Sunday, August 6


in other news,
it's been eight years since i took ownership of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and let me be the first to say it:
it's never looked worse.
only, that's no joke, neighbors.
awwwwwwww, MAN.
the good news is that may deter any NEW neighbors from moving onto the block.
on the ones,
my spot has never looked more haunted than it does right now-
and with the dramatic full-moon shadows?
oh, snap, you ghoulish goblins- it's downright full-time hallowe'eny.
even in august.
the grass is greener,
but only because it's twenty feet tall (i think that means it's trees, now, actually);
the exterior is still four-toned and unpainted;
the interior is so chock full of tattoo studio supplies,
AND books,
AND kitchen overflow accoutrements,
AND dog toys and bones and bits and kibbles,
AND plants-
to the casual observer, i'm pretty sure this is a definitively crazy-person's house.
and that might even be true.
it's mine all mine all mine all mine,
and it feels like summer again,
although so much time and so many seasons have passed,
worsening my hairline in direct inverse proportion to the lawn's lushness,
and taking it's toll on all my nest laid plans for the future, from the past.
time F*ing flies faster than a peregrine freefall,
and i'm wondering if it's possible to hit the brakes before they break.
where even am i?
old and busted and dope as hell,
doing the things i do louder and fresher and harder than i did a year ago.
speaking of-
it's already been a year since the last long-term ladyfriend of mine
dissed your boy like a silent, sneaky cold-blooded gangster.
a whole other 'nother year of solo proprietorship of my big empty castle on the hill.
...ain't that some sh!t.
and it all rolls back around, and away, and back again.
together, separate, disparate, dissonant, dissidence, confidence, arrogance,
and right back to humbled, stumbling over obstacles, and
overlaps and echoes,
spirals and smoke rings,
ghost circles and dead zones-
spirit and memory,
silver skies and werewolf moons-
it's all still happening anyway.
at my house,
in the woodsly goodness,
where i've had great times, and some of the very worst, too.
hard times, fast times, all the time,
every kind except wasted time-
and i've alternately lived high and mightily happy;
deeply darkened in flat-on-the floor despair;
tired and doggedly determined not to fail, flounder, flop, and falter;
cold and lonely;
hot and lonely;
large and in charge;
small and helpless;
hopelessly romantic, and the full range in between;
and lately, totally exhausted and completely out of my element.
it's ALL part of this place.
and that's what home feels like.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

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