friday the thirteenth.

bad luck!
bad movies!
jason flippin' vorhees.
kane hodder, even.
black cats crossing paths.
broken mirrors.
walkin' under ladders.
steppin' on cracks.
that's right, all you superstitious sallypants,
today's the big day.
the unluckiest date on the calender!
the devil's day.
it's also my old friend mr. adam mazza's 40th birthday.
man, 40 already...that IS bad luck.
i mean, happy birthday!
now,
maybe it should be noted that i'm a big-time believer in the power of the jinx.
all that cultivated coincidence vanilla skydiving that i'm always doing
has made me a little gun-shy,
or at least shell shocked,
or maybe just pragmatically aware of the What Is-ness of the way things really are.
it doesn't mean i don't strive for barbarian boldness,
it just means i know that the wrench is what i'm choosin' every time.
the harder way sorta seems to be the one and only way.
but what's the alternative?
steep in the sap of waterbaby weal-sauce?
doesn't look good on that front, ya'll.
i'll keep up the hard-way hard style 'til i'm blue in the face,
like a regular william wallace,
ridin' out to meet the day.
whatever it brings.
no matter how unbelievably, incrementally worse-than-every-yesterday it gets
so,
knock on wood, my ninjas,
and throw a pinch of salt with your right hand over your left shoulder!
today is the day!
every day is.
word.
never quiet, never soft....