*calls for love.*
all we need. all of us. get over who what and when. we’re free to do that which is best, and there’s work to do. hop to. two? hep? mrow. expression of. also.
in polite society, discussing ones’ meds is just something to do. come on, man. i’m a human being. the connections i describe to you are only so that you see me as that. for that is simultaneously the bare minimum, and the greatest gift you could give another.
but this i know, you need to befriend some fuckin’ vag. yuh huh. sausage fest up in your piece. place. y’all get fuckkin aggro drunk together all the time? no wonder y’alls ichin to knock some sense into each other. cripes. go for jogs together. learn the urban landscape and pathways through the aether. be where you are. be not. and you can knock off the constant judgment/harassment/demands, too. sometimes you gotta let there be silence.
so, your workers are going to fall into a number of categories, and they’ll have different levels of capability. will they? preferences. whatever. don’t put judgment besides an honest assessment of your capabilities. knowing where i need to improve (intrapersonal interaction for reproductive purposes) this town’s sluts are sex-starved prudes (dammit! see!) i only really need hugs. yes, we know. we are amassing as we speak. yess, thanky.
how i see this going down. we join up with the occupiers, and we multiply our people-feeding apparatus. are we a food center or are we a food centre? far as i can tell, the food court in the center-point “marketplace” (the fucking mall!) has fed more people. you got electricity. people that live nearby got hot plates and big coffee makers (churchies, do. yuh huh.) make food in the food making place. train people on the organic means of cleaning and maintaining that area. find a source of stainless, and start chopping and welding that shizznizzy into useful and height-adjustable configurations. before water is connected, people can carry milkjugs full of water, camping containers full of water, or old carlo-rossi bottles full of water. are we a recycling operation, or are we a recycling operation? there’s a bulk-selling food “coop” (not to be confused with a cooperatively owned enterprise) that sells all the bulk goodies that you would need to produce in-house granola, breads, yogurt (with farmers’ help, of course), and many other fine food outlets that sell quality food if you are willing to dig and experiment and find the rawest materials that exist for production of the most creative and interesting concoctions we can imagine. we all cook. we all carry. we all swing a hammer. we all pull nails. we all manage projects, and we all follow crew leaders. we all learn. we all help each other find our must useful roles, and we experience time with one another as we see fit. we need an old school to occupy. that would be ideal. we walk towards those. one foot in front of the other.
it’s not sustainable that when i’m in your presence, i want to hold you constantly. especially when your boyfriend is in the same room. bro, that ufking goatee is wicked.
driving to point Thursday morning, i came down the hill immediately after the property where i grew up. a few deer darted across the road about a half-mile ahead, and a bald eagle took off from the guard rail and swooped down to the field below. i saw it from above, wings and tail fully spread. i yelled out loud like an excited kid. i do like i am. you can like it or love it. it feels good to grow fifty grand and think nothing of it.
i’m off to get my car in better running order.
thanks for your attention.