three a.m.

duders,
three in the morning?
whaaaaaaaaat?
leaving the woodsly goodness, in the deep dark
of a hard-style morning.
that's never ever easy,
but just to get somewhere even colder?
c'mon.
that makes a long drive and a long night
even longer.
but now we're here.
in minneapolis, minnesota,
via manchester airport early shirley,
and philadelphia after that.
we smog-monstered them jauns all up and over the
sh!tty city of brotherly love.
ugh.
you ninjas should really see us....
all bleary-eyed, heavy-ham-fist harried,
and lead-limbed with leery, weary light-limned languor.
like i said,
we're here.
and we're beat.
...and full-up to the brim with brutal blops, b!tches.
yep.
ethiopian food has landed in our belly-holes.
T's place had what we needed, and we hit 'em up so hard.
blarpity gutbuster gallons of green, brown, and ochre,
with umber hunks and hulking sap-squats of mango goo, to boot.
and that's not even it, neighbors.
who had a couple of falafels first thing in the twin cities?!
shawn, the cucchie, and me, that's who.
act like you're impressed.
you should be.
that's how the professional shark-glutton gorgers get busy.
***********
art show?
oh, yeah.
that's happening, as well, innit?
well, on that front of this full frontal assault/exposure,
we saw the space,
we sketched a plan,
and tomorrow,
a whole team of worthy warriors and active participants
have been enlisted to cut, paste, tape, print, paint,
and in all other ways be accessible to the NQNS team.
wordimus prime.  
molto work needs doing,
and with miles to go before i sleep,
there'd better be molto promises kept.
i'm just sayin'.
that's real talk.
it's time for bed,
unless ethiopia tries to overthrow my italian innards.
historically,
that's pretty flippin' likely.
it repeats itself,
like expanding concentric circles,
ever wider and wider,
encompassing a whole bunch of right nows,
and soon-to-be's.
it's happening,
the deadbeat exhaustion and digestive destruction,
the preplanning,
and the enacting,
and the whole shootin' match.
holy smokes, it's no joke.
jack is sure to be a dull boy posthaste,
as it's all work, a little (alright a lot) of eating,
and no play, or at least little more than a one act.
thunder?
in my pants, pretty much.
that's the aftershocks of an afternoon of edible exertion;
never quiet, never soft.....