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There is something that happens when we come into (or come back to) this world. We develop a sort of necessary callous on our sensing selves. We become callous. The little jabs and passive-aggressive, would-be humorous insults help to desensitize us from the pain of of our poisonous and jagged interactions with each other and our environment. We obsessively cleanse each other with language, we make each other warm with our words so that we aren't raw, so that we won't be subject to the disease-causing dangers of our inevitable poisons, our spoiled nature. We do this with all the fastidiousness that one of us might use when preparing an animal for sacrifice or consumption (if there is even a difference between those two processes). So I'm here, and I understand why we do these things. I don't necessarily enjoy the muted flavors and artificial preservatives... and I'm okay with being on the menu and choosing from it. All that said, I would like my love, companionship and participation to be served rare -- and a little dirty. I'll tend towards the wild. I want to stay at least a little bit unprepared.

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