panniecakes.

and i'm still always in all ways all by my all-alonely,
and i still totally hate it.
in fact,
i can't really think of much else to remark upon.
so much so that i think that it's become a widely recognized fact of life,
and i'm a sallow and shoddily stoic shell when left to tend and fend
for just myself and for my little stinky imbecilic four-legged best friend, too.
i constantly crave conversations.
one way dialogue is fine, for sure,
but that's more of a lecture and not a discussion.
it might be a rant or a diatribe, even, but not a two-way exchange.
and a conversation without a companion,
where i'm answering aloud to unspoken responses?
i'm pretty sure that's what crazy people do.
y'know?
oh.
yeah, i had a feeling you might say that......
awwww, man!
oh, c'mon.
i've got people to talk to in real life,
just not in the small hours and private corners-
but,
if nothing else,
my friends are still better than yours.
that's real.
for instance,
my homeboy wayne came over and checked in on me.
that's pretty sweet.
awwwwwwww.
my peoples give a sh!t about me, huh?
i appreciate it more than i can really say or write.
i suppose that's the problem with hyperbole, y'know?
it's always the most ever;
every time is more of a time than last time,
and this time is the only time that matters.
when you're always going to eleven,
it's awfully hard to express oneself with excessive sincerity
and sound even remotely sincere.
anyway,
i really do feel pretty lucky about all the overlapping concentric spheres
of influence that converge around me like a mandala of just-be-dopeness.
yep.
radiating rays of symbolic sunshine-type sh!t is unfolding from the deep creases
and crevices and dark, dirty secretive recesses of the world i reside in.
wait a minute.
that's more metaphysical diaperbabyism than i can handle.
to recap:
wayne checked in on my fraught and fragile self,
and i repaid him for his concern with breakfast.
check the championship activational teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
let it be known that i pay my debts, duders.
both real and imagined, even.
reciprocity is kind of my thing.
what i lack in monetary hoards i more than make up for with skills and skillets.
that's right-
panniecakes, neighbors.
oatmeal, and vanilla, and melty buttery stuff,
blended with blops of brown sugar to get molto expert all over the rich and creamy
caramel style circles on pan-powered cakey new hottness.
i doo-doo that maple syrup-type jauns, too...
because i'm from new england, and that's the only way to get fresh.
recognize.
***********
then,
just to re-energize my big fat former shark-gluttonous self,
i hit up a throwback to my previous fatness in tribute with tortillas and everything.
uh-huh.
i got nacho libre on my F*ing face, kids.
check the food-mountainous teleport:

ugh.
so much of all of it.
and i powered every last scrap of that crap into my head.
yeah.
seitan and black beans and fire-roasted chiles and weird chee',
and two kinds of sauce.
sometimes,
it's good for you to hurt yourself.
i mean,
at least this way has got the eagle-egg-type vegan nutrients, y'feel me?
*
long days and longer nights.
cold weather, cold shoulders,
and cold hard facts.
it's all there is,
and it's really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....