staring at stars
I left mega babe and the little punk rascals safe behind, geared up for war and got back to tha old country for two days of pugnacious fighting, argumentative screaming and fierce contentious. Nothin’ says “weekend from hell” better than a sit down with one’s kin, an all-out clan’s get together to resolve old disputes one step away from getting tha shotguns out of tha closets and tha pigs squatting on your backyard. Ah, family…
Being “back” and “old” keywords here, and the “resolve of disputes” tha last thing one actually achieves, still, I’ve been carving for stress release: they called in a meeting of sorts, I called it therapy, I’m hard on my “fuck you” mode for quite a while now, so thanks, perfect timing.
But than.
Amidst tha stupidity and out on a stroll I found myself late at night having a fun time with some of my kinsfolk and just chilling from all tha bullshit. I got to hang out with a person I’ve been missin’ out and care for. I got to talk and take shit out of my chest. And I stared at the stars. Fuck, party people, how I stared at tha stars on my way back home!
I don’t do that down here.
To all ya punx: just stare at tha fuckin’ stars on a mountain top on a cold December night for as long as your bones can stand for it: surely we’re hardcoded for reset when we do it.
Obrigado.
Now back to tha bullshiiite
But this time around: I'm happy for it!