president's day.

(observed)
thanks, in part, to the looong weekend,
i'm takin' one for the home team
and as such i'll be tatblasting all day,
makin' whatever dollars there are out there,
scrimpin' up the loose change,
and planning and preparing for the big action.
my tuesday/wednesday weekend is destined to include all the usual,
incomparable, unavoidable ingredients of Folk Life hottness.
fire,
snowforts,
brocolli bread,
books, movies, playmobils,
and all the traditional new hampshire family funtimes.
of course,
it IS somewhat dependant on how fresh the schedule is over at my work situation.
i know i'm starting off with a name gettin' covered up,
and then a rework of someone else's weak sauce,
followed by some other 'nother name on some other 'nother duder after that,
of course,
to replace the covered up one,
and bring balance to the force
and ending off with a half-armband of big black spikes.
triiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibal!!!!
some tattooers are too good for that sort of thing.
i mean, they're tattoo artists, after all.
i'm tryin' to get those dollars, my ninjas,
and black spike money spends the same as all the rest.
and while the subject of serious deep d-stick destruction is fresh in my mind,
as it pertains to yesterday's post,
as it was described to me last night;
butt poetry?
c'mon.
seems like an odd piece of praise(?) for the poorly-phrased paragraphs i compose,
but still,
butt poetry?
it just sounds so gangster.
battle bard skaldic stanzas,
about takin' it so deep.
reverse mix-a-lot, even.....

in other news;
my uncle ed's birthday is happening.
he's gettin' old.
and he's stayin' awesome.
and that's all i ever expect from him,
and he never disappoints.
that's also the secret to our excellent relationship...
he just be's dope,
and so do i,
and we mutually respect the hell outta each other for do-doin' that sh!t.
talk about dudes who just do what they do!
packs and packs of camel unfiltered's since the sixties, ya'll.
pink brooks brothers shirts, bow-ties, blue blazers, loafers,
the whole academic elitist flavor.
he taught me about art, literature, taste, class, food, films, travel, history,
and a whole bunch of other stuff, too.
he's the reason i have a beard ya'll.
it's more of a shout out than a style-bite, though....
no sh!t.
my dad, however, is in some strange way responsible for the long hair,
and the effeminate hair ties.
weird.
the male influences in my life collided in a perfect storm of 'hood and high-society,
and the end result?
berserker barbarian battle-beastly warrior poetics,
building and destroying real life Folk Livin',
in the woodsly mutha-uckin' goodness.
i can live with that.

nature.
nurture.
concious choice.
three important ingredients;
what you're made out of
isn't always determinate of what you're made OF,
or what you make of it.