nasty way to go....

when some folks talk about deep,
they're talking about lofty high-minded philosophical musings.
they're referring to a multi-faceted layering of character.
they may even be speaking more literally,
about the distance between sea level and the bottom of a place well below it....
but not me, F*ulators!
my shallow self is talking about takin' it DEEP.
as in:
when the secret universal plan has plotted out some 'character building exercises'.
in the form and function of a prison shower scene,
complete with tattoos.
the lesson?
fortune favors the bold,
but ultimately rewards the worthy.
i guess it's time to reappraise the really real Folk Life warrior worthiness.
because i'm flippin' tellin' ya'll,
yesterday,
i made the x-rays escaping out of black holes look weak.
and i am now fully well aware of how incredibly ferocious and atrocious
the push and pull of hard styles can be.
they abounded.
they abraded.
they assaulted.
i abided.
i witnessed the full breadth of don't-hold-your-breath,
successive, percussive,
pumpin', bumpin', grindin',
and oh-SO-deep, permanently internally damaging doo-doo butter.
i actually even got told, in a familiar and disturbing way:
"it's cool, it's cool, no, really, it's cool..."
(and isn't that what every fella try to assure you when it is certainly NOT cool?)
it was so far around the crap-o-meter wheel,
it circumvented worst,
and went back around to best again.
in the interests of the greater good, (the greater good)
i'm not going to get into the knee-scraping, throat-choking,
bleary, world-weary, and teary-eyed
mutha-flippin', greasy, grimey nitty gritty, ya'll.
i'm keeping that mostly to myself.
i'll let a little peek slip your way, though;
it was mostly composed of:
kip winger songs,
cannabis leafy bald-box babymaker banners,
big boobs,
baby feet,
bad barbering,
asthma attacks,
head lice,
forest service attempted make-out partytime,
morphine (not the band, either),
and a foie gras force feeding of double-troublesome dirty deeds.
c'mon.
you like it.
i will say that the sweet just got exponentially sweeter by comparison,
and i even got a bit better at bein' bitter....
some days you make money,
other days you earn it.
and i should probably have some o.t. comin', my ninjas, after a day like that.
it wasn't all bad, either.
i even saw some friends,
including 'the weiner guy',
and his better half, 
(which is NOT his lower half, take it easy!)
they even brought belated birthday/holiday goodness with 'em.
nice!

it's defining, though.
they ways in which you endure and interpret a boo-boo booty doo-doo dispensed day.
any good storyteller will agree;
the worst situations make great comedies.
the best situations make great tragedies.
and every situation is making history.
don't worry, kids.
a flash-flood of flavorless foolhardies,
an avalanche of A*-tard A-holes,
and a waterspout of weak-sauce waterbabies
ain't gonna break MY stride.
oh! what to do, what to do???
obviously,
there are only ever two options:
just be dope,
or,
F* right off...
eleven.
that's the only number on the dial, ya'll;
never quiet, never soft.....