thistle

well, duders,
it's thursday again.
yeah.
thor and thunder and lightning an' that.
all day.
hammering home the mighty mauling of a full day.
uh-huh.
me and my girlie-girls have got a lot to endure on this
sh!t-hot mess of a back-to-work extravaganza, too.
...and it's raining.
nothing like a dark morning to keep it all low-keyed
and underwhelming, y'know?
awwwwwwww, man.
if we're lucky the lame parts will speed by,
and another 'nother nighttime of full-blown family togetherness
will explode into action and save the remains of the day after dark.
it's obviously too soon to tell.
but,
we're incautiously optimistic.
wanton hopefulness with disregard for the consequences.
huh?
worst case scenario, the styles stay hard.
best case?
we take big fun and better feelings to eleven.
i'm betting it's a neck-and-neck tie score come tonight's final tally.
***********
a little bit of bright and a whole lot of brutal.
that's what's up.
unsubtle reminders seem to show up every day.
i'm just sayin', neighbors-
check the teleport:

life usually looks good and feels bad.
and beauty should be painful.
i mean, everything costs something after all.
i don't even think that's a real bee on there either.
i think it's a just fly pretending to have a stinger.
i'm serious.
i think he's getting over on a ripped-off reputation.
because everybody knows bees will buttstab you in the face.
mostly, though,
even if there are tricker bugs and pricker flowers
acting as microcosmic metaphors for the contents and constituents
of this Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
the woodsly goodness is really just doing what it's supposed to anyway.
nature is designed to kick your A*,
and it always wins.
i'm telling you.
it looks good here in these mountains.
really really gorgeous, actually.
and it feels bad.
really really F*ing terrible, actually.
of course,
the only other minky, mincey, mealymouthed alternative is giving up,
and that's SO not a thing when it all comes right down to it.
right?
right!
hard styles,
long nights,
days full of empty actions,
empty beds full of quiet desires,
and all the usual accompanying accoutrements of a rough time.
it's all really happening.
we're just trying to land on the purple fluff,
and avoid all the spikes.
today is the day, again, friends.
more fake bees and less raindrops.
there's a blind melon reference in there somewhere;
never quiet, never soft.....