epic barbarian battle-beast stickers are here.
these go to eleven.
you know you want some.
send me some mail,
and i'll send you back something louder than 10.
my small 'uns are leavin'.
weak sauce, son.
the kind of thing that stays hard to do.
or at any rate, it never gets easier.
heart wrenching.
especially the wrenching part.
word.
this time is to be spent with the pebbles, son,
as in the small rocks, like.
act like you know about it.
summer is over.
harshness.
still,
the moments i've made monument to in my august living were well worth the costs.
time and money, and one equates to the other,
but spending both to create thought and memory, son.
overlapping rings of resonating ripples.
it's the sound of Folk Life livin'.
get with it,
never quiet, never soft....
3 comments:
I'll take some elevens please. Have The Guerc call me.
at least you have something else to look forward to and keep your mind off the seedlings being gone.
although my sauce cannot compare to the "done brought double dare tagteam" of the youngins,
i do indeed intend to bring it,
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