worsties.

ugh.
i'll tell you something-
i'm hanging out with my own worst enemy tonight.
yeah.
big surprise.
another 'nother saturday night spanned across the dark spots.
another 'nother weekend evening full of introspection.
i'd almost rather look in a mirror instead of inside myself.
y'know?
oh, stop it.
i said almost.
no sense in getting into a staring contest with a set of honeyed
soulless puppy-dogged medusa see-balls.
hard styles and hermit hideouts are how i'm holding it down.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is where it all really happens.
all of it.
i talk to my plants.
yeah.
it supposedly helps them grow.
that's not why i do it.
i talk to the ghost who haunts my house.
it supposedly keeps them restful.
that's not why i do it.
i write these real life documents of true life for you guys.
it supposedly chronicles the saga of a skald in the north.
really,
i do it for the same reason i do the other stuff.
i pretty much just pretend we're having a conversation,
because talking to myself, and replying to myself,
would be totally crazy.
y'know?
right,
i thought so too.
*
have y'all ever heard of a tart crust tamper?!
no sh!t.
i hadn't either.
apparently, though, it's a thing.
and a friend of mine named jessica had an extra one just for me!
huh?
oh, no, not that jessica.
anyway,
it looks like a very light wooden dumbell designed especially
for very weak, very tiny people.
...but it's not.
teleport:

see?
you take your crusts, and one of those cute little mini muffin pans,
and you smash the ends onto the dough and into the cups and
then bask in the perfection of a confectionary gadget and it's results.
-
sorry,
but i'm sort of just phoning it in tonight, neighbors.
there's just so much not happening,
in so many different ways,
in every empty room,
with nobody around,
and i don't want to miss it;
never quiet, never soft.....