memory.

it's a dang good thing i have a good memory.

for real.

because that's about all i've got in terms of sleep.

i mean,

i remember what it's like,

but not from recent firsthand experience.

bloated bellyholes?

now that is a little somethin' of which

i'm explicitly aware of,

from direct semi-aquatic current occurrences.

semi-aquatic?

y'know,

shark gluttony.

except,

where sharks need constant motion in order not to die,

sucking in water to get air-

i do more of a continuous bite and swallow,

with less lungfuls and more mouthfuls-

as if food was the water,

and chompy-chomping on treats was the air...

that's somethin', duders.

i'm just sayin',

i ate three breakfasts in one sitting, with dessert.

i doo-doo that cartilaginous predatory battle-beast sh!t.

my infinite nature is weighs a metric ton.

how can i be so skinny, and live so fat?

***********

yeah,

between yawns and subsequent facefuls of food,

real life still-life posed picture portraiture is poppin' off.

and so is pen and inky drawing,

dead birds,

bitten dogs,

debates en espanol,

and non-stop arthur-making hottness,

and yet, somehow,

there's still only a fraction of what needs doing getting done.

hard work, hard styles, and soft foods.

you'd think we'd have the matters all well in hand,

but,

all these hands over here have teeth,

which equates to wild animal prestidigitation an' that,

and the sleights and slants and slithers of

elusive productivity all get confused

in a rumbling jumble of laughs and tubas.

activity isn't the same as productivity, y'heard?

the difference is the accumulation of results.

of course,

there hasn't been a pause in the production since i landed.

it's just that the object is MORE.

too much, even, would be the preferred amount.

or ANY.

(that would be a good amount if we're talking about sleep.)

in the meantime,

there's only forty-eight or so hours left to get busy.

so we're busy,

gettin' busy-

...more of this;

never quiet, never soft.....