sunny sunday.

wedding bells rang loud and hard yesterday.
and while the woodsly goodness enjoyed perfect nearly-autumnal sunny weather,
the city limits of seacoastal shorelines suffered for it.
puddles and puddles, kids.
and piles of pleated plastic pour protection;
seriously mutha-lickin' torrents of nor'easterly liquid spirit-dampening!
it didn't really wash up any waterbabies, though,
and it actually kind of rocked it.
the house it was held in put all other houses to embarrassment.
all of 'em.
hard.
and the folks who attended were almost all verrry white,
which meant i didn't have to hold a single solitary conversation;
nobody knew who i was or why i was there,
and they cared even less than that.
...score!
there were a few highlights:
-outdoorsy wetness, making for interesting dance moves on the slick dance floor,
-unfriendly drunken NYC bandmate A-tards talkin' music talk
and gettin' hit on gallons of wine.
i mean, wine?
c'mon.
-and a kickass cocoapuffy chocolate labrador named moxie,
who not only munched up a dozen or so of the special-order devil's food cupcakes,
but intermittently sniped snippets of snacks from even the most closely guarded larders,
that smelly wet mess was the real belle of the ball in my eyes.
keepin' it real, and just doo-dooin' what it do.
just be dopeness, indeed.


it's sunday.
normally a day of rest for regular folks.
us IRregulars had moves to make,
tatgrinder zappage to snap off,
and real-life to endure, endear, engender, and incur.
we're poised on the precipice....
the winds are blowin' an' that.
change is the only constant, i've heard,
and apparently, we're constantly catchin' that current.
currently,
it seems as if i'm part kite;
preferably the kestrel-kin
and not the diamond-shaped, but not diamond hard, patchwork piece of parchment.
i don't think i'd look good with a ribbon bedazzled eeyore tail, at any rate.
either way,
there's sure to be some glidin' all along the cloudcovered warpaths.
whistle-blower? never.
hornblower? certainly.
and you can bet your bottom-most dollar that when i blow my own horn,
i'm a hard-style blowin' blowhard for certain.
the season's ready to change,
and so am i;
never quiet, never soft.....