here is distant

I'll tell you about me because I am here and you are distant

Prawn Cocktail Cheese and Onion Salt and Vinegar Smokey Bacon Tai Sweet Chilli Ready Salted Frazzles Chipsticks Hula Hoops Kettle Chips Pom-Bears


I'm not your friend. I've dressed pixel ducks. Giving a goose hid inside my Valentino white bag.

It's quite nothing. Just a spare tired. Honeygry as fuck because my Valentino white bag.

Go therverywhere. It's fucking noisy. Sad hours pm at my Valentino white bag.

Spill farcicles. Pleasure from Pretty. Stuffing skullenvoid into my Valentino white bag.


I call myself an agnostic, but religion has been a huge part of my life. This post shares my experiences and how they have shaped my opinion and attitudes towards religion.

My mother is a devout Catholic and my father is non-religious. Through my father's passivity and my mother's strong beliefs, a strict religious homelife was cultivated for my three siblings and I. We were brought up with the Vatican's versions of right and wrong, family prayer was daily and going to church was at least weekly.

When growing up, it felt as though faith and duty were bound together because beliefs themselves weren't questionable. With other siblings, I think this upbringing of certainty and rigidity strengthened their faith, but to me it had the opposite effect. Due to my passive but rebellious personality, religion felt like something to tolerate rather than to enrich. Church was a place not express my own thoughts, but to just be with them.

When living at home I had felt powerless in the weekly situation of being woken at 7am for church. The first Sunday I moved out to go to university, I didn't go to church. It was my first opportunity to make my own decision, and it was one of control, rather than of religiosity. In the teachings of Catholicism, not going to church on Sunday can lead to eternal punishment, but that didn't cross my mind during my new Sunday lie-ins. The biggest unease I felt was the extent I was disappointing one of my parents.

It's not as if I haven't had enough time in pews to give religion plenty of thought. The only conclusion that makes sense to me is agnosticism. Science cannot disprove deity, because God is not scientific. You can acknowledge religious figures historically, but you can't make a scientific argument for or against their supernaturality. It comes down to faith, which simply some people have, and others don't.

I question why I should believe the one religion I was born into. My conundrum is between choice and dogma: I now cannot have the latter without exercising the former, and if accepting the latter, I must surrender the former. To submit myself to Catholicism, I'd have to surrender agency, the very same thing I should apparently be using to get into heaven.

But the reality of any personal relationship with a macro institution is vastly more complicated than can be reduced to a logical argument like the one above. What it really comes down to is personal experience and from where one draws meaning. Even within Catholicism's supposed dogma, I have seen people with a variety of beliefs and attitudes. Religion seems to be able to attract people for different, sometimes contradictory, reasons, just how people are deterred from it for different reasons. I don't think it's for me.


We're on the same page

Different book

Same genre

Yeah, horror

I will never ever jump out on you. I will lie about your sofa, ceilings and mind, if you don't mind. I'll creep in circles for longer than I'll linger under your thumb or arms. I'll say nothing. The only way you can be sure I'm even there, is because I'll consume your toast.


Feel free to use this email to formulate your next mediocre barely readable retort

Thank you for the idea.

I dare say it might be the most interesting thing on your blog, though you do again, have yours truly to thank for that one.

Keep it coming.

That is definitely one very obvious difference between us, because I write for purpose and I don't argue, and certainly wouldn't be caught dead doing so just for 'the fuck of it' as you seem to be fond of doing.

I never thought of it like that.

You're really quite fragile


You write badly formatted post-teen crap


Your posts aren't what I think anyone considers 'an enjoyable read'


Until you have this many views on one of your posts (see attachment). The most 'read/established blog', that crown is also mine, especially seeing as 4,000 of those views were made within 3 days. You'll have to try a LOT harder though and quite frankly, I don't think it's possible with the content and style of writing you have.

What a handsome attachment.

You're lucky I don't have half a mind to come back and publicly ridicule you for the cheap hack you are. Well anyone with half a brain will realise after wasting time reading just one of your posts that there's nothing worth commenting on at all.

And yet...


Arguing online lacks tone, indifference and commenters who aren't sure about what's right and who's wrong. So I prefer doing it offline, where I've made a hobby of always advocating the hell out of the devil. Having no passionate opinions, I challenge any idea put forward, facetiously switching between viewpoints, at the whim of a desire to get under the skin of anyone exposing that they might care about something. I get no pleasure from upset, only from mild frustration or the exposure of blind indignity. Yet my lack of conversational wholesomeness remains unknown to many who know me only as uncomfortably shy. To find out what I actually think, they'll need internet connection to read how my humour is reactive, conversationally redactive and interactionally unattractive.


Every afternoon chunks of lethal metal spill out of the city, and they're all mad at each other. The evening commute can be frustrating behind the wheel, but in this traffic I find escapism. My bicycle peddles get me past Sat Navs telling the poor to take the next left towards ludicrous APR and the rich in leather seats they love more than their ex-wives. It's my window of life, away from days reserved at a desk and nights of undeserved rest. I pass Ubers stuck up each other's asspipes and feel the wind in my face as I dart by cars and buses crawling in a slow motion notion. It feels good overtaking something 10 times my length. They all want to be me or I just think they do. I don't care which.


Throw acorns at tree trunks, you growing dandelion. Show to a stranger your strength, for it finds a natural conclusion to something now quietly fantastic. Let emerge your elephant lighter, burn a goofy napkin, and watch it ash to the dreams of another duckling. For this catches neither the start nor the end of the tethered lily pads floating hard on tarmac. It's more tarmac of shiny dust than of crying working hearts. We find coverage in an unknown. Until we loose it, again.


There once was a man named Ted Money was all that he had He lost his head, breaking his leg And cried 'cause it never got better

There once was a woman named Lynn Money was all that she had She joined the gym, didn't get thin And cried 'cause she was a quitter

There once was this couple that tiffed Money was all that they had They went for a drive, feeling alive 'til they went off the edge a cliff


She said

I like you

What I wanted to reply was


But what I actually said was

I like you too



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