roasting.

hey!
so,
what do y'know about being dope?
i mean,
sure,
those of us who remain haggard and hazardous have a special sense
of how to keep keeping it real at eleven,
but only because we have to.
that's a thing.
you can't stay ugly AND be a weak-watery diaperbaby.
y'gotta stay dope, too.
because if you don't keep it fresh?
well,
that's a sure fire way to end up alone forever and ever and ever.
and i just can't hang out with that.
the thing is,
boring people do boring things,
and regular people do regular things,
and worthy warrior poets do real life lively lovely things,
and that's what makes it all so much better all the time.
and it's not that hard, really, now is it?
it's just a compilation of small acts of active participation
and activities that don't involve the same sorry sad sh!t
that everybody else is so damned interested in.
that all adds up to being pretty expert more often than not.
for instance,
check the handful-of-chestnuts-type teleport:

word.
i don't even really like those dirty little doo-doo nuggets very much.
but,
roasting them outside, under a full moon,
in the brisk and biting cold november air?
yeah,
that's so dope.
just like i said.
and anyway,
they taste better when you run that fresh-to-death-type sh!t,
in the woodsly goodness, among the rustling leaves,
whilst the sounds and smells of a roaring open flame surround you.
fact.
expert means doing that other other stuff,
while everybody else is doing what everybody else always does.
sure,
i'll be eating some semi-'sgusting burnt brown nut-rocks tonight.
yeah.
but,
i'll bet y'all aren't doing that, huh?
i love this Folk Life so much.
reppin' flames and forests and scarves and fingerless gloves,
it's a whole lot like being a hobo,
except for the giant Fortress i'll climb back inside of afterwards.
it's all really happening.
werewolf nut-job old-timey jauns.
staying ugly forever,
and staying dope despite that deficit.
this is what is,
and this is where it has to be;
never quiet, never soft.....