perfect communions between environmental rage and elemental chaos.
duders,
that's all i've been hearing about.
and for what it's worth,
i'm looking forward to some natural disasterpiece theater.
for serious,
a good old fashioned bootheel-stomp from my sweet baby bottom-b!tch-
the one and only ma nature.
because mama don't play, fool.
believe it.
she's got a hard-hearted hate hard-on for the mid atlantic,
and that just makes it seem sorta romantic.
(i hate it there too, y'know? we've got so much in common.)
hurricanes and northerly merciless gusts and cold fronts and all that,
joining up like a supergroup of mighty smiting.
so,
i'm kind of all about it.
downed limbs, felled trees, floods, property damage on a cataclysmic scale,
power outages, food shortages, public outrages, destroyed roads, collapsed lungs,
topographical pummeling of historic landmarks,
riots, flash mobs, murder, mayhem, savage stormswept every-man-for-himself
berserker barbarian bedlam and martial law,
where bullets and band-aids and beans and b!tches are the currency of a new
barter economy where only the unruliest make all the rules.
alas,
i live on a mountain, in an idyllic sheltered vale,
so it's probably just gonna rain a lot.
if i'm really lucky, i'll get hit by lightning;
or just maybe, if i stand in the perfect path, on the right track, so to speak,
a tree will get blown over, and in it's descending arc, as i call out 'timber',
you'll hear the word goodbye inside it.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
relax.
even if snow and wind and rain and hail and fog and calamity and deluge and all those jauns
come crashing down around us, neighbors,
we've still got what really matters.
bwahahahaha!
i'm sayin'.
purpose is a wonderful thing.
heavy winds and hard rains and deep snows and all the other other sh!t
can only serve to send me off with a few extra days off of work.
and a couple spare days of october's end-times could be good.
on the real,
october is dope.
it's all the best parts of a fond farewell.
after this,
we've got to deal with november.
ugh.
it's weak sauce and grayest, gayest days of doo-doo buttery b!tch-sap.
chilled air, colder shoulders, frigid roommates after a fashion, and all sorts
of semi-sentimental milestones and testaments to the frailty and failure of
the intimate intricacies of interpersonal immersion in active participation.
what i mean is:
a little nature taking out a little aggression is a welcome change.
for a minute or two,
it will be the world around me bringing the thunder and lightning
and city-destroying ragnarok smiting and blighting;
not just another indifferent devastation from the exes that mark this spot.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
so nature wins, kids,
and gets a hearty thank you form the warriors of the woodsly goodness.
for this reminder that we don't really get a say,
so we'd better be getting busy and making moves and keeping it really real,
because we can get 'sploded, or washed away,
blown down like a little pig's house, or stranded in infinite isolation at any minute.
plus,
it's still october,
so there's that.
a long day of endurance-tested tattbombing is on the books, y'all.
maybe the power will go out early,
and i can come back to the Fortress and wait out the drizzle and the sniffles in peace.
...but probably not.
hard styles, heavy skies,
and the bonus of the onus of activation is on me.
make it fun, make it happen, take it to eleven, and live to tell the tale.
it's worthy work but it never ends.
real life documentarianism doesn't get easier, just more familiar,
and we all know what that breeds.
oh, right.
while we're speaking of breed:
it's also a full mutha-F*ing moon.
that's right.
when it rains, it pours.
but what about when it rains and pours and sucks?
yep.
that's today.
perpetual catastrophe today is just an apostrophe before tomorrow;\
never quiet, never soft.....
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