do you think it is possible to get anything done around here?
maybe,
but not lately.
stilts unbuilt, (which my butt is kinda amped about)
fires unblazed,
acorns unroasted up,
how does one's sauce become so weak i wonder?
could it be the rainwater is diluting my otherwise overpowering aura?
a showertime rinse-off of keep-it-realness?
don't worry too much, people.....
you'll rest easy knowing that whatever else isn't happening,
the wrench-choosing war winds sure have got it poppin'......
at least tomorrow starts an 8 day gutbusting binge of disproportionately disgusting size and shape....
the fryeburg fair.
feverish flavorful falafel fury, ya'll.....
seriously,
get ready to read about a serious weeklong gastrointestinal ragnarok.
valhalla is emptying out,
and loki, the midgard serpent, fenris, and the giants are gonna be battling to remake the world.
inside my bellyhole.
falafels, my ninjas,
big fat bumpy boulders of burly sesame sauce-soaked beanbombs.
right off my body.
that's where my butthole will be,
most likely by day 3.
'splosions, son.
always dope.
if peoples were visiting, (which you really should be doing)
you'd be livin' the folk liveliness right alongside me,
and my disembodied butthole, too.
rainy days,
dark nights,
earlier and earlier,
never quiet, never soft...
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