buns, broccoli, burnt-out....

early-shirley darkish dawncrackin' a.m. risin' and shinin'.
gettin' those worms, ninjas.
i'm sayin',
it's a sh!t reward for waking up like an early bird....
besides,
while sunrises are nice,
i've always been partial to sunsets....
alas,
i've at least got time to practice and perfect my
sticky, buttery, sugary sweet and lovely cinnamon buns......

and since i'm speakin' on perfection:

the other night we had an off-the-meter mountain of broccoli-style stuffed bread.
i'm tellin' ya'll,
i've got the touch.
a spiral swirl of oily italian taste explosions.
throw a little tomato sauce on the side,
y'know, for dippin',
and you better recognize, son.

c'mon.
i'm sayin',
chewy, gooey, crusty, and top-notch tasty.
if you've had some nibbles on a slice,
you already know how true this statement is,
and if not,
you're really and truly missin' out.

and while i'm speakin' on missin' out;
extra days, longer hours, squeezin' in little tidbits and zapblasts-
i've been workin' kinda hard at tattooin' these days.
not on big, awesome, custom, career-defining crystalized visionary mayhem,
of course,
but on names, stars, flowers, suns, moons,
and assorted other misspent early tax-return money imagery
you know, that kind of stuff.
after all,
i've gotta get that movie check, my ninjas.
and lemme tell ya:
it bites it off.
so hard.
one slow furious molar gnashin' chomp on the ol' magic stick,
every day.
how do you guys do it?
stayin' late, workin' extra, investing your whole flavor into your job;
i just don't understand all you overachievers out there,
rockin' long hours, hard-styles, an' all that.
i mean,
i'm just tryin' to live,
and granted, to live well requires a modicum of labor-intensity to actualize,
but still...
since i'm tryin' to create an elaborate latticework web of rural Folk Life really realness,
and all those tribal suns are financing the other 'nother new hottnesses, y'heard?
and while it's a necessary investment in the longevity of woodsly goodness worthiness,
every other available minute is still better spent makin' my own moves,
my own  magic,
my own chester copperpot, truffle shuffle,
'our time, down here' kind of goonie adventure.
today is a work day.
it's also my kids last day up here until april.
it's a hard double dose of doo-doo butter.

makin' loot,
spendin' time,
borrowing minutes,
and losin' dollars.
it's never easy;
never quiet, never soft...