straight shot.

twenty degrees farenheit,
and windy?
c'mon.
that's doo-doo buttery weak-sauce.
perfect fair weather it surely is not.
what can an after-dark duder do about it?
what actions can be taken to dose the antidote
against cold, stale, softness?
i'm sayin',
the winds of change, and the winds of war,
and the broken wind of bean-based weeklong diets,
are blowin' a whole lot of answers around here.
that's a thing.
so what happens when it's time to raise the temperature?
yeah!

that's right, neighbors.
three hot fried hummus bombs,
with big mouthfuls of warmth.
triple threat whole-hog pigmaking, kids.
a conveyor belt of barbaric bellybusting.
with a warm apple cider chaser?
expert, for sure.
you like that blacktivation on the bread?
uh-huh.
wood-fired cast iron old-timey cookstove dopeness.
accept no other form of nutrient-stimulating hot heavy metal.
real mutha-uckas do real things, y'all.
just sayin'.
hit and run guerilla gluttony was how we got busy last night.
roll up, chow down, and leave.
word up.
***********
fried day, kids.
today is fried day friday.
everyday, really, is during the fair.
but especially today.
i've got tattbombs to zap,
i've got activities to activate,
and i've got feel-awful falafel friday fried-day
to gutbust and stomach cramp into legend.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point.
*
waiting patiently.
what do y'all think of that sh!t?
i know, i don't like it either.
still,
when circumstances are beyond controlling,
and time takes it's due course,
slowly....surely, but oh so slowly,
what else is there?
waiting, y'all.
waiting so hard.
next week,
and the next one after that,
and all the rest of it.
october rust, friends.
it's no joke.
ZERO Heavy Industries treats are coming soon.
just not soon enough.
hallowe'en is coming soon,
before we're ready, probably,
peak leaf-peepin' tourist season arrived with the cold snap,
and there's no room to ride on the roadways as a result.
...and in-between there's us.
worthy warriors waiting for some sh!t to start,
and for other other sh!t to stop.
waiting, duders.
with patience as it's own reward.
time is flying and crawling and standing still.
hard times and hard styles and hard-pounding.
ticking, tocking, and all that big action;
never quiet, never soft.....