all of y'all....
where the F* have i been?
it's a short story-
i've been running my A* ragged on some responsible adulthood jauns.
collating and collecting documents;
banking, with all of the big fun of transferring accounts and funds and that;
signing sh!t at lawyers' offices with notary ladies and witnesses.
there's been XI-mastime's aggressively avaricious angles to play,
sort of like a game of snooker,
for richocheting all the desirables into all the stockings,
for all the ladies and the one singular gentleman in my life.
that's a thing.
to get all of that done,
in the immediate here and now,
it's been a horrible whirlwind of sleeplessness,
for sooo many damn long days in a row;
all happening, with collapsing collateral damages,
and spiraling lateral fractures in time and space,
disrupting and rupturing the woodsly goodness' sanctuary
with scary overlaps of yesterday and today.
that's no good.
echoes of the same exact scenarios,
over and over and over,
mirroring my whole life life a no-funhouse kaleidoscope?
i doubt we ever need any of that.
i know i don't.
this is what i've been up to,
while staying up all night every night,
planning and plotting and preparing.
the elements all conspire, at year's end,
nature setting herself firmly against any sort of victory for anyone else,
even if it's a pyrrhic one.
that's a hard style.
i've been slightly overwhelmed as i work my damned hardest
towards one very situationally site-specific goal:
exhuming and erasing the last decade of misappropriated time
from the graveyard of spirit and memory in my heart.
that's some really real talk.
an exorcism has been performed,
and the old ghosts have been laid to rest,
and with a few penstrokes soon enough,
there will be no record to indicate i ever put my faith in someone else.
i don't just espouse a hard-hearted hard-headed heavy-handed style...
....i live it, kids.
in other news,
the littlest barbarian, mr. crabby,
is officially now recognized in the AKC,
as constable crabtree at intervale.
such whiteness, such glory. and a magnificent name, to boot-
he's resting comfortably in the knowledge that he's super-official,
and we're glad for the reprieve from his non-stop savagery.
i'm grateful for the interludes between battles.
the lulls where present-wrapping and baking occur are the ones that
slow down the pace for a moment or two,
and allow the Folk Life freshness to replenish the arsenal
for the next pain-in-the-A* punishment from the secret universal plans.
i'll sign up for every fight if it means getting what i want,
and going where i'd like.
if the future holds another 'nother week like this one,
i think practice makes perfect, doesn't it?
i'm ready for the worsening,
and i'm hoping for improvements.
whatever comes next is free and clear of the past;
never quiet, never soft.....