50-50.

after a looong day of paintin',
banana bread toastin',
peein' hot fire,
Folk Life livin',
and 24 thick oily inches of veggie submarine-style heroic hoagie grinders,
i'm full.
full-bellied,
full of sh!t,
full-hearted,
full.

the problem with things being fifty-fifty,
is that you're every bit as likely to NOT do something as you are TO do something.
either you make it,
or you don't.
...dang.
i didn't make it down the mountain to see my very very talented eastcoast revisiting buddy,
mr. shawn hebrank,
mainly due to the distance and distress i seem to induce in all rural reclusive situations.
i was lookin' down the turnpike to the tune of 5 mutha-flippin' hours,
in each direction,
from the woodsly goodness to the doo-doo butter of the worst state this side of connecticut,
even though new england touches itself in so many closeknit highways and byways!!
clearly,
the interstate system is kidding-
that much ridin' for a few moments of comradery sounds explosively gaytarded to me.
it didn't take that long to fly to minnesota for cryin' out loud!
sorry, buddy,
but my road trippin' days were numbered in the best of cases, anyway,
and the extra hot fiery fury
lazerbeaming out of my lightsaber just isn't helping any damn thing.
blame it on making the miniature minutes matter more,
but there isn't an audiobook on earth that could've made today an all day car day.
even odds, as it was,
there will always be next time,
whenever that is.


oh,
and while i'm chopping up the recyclables,
and stressing out and all about the time consuming,
hand cramping,
laborious glorious intensity of my quasi-cartoon
mosaic maniac arthur schedule,
jess will just pop out some incredibly excellent super-freshness.
that's a renaissance mandolin octopus, b!tches.
and it is DOPE.
it's great having a reminder made out of turbo-hottness living alongside me every day.
a blonde haired and blue eyed cautionary keep-it-real coconspirator,
tellin' me with words, with deeds, and in pictures;
just be dope,
and keep doing what you do.
harder.
louder.
longer.
more.
because i've got a lotta  catching up to do, my ninjas.

it's ladies night for my sweetie and her homegirls,
which makes it man night,
in the singular,
in this house,
until the estrogen boosted super soul sisterhood returns;
never quiet, never soft...