bring the noise.

turn it up, my ninjas.

it's sunday,
and most folks have the day off.
not me, though.
and not just because i'm the reverend rock, either;
i've got a ferocious weeklong workload,
chock full to the tippity-tip-top
with school-vacationing families,
visiting with my peoples,
and tourist town destination designation,
throughout the following seven days.
tatblastzapzippin',
disposessed posessions packin',
hot vegan deliciousness cookin',
new location lookin',
& most of all,
hard-style hustlin'.
that's what it's lookin' like over here.
wicked busy business.
all day, every day,
all the way past ten,
to eleven.....
i'm thinkin' it's time to go about gettin' some runes tattooed.
lightning-striking viking berserker barbarian battle-beast
warrior benedictions, mutha-uckas.
legitimate fresh and flavorful skin-scribed spirits and memories.
a little bit of nordic trackmarks,
healing hard and dry,
whilst still gettin' so busy all the time?
uh-huh,
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
believe it.

if you haven't yet bought
(or pirated or downloaded or whatever)
the new morrissey album,
"years of refusal",
then you might be an a-hole!
what i mean is:
go and get it,
and listen to it as hard as you can.
it's ridiculously classic.
you need it.
really, you do.

relocation. re: location. real-location.
that's the three big things right now, kids.
where i'm from, where i'm at, where i'm going.
somewhere, somewhere else, and nowhere.
hard-style sundays,
for sure;
never quiet, never soft....