moon day.

i make this face when i don't even care a little tiny bit.
 
woe to these windy woods.
thwarting my pillar of pure pyre hot fire and desire.
i'm not trying to defy smokey the bear, y'know?
one of these days, a savage gypsy rock-ringed furnace of fortune will be brought to bear,
and i am already ready to bask in the gilded glow.
the season for warmth, and for comfort is here.
cooled off evenings, down to downright cold nights.
the cast-iron cauldron smell of charred log lengths mimicking dragon tongues is everywhere.
fall is dropping down around me...

i got some tattoo supplies today.
for the big show.
i have a feelin' that some weak sauce will try and ooze it's way into my life this coming weekend,
BUT,
if the secret universal plan shows up ready for action,
then i won't have to bask in the b!tchsap-basted beantown booty butter i know is out to smother me.
what i'm sayin' is:
i'm not doin' any doo-doo buttery better-than-nuthin' charity tattooin', ya'll.
i will bring the thunder.
i will huck some lightning.
i will spit some hot fire.
because,
i refuse to have a bad time.
i don't have a hotel room.
i don't have any fancy appointments.
i don't even know where the convention is being held.
( i DO have some extra long brown stink-sticks, though.)
hand rolled connecticut-tobacco cigars,
a special gift from some special friends.
i refuse the watered down wet-nap weak sauce sorcery seepin' out of the city.
i suggest that same refutation be adapted by ya'll.
non-acceptance of anything below the balls-out bellowing bass-boosted berserker in the red.
worthy livin', y'heard?
of course, it only ever goes to eleven.
shoot, it starts at ten...

barbarian battle bard warrior poetry is poised to wax prophetic.
i predict that i will be at the aquarium, watching an imax movie about sharks,
by saturday afternoon,
instead of tatzap blastin'.....
you know the drill: