Sunday, October 30


y'know where i was friday night?
the emergency room!
i might've been betrayed by my old eyes,
and crashed my car,
in the rain,
by myself,
into a light pole.
i honestly couldn't see it,
and as i slid right into it,
the only thought i had?
it was't: i hope my kids know ilove them.
it was: this is a lame way to die.
real talk.
and then, stars and explosions and loud, fresh, super-hardness,
literally for my face.
i cracked my gums, i put a few new holes into my face,
like, straight through, and all very bloody.
did my head crack the windshield?
it sure did.
and my nose?
oh, don't you worry, neighbors-
it's broken.
i didn't even get an adrenaline surge from the near-death bash-up.
my vitals were those of a calm and relaxed man of leisure.
y'know why?
because i'm resigned to the idea of perpetual misfortune.
no.don't be bummed.
it's cool.
because that's the burden of the best storytellers, anyway.
good fortune is wasted on good storytellers.
so i spat out my mouth, not hot fire, although it still feels like it,
but rather, the salty iron essence of werewolf from within.
i was drippin', and spurtin', and split into bits,
and all i kept thinking about?
pizza and cookies.
y'see, i was in a rush to get home and make pizza.
and eat cookies.
and generally have a tasty friday night.
i got a ride to the hospital, got to hear allllllll about
the amazing brand new tattoo shop in town,
from the night nurse who tended me;
and as she just got her brand new first zipzap ever,
the first of many more to come, to hear her tell it-
she thinks that i should go get a tattoo from there too-
from those tasty and amazing new lovely ladies
who are totally and completely awesome........
for those of you who know me and my truly told true tales of woe-
you may already know that the new new is the byproduct of my old and busted.
my ex-wife is the proprietor of the place i was being told about.
it always makes thrills me to hear about her.
i mean, we've studiously avooided each other for years-
but, we live and work in the same small space,
so the sour grapevines leak information on occasion-
i don't know that at my lowest point in some time, in a decent amount of pain,
that an unknowing update on the general beloved nature of my least-liked lost lady
was the best medicine for my mangled maw.....
you can bet that's precisely what i had hoped to talk about,
despite the lingering laryngitis that still plagues my pronunciation of every syllable.
i mean,
instead of making pizza and being satisfied,
i had a beating and a bruising and a general battering of my already compromised ego.
womp womp.
i believe that's called icing, bro.
and it was on some seriously lame cake.
i got some stitches.
i got some aches and pains.
i got fewer bruises, but more lumps than i'd have guessed,
and my skull hurts even more than it did from the pre-existing illness i'd yet to overcome.
...the worst part?
by the time i got home, which was practically saturday morning,
that meant no pizza.
i had cookies already ready already,
and i'm sure that made everyone else pretty psyched.
wanna see 'em?

coconut walnut lemon chocolate chip lovelies.
i'd tell you how to make 'em,
but you're not gonna.
suffice to say, there's lemon everywhere,
coconut everywhere else,
and an overlarge quantity of nuts and chips for good measure,
although nothing was measured.
the icing had juice and extract and zest-
the sprankles were color-matched to the season,
and the taste was totally expert.
that's it.
i make things in my kitchen,
i break things on the roadways.
it's all really happening, and it hurts quite a bit;
never quiet, never soft.....

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