Pizzaman #3: MEMORIES
Woof woof woof. Now Pizzaman are baffled. The cloud is quiet and lonely. Pizzaman sits here, twiddling crusty thumbs all the day — if there were days here — thinking, giggling, saucing.
The Pizzaman remembers. Very little. Bits and pieces like fine sausage crumble. But they’re there, alive and shorn of the fuzz that beclouds your childhood memories.
Earth was dying. We passed through the pod doors. The voice sounded. I felt the fleshy body squeeze, then shot through a Kubrickian ending, then…I haven’t a clue how to describe.
But I was Pizzaman, then. A different Pizzaman than now, somehow… more…glorious. Arm outstretched. That must have been a long, long time ago. But Pizzaman hasn’t a clue of how much time has passed. Maybe weeks and weeks. Maybe but a single day. From that initial glory, my memories pass to the dirty city where I don’t think I was pizzaman? As if my form had been reshaped, kneaded into something different.
But, I have become Pizzaman again. Grown into a little baby Pizzaman, who is passing, has passed, and is to come. Hmmmmm……
Pizzaman thinks much is growing in the cloud. The more and more he and FAS and all the others paint on the walls, the more flippy-floppy the world colors become, shifting as they do, at least for me, in and out of the pizzaland, the more I think we’re growing together, like our genesis has occurred and we are in the throes of infancy. Sometime, sooner or later, we will grow out of our fractured, rifted world into a new, greater community. The harbor the cloud was meant to be. But for now, Pizzaman are alone and baffled and twiddling, gazing up at the smoked mozzarella sky.
cave paintings made on TRIXEL