hot fire.

stacking.
sorting.
sifting.
re-stacking.
splitting.
wood has needs, ya'll.
demanding ones, even.
there's some powerful sauce in there.
i'm reminded of that big business daily at around 3:30-4:30 a.m.
because that's about when i'm F*ing with the woodstove.
it's a little tiny bit weird doing old yankee new englandy stuff.
only because i wasn't raised to love rustic old bustedness.
i like union suits, too.
all kinds of rural real Folk Life action.
there's a comfort in old ways, y'know?
that kind of stuff stands the test of time.
the new hottness is almost never the modern convenience.
modern convenience is obsolete the moment it is created.
apple corers don't need software upgrades.
that's word.
i mean,
sparkle bobotronic computer phones?
downloadable apps?
i-tarded, rude, texthole space-age whatevers?
try staying warm with any of those b!tches.
c'mon.
come up to the woodsly goodness,
turn them jauns off,
and maybe help a ninja split some kindling.
it's good for you.

so i'm on this material fast, right?
it's the eleventh, already,
and i haven't bought a thing.
no morning coffees and social interaction,
no new camera to take pictures of good stuff with,
no water resistant shoes to keep my feet dry,
and no books or treats or shirts or anything.
it's awful.
and it isn't like there's piles of extra money
just heaping up and laying around as a result, either.
but,
stick-to-itiveness is important, i've heard.
tenacity, they call it.
follow-through an' that.
so i'm all adbustery and transcendent in my wordly cravings.
sure i am.
i'm getting it going with two days off,
and lots to do,
inside, and outside,
and under the mutha-F*ing house.
all this stuff that i get to do,
and no juice.
where's the fun in that.
save the simple free pleasures for the hippies, y'heard?
i'm sayin',
there'so kind of fun like expensive fun.
but since we're making do or doing without:
woodsly goodness,
i need some juice-
bring me a little tiny bit of some new hottness;
never quiet, never soft.....