barbarian irons.

hey neighbors.
y'know how sometimes when you're relaying information,
you can't really tell if anybody is listening?
yeah.
that's a hard style, for sure.
i mean,
you'd like to think that everything you're saying is important-
even the itty-bitty anecdotals and incidentals and footnotes....
but in really real life?
c'mon,
nearly none of it is actually any kind of noteworthy exchange.
and it's even worse for motormouthed non-stop jawbonin'
worthy warrior wordsmiths.
no jokes.
i talk a LOT,
so i can't ever honestly expect anybody to give too much of a sh!t
therefore,
when i went to the pocho to pick up my mail,
(pocho is post office in expert-speak, kids)
imagine the delight at getting a paid-attention-to treat!
ummmmmmm.
i'm kind of all about that.
yeah.
check the heavy-metal-type teleport:

barbarian culinary fireside activation is on the schedule, y'all.
getting what you want,
without ever asking for it?
expert.
getting it just because somebody listened when you mentioned it?
double-expert.
experiencing gestures of gratitude and generosity
and professional appreciation and active participation,
and also cast-flippin' iron?
that takes being expert to eleven, kids.
no jokes.
a cauldron of dutch-oveny hottness,
and a steel tripod to hang it over the outdoor firepit?
c'mon.
if you aren't even just a little bit jealous,
it'd better be because you already have one,
or else you're definitely an A*-hole.
real talk.
savage stormswept gypsy fireside soup making,
and viking victuals over hot coals and raging flames are what's up.
i count myself as one of the lucky ones.
i mean,
sure most moments are a swirling storm of doo-doo buttery sh!t salad,
but there are some calm seas amid the maelstrom, too.
the bright spots that pop up within the deepest darks
are the focus of a better, more advantageous vintage vantage
on virtue and activation.
i'm just sayin',
if somebody can glean that i NEED cold iron for hot fiery hottness
from out of the millions of mile-a-minute meandering musings
that my loose-yet-thin-lipped mouth makes happen
throughout the days and nights and weeks and months?
there are moments that matter,
there are words that are heard,
and there are times being spanned the way they are supposed to be.
those are all good things, aren't they?
mmhmmm.
i had a feeling that it couldn't be ALL bad all the time.
so that's that.
it's bitter cold all over again.
-15 fahrenheit is pure arctic awfulness.
it's brutal,
it's beastly,
it's taxing,
and strength-sapping,
and frost-biting,
but i'll bet it makes a boiled bucket of broth taste better
when it's roiling over a raging berserker bonfire.
i s'pose we'll find out soon enough.
hottness is the only defense against a winter this pleasant.
believe it.
i'm hoarding it when i find it,
and i'm sharp-eyed and hungry for it, always;
never quiet, never soft.....