it's coooold out there EVERY day.

thirteen bad lucking mutha-'ucking YEARS.
yup.
today is the day, neighbors.
groundhog day.
the fact that it's a huge stormswept raging arctic blasting barbarian-battle-beastly
b!tchsap-slap-happy all-really-happening snow day just seems fitting.
why is that?
oh.
wait for it......
because ANYthing can happen,
.......................but it won't,
it's a microcosm of a cosmic joke, you jerks.
a secret universal typo-type misprint in the plans, my man.
thirteen years ago,
i moved here with next-to-nothing.
in that sense,
it's a success story.
there's not a corner of my castle that hasn't got all the stuff stuffed into it.
i got things,
and i do things,
and that's something, for sure.
the twist in the plot is-
once there wasn't any reason to stay here anymore,
i still did,
and i still do.
sometimes, a place picks you.
this is where i'm at, not just where i live.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
the woodsly goodness,
the far-flung twice-removed distant distal distance between
handfuls of handsome and hands that bite the hands they shake,
AND the ones that feed them.
confused?
don't be.
my hands have teeth,
and they snap at all the open palms and closed fists they encounter.
what these hands do,
day after day after day after day?
like groundhog day and that shadow-seein' repetitive repeatin'?
they grab and grasp and gasp,
and write and stir and swipe,
and hold on for dear life,
and let slip away, and loosen up, and lose their grip, and let go.
dang.
that's a lot of stuff for a pair of hands to do every day.
yeah.
13 years, in a row, and it's snowing...hard.
it's colder'n cold out there.
my wintertime gloves won't act as muzzles on my mitts, though,
because i've got things to DO, duders,
and that's the truth with or without manual dexterity.
finesse, or bludgeon, there are still way more moves to make.
thirteen years ain't sh!t, even if it feels like forever.
get it?
no?
oh, man.
that sucks.
today is the day,
but it's just like every other day.
it may mark a milestone,
or a small span in space and time;
it may signify a substantial stretch of really real life,
or a face-front claymore mineshaft motherlode
of fun-is-HOW-you-make-it, not where....
it might even just be a bad-luck-what-the-F*?-type anniversary,
but me and all my fingers,
pointer, middle, ring, pinky and thumb,
are counting on there being more of all of this.
thirteen years, day in, day out.
***********
sandwich week, though.
hahahaha.
that's always positive.
and what's that entail this morning?
a bagel, activated, and elevated to breakfast sandwich status.
teleport:

i love sandwiches, guys.
for real.
hummus, lettuce, alfalfa and radish sprouts, shredded carrots, more hummus,
and that sesame sexiness on a thick, toasted circle of breadsly brekkie best-ness.
mmmmmmmm.
i wasn't reppin' anything delicious thirteen years ago.
*
things progress,
regress,
digress,
gain egress,
and achieve varying degrees of success.
that's nothing new.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....