effs.

forlorn and forsaken;
fretful. fitful, frayed;
foul, filthy, fevered, fruitless;
all the effs, all the time,
because there are just so many F*ing F*s falling from the firmament,
onto my fresh fulgent face.
huh?
oh, c'mon, neighbors-
i really like alliteration,
and adjectives,
and complaining.
it's a trinity of sorts, one that activates the inner failsafes that power the motors
that drive the mechanisms i use for coping.
and my coping mechanicsm are made up of making fun,
(which is never about actually having fun)
and doo-dooing that freaky sh!t while i'm cooking up something expert.
when i'm a grumpy dude, i make better food,
because it's the only way to improve my mood.
ha.
that's real.
whenever it's windy, i'm guaranteed to be tense, terse, and taciturn,
but,
like i just said-
the edible excellence in those instances goes to eleven.
what's the cure i insist on consist of most consistently ?
wellllllllll,
i'm not an authority on better behavioral practices, i'll admit...
but,
as a nut-juggling juggernaut of cannonball calamities,
and a berserker barbarian battle-beast of biblical babel-tower-of-power collapsing,
i can safely say that what works when you work it, more often than not,
and what works better than most other other ingested comestibles,
because it's got the warrior poet's seal of approval,
is the superlative sandwich from which all furious fires are extinguished.
what?
yep.
good guess.
it can only ever be one thing to soothe the savage stormswept raging gypsy ju-ju.
that's the truth.
friends,
i fixed myself up, and i patched the unbattened hatches,
sealed the seams where the hottness was escaping from,
and filled my bellyhole with spices and seasonings and way too much garlic.
check the cure-for-what-ails-you-type teleport:

FALAFEL!!!!!!!
word up.
patiently prepared from scratch,
from the flatbread to the tahini,
and spruced up with the inaugural essence-activation from that
red magic martian dust from the mediterranean: sumac!
expert.
voraciously enjoyed and graciously shared with my comforting cohort and consort.
boom.
and you know i added some insurance to my home-cooked remedy.
yes, i did.
check the second-dose-booster-type teleport:

ummmmmm,
of course i had a second helping.
don't be dumb, duders-
there's no such thing as too much falafel!
***********
so,
yesterday was my day off from work,
and i actually took it OFF.
mmhmm.
a whole day of taking each hour as it came down through the clock.
feigning relaxation by avoiding chores and keeping busy with other other stuff.
that's the way i attempt to trick myself into taking it easy,
in order to thwart the oppressive and incessant, amorphous and ambiguous anxiety
that has had me in it's grasp, twisting two ways at once,
like a proverbial (and possibly racist) indian sunburn.
ouch.
guys,
i haven't slept worth a sh!t in a month,
and in a haggard and harried, hurried and howling haze,
and i have been dazed for days by the dawn's earliest pre-light.
that's why i'm trying to go easier.
like,
when i was reading on the deck above the garden, yesterday,
just listening to birds freak out for hours-
or,
enjoying a cigar, safely stowed away from the whipping and unwelcome wind
that harried the woodsly goodness, whilst driving with my co-pilot.
or,
preparing pasta salad for today,
and firing up falafel for last night,
while my homegirl swung in the hammock,
dangling in the dazzlingly dappled sunlight here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i'm not trying to dare the secret universal plan to do it's worst....
far from it....
but i will say, i'm not having the worst time,
and i'm grateful for the time i've got.
there are way worse ways to span the cycles of light and dark,
and i'm cool with the course i've charted;
never quiet, never soft.....