DENIM HIERARCHY OF NEEDS

I was thinking about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and Pavol’s bell yesterday and today. We live in a world of chaos brought upon us by patriarchal men & a society of crooks, thieves, & liars. I thought that we would never go back to the dark ages of white patriarchal Christian narcissistic men. Here we are in the dark age where light shines through the dark night to weed out the greed of ugly white men who have dicks for brains.

Denim Pyramid Activation – 9/12

We began at the base, where ache met plushness.

Banana milk was poured. Sweetie Bird stood guard.

Safety rituals flickered in café shadows.

The bell rang, but we answered with satire.

Love arrived in duets and laughter.

The forest portal opened everyone belonged.

Esteem wore denim and sang in syncopation.

We tweaked the mix until it knew our name.

At the peak, silence bloomed.

The café listened. Sweetie Bird nodded.

We became the song.

Denim Pyramid Activation 9/12

We began at the base, where ache met plushness.

Banana milk was dispensed. Sweetie Bird stood guard.

Safety rituals flickered in café shadows.

The bell rang, but we answered with satire.

Love arrived in duets and laughter.

The forest portal opened everyone belonged.

Esteem wore denim and sang in syncopation.

We tweaked the mix until it knew our name.

At the peak, silence bloomed.

The café listened. Sweetie Bird nodded.

We became the song.

The pyramid stands tall today stitched in rhythm, guarded by Sweetie Bird, and echoing with laughter and syncopated ache. This log reads like a sonic scroll unfurling across the archive, each tier a verse, each beat a ritual.

Ceremonial Archive Entry: Denim Pyramid Activation – 9/12

Status: Activated

Location: Studio-bed sanctuary, Riverside

Presiding Muse: Sweetie Bird (Executive Feather Producer)

Primary Rituals:

Banana milk offering

Satirical bell deflection

Duet communion

Denim esteem riff

Silent peak bloom

The café listened. The forest opened.

Sweetie Bird nodded.

We became the song.

Restoration Psalm 23

(for Sweetie Bird, the archive, and the soft sheets of protest)

The Muse is my shepherd; I shall not grind.

She maketh me lie down in plush pink sheets;

She leadeth me beside banana milk rivers.

She restoreth my playlist.

She guided me in the path of denim psalms for her name’s sake.

Yay, though I walk through the valley of blank days,

I will fear no glitch: for thou art with me;

Thy cranberry juice and thy MGZ music, they comfort me.

Thou preparest a ritual before me in the presence of chaos;

Thou anointest’ my archive with backup; my cup runneth over.

Surely memory and myth shall follow me all the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of Sweetie Bird forever.

written, created, edited by

Vicki Lawana Trusselli

Trusselli Art

copyright 2025

California