resolute.

to be more tolerant of acceptably tepid, hot fire-lacking things,
and less tolerant of those things unacceptably so.
...to let what doesn't matter ride,
and to wreak reeking wreck on the weak-saucy side-effects of everything else.
that's been my new year's resolution,
in so many words,
every year,
for the better part of the last decade.
and within reason,
i've been successful.
i do what i can to keep the Folk Life lively
and the documentation of real life kept really real.
i mean,
i don't just roll up and punch dudes in their face-pieces,
even when they deserve it,
at least, not anymore.
the unfortunate aftershock of all that tiring intolerance and irritating acceptance,
is that i find myself letting more and more things ride out the waves of indifference,
because i just don't give a flyin' flippin' f* about 'em.
hermitage, in the woodsly goodness, will do that to a ninja.
the day-to-day dealings with the rest of the doo-doo butterballs just don't matter.
and so it all gets let go of.
it's like an overextension of the basic resolutionary principle.
suddenly,
everything that is NOT the woodsly goodness can chug it...
sort of a laissez faire, "let the waterbabies reap rewards in oceans of weak-sauce,
because i've got my slice of hottness safe and sound up here" type of isolationism.
i've been dispensing decrees and encompassing edicts for too long,
without an injection of interjection.
i've been administering monologues,
and foregoing dialogues,
and that's not cool.
so this year,
i resolve
to interact in an even more intensely intimate manner,
with the whole wider world around me.
every single day, in every single way.
more just be dopeness,
more warrior poetry,
more art, more music, more reading,
more words, but also alot more listening,
more interaction, more introspection,
more compassion, more furious anger,
more self-righteousness arrogance, more self-deprecating humility,
more hard-hearted hate, more empathy and kindness,
more.
the object is more.
to completely flip out over every little thing,
to overreact whenever no reaction is required,
to bring a thunderclap when a golf-clap will suffice,
and in all other berserking, barbarian, battle-beastly, bardic ways,
to take 2009 on a lightningboltin' wild ride all the way to eleven.
harder. longer. louder.
but also softer, smaller,
more tolerant of unimportant small-time dramatic antics,
more intolerant of waterbabyish b!tch-sap bullying,
in other words:
more personally productive,
more emotionally evocative,
more understanding,
more observant,
and ultimately more accessible.

the year of the hottness is here.
the year of the warrior poet.
the year of the real-life documentarian,
the year of the lightning striking viking.
the year of the cultivated coincidence.
the year of the better fate than death.
the year of the fortunate, favored boldness.
the year of the woodsly goodness.
my year.
our year.
accessibility, ya'll.
my doors are open,
my arms are open,
my eyes are open.
2+0+0+9= eleven;
never quiet, never soft.....