easy.

star anise?
sharpie markers?
scissors aptitude participation?
choosing the wrench?
all this,
and more (obviously),
await the warriors of crafty captivation,
articulate activation,
and poignant yet puerile participation.
teleportation:

little bits of progression,
long stretches of regression,
intermittent digression,
insistent intercession,
and eloquent expression.
we doo-doo that ionized suffix sh!t, son.
*
uh-huh.
it's another sunday morning here
in the bright-eyed and bristling
barbarian badlands of the woodsly goodness.
there are still plenty of hungry, irritable,
dreadful and demanding duders visiting the
idyllic majesty and whatnot of the mountains.
plenty of traffic jammie-jams,
and ridiculous traffic collisions in parking lots.
let us not forget to mention the incredibly long
waiting periods at restaurants full of poorly behaved children.
and i'm especially fond of no-shows at the tattbomb studio.
huh?
yuuuuuuuuup.
that's how i spanned my yesterday, neighbors-
a busy, crowded, cover-up-consultation-heavy saturday
piling mounds of movie checks every-and-anywhere
except all up in my mutha-flippin' pockets?
yes.
that's right.
it was the exact opposite of being expert.
gaysplosive lame-arrhea, for sure.
butthole doo-doo butter disappointment explosions
for my face.
will today be any better?
umm,
i'm pretty sure i've got flaming tribal tatzap crap to slap.
so, maybe, but probably not.
awwwww, man.
hard styles and long weekends are what's going down.
...the tubes is where it's going down, kids, y'heard?
butt-nasty occupational hazards and beautiful weather
i'm not enjoying as a result.
maybe i'll mow the lawn and really ruin the day up right.
word.
***********
friends,
i watched some ayn rand interviews last night.
dang.
talk about a brutally not-hot genius lady.
big brains and big brows and big teeth.
it was pretty inspiring, really.
the most busted ones sorta produce that new hottness, y'know?
good looks are only useful during scavenger hunts...
get it?
oh, c'mon.
anyway,
it gives me some hope, such as it is.
less time looking in the mirror,
and more time looking for that inner truth.
like there's somehow balance in the force, or something.
y'know?
if you're ugly, you'd better be molto fresh,
or else you're wasting everybody's time.
gross and stupid is too hard a style to endure.
on the real,
attractive folks needn't necessarily bother with
what matters below the surface...
skin deep is deep enough most of the time.
huh?
that's shallow?
no kidding.
i'm just sayin',
if i had the face, physique, and pheromones for it,
i wouldn't think about nothin'.....
what?
well, for starters,
i'd probably be waaaay too busy hard-style pounding
my way through every single day in the company
of other other vacuous, vain, vampiric imbeciles
to ever give half of a sh!t about anything else.
luckily, for all of us,
i'm reppin' this sexy chernobyl sasquatch flavor,
and as such,
have plenty of all-alonely time to write
these little memos of real life and times.
i feel like i should have a frame around me.
no, for real-
like i'm the portrait of dorian gray,
and there's a smug mutha-b!tch out there
inflicting each and every soul-searing sin of his on my skin.
we  know what's really happening though, don't we?
all of it.
all the time.
and that's the secret, i guess.
we're looking at What Is,
and making moves based on reality, logic, and reason.
where're my ugly ducks, ducklings, geese and sh!t at?
that's right.
i've got some sage, savory, and seasoned advice
for all the vicious viscous-visaged vikings out there:
stay ugly. stay dope.
believe it;
never quiet, never soft.....