high-resolution.

duders,
it's that time again.

uh-huh.
resolution time.
the drive, dedication, direction, motivation, and follow-through to activate
a new and improved intensive self-actualization.
jeez.
and meanwhile most people just resolve to try to lose a few pounds.
but then again,
we aren't most people.
i mean, sh!t,
we're barely even people at all!
and don't fake the flavor and act like y'all're some minky middling
mediocre mutts of generic jerky waterbabyish weak sauce.
because i won't have it, neighbors.
that's word.
we don't try, we doo-doo those really real jauns, right?
right.
and that's the way it is.
on the ones, ninjas,
if you're a worthy warrior of active participatory poetic heroics,
then dammit, i expect something more from you.
the object almost always is MORE, after all.
real talk.
just being dope means being dope.
it may be just, and it surely isn't unjust, but if it's all you do,
you'd better do it all the way to eleven.
so whatever you stiffen up with your newly-minted resolve,
it had better be loud and fresh, as well as hard.
otherwise, you've kinda gotta F* right off.
just sayin'-
rules is rules, kids.
*
so what's my newest decree for the future of lightning-striking viking virtuosity?
...good question.
actually,
i've got a few things i'm working towards all the mutha-flippin' time.
so my docket is stocked chock full of goals and ideals that need the constant
attentions of activated nourishing nutrients of Folk Life flavor, fury, and foresight.
that's a hard style, too, y'all.
the ever-loving onmipresent prescient presence of mind to be mindful of a mind full
of matterhorned horny mountains of mind-over-matter matters and antimatters.
holy sh!t.
that's real.
specifically-
i'm trying to find more things to like.
and it's categorically difficult.
very few things are ALL bad, though,
so it's a matter of perspicacious perspective.
'13 will not be permitted to be the bog of eternal stench,
nor allowed to wallow in the swamp of sadness,
nor drain the mostly-dead doo-doo butter out of the pit of dispair.
there's an worldwide open call for a moratorium on the mopey morose
moue and mien that the world's endings and worse beginnings harbored in 2012.
all the ball-sucking gaytardation of last year?
over and out.
baby new year is a bundle of joy,
and if i have any say in the matter,
(which i do, especially in this medium)
it's got to just be dope.
all haters and deflaters detractors and debtors have got to take the long walk
back to the hard-hearted hate of yesterdays and long-agos.
we're headed into the future with smiles an' that, kids.
time travel only works in one direction as far as i can tell.
yuuuuuuup.
it's all really happening.
lucky '13, here we go;
never quiet, never soft.....