you had a lot going for you,
and i'm sorry you've got to go-
but,
december is coming in hot,
while the temperature is sinking like a ship,
and there's a whole lot of holiday hottness jumping off
as the timeline ramps up, and taps into the speed force,
for a full-blown whirlwind of holiday cheer an' sh!t.
yikes!
i've got ugliness lurking on my periphery like a lioness,
waiting to watch me die, and eat my eyes.
there's not enough time, ever.
and i don't ever even really sleep,
so i can't imagine how i'll manage to make more accomplishments suddenly
start to appear in completion to anyone's satisfaction.
unless we're talking about food.
if that's all there is to worry about,.
then i've got no worries, whatsoever.
i'm sayin',
we had pancakes the other day.
of course we did.
teleport:
my ma wanted to experience the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress breakfast big action,
and i wasn't about to b!tch out and give her some weak-sauce tofu scramble.
no way.
real maple syrupy coconut pancake magic is what we DO over here;
and if i'm going to be known for something,
i'd like to at least attempt to cultivate a legacy of cookin'-A* mo'fuggery.
y'know?
and y'know what else?
they were delicious.
word up.
we drove like savages to hell and back yesterday, too.
and i even managed to stop on the way back, and make some questionably disastrous
expert executive decisions.
like what?
well,
when you're bummin' out that family togetherness is over for another span,
it's much easier to just find an even worse feeling,
and focus on that.
yup.
i doo-doo that destructive distraction jauns, kids.
two cigars, two caffeine-rick beverages,
and a three pound burrito, totally dominated into digestive doom in six minutes flat.
teleport:
hey,
here's a fun query for you guys-
did i drip a pint of burrito blood onto my wiener?
yes,
i definitely soaked 'em straight through to my undies.
but, like, not on purpose.
a too-big of burrito can't be wrapped exactly,
so there's burst seams, and stretched edges,
and when every single thing is in there,
there's bound to be an excess of sauce.
so,
now i'll ask you-
what goes great with a self-imposed gut-ache,
enacted to distract from situational heartache?
the answer is obvious:
a wet, spicy crotchful of mild, medium, and hot wet ugliness!
mmmmhhhmmmm.
so juicy, in the worst of ways.
also,
salt dementia IS good for you, right?
no?
uh-oh.
then the basket of chips i crunched down immediately afterwards wasn't a good idea?
but,
i thought too much was the right amount!
damn, i did rep one one heck of a hard style all day yesterday.
i do what i gotta to make sure my wrenches all stay turning, neighbors.
this is it, though, friends.
the last day, again.
i'm ready for what's next,
but i'm still a little salt-drunk from what's passed.
it's all really happening,
and i'm perched, poised, prepared, and powered-up for the tomorrows to come;
never quiet, never soft.....
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