get busy.

headed out of my homestead early.
headed home again late later on.
what's going on?
i've been tattooing.
i do that, y'know.
in fact, i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
i've actually been tattooing a lot.
sticking peoples,
for their papers.
damn, ninjas.
i suppose it makes sense.
it IS my job, after all.
it's just that i've spent the better part of two years
only getting to blast on the left over weak-sauce ideas.
the ones i never ever even had to use my brain on.
at all.
an immediate switch-up flipped on the jump-up.
last saturday's bat-sh!t berserker frenzy,
has clearly caused some coming-clean karmic mix-up.
now,
the turnaround for hottness is off the hinges.
big, bright, burly, beautiful business is the order of the day.
on the ones, duders,
i've been zapping my actual a-hole off of my body.
i think i even left it at work last night.
so many rad tattoos are getting done-
too bad about that broken camera, huh?
yeah.
***********
who cares about what goes on in the woods?
anybody?
i'm still going to tell the story anyway.
i'd like to acknowledge the new hottness;
the resultant rewards of true belief,
in regards to the secret universal plan.
concentric overlapping circles, kids.
i'm telling you,
what you put out comes back again.
you need that perseverance, mutha-uckas.
responding with right action,
and not retribution,
seems to have been the get-fresh flavor.
i think that was the responsible adulthood talking, though.
normally,
berserkers just flip on out of their ninja-bag.
but,
that didn't seem to be working out so tough.
happily,
the plan was looking out for it's own,
with a little kamikaze guidance.
what?
no, not suicidal dive-bombers...
...straight-up divine wind, kids.
that's the one with the blowing answers.
like, to the question:
what happens when honor culture
meets worthy F*ing Folk Life adversaries?
i'm just sayin',
rocks don't care about storms.
they just do what they do.
rock.
noun and verb.
albie rock, duders.
believe it.
the ability to absorb incredible amounts of punishment,
and still maintain the mindset of a worthy warrior poet.
that's that william-wallace-yelling-'FREEDOM'-with-his-guts-out jauns.
that's endurance.
demolition derby-type hard-style pounding.
if you can still move afterwards,
and you haven't been crippled by soul-crushing waterbabyishness,
then you win.
1-0.
the prize?
a change of scenery,
a change in my work environment.
after war, change.
it has been awfully windy, my ninjas.
***********
i guess it's true;
without the bitter,
the sweet's just not as sweet.
i've practically got a toothache, kids,
dipping down on the delicious daily dose of
doldrums-and-doo-doo-destroying dopeness,
doled out with decidedly devious delight.
my slice has enlarged, ya'll.
there may really even be more pie to eat off of, too.
but one less mouth munching it up,
that's more and more.
and more.
that is the object, yeah?
neither the biggest nor the most beautifullest,
just more.
of this real life.
it continues to really be happening.
i am grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....