(pro/con)sequences.

duders,
according to the backwards way that americans read calendars,
today is the day.
(sorry, everywhere else, but it'll be next month for all y'all)
that's right, my ninjas,
we've got a special event horizon keeping it really real-
y'know, like we're on a date. get it?
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
today IS the day:
10-11-12.
c'mon.
...that's pretty dope.
ascending numerals,
a counting-upside accumulation of greater-thans and more-so?
yeah.
i'm into it.
no surprise there, really.
i like to mark occasions with assigned meaning,
no matter how trivial,
because without ceremony, all emcees are just masters of nothing,
just like those depth-perceptionless one-eyed jacks of all trades.
huh?
oh, i assure you, it's real.
active participation, real-life true-story telling,
organizational instigation, hot-fire proliferation,
and spectrum-spanning just-be-dopeness all qualify
as necessary ingredients for worthy warrior poetry and
the basic foundations of re-renaissance manliness.
oh, c'mon.
you get it.
all barbarian battle-beasts settle where they see the future,
and become fixtures of the lands they inhabit.
from conqueror to defender to creator.
that's it.
they grow roots, mutha-uckers.

the woodsly goodness is my triumphant terra firma and terrific firmament,
and i plan on continuing to make the most of that sh!t, neighbors.
*
so,
while at face value i may resemble neither a very diversified tradesman jacker,
nor the head ninja in charge of special operations, presentations, and interactions,
i promise you,
i'm taking the time to create reasons and causes and circumstances;
building the brutal berserker battlements of dynamic willful imposition,
and fortifying the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress with moments that mean something.
what's that?
for real?
it's just a cleverly numbered day?
oh, my poor little stoopidheads, pay attention-
we document real life as it happens, because we make it happen:
we get to name our own cause de celebre, kids.
and through ritual and routine,
force it to grind it's way through the coils and cogs of the clock,
all hourglass-gallows and
to be sacrificed by axe-split seconds and insightful instances...
get it?
our special days are the imaginings of
spirit and thought and memory.
yep,
i told you twice already,
today is the day.
it always is, but maybe even more than usual, as usual.
i'm trying to make every day count,
because i'm pretty sure our days are numbered;
never quiet, never soft.....