winded.

aaaaargh.
the wind, duders.
ill winds, and ill tidings,
and illmatic magical mastery of the elements,
and that ill na-na.
two of those are currently happening,
and i'll give you a hint which two-
there's blowing, blustering, bellowing, billowing, and befouling
all along the ley lines and lateral limits of the woodsly goodness.
yuck.
i hate wind.
i do.
i know it precedes changes,
and it carries answers,
and that it makes the fluidity of air into currents of charged and sensate
skin-tingling tactile tsunamis of spirit and memory.
however,
right now,
it's making itself into knives of bone-biting cold,
and my dumb ears are bright red and stinging
from walking around with crabtree on our morning constitutional.
...and i'm just not into it.
-
i AM,
however, very much into chocolate and coconut.
yup.
they go together.
and they love each other.
and i love that about them,
and i love to put that kind of unity in my mother-F*ing mouth.
neighbors,
check the teleport:

oatmeal brown sugar coconut bars!
they're all lumpy, and moist, and thick, and hearty,
with chunky oats and coconut flakes making the texture really take off.
that's good.
and the middle is stacked up with a big blowout of cocoa and coconut frosting,
filling in and up and our from the radius of that rectangle.
is that a thing?
i think so.
plus,
i got that drizzle jauns going strong on top.
stripes of coconut chocolate ganache, all dark and dreamy,
slashed across the surface,
just sticky enough to adhere all those fancy flaky coconut sprankles.
word up.
i want that expert activation at all time.
and i have it, because i create it.
we cultivate coincidences,
but we make our own fortunes.
that's definitely a thing.
***********
while those of us in the remote north aren't nearly as likely
to be exploded as many european semi-socialist urban centers are.
...and as an aside-
seriously, WTF?
paris is such a lovably dirty, old, busted, cliche',
why would anybody want to blow it up?
the idea that murdering concertgoers is a way to enforce policy change
is pretty preposterous, and very ugly,
and completely removed from sanity.
especially since there's no way the french government
actually respects the eagles of death metal OR their fans.
the actual eagles, maybe,
and even then, hotel california only carries so much weight in the modern age.
but for real, though-
replacing zealotry for reason means you're a total A*-hole.
for real.
bombing yourself into pink mud to make a point
isn't even a symbolically pyrrhic victory,
it's a mean-spirited mess,
and a public-service-workers' nightmare.
NObody in paris is going to clean that up.
i mean,
c'mon...
there's human sh!t on the sidewalks, and nobody even notices.
now there's terror-attack literal body-paint on the everything else?
i do believe they'll have to go on strike
to campaign for another 'nother 'nother paid month off from work every year.
jeez.
anyway,
it sucks when terrible things happen.
always.
those bombings/shootings/sh!thead attacks were a b!tch-ass thing to do.
*
and it doesn't compare, or correlate,
but we did have an armed bank robbery yesterday.
yes.
we did.
i'm pretty sure my deposit at the branch is now getting spent by a male suspect
in women's skinny jeans and a blonde wig,
after a legit old-school holdup.
wow.
the rural reaches of northern new england are getting a bit rough,
at least for where we're at,
and what we've got to offer.
friday the thirteenth was a real piece of poop.
i think that is what happens.
i'm troubled by the events that unfold in pain and suffering;
i'm discouraged that crime and shortcut greed are invading my immediate world;
i'm exhausted from responsibilties that require my constant upkeep and support;
it's ALL really happening,
and it couldn't possibly always be good news;
never quiet, never soft.....