On Growing Up… ^{2}

I’ve been vegan for the better part of my adult life, about 12 years, and in time I’ve become much more moderate in my views – or perhaps much more “realistic” is more accurate. The 16 year old me would be horribly disappointed with some of the choices the 28 year old version has made in respect to veganism – but 28 year old me thinks that 16 year old me was kind of an idiot.

I’ve come to realize that so much about what we believe in is about symbolism and we will do things that defy logic to maintain the appearance of consistency. For example – I had a pretty strict “no leather” policy for many years which has since become a “no new leather” policy. The concept of wearing skin hasn’t stopped being disturbing to me on one level or another but in theory I’d rather save a pair of used leather shoes from becoming landfill than buy a new pair of synthetics (which carry with them their own environmental considerations) that won’t last me half as long – it just doesn’t make any sense. Yet still, no amount of rationalization could ever convince me that my desires (to consume flesh) are worth the suffering they inflict.

Last week a friend and I were walking through Stanley Park and no sooner did she ask about the slaughterhouse nearby did we hear the screams of the pigs being sent to slaughter. You can hear them screaming into the night, across the park but their screams fall on deaf ears. No one is coming to save them and I don’t think it’s fair that any living being should have to die that way – disoriented, terrified, huddled en masse, dying together yet entirely alone.

Every now and then you need to see, hear or feel something that reminds you who you are and what is important to you – I can’t do much to improve their situation but knowing that they don’t scream for me does provide me with some level of relative comfort.

“I just sit and watch the box-cars roll by and wait. Patient. Unattended. A package under a terminal bench. A short fuse to scatter steady hands if I forget to remember that better lives have been lived in the margins, locked in the prisons and lost on the gallows than have ever been enshrined in palaces.”

By MattRennick Category: Food, Random

Magic Beans, Mostly. ^{3}

Now, I’m not much of a coffee drinker – in fact I am not a coffee drinker with a huge black period. Sure, I’ll take the occasional sip of someone’s Soy Latte but I don’t remember the last time I actually went and had a cuppajoe. It tends to make me a little jittery and has the potential to destroy my stomach but truth be told, I don’t drink coffee because I think it tastes pretty gross – or does it? Maybe I’ve just never had good coffee… I have now. Thanks Nick, Sam & Matt – I drank black coffee from the top of the cup to the bottom and I just might do it again.

If you’re a coffee-head and you haven’t checked this place out yet… well… you’re not a real coffee-head. Yeah, that’s right, you’ve been called out. Now get in there soon because they are taking pre-orders for cups of a magical coffee grown deep in the jungle (the mighty jungle) that if brewed just right, will give you the ability to see through the clothing of whoever you chose… that’s right ladies, if you’re one of the lucky few to get on that list you may get to see The Rennick in the way you’ve always dreamed of.

Manic Coffee – 426 College Street (@ Bathurst)

By MattRennick Category: Food, Random