Sunday, August 4

sweeter juice.

nature wins, y'all.
no jokes.
go ahead, test that.
and while you're at it, check the teleport:
my brambles are bursting with blackening berries.
they're sagging under the semi-sour sauce of these
heavily-hanging juicy jewels in my garden.
...and i like that.
it's about time the bounty of a tended patch paid me back.
today is the day, it seems.
any time that ma nature sees fit to give a little bit of hottness,
especially in light of the downright unseasonably cold nights
and interminably long days we've been getting bludgeoned with
here in the mountain vales of the woodsly goodness,
i'm certainly sure to take whatever she's offering with hungry hands.
that's real.
my friends are better than yours.
i think that's always true.
in this instance, i'm speaking on matt riordan, y'all.
that pennsylvanian bostonian ginger finally made his way back up north
after an incredibly long absence in his hobbit hole in the keystone state.
on the ones, it's always good to see that duder.
after a short and seriously savage session of tattoo activation,
and the obligatory comedic conversational interaction,
he went and gave me some other other new hottness for my face.
check the red-headed-treasure-chest-type teleport:
in a box, in a satin bag, and in my hands?
briar briar pants on fire.
my peoples take gratitude and generosity to eleven every time.
you've got to believe me neighbors-
i lucked out on the cultivated coincidental relationships with my buddies.
time passes, but it doesn't pass us.
that's no jokes.
i can't overstate that the worthy warriors and active participants that have made
an effort to see me in my insulated isolated armed and armored hermitage
here in the north have all helped me out in the most important ways.
i'm far away, but i'm not alone, or some sort of inspirational sh!t like that.
you get it.
you like it.
it's ALL really happening,
and that's the whole point.
mine are better.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

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