peachy.

ugh.
what the F* is the forties?
huh?
no.
not the war years of the greatest generation.
hmm?
not my approximate age, either.
i mean the forties.
like, the temperature, in fahrenheit, in the woodsly goodness,
for the past few nights and mornings.
neighbors,
it's july.
i know, i know, i KNOW....
nature wins.
but this?
this is just poor sportsmanship.
it's colder than it should be.
unseasonably, even, and unwelcome, without a doubt.
in fact,
it almost ruins the sun-ripened hottness that's glowing all yellow-pink
on my fancy sunroom tree branches.
but only just almost.
y'see,
the thing is, guys- i get excited to pick the summery succulence that sprouts
up here and there and everywhere on the grounds of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
and today,
the big action, besides how chilled my bare feet are,
is the peach situation on my indoor tree.
yeah!
check the no-fuzz-type teleport:

boom!!
and again:

boom boom!!!
i mean, c'mon, duders.
i've got a tree in my house,
and it's growing me treats.
i think you know what that is, don'tcha?
yes.
it's expert.
now,
there aren't a whole lot of 'em,
but i'm still going to share.
after all,
a magic mini peach could be my ticket out of here.
i'm sayin',
james had a giant one,
but maybe i'll get a tiny peach pit in my throat,
and take a whole other 'nother kind of trip.
like to the emergency room, or the morgue.
oh, stop.
you're getting that one, ...obvi.
mine will be juicy and non-murderous.
just to recap-
fruit, freezing, and Folk Life, all at once.
right now, where i'm living, how i'm living, and what i'm feeling,
that's what's really happening.
got it?
great.
me too.
***********
working too much is presumably the right amount.
rules is rules, after all.
but,
it's been a year and a half of overdoing it,
and the parts are wearing out.
i'm not just talking about my tattoo equipment, either.
i need a break, for goodness' sake,
and i doubt i'll reach out for one on my own.
i'd sooner reach for another 'nother movie check-making opportunity
than a root beer on the beach.
i work.
i've become one of those absentee people.
the ones who only go to work and home,
over and over and over and back and forth and again and again.
greed plays a factor.
i mean,
i feel poor, if not poorly, and i haaaaaaaaaaaate that.
nobody likes poor people, except other poor people,
and none of them are ever getting a permission slip signed by me.
word up.
obsessiveness adds it's own focus to the fracas, too.
i can't relax if i know there's more to do,
and i doo-do that mucho mas molto molto-still style sh!t.
pride gets me all worked up to work my way up and down a day.
i mean,
loud fresh hatrdness for your face is what i advertise,
but the fine print really says
loud(ER), fresh(ER) and hard(ER) than these jive turkeys next to me.
i don't want to get paid to lose.
but i also don't just satisfy myself with a win.
i've got to dominate, decimate, denigrate, demean, deride, decry, destroy,
damn, condemn, and crush the crew i'm cohabitating with.
ouch.
that probably makes me kind of a jerk?
i said it, i meant it, and i'll live with it.
i just want tpo be the most.
the most of all.
mostly.
because i also want to outpace my purposes by about a week,
so i can do something else for a little minute.
i'm ready for a saga that discards the zips and zaps,
and maybe doesn't even allow a pencil or pen,
just for a few.
a tactical regrouping, as it were, for a return to the grist mill,
and for the grindstone to whet my fanged fingers,
and then wear away at whatever's left.
hmmm?
yes.
that IS a flippin' bummer.
what can i say?
half-empty is what i do best;
never quiet, never soft.....