Sunday, September 13

this.

what's crackin', neighbors?
oh, yeah.
well,
you wanna know what's kraken?
you do?
oh, c'mon.
ok,
if you insist.
check the teleport:
ha.
lots and lots of lines and dots.
twenty inches of deep-sea doombringing battlesquid,
from the fathomless abyssal depths.
uh-huh.
me and my marky-markers mark'd 'im,
and then we put the new tentacle approach to it, too.
if you're still just reppin' on eight legs,
you're falling behind, kids.
too much is the right amount,
and this one's got molto, and there are splits and offshoots,
and then there's molto still,
and those've they've even got a few of their own.
more eyes, more spikes, more lines, and horns!
this duder, matt, is a really good guy,
and a damned good client-
i need more of those types of folks in my life.
and not just in the tattzap shack either.
anyway,
all that kraken, holding a few gears,
was a good experience to start my saturday with.
i still did a bunch of regular northern up-here zips afterwards, of course.
the early hours and headstart on some new hottness set the tone
for the rest of the day, anyway.
heck,
i almost think i was simplifying my life by doing that big ol' cephalopod tattoo.
really.
i mean,
this was his last one:
skull-masked motor-manly engine schematics and sh!t.
why the glare?
because bad photos are sort of my thing.
so take it easy.
you still get the general idea, don't you?
right.
so, you're okay, then.
that's a lot of straight lines and circles,
and a lot of finger-crampin' zipzappin', too.
guys,
i really like the idea of a secret universal plan,
and a blueprint for the underlying truths and overarching ley-linework....
i find actual plans and blueprints to be more complicated,
and more work,
than the ones that get kept a secret.
*
but,
where my dogs at?
that's the real question.
three months of steady searching and researching,
seeking the just-right jerks to accompany me through the near-limitless lengths
of lonesome hermit hideout heaviness.
that's no joke.
i span a whole lot of time without other people near me.
it's not terrible,
but it's not really all that awesome.
the thing about other people?
there's always a reason to change plans, or not to make plans,
or to pick sides, or teams, or times.
dogs can't do stuff like that.
mostly they want to lick butts, eat treats, and hang out.
for really real.
that's the whole plan,. every day.
and that sounds like the actual best thing ever, if you ask me.
plus,
they get to crap outdoors,
which is also pretty great.
so,
where my dogs at?
in a kennel, on a blanket, trying to suckle something,
wondering when the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is going to welcome them
in as guardian spirit animals of lightning and hot fire, probably.
or peeing on a rug.
one or the other, i'm sure of it.
the hardest truth these days?
there are only so many empty evenings that can be fought through
before fatigue erases the instinctual angry energy that pushes the balance
off of the fight-or-flight reaction,
and causes the castle-law stand-your-ground 'gariousness of true stubborn,
principle-based warrior poetry to wear off,
and that berserker belligerence turns into longest long nights
with only the churningest of worm-gut weary worrying.
......do you even know what that means?
i didn't think so.
it means that eventually, getting madder and angrier and bitterer
instead of just being sort of sad will really wear you the F* out;
and when there's nobody around, to sound off, and round off,
and round up, and reflect, deflect, react, attract, or attack?
it happens even faster.
duders,
that's EXACTLY why i need a like-minded pair of battle-beast barbarian shark-bullets.
i need 'em.
a left and right hand team of terriers,
ready and willing to tear it up, terrorize, and be terrible, all at the same time.
my very own tandem hugin and munin,
but with cooler names, and less brains.
no?
ummm, YEAH!
that way,
we're a magic number shock-troop squad of shockwaving savage, stormswept,
outdoor-eliminating, power-mad, monstrous melee and magic-
hurling things and ourselves,
running around in a spiraling hucklebutt hurricane of dervish demolition,
and gnawing our way through each and every day.
if i'm going to keep going mad,
and keep getting mad,
and have a maddeningly motivated mien,
well,
i think what i gotta get is my really-real reliable-by-virtue-of-ownership-style
ride-or-die duders who will literally have absolutely nowhere else to be.
i think the time is nigh,
and the dawn of the battle-beasts is set to begin in the autumn of this year.
it's all really happening,
and a whole lot of it could stop at any time, and i'd be totally fine with that.
alas,
those secret plans are in motion,
and the only way to stop is to finish what's begun;
never quiet, never soft.....

No comments: