and i'm done with this one....

okay,
so now the guy has a peach or two to snack on.
so why peaches?
is there a symbolic innuendo to be read into?
y'know the sort:
there's pits in every sweetness,
under-the-surface hardcore hard cores an' that....
representational fruit, kids,
like trees of knowledge, long life, or vaginas-
is that what's goin' on here?
nope.
peaches are fuzzy, and delicious.
and, i don't have a lot of different colors of cheap craft paint.
i do have red, yellow, and white, though,
which makes the choice of fruit that much simpler.
bananas, apples, oranges, lemons, and peaches.
i picked peaches.
i like peaches.
and that's the whole insider big action on that.
i also do kinda like the occult seance spell pattern etched into the smoky tooth fire hand.
and i'll be honest:
those time cards i bought years ago have been an endless source of background inspiration ever since.
i even rocked the color-coordinated spirit mites, my ninjas.
those're important details in the world of the woodsly goodness, for sure.

it's springlike as heck outside!
i woke up to high forties temps, and wet windy air....
there's mud, and snow, and red squirrels everywhere.
i'm tellin' ya,
those little rodents are pushy and pouty when the 'compost' doesn't make it outside
on a tight and predictable schedule.
they'd make great organized crime collection agents, y'know?
i wonder, sometimes, if these little agents of ratatosk
aren't delivering some secret-coded blueprint from the super top-secret universal plan....
if so,
my eyes and ears are open,
and i'm huckin' out whole hunks of hot toast in payment for the information.
pity i don't speak squirrel,
although i am passingly familiar with nuts.
as in crazy,
c'mon.
(ok, you got me, AND as in balls!)


what is wrong with me?
i get amped on something,
and then just run away like a shoplifter with it, huh?
german stormtroopin' bobot zombie smokers?
c'mon. c'mon. c'mON.


ice dam damnation.
(now you see where the handy tooth model comes from)
i smashed  sh!t-ton of a lot of cold cold water with a hammer yesterday, too.
that manly business is super satisfying, i can tell ya.
there's just a certain kind of contentment that comes from bashing
the battle-beastly spirits into submission.
i'm sayin',
swingin' that steel striker until my arms go all rubbery feels good.
cold safety-glass sprinkles of abysmally frigid ice do not.
i'm thinkin' about bringin' a minor keyed harmonica to minnesota.
something about a full moon,
on the eleventh,
in the prairie, in a city, with some good peoples,
and a sad sad mouth-music maker,
just speaks out to the woodsly warrior poet in me;
never quiet, never soft.....