The demonic potato. @beardbaykus - Tumblr Blog

Before, after, after with the donut the barber gave me even thought I was covered with shards of hair and after after where I contemplated whether consuming hair shards will cause me to throw up a hairball like a cat and what that will look/sound like

I’ll only answer to one of these, though both are incorrect.

🎶 sometimes I feel like / somebody’s watching me 🎶

Say what you will but being covered in a floor-length sherpa blanket when it’s going to not break above freezing for weeks? Yeah, I’ll take the mockery from within my drowsy, cloudlike comfort.

Don’t talk to me or my son ever again

30 years separate these men, but the heart that beats within is the same.

Summer 2023: an ill-advised but extraordinarily comfortable shirt with skulls and my favorite flower (bird of paradise); my newly-built office building (which has…issues); Hermit Island Beach, Maine; spending time with my geriatric catess; getting mlemed by a sacred cow in Mysuru, India; blessed by a temple priest at Sri Chamundeshwari Temple, Mysuru, India; my fourth viewing of the Taj Mahal, Agra, India; the Qutub Minar, Delhi, India; my new office and commuting vehicular ennui.

Goodbye, Summer. You’re atrocious and I hate you (and all of the 42 I’ve experienced before you) but ugh I guess sometimes nifty things happen during y’all.

For a lot of my adult life I didn’t really care about the quality of a haircut. I went when I was shaggy, someone with clippers ran them through my mop, and then I paid and left. It really wasn’t until I started going to a place where they take pride in making you walk out feeling like you weren’t just being sheared like a barnyard animal that I really started to enjoy going, and savor how I felt when I left. Part One of Preparations to Return to the Motherland* has been completed. *Maine https://www.instagram.com/p/CRJr-x3NqYuBb8hr7tvJtqgToiHJsZgbz2QvK40/?utm_medium=tumblr

<< you guys can seen that, right? is it still there? how does it know that i’m afraid of house centipedes >>

Spring brings the pollen / in summer, the hive / autumn’s leaves, fallen / in winter I thrive

Last haircut of 2020. I should have kept the (increasingly white) hair to burn as an offering for a better 2021, but I think it’d need more than a hairsmudge.

Also: this artwork near the haircuttery had me pretty enthralled even as my fingers rapidly turned into dead frozen claws in the cold.

Bonus: no dead rats or vomit in the alley! Or people!

Friends: You look skeptical a lot.

Me: *gestures around at everything* and your point?

Sunrise over Brown County, Indiana, the morning of the first day of the election. Each of the grays in my beard is like a tree-ring, marking a time when I hit “refresh” on my browser the night before. But in that moment, I felt alive.

In the low country, where the fields meet the waters that ebb from the earth, the older people speak in whispers of the Fen Prince - a euphemism, of course, to avoid speaking His true name. Long ago their ancestors met to select a worthy man or woman whose passage from life, and subsequent interment in the sodden peat, propitiated Him, but centuries have passed since their societies felt compelled to do so.

His is the reflection seen out of the corner of your eye on the surface of the still, brown water.

His is the strident shriek heard on the edge of the shuttered villages when one of its inhabitants crosses over the veil to the other side.

His is the hand that moves across the backs of the necks of those who stray too far into the places where the water and the soil have become one.

He waits, and He is fabulous.

the earth turns to pause, her garment blood red / she knows that her season of life is the past / she bows, there’s no choice but looking ahead / the darkness of winter yawns, bleak and vast

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The demonic potato.