with crazy glazy girlies helpin' finish the flavor-
so what've we got to show for that?
we've got doughnuts and cake and sh!t for breakfast.
recognize, duders, that the Folk Life collective is ON it.
we gets it in, i mean.
that's some sunday fun-day sugarsap-slathered nutrition
...for every-flippin'-body's face.
it's all vegan,
and it's all from scratch,
because box mix is for suckers.
and all that tasty treatsies after another
'nother other grillfest last night.
what's the best way to close out an awful afternoon of working?
with dinner for ten,
which goes to eleven,
on the fly,
with no meal plan at all.
we even made a new new friend.
two new entries in under a week?
c'mon.
we got them jauns.
harvest, maple, cucch, jess, holly, leah,
elsah, jim, brooklyn, & me.
so many full bellies crowded around the crucial campfire.
together-times, y'all.
it happens.
culinary conquests, and dietary domination.
we doo-doo that type of hard-style flippin' out.
throw in a big black stink-sausage in double dark maduro wrappings,
and it became a late-night hard times weird dreamland span.
nicotiana tabacum, my nin's.
stumps.
far past the point of puking, green faced and woozy,
and backdrafted bellowing-billows back again.
it's like choosing the wrench, for your mouth.
for sure.
not to mention the serenity-stripped sleepytimes,
scorched with stenchsome smells,
and grindcore rythymless rapid eye movements.
deep sleep, only takin' it deep, and without so much sleep.
long nights lead to ever-earlier mornings-
and,
at stilldarkout o'clock, a.m.,
the littlest birds in the land pee-peeped out
the loudest, long-lasting litany of wakeful warbles
specifically concentrated outside my window.
just for my eardrums only, apparently.
no sleep, and brooklyn left hours ago.
go figure.
***********
what could be a better denouement to dopeness,
than even more painus-in-the-anus tattoos today?
biggest?
nope.
most beautifulest?
no way.
okay,
but, what about MORE??
of course. that's the whole point.
the rest of the fam' is resting and relaxing,
swimming and tent sale-ing and baby animal petting-
but not the pugilistic poet we all know and tolerate.
naturally,
i'm holding it down in zipzap land all mo-b!tchin' day-o.
i'm back on my grind.
i doo-doo that sh!t, too.
holidays?
what is holidays?
a grand don't come for free, son.
do work, kiiiiiid,
and get that mother-F*n' movie check;
never quiet, never soft.....
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