Dear Maslow, You Forgot Drugs and Alcohol

by Shaina

Shaina Loew (duh, who else writes on here right now?)

If you can describe the difference between twerking

and the Pokemon Butterfree’s courtship dance,

we can be friends.  Perhaps it’s hard

to say in a dark club, but I would say it starts and ends

with the wearing of leggings versus wings.  Consider

the matter over a shrunken head, under an avalanche

of lime, on a cloud of

snow.  Forget it; now you’re getting

away in a cab on a bridge.  See how unimportant

the need to breathe and shit might seem now?  So

this zooming must be somewhere after the Safety and somewhere

amidst or above the Self-Actualization…the part that gets

me is what good is a hierarchy when at some point

the hierarchical matter becomes questionable.  Or anything—like

why answer the question when Butterfree aren’t real or

we’re not.  What are leggings.  I’ve heard “not pants.”  What are

pants.  Winnie the Pooh is laughing somewhere.  Someone once

told me to keep my pants in the freezer.  It’s astounding

with all these questions about barriers between legs and world that we have time

to worry about an order to human reassurance.  Like…

who cares about their IRA when we’re too busy looking at

Becky’s butt?