'GOOD-BY AND KEEP COLD' (by robert frost)

the last day of june.
and here i am, with the sassy sophisticated seedlin's,
and a beautiful day OFF....
for the few of you who didn't catch it,
the titles of every post this month were lines from a poem,
which i wrote in reverse, just so that today,
the entire poem would be written correctly for you guys to enjoy.
check the post history>>>>
robert frost, ya'll.


i am writing an epic saga in deed and word every day.
a singable stanza added hourly to the magnum opus of my life.
that comes with a pricetag, yo.
it occurs to me that i have made myself into a 'local character'.
like fattie boombattie norm on 'cheers'.
wherever we go in this valley, somebody knows me....
it IS a small world, after all, and the mount washington area world is even smaller at that;
the coffee shop, the art store, the quaint craft emporium, the bakery,
the indian food restaurant,
the post office, the farmer's market, these ninjas be all up on my behind,
wherever, y'know?
i never get accidentally confused with somebody else.
that's great for impressing the kids with my limited small-scale celebrity,
(or is it notoriety?)
but,
it IS a little frustrating in the sense that my woodsly barbarian self
is not always in harmonious sychronized total congruence with sociable civility...
i mean, just cuz you've 'seen me around' shouldn't mean that i therefore want to chat.
fall back, strangers,
i'm sayin'....
i tattooed your friend?
grrrreat. bye, now.
you saw me at the grocery store, and it was a really funny experience for you?
grrrrreat, now who are you?oh, okay, bye, now....
you heard i did WHAT?
nice, in front of my kids, even.....bye, now, a-hole....
i'm making moves to just be dope every day, and it takes work, ya'll.
if duders are entertained by the hottness, that's awesome,
but that's more a symptom of the hottness than a cause of it.
i wonder if these same chatty patty cats would be as bemused if they happened upon the barbarian battle fortress i live at?
big heads and bonfires, bones and battle beasts;
not to mention bullets and berserker bedlam......
ya'll know what i'm spittin'.
all you taxidermists, tatzappers, lsd chefs, photojournalists, deep-cover police, vegans, bicyclists, road-trippers, and lurid life-livers.
these gapers, gawkers, geeks, freaks, and hangers-on we encounter every day
are just the weak-sauce waterstains that come hand-in-hand with being dope.
'we are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams', my duders.
(just ask willy wonka)
they can't help but want to warm up next to our hot fire.
we're not actually LARGER than life,
we're just larger than theirs....


we made a windcatchin' medicine mobile.
the river has been especially generous with the weird wood it washes towards us.
i'm feelin' back on track, with art making thunder replacing rainwater thunder for at least the next three days.
i am going to the post ofice, a week beind schedule, today,
to send out all the past-due delights
that my duders doo-doo deserve.


in the interest of fatherly frenzies, and fresh-to-death funtime foolery,
the kids are gonna be here for an extra week!
fireworks, ya'll.......
you know how it goes:
never quiet, never soft....