eleven.

dynamite delights, mutha-b!tches.
yeah!
T 'n' T, for breakfast.
saturday-style sourdough, duders.
right down the hatch,
with that strong black irish jauns in my tankard.
(not a northern ireland critique)
y'all already know-
real ninjas need fuel for the fire, an' that.
the internal combustion barbarian business, bro.
i need a little bitty bit of extra juice.
that little somethin' more, y'all.
why would today be any different than any other 'nother day?
because,
it's the eleventh, neighbors.
all dang day long.
taking it to the limit.
that's the move.
*
duders,
it's destined to be one of those days.
the lugubrious, yet somehow salubrious,
eagle's eggs nutrients sauce!
reread that until it makes sense, yeah?
it's not so much optimism,
as it is obstinance,
that ensures the hardest styles
are the best ones for my face.
the other other thing that helps is-
it's raining on bike week.
oh yes it is, leatherclad A*tards.
sorry about your stinky saddlebags,
and soggybottom sissy bars, suckas.
i sure love it when it rains on the big parade.
i'm kind of like that.
okay. okay.
i'm totally like that.
still, ma nature is hooking me up with some
tears of joy-type condensation.
and what's even better?
not only am i not having to water the garden,
and it's not suffocatingly hot,
but it's also ruining the ruiners' good time.
winning?
yes, indeed.
double negatives make positives of a greater sum.
that's math, kids.
fact.
***********
so,
as usual,
it's all really happening.
reality unfolding along the ley lines of
an invisible blueprint,
a choose-your-own-adventure
written in invisible ink,
and origami-shaped by the secret universal plan.
(i think it's pleated into  two-headed goat fish)
that's loosely based on viking sh!t, my ninjas.
also as usual,
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
and especially for the bad weather.
hard styles and hard pounding, friends.
you know this;
never quiet, never soft.....