perspective.

[serafaery]

when I feel an impulse to feel repulsed by everyone who does weed, I try to think of Willy Nelson. I like him, he's cool, he can do all the weed he wants. When I get hateful rage at all children after watching a group of them tearing up dozens of stalks of bear grass at the summit of a beautiful mountain that people travel far to see and beating each other with them and throwing them aside like garbage just to rip up more, while parents walk away obliviously, I think of Ragnar, who I love, and would probably think that game was fun, too. Also flying private jets to a wedding is way worse for the world than wrecking a field of wildflowers. sigh. This post brought to you by a random non-alcoholic beer that was supposed to be my after-work relaxation treat but for some unforgivable reason smells like weed (which to me is nauseating).