observing tradition.

yule, y'all.
yup.
that's my raging fuego-a-go-go, y'know?
sure thing.
a blazing barbarian log jam,
on the darkest day, and longest night?
you get it.
you gotta.
it's good.
and whenever there's a solstice,
there's gotta be some flippin' fire.
rules is rules, after all.
check the teleport:

it feels good to let the battle-beast out once in a while, neighbors.
primal transformations of matter into energy,
light and heat stored up, stashed away from the waking world,
released all in a rush,
steaming and stoking and licking upwards and otutwards....
consuming and emitting, at once,
with the smoke and the sparks and the snow melting all around us.
if you can't hang out with outdoor activation,
and that hot fire sh!t,
well,
one,
you aren't invited to MY makeout parties;
and two,
you are definitely an A*-hole.
that's word.
now,
never let it be said i don't respect a plan.
i stacked the pyre in the morning, before my real day even began...
it's preparation, kids, and it's good for you.
that way, in the night, by torchlight,
(which is so expert, by the way),
i could fill the center with combustible inflammables,
and spark it off like a woodsly tower of rocket-stove sexiness.
......and it worked.
check the elite-ambiance-type teleport:

right?
and with the torches, too?
c'mon:

uh-huh.
not everything is a sh!t-salad sandwich, guys.
once in a while,
there's just the basic elements, in quantity,
making the time pass with more importance.
making minor minutes matter the most is what warrior poetry is all about.
and that's sort of why i take the time to celebrate my lonesome traditions.
i mean,
i share the sentiments like i'm at a seance,
cultivating the convergence of spirit and memories,
as an ethereal essence.
spanning across the moments shared,
and the times spared from the cold.
the fire died down:

and then it was time to enjoy another 'nother tradition
in the fallow hold of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's right.
emmet otter's jug band christmas.
yuuuuuuup.
that's my thing.
puppets, and elaborate but folksy sets,
exposed wires, and no computer generated effects.
it's barely younger than i am,
but it's my fondest and most-enduring memory of christmastime.
that's no joke.
traditions are important, if you care about history.
if not,
then anything goes, and there's no commemoration of time and life.
just the elapsing of time, like a liquid.
it's the ceremony that i need.
i love it.
i want it.
i have it.
because i make it happen.
i do what i do,
and i don't know why i wouldn't.
this is really real rural Folk Life,
kind of ugly, sort of simple, true, tiring, and tradition-heavy,
but it's mine,
and it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....