that's why we worthy warriors eschew hubris
in favor of rational assessments of self.
all by myself,
doo-dooing all my dirt,
all by my lonely lonesome,
i'm due to frost up, ice over, turn colors, slip away,
and sleep until spring...
awwwwww, man!
must be some sort of ley line planetary orbital shifty sh!t
causing that kind of melodramatic melancholy...
could it be?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
happy mutha-b!tch-flippin' fall.
today's the day, my ninjas-
the autumnal equinox,
the beginning of the end,
the start of the dying off and laying to rest of this year,
the unenviable fourth season in the abyss.
couldn't come soon enough, if y'all're asking me.
F* this year.
i'm ready for pumpkin pie,
woodstove woodsmoke,
apples,
foliage rainbow swatches of woodsly goodness,
crisp nights,
sweaters, thick socks,
and all the superfresh turbo hottness that fall
is known for.
autumn in new england?
that's it.
***********
huh?
what?
guns?
oh, thank goodness.
did you just say:
bounce on out of work, surely surly,
all early-shirley in the afternoon,
to get barbarian-style burly
and blaze a little trail of glory in spent brass casings,
and well-dressed copper-jacketed lead biscuits?
yeah!!!
for realsies,
i thought i heard somebody make that expert suggestion.
and so then i did just exactly that.
the last day of summer.
spitting fire and sending slugs into the soil at the far end
of a long-range target stand at the closest shooting range
within reasonable sunshiny driving range.
neighbors,
i color coordinate my ear goggles to my hat and coat.
gay?
you know it.
check the teleport:
you can see that flying brass bucket being ejected
from the heater's starboard portal, stage right.
....yep.
action shot motion capture captivation activation, ninjas.
me and my good friends got fresh with it.
we always do.
dressed like white people,
speaking some fresh loud hardness like 'hood warriors,
and getting rad with those redneck blueblood bullsh!t jauns, yo.
i think the resignation of acceptance helps.
huh?
sometimes, kids,
you've gotta realize when you're not gonna win.
resign your post,
accept your station,
take the hit,
and carry on.
that said-
i'm calling this year a wash.
yessir...
scuttle the rest,
take five,
find a towel, throw it in,
hunker down and prepare for next season.
i figure there will be plenty more of this incredibly hard-style
rural reality to go on kicking everyone's A* next year.
and if 2012 doomsday predictions have any veracity?
well,
come december we'll see who's a stoopidhead, won't we?
uh-huh.
it's sort of win-win either way,
at least as far as losing goes, at any rate.
that leaves more time to shoot twice as many guns at once:
poor range etiquette,
pot shots at perching birds
(just trying to make 'em sexy, so to speak)
and pot after pot of late-night corporate coffee for our faces.
the last day of summer was a lot like every other last day of
everything else.
nobody leaves with the title, friends.
enjoy yourselves,
enjoy your fall;
never quiet, never soft.....
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