lastly.

ha.
my last day tattooing as a thirty-nine year old man
was a total sh!t salad sandwich.
running later and later as the day progressed,
while the ideas were changing, or rearranging,
and events got out of hand.
there's not much that fells my crest faster than an effed up appointment schedule.
and although i held on tightly to the reins,
the ride was a wild one, and a loooong, one,
and a fitting farewell before the big day,
and the bigger action of every day from here on out.
what?
did you just ask if the tattoos were all extra cool at least?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
it was TERRIBLE.
i mean, you already know that
NObody leaves with the title,
rules is rules.
i was grinding out that steady hustle,
and in it to win out on all the movie checks,
all day long,
while the day, and the work,
and the collateral collision of events
with the collusion of environmental ills ans evils all unraveled
in the same rigorous and recidivist juggernautical ragnarok'n'roll
that the whole damned rest of the year exemplified.
awwwww.
...
but,
today is a whole other 'nother story entirely.
the hard styles, long hours, rough night, and dinner-less evening,
coupled with the calamity of a cooped-up crabtree's pent-up coiled
and boiling over energy long past the hours i'm able to remain awake,
are all over and done with.
it's a whole new day,
and it's the last one at the limits of a brand-spankin' new decade of really real Folk Life.
mmmmhmmmmm.
so what's the plan?
well,
for starters,
i'm baking a burly batch of cupcakes.
yes,
i am.
and what's more,
i'm making them exXxtra-expert,
because i'm SO excited for tomorrow.
yup.
this is it,
and there's lots to do before the day is done-
i'm baking, and cooking, and walking, talking, writing,
righting, and wrongdoing all the things i've got to get done to clear the way,
and blank out the slate,
and free up the schedule,
for a furious and ferocious, feisty, feral, fortuitous and foreboding
fresh-to-death fortieth berfday party time in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
deep in the permafrosty woodsly goodsly white mountains.
word up.
*
i doo-doo what needs doing,
and the plumbing is all bored out, too.
wait.
what?
yeah.
my kids are the cloggiest craplords in the suburbs,
and that's fine,
but the rickety and persnickety previous-level technology of my ancient homestead
cannot handle the disregard and disdain the deploy into my drains.
ugh.
for the third time in as many visits,
the decrapinator has had to be called in to reverse the damage,
and increase the flow from the top to the bottom of my palatial estate.
yuck.
parenthood is very expensive,
and the repairwork is incredibly extensive,
and the chunks of funky junk this guy removed show that i'm widely ignored
when i rant and rave and otherwise ruin family togetherness
with the crazy-eyed rage of a third-strike berserker barbarian toilet-plunging
butthole explosion.
ha.
it's not funny.
but, you can laugh at my considerable expense, if you'd like.
-
anyway,
the problem is solved, and the children are gone,
so it'll remain so until at least their next visit...
the big flush is done,
and the last push to finish out my thirties in a rush is underway.
i've exorcised a decade , in words and deeds,
and the power of will,
and the greater force of won't,
and the prime mover, which we all call: want,
are all working together to make moves, and play a part in a fresher than fresh start
and a literal, figurative, methaphoric meteoric euphoroc, eugenic, unhygenic, you-genius
XL numero 40,
in mutha-F*ing full effect.
it's coming,
and it's going,
and it's all really happening.....
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....