m not qualified to argue for gay marriage. But I am an expert eater so that makes me an expert witness for the love of food.

Unlike the kind of metaphysical love, the kind you can only buy knock-offs in Nevada, the physical aspect of love for life that comes from food can be purchased cheaply in ever corner on earth. We are trying to put up as many food whorehouses as we can: McDonalds, Burger King, Panda Express. We hire even younger fools to work these places, to sell knock-offs of our love for food.

We pass stupid laws that say we can also discriminate the kind of love we get form food. It has to be inspected, pesticided, fertilized, fossilized . . . it has to be demoralized. We are paying for this stuff after all, making ourselves feel better about whoring out our love for food, we tax ourselves. Nothing different from the Bunny Ranch, yet somehow it’s better to sell fake love this way.

The pay back: doctor bills, a fast food nation, and detachment from our families and the world.

I’ve come home in one piece for this love. I never cashed-in on my free love from the Bunny Ranch in Nevada; I sometimes buy cheap love from KFC. But others have given their lives for me to have a chance to find real love.

So I did. 

Since I’ve met Lauren, I’ve found my way to love. I grow what little bit of food I can in my yard each year to love my food. Lauren helps me and we enjoy our times spent. I cook as much as I can to love my food. Lauren started to learn how to make different things to love our food. We love life and we just love food.

We are working on finding exactly how far we have traveled away from our love for food and how far we have to travel back to love food again. Others tell us we have gone about 1,500 miles a meal. I’ve also gone across the ocean back to China, more than 7,000 miles, to rediscover my love for food...

We are working on making our way back. 1,500 miles a meal is too far to travel to love our food.

Love is everything. Love starts when you realized there is someone else there, someone else who is real and who matters to you. Food is real, and should matter to you.

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