eleveneleven

how many blog posts?
1111.
c'mon.
really?
yes, duders, really.
a snowbound and windswept,
wintry white mountain friday night,
and that's the only way, really,
to mark one thousand one hundred eleven
truly told sagas of Folk Life & Liberty from
the worthy warrior poets to the rest of you.
that's exactly what the F* is up, duders.
a foot of heavy wet water?
we got that.
an unplowed uphill driveway?
white mountain tattoo does NOT make it easy for waterbabies
to get what they want, y'all.
mountaintop gurus make you work for their wisdom, after all.
and that's how it goes.
the second-to-last night before the girlie-girls go home.
it's never ever ever enough of them.
that's the sentiment from the bottom of my sh!t, ninjas.
little partial pebbles of albie rockness,
all alive and kicking it with their collective active participatory parents.
we doo-doo the sweet and sappy lovey-dovey stuff, neighbors.
real talk and human accessibility from your favorite gyspy stalwart?
don't judge me.
i'm happy, they're happy, we're happy.
eleven, an' that.
***********
so,
commemorative magic milemarkers aside,
it's been a rough, rugged, raw kind of week.
and the big weekend capper?
i get to get going on a whole other 'nother 'nother road trip,
back to connecticut.
disconnecticut, even.
no-pros-just-cons-necticut.
and back again,
like, to the future, almost-
in a round-trip lightning-striking-viking
plunder-and-sack pilgrimage.
we go easy,
but we come rougher every time.
ahh,
the rewards of responsible adulthood.
seven kinds of hard-styles,
in a three kinds of hardness capacity container.
overflowing with hard.
that's a thing,
(and that's what she said?)
never quiet, never soft.....