BING, again.

the white mountainous woodsly goodness of northern new hampshire
has no idea what sort of echoing repetition is ringing off of the granite giants,
and resonating in the river valleys,
while eternity unfolds along the finite folds of spirit and memory,
written in warrior poetry from a marginally more southerly clime.
that's no joke, jerks.
today is the day. and it's a big one, for this particular berserker barbarian battle-beastly
bard of true stories, gloriously laborious litanies, and the hardest of styles.
that's right.
it's today that turns the tide, and turns the page on yet another 'nother other new
intense extensive expansive expensive span of time and place.
mmhmmm.
once again,
it's groundhog day.
and that's the day i moved here.
not only that,
but this is the fourteenth one, in a row,
that's been activated by my presence of mind,
and the prescient presence that's mine all mine,
and the present is also mine,
because all that has passed has been surpassed by the passage of time.
y'know?
i'm still here.
that's weird enough as it is,
but,
what's more,
i'm even more deeply imbedded in the really real really rural Folk Life
that i chased after for so long before i brought myself to these hills.
that's a thing.
it took a heck of a long time,
and it took even more money,
and a whole hot mess of bad ideas and worse deeds,
but,
this i'm pretty sure i'm in the place i'm supposed to be.
and for the record?
it's NOT cold out there today.
get it?
no?
oh.
i guess all this moisture coming up from the gulf pushed off to the east,
and hit altoona, instead.
.....still nothing?
oh, c'mon!
well, anyway, ned ryerson,
it's unseasonably temperate,
and the snow is fading fast from the floor of the forest.
yep.
a lot of brown is creeping out from the icy blanket of bullsh!t
that's kept it suppressed for all of this year to date.
it's not prettier, but it's less slippery.
i'll take surefooted and ugly over treacherously beautiful every time.
that's real talk for real times.
what's better than than that?
i've got a bigger better house, a smarter, cooler dog,
and a woman who wants to be a part of it all.
it only took fourteen years,
so i think ol' punxsutawney phil would be proud.
*
this is it.
the same sort of sh!t,
only,
slightly older,
a little warmer,
and with way more space to expand.
over and over and over and over again and agin,
it's all really happening,
here,
in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
surrounded by woodsly goodness.
i am grateful, as ever, for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....