avast, ye lubbers.

hey duders,
it's talk like a pirate day.
which is kind of a bummer,
since i don't speak somali.
heeey-O!
talk like a pirate day!
or,
as my neighbors in maine and minnesota call it:
monday.
just sayin',
they GOT they.
although,
just to be fair to the whole third world,
and it's constituent high-seas burglars and hijackers,
i maintain a low-minded general ignorance of most
east african and southeast asian languages,
because as much as i looove inflection,
subtle nuances have never ever been my strong suit.
on the real, neighbors.
y'all want alliteration? i got you.
percussive, successive staccatto sentences? i'm yours.
vocal timbre fluctuations applied to identical syllables,
altering the entire intended message forever and ever?
uhh...noooooope.
and so,
instead of any indian ocean action verbs,
it's mostly caribbean make-pretend talk
for scurvy seawolves like me and mine.
set in motion like billy ocean, mutha-'uckas.
recognize, me hearty hardies!
it's not all plank-walkin' and hatch battening, though, yo-ho.
so it may help to mention that when i make
reference to yardarms?
yeah.
i'm talking about the spaghetti yeti noodle stalks
that sprout out of my shoulders.
they're at least three feet apiece, son!
*
it's the end of my week.
y'all already know i'm doo-dooing
some doo-doo buttery tattbombs.
bursting off the poopdecks broadsides, besides.
and shivering all the flippin' timbers, too.
not to mention trying to get my wharf rat
up somebody's bilge pump.
okay,
it's not that much of a scurvy scallawag kind of rat.
it's more of a besotted barnacle,
but still...i can haul it upside your keel.
oh, c'mon.
what are you?
an aft-hole?
i do do that forecastle to mizzenmast-type jauns.
whatever that means.
***********
today is the day.
it always is.
but this time,
this one right here,
it's got gratitude and appreciation
written all over it.
it's all really happening.
that's no joke.
making minutes matter.
a writ of warrant for worthy warrior wrighting and writing,
wringing and wreaking and wrecking,
with a wannion!
(uh-huh. with a wannion. that's shakespeare, b!tch.)
life is getting lived.
hard.
the volume in space,
and decibels,
goes to eleven;
never quiet, never soft.....