viking.

it's officially leif erikson day.
and that's mutha-flippin' doooooooope.
are you duders reppin' viking jauns right now?
no?
well,
you'd probably better start up some lightning-striking,
and some hot fire spitting,
and some shallow-draft longship exploring,
because today is actually the day.
like, on the calendar.
real mutha-uckas doo-doo that transatlantic trek-type sh!t
in dragon boats, b!tches.
put that in your pinta and nina it, you weak-sauce santa marias.
cristobal colon can suck my balls, y'all.
just sayin'.
the worthy warrior worldliness of erik the red's spawn
is all i need to represent the hard-style expertism
of northern north america.
no way some italian dude discovered that.
Vinland, son!
that's how and where i'm getting rad with my
berserker barbarian activation.
right here in the woodsly goodness.
who's within a day's drive of here?
i'd start my car right now,
and not even finish reading...
follow the compass, or the sexton, or the stars,
but navigate your A* to here.
there will be times for the having, neighbors.
what kind?
well how about pre-full moon bonfires?!
 you need norseman nutrients?
we GOT they.
c'mon.
*
yesterday,
i tattbombed until my fingers snapped off.
then,
with only stubs and nubs to speak of,
i swallowed down some more falafel.
it hurt me to do it,
but sometimes the wrench
is the only utensil at the dinner table:

these tahini-smothered baby boulders of dopeness
are taking their toll on my physical well-being.
i'm not the same, duders.
it's almost like when female bodybuilders start taking steroids,
and they get flat parts, hairy parts, and pop-outtie parts.
uh-huh.
there are lupine extensions and distensions causing tension.
what i mean is-
transformation is underway.
don't worry, my ninjas.
i'm neither on steroids nor lifting weights;
i'm also pretty sure i'm not a woman.
i can tell you that i'm noticeably fatter,
marginally happier,
markedly poorer,
and decidedly behind schedule on the homefront-
due to equal parts full-moon wolfen wild huntsman magic,
and blarpity bloppity immodest immoderation.
the only viable cure?
yeah!
more falafel:

ugh.
it's a triumph through thorough self-destruction.
if they weren't so good,
and so scarcely available in this area,
then my woodsly instincts wouldn't pressure me
to back-up my back-ups and stockpile my treats.
alas,
the situation is what it is,
and i do what i must.
today is the day.
berserker viking brutality,
exploratory wonderment,
vinland viking vanguards of celebration,
the last dregs of fair week,
and a few tough-to-swallow falafels.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....