Monday, July 1


full steam ahead,
barreling needlessly, heedlessly, recklessly, and fecklessly;
like a juggernautical shooting star, wide-eyed and open-mouthed,
bright, tight, and alight, facefirst into a whole 'nother brand new month.
every thirty days or so, it's always the same damn thing.
what's that?
don't be dumb-
you damn well know i said it, neighbors!
the first mutha-F*ing words i spoke as the clock rolled over,
and july bloomed forth from the dark midnight timeline.
that's right.
i doo-doo that wait for the clock to turn type jauns.
and i say it again, with feeling, when i wake up at first light.
that's a doubled-down dosage of good luck manifesting....
because good-morning goodfellow woodsly wizard-type spellcasting
into the ether of secret universal cultivated coincidences is what i do.
or at least once in a while, firstly and foremostly, at any rate.
then i change the calendar page,
and then i go right back to brutal barbarian hermit sh!t.
it's all really happening.
what's up with projects?
i mean,
i like making cool stuff,
but when it becomes a project?
usually that means it's more work than play.
i want to make a cool candle thing.
i've got some ingredients.
but i may need power tools.
sounds like the makings of a project to me.
check the wood, wax, and rope-type teleport:
it might even be cool, duders.
i've just got to make sure it's all level, and beautiful, and good.
there may be more play than work eventually,
but right now?
this is all there is.
my blood is black, kids.
like tar,
and just as inflammable.
i mean,
there's always been a cast-iron bass-boosted berserker boiler
where my heart is supposed to be.
a hot furnace of love and fury, glowing red hot at all times.
every pulse pulls more inky black fuel in;
every breath brings a combustible blast;
every exhale is a gout of smoke and flame.
the currents of air that swirl a whirlwind and wind their way around me
serve as shockwaves and shields simultaneously.
for all the roaring raging savage stormswept gypsy rhetoric,
and righteous rallying, bullying, ballyhooing bigmouth bard business,
nobody likes a blowhard.
at any rate,
those fragile futile flames, tiny brightnesses and whatnots,
are extinguished by the gusts and gasps of greater glory.
it's the embers that appreciate the extra effort.
those few small sparks can be whipped into full fledged infernos
with the right attentions.
just sayin'.
and of course,
in the spirit of synergy,
the worthy warrior wildfires within those few that have the hottness
get spun and sped into forces beyond the scope and scale of a simple
and meager candle.
like they say- you can't hold a candle to it.
burn brighter, burn better, burn it all up.
and let those who stand so close but choose not to ignite and excite
wither away through and paralysis and pyrolysis.
active participants set themselves on fire.
that's definitely a thing.
expert is as expert does.
that sort of molten mayhem just can't be contained forever.
today is the day, friends.
the first day of the month.
rabbit rabbit magic is in full effect;
never quiet, never soft.....

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