wishbones.

turkey day.
a whole day dedicated to dead birds.
talk about sexy.
nothing says:
'dear life,
thanks a whole bunch.',
like stuffing stale bread and celery up the
daddy's house of a deformed, chest heavy,
ballbag-faced avian sacrifice.
thanks, life.
of course,
we'll be skipping the carcass,
but the gravy will certainly be in full effect.
somebody mentioned that sports get played super-hard today, too.
i haven't had t.v. in so long, i always miss out,
if you can call it missing out;
i mean,
my lack of interest in sweaty college jocks has
ALWAYS been pretty flippin' low,
so i'm probably not missing much.
word.
there's a parade today, too,
that mutha-lickin' fat americans love to gawk at
before the fat feast begins.
duders,
i HATE parades.
people walking,
holding stuff.
people on giant flat road-barges,
waving.
balloons, small, large, and 'tardedly huge,
blowin' in the wind.
it's just no fun, kids.
i mostly hope the firetrucks show up quick,
so i'll know it's over.
and traffic can get back to normal,
so i can get where i need to be.
it turns out that today,
i'm already where im supposed to be,
so the XI-mas tree lightning,
and greasy dead bird doo-doo butter,
can elapse without me.
here is where it's all really happening.
c'mon.
you like it.
***********
the day of thanksgiving,
in really real life, is all about gratitude.
or at least,
it's sure supposed to be.
as in: how lucky a ninja is just to be here.
it's an honor to be nominated, i hear,
but truly it's a privilege to participate at all.
actively an' that,
in the unfolding skaldic saga of your very own life.
real talk, neighbors.
spanning time,
here,
in a roasty-toasty-warm, great big, sexy old house,
with my favoritest, most bestest one.
(mrs. rock, ninjas)
plenty of good food.
good times,
good people,
all that good sh!t.
not to mention the grateful greatness
of being the proud papa-bear to two
beautiful, talented, temeritous little girls.
yeah.
abounding excellence, in abundance.
that's doubly good.
there aren't even cars on the roads in the woods, duders.
that's the woodsly goodness'
holiday workweek break.
and what's even better?
work to do when we get back.
it's all really happening,
that's the whole point.
this is what IS, son.
life provides itself,
and we make it, and take it, and shape it, and bake it.
i am grateful for this time i have been given.
and so i'm giving thanks.
folk life, and liberty-
without taking away anyone else's;
never quiet, never soft.....