no pictures, no hope.

(*1700 blog posts. yep. for real. i doo-doo that.)
duders,
i gave it a shot.
really, i did.
i went to portland on tuesday.
i stuffed my face with vegan treats,
i filled my car with vegan groceries,
i drove the long road, AND the short cut,
visited the commercial capitalist retail amalgam,
and still had a bowlful of frozen dopeness,
covered in sprankles at night.
it was a busy day.
underproductive in many ways,
but full of activity and participation.
plus,
my buddy thatcher ate vegan weirdie food,
and developed a taste for vegan weirdie colas.
the future is unfolding right before our faces,
and it's got a whole new set of experiences
waiting in the wings to flap our unflappable resolve
with spirit and memories and interactions that
we didn't even know we absolutely had to have.
*
i also tried talking to a real life girl.
y'know,
like flirting even.
luckily for all y'all,
true stories happen to happen to me more than most folks.
two sentences into a conversation,
a blenderful of starbucks supergay caramel fruitblaster
cinnamon goobieblop frappuccino smoothie doo-doo butter
dropped off of a counter,
did a wagonwheel double axle,
and sprayed a perfect brown swath across the coffee shop.
did it hit anyone on either side of me?
don't be dumb.
of course not.
did i get whipped with creamy sh!t-sauce from crotch to cap?
c'mon.
you know i did.
what's the best way to impress a girl, my ninjas?
is it getting nerd-slapped by the secret universal plan with
a racing stripe of candy-scented brown syrupy sticky paint?
i hope so.
friends,
it's all really happening.
so,
that was tuesday-
done and doner.
...
but wednesday, though?
neighbors.
i'm sayin'-
wotan's day?
the lightning-striking last day of my worthy weekend
of warrior poetry and woodsly goodness?
yeah.
about that.
tried out the new lawn mower.
nooooooooooooope.
that non-motorized convict creeper can't compete
against months of crabby grass rising to waist-height
with thick stems and dense, lush, chlorophylliac fury.
what i mean is:
it didn't work, yo.
at all.
like, AT ALL at all...
so,
did i take hedge-trimmer clippers and do a squat walk
across the entire length and breadth of my heroic gardens,
snipping and snapping and sweating and swearing on bended knee,
trimming it all down low enough to activate the tornado-bladed
big action on those green spears of natural ground-cover?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
did that work?
um, no.
awwwwwww.
it's shorter, but it ain't any sweeter.
and with that decimating my morning routine,
i tried to find this expert swimming hole near my house.
now, i should mention i hadn't been there in a while.
turns out,
a flood washed it away.
uh-huh.
a flood.
like in the bible an' sh!t.
which means that it's gone.
for realsies.
there's a lot of rocks, very little water,
and a big sad pit of emptiness where the dopeness used to dwell.
metaphor?
maybe-
so,
is it cool to take your friends to a cool place that doesn't exist?
i don't know.
i mean,
because if it IS?,
well, they sure didn't act impressed.
just sayin'.
then,
because i'm a glutton for punishment as much as everything else,
i went to a distant watery fall in a rocky path-type place
in a crevasse on the sawyer river.
it's not close by,
it takes a while just to get there,
and it's kind of a hike each way once you're OUT of the car.
the thing is,
that brought me up short on time to go shoot guns.
huh?
yeah.
guns.
oh, don't worry, kids,
that didn't happen either.
not enough time to cross the entire white mountainous valley
and activate some actual hot fire.
oh, and neither did soccer.
wait.
really?
yep.
i forgot to take my medicine,
so my knees were like four rocks banging against each other.
or maybe like flint and steel, moreso.
little sparks of hot fire pretty much sat me out instantly.
umm.
wednesday, folks.
hump day.
i didn't think that meant my butthole, though.
ugh.
it's cool,
i did go out for pizza with some cool people,
and some girls who know those cool people.
what's MY favorite topic of conversation?
yeah.
stories about being drunk!!
you know it.
an entire lifetime of giving ZERO F*s about drinking,
and i close out my night with a recap of every single sip
these minky, mincey mutha-uckers had ever taken.
winning?
1-0.
wordimus prime.
college age people say college age things.
i guess that's why nobody listens to them.
*
hard styles,
loooong days,
short gains,
shortcomings,
short tempers,
short rests
and long nights.
every day, in every way,
it's all gonna keep happening;
never quiet, never soft.....