double-encore.

what's waaaay better than a crusty, lispy, wispy,
gender-non-specific, expansive-spectacled,
sleepover art party?
everything!
but especially the avett brothers
doing a double-encore.
that's right.
the object was definitely way more.
like, twice the extra-type jauns.
many happy returns to the stage,
and non-stop rocking,
as loud and hard as possible,
while also much faster than any
under-eleven-speed album versions.
and all without the benefit of a single accordion, too.
we made sure to get a solid sonic
collectively,
our entire entourage got upgraded seats,
and got molto rad from some expert sounds.
even the drunkenness of the masses,
and the clouds of stonery gaytardation,
 couldn't quench the fiery flavor
that those skinny southern boys were belting out.
concerted efforts,
literally,
figuratively,
and maybe even speculatively.
i think that having real peoples around makes
experiences a little bit better.
right?
if it's shared, it's a verifiable recollection,
instead of a semi-shaped personal perception.
maybe not,
but i'm still glad i hung out with my ninjas, y'heard
we even re-met some of the wifey's long lost buddies
from the weak-sauce waterbaby days of connecticut livin'.
we sang out loud, with soul-claps and chair-slaps,
and swayed like a field of windswept gyspsy ryegrass.
true story.
afterwards,
we even got some extra big-A* garden-fresh winter squash:

yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
boner-poppin' upright vegetables from the future!
neighbors,
what else has the hot beige phalluscious frenzy
of a bulging butternut squash?!
cyle can produce some auspicious produce, y'all.
...word.
*
and that's not even ALL, y'all.
tonight's the night,
again.
another 'nother other show.
this time with way worse haircuts,
and dumber posturing costumed co-witnesses.
uh-huh.
oh don't worry,
we won't let those art-school kids ruin our good time:
dark dark dark gets it on in maine this evening.
and they'll do it under the influence of the squeezebox.
for sure.
maybe they'll have a second encore.
y'know,
looped claps and feedback with sprite-flute recorder noises
and the distilled essence of art-show destroying sadness
mixed into it until everybody leaves.
i sure hope so.
i feel like i didn't appreciate it all the way the first time i heard it.
awwwwwwww, man.
anybody?
oh, c'mon.
***********
you know it, mutha-holes-
a less-than-full day of tattbombing,
a more-than-full bellyhole of vegan dopeness
at the green elephant,
and a pair of earfuls of sonic minor keyholing.
P.F.D.s in flippin' full-effect, friends.
the Folk Life participation level is right up there.
and tomorrow is already our weekend all over again.
living, duders.
that's what we're doing;
never quiet, never soft.....