twenty three hours of cucch.

besties!
that's what's good.
it gets so rough in cold cold weather,
with hard hard styles,
and stress rashes and poorly scheduled tattoos,
and not enough movie checks,
and too many distractions and not enough time....
yeah.
but also,
best buds, tho?
that's what it takes to make it better.
word.
check the teleport:

see?
one weird duder can make it all seem not so bad.
expert.
he was only here for a little tiny bit,
but an infusion of super-elite active participation
made it all a lot more tolerable.
jeez,
i miss living with that guy, neighbors.
non-stop gettin' it is so much better than gettin' bent
on the regular.
awwwww, man.
alas,
he's gone.
just like that.
a blitzkrieg berserking pop-in-and-pop-out,
and the cucch is back to doo-dooing what he does,
and i'm still sh!t-salad scratchin' through the itchiest winter of my life.
it never gets easier,
and i apparently never get any better,
but all of it is really happening,
and i sure am grateful for this life and these times,
as sour and sore and bitter and broken as they are,
and for the worthy peoples spanning all the small spots that don't suck.
yea, kids.
there are glimpses,
and there are indications,
and all of it, always, will keep going the way it's supposed to;
never quiet, never soft.....