1000 Followers! Thank You!

Thank you so much. Thanks to the small fraction of followers who like posts, the even smaller amount that comment on them and the one mystery person who shares them. In particular, I’d like to thank my top commenters of late. You make the writing experience enjoyable and fill it with pockets of hope.
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An octopus was once asked, “Which one of your suckers is your favourite?”

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“Indeed, I don’t prefer one to another as they all perform the same function. Yet, each tentacle can have a different purpose. On occasion that purpose is merely to appear elegant, or crude or artistic. In a situation where I wish to eat a particular snack deep within a tight crevice, I’d favor the sucker upon my longest reach.”

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“What?”

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“… What?”

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It’s hard to pick favourites, but at the moment two of my favourite little suckers are Gateway and The Love I Have For You.

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When I post to wordpress, what you read is the first draft. I fill blank space on a page and just throw it out there. My ‘favourite’ story I’ve posted is Silence.

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It’s funny, the most popular posts on this page are the only non-creative ones: Instagram and Self Sabotage and, of course, Tinder and the Death of Romance. I actually really enjoyed writing these, but they are rants, nothing more.

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It actually saddens me that people would rather read dribble than something creative and less on the nose. Something that may make you think just a little bit harder.

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Anyway…

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What’s next?

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Well, I’m aiming to have The Vile Mint published as a little chap book in the near future. It has works that have never been online as well as reworked poems from this site. I’m also hoping to die a tragic death so my family can capitalise on selling a dead poet’s signed book. I guess if you want a signed copy, just comment below and I’ll reply to you when it’s ready.

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Also, I don’t think I’m a good strategist when it comes to building a large audience for my blog. I’m always open to suggestions. If you could help in any way I’d love to hear from you.

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Thanks again! Here’s to another 1000!

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Randall Evans.

Simultaneity


When stress begins to take control.

Begin to think of time as whole.

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Streams keep flowing as you think,

And death takes men with every blink.

One foot in fire; One in ice.

Arms outstretched in depth and height.

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A child dies within the womb,

A flower dances in it’s bloom.

Love’s first kiss on nervous lips.

Flying birds and sinking ships.

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Midnight, midday, they are the now,

Awake, Asleep, a death, a vow.

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What are we but selfish beings?

Emotions flow immediately.

Perspective points of different seeing,

Stuck not in time, in sensory.

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If I were time I’d laugh and cry.

In every second I pass by.

With focus on each lone event,

A flapping wing, a final breath.

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Stress all you want and waste the day.

The trees don’t stress, they only sway.

A butterfly lands on a child’s nose,

And time holds more than what you know.

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Written by Randall Evans.

Sour Drop Dream

A line of youth are seeking,
A child’s gaze a peeking.
As tingling lips are leaking,
On a face that’s far from speaking.

Sour drops shoved in his mouth,
More than that which I can count.
An aching jaw that can not close,
But this is fun and that he knows.

Aspire to be like this boy,
Treat the world like it’s a toy.
It doesn’t hurt to have a dream,
That no one else has ever seen.

Some things don’t make sense to us,
Who don’t like dirt or mud or fuss.
But, remember children’s eyes that beam,
And dare to have a sour drop dream.

Written by Randall Evans

Trying out some writing prompts I found here: Prompt
I’m going to try and post every day, so if the quality goes down… Read an old post.

Instagram and Self Sabotage

Intagram-Devil1

Yesterday I was in a doctors waiting room and the mother next to me started to breastfeed her little girl.

I almost vomited.

What an unattractive, disgusting bimbo she was.

Oh, I’m sorry. Let me explain. As the absolutely gorgeous child was drinking her mother’s milk, the mother was scrolling instagram. Now, this in itself wasn’t bad until I noticed that every single photo was of a photoshopped model. Their perfectly shaped curves reflected off the child’s eyes as she drank.

I understand why men follow hot girls on instagram, but why do women? Men are visual creatures. Men are weak. The moral compass of the average man is based on what is socially acceptable. All men do it, but what makes it even easier for men to follow insta-porn is that women do it too.

Why do women follow sexy fitness models?

The instagram feed we hold in our hand is a manifestation of our desire as well as the confirmation of our own belief. Now, what does that mean?

We believe we aren’t good enough, so we follow someone who we believe is better than us. Our belief of inadequacy subconsciously tells us to follow what we want to become. We believe we aren’t good enough, so we choose every spare minute we have reminding ourselves that we aren’t good enough.

Isn’t this… Messed up?

Or, maybe you think it’s healthy to constantly bombard your senses with the most beautiful people in the world showing off the best luxuries in the world while you wonder why it’s so hard to leave the house without putting on make up? Maybe you think it’s a wise to replicate the attitude of people who’s success is based on nothing more than being born beautiful or being able to be in the position to train their body for 12 hours a day?

Take your power back.

Follow pages of art, nature, love, kindness, charity, music, education, culture, poetry! Saturate your retinas with stunning images of everything beautiful in this world. Beauty isn’t perfectly drawn eyebrows and life isn’t about taking photos in exotic locations.

As a man, the most unattractive thing a girl can do on social media is to ‘like’ photos of hot women they don’t know.

Unfollow all the shallow creatures of this earth. Set an example for the little girls out there who’s childhood are cut short be the desire to fit in in the new world of public perception.

And if you don’t unfollow the foolishness, that’s fine too. But, you can never again complain about how there is unfair pressure on women to look pretty. You are putting that unfair pressure on yourself. Every day.

Maybe this rant is ignorance, or maybe I’m just tired of people choosing to feed their mind with unattainable desires that serve no purpose to their long term happiness.

Who do you follow?

PS: No, the story about the breastfeeding isn’t true, but you get the point.

Written by Randall Evans
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Thanks for reading The Vile Mint. If I was able to spark your imagination, make you think or open your mind to new perspectives, please leave me a comment. I love hearing from readers and building relationships. God Bless.

Tinder & the Death of Romance

Tinder-logo

We live in an age of superficial sexual pleasures. An age where we confuse consequence with cause. Instead of attraction being an organic combination, selection of a partner is now determined by one thing. Looks. The swirling pool of flesh bombards the retinas without any imagination required.

Dating is a violent sport. Instead of being an exciting adventure in a particular stage of life, it’s become a layer of irritating vexations, test driving multiple vehicles at once with no intention of a purchase. It’s normal to see multiple people at once, all at various stages of the initial dating phase, which is typically somewhere near, or past, home base.

Where do we go in this confusion? It’s no longer a matter of finding a diamond in the rough, because the true authentic romantics don’t play by the new rule book. They open doors for one person, buy roses for one person, experience anxiety over one person and dance with one person. And if it doesn’t work out, they cry over one person.

How can anybody feel loss with so many replacement parts on the market? They can’t feel loss, they only feel lost over time. Time after time, date after date, they wonder why they feel so down. It’s not meant to be like this.

It’s not normal to play the field.

It’s not normal to base your attraction on what a potential partner looks like in a photo.

It’s not normal to use romance as a tool rather than expression.

Actually, all these things are normal… But it’s not right.

The world is filling up with the tears of those who feel alone. They have been stripped of their worth as what love once was has been replicated and twisted into technique and fabrication. When lust reigns supreme, will we remember what love felt like? Where has she gone? Love is shivering in the cold corner of the woods.

Lead her into the light. Be gentle and fearful of such beauty.

Love is patient… Love is kind.

Are you?

 

Written by Randall Evans

This is The Vile Mint.

Joshologue #2

There are too many elephants in my room.

I’m talking to myself again. The fact that we have two ears and one mouth means that what we say about ourselves is amplified exponentially until it explodes in our minds. The feedback of actualization.

Part of the reason I talk to myself is to hear my own voice. I know that must sound strange, but that’s how our voices sound when we hear them; Strange. Haven’t you ever heard your voice on a recording and asked, ‘Is that what I sound like?’

I bet you can’t even remember the last time you heard your own voice when no one else could.

After listening to myself I realized that my voice doesn’t belong to me.

The voices are coming from the elephants.

The speak on my behalf as I rush to cover them with hay. The more I hide them, the bigger they become.

When I try to hide things about myself I become like a drunk man trying to present himself sober to enter a bar. What I’m hiding becomes obvious.

But then the people watching ask the most important question of all:

“Why does he want to be in the bar so desperately?”

– By Randall Evans.