The mayascopic nanoglyphs that tickled the neural tendrils below the scalp's surface and made my neck hairs get hards-on spoke to me today of "community service" (and "roads" as well btw, which we may travel down if time allows) and naturally the monkey said, "We must wait. mutt, we ain't communists!" but in fact my closet is painted pink in a most metaphorical sense and if we can (Say it, sisbrahthren: YES! WE! CAN!) CHANGE and learn some new tricks my perky puppies, and color our cubicles outside the lines and spectrum of politypical stereotype, and Think/create Different perhaps in muted shades of archetype and drop all preconceived notions that might be associated with a particular label or symbol or word, then let me tell you why i'm a freakin' commie bastid (at least the former; as the latter 'bastid' labeling is a curious tale of false and stolen identity crises/catastrophe catalyzed and catechized by contradictory comedic catholicynicism and 'tis a tale worthy of its own tick) but back on track i'm a commie because i engage in and interact within and throughout a particular community of simultaneous multiple voluntary associations, institutions and organizations. I have conscious and comfortable individualistic, anti-authoritarian (and therefore sometimes anti-social, as authority often imposes willful INvoluntary association/participation) but no man is an island and while i enjoy solitude i also thrive on fellowship and collective celebration and family but what is "community' for me and how best to SERVE?
That is the question, my sisbrahthren, for above all, I cannot deny, i am here for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that is to serve up a heapin helpin of Aluminated Love. And so, once again, my quest is but a brand new menu of the same old shit.
How can the midnight moonlit howl of the coyote or the frivolous playful antics of the monkey be harnessed as the Power to Love and feed and energize across the universal digisphere of humanity. what kind of heart-healthy blue plate comfort food greasy spoon special can i toss like a UFO into the wireless ethernet and have it arrive steaming and tasty upon your virtual lap-dog/dinner-table top?
If we can, in fact as well as fairy tale, serve ourselves/each other via virtual metaphorical flying saucers/pie plates, I'll take mine A LA MODE:
if you giggle chuckle chortle or even smile just a teeny tiny bit
You Have Been Served.
The joke's on me and the rest is on the house.
A bottomless bowl - a bubbly bisque of
say it with me:
optional side of lentil spray.
may i become like a child, julia.
bone ape tit.