how many directions can one person travel in at one time?
i'm feeling like one of those crusty eight-point chaos stars,
hurtling at terminal velocity in every single simultaneous opposing angle,
nonstop, all day, most of every night, and in the small hours and lean times
in between the hours and minutes and seconds of right now and then and even later.
huh?
i'm tired, neighbors!
i mean it.
i'm a drowsy bag-eyed nodder-offer,
and my usually endearing snarky banter has devolved into a base and depraved
primordial crankiness that threatens to unhinge and overwhelm
almost all of my clever conversation.
curmudgeonly, kids,
that's the adjective i'd like to interject right now.
it sounds just like what it is,
and it sounds just like what i'm smashing against my teeth
and spewing out of my mouth.
there's a truncheon of curmudgeon cudgeling each sentence i speak.
blunt, b!tches;
in all the different ways, but especially the trauma and force of impact.
i'm sayin', my ninjas-
i'm not ever very nice to very many people,
but it's a smaller list and a rarer occurrence than ever before.
march is in like a lion for sure.
a raging barbarian of nocturnal nuisance-making,
with morning thunder-bringing,
all-day trench war-waging,
and evening argumentativeness.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
hard styles are in F*ing full effect, kids.
and transforming it into a grumpy tirade about the inadequacies of self control
in the face of sleep deprived disappointment,
and worn-away raw nerves that make making sh!t extra hard.
who knew that 4"x6" rectangles insisted on cropped barbarian marauders
as their iconography of choice?
weird.
the medium chooses what it gets, guys.
i believe that.
but then again,
monsters and beards and skeletons and werewolves are what i'm looking at
each and every time i stop to stare in the mirror;
so i suppose the vainglorious embrace of my loathsome vanity
mandates a self portrait every time.
i just draw what i see.
that's the problem with stinky old wizard eyes, y'all.
sometimes it's just crazy crazy crazy all the time in your face.
i doo-doo that insomniac sh!t, y'know?
it's not hallucinating i believe in, of course-
it's subjecting reality to the strong shaping hands of my will.
*
cultivated coincidences, kids.
these days,
there are an awful lot of them.
like,
i want new furniture an' that,
but i'm a poor person these days.
so what does the secret universal plan have in store for me?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
activation.
check the pricetag-slashing teleport:
haha.
thanks, echoes of infinity!
expert is as expert does, y'all.
i may not be sleepin', but i'm definitely not sleepin'.
just sayin';
never quiet, never soft.....
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