Nicknames. We have all, admittedly or not, envied, disdained or lacked one of our own. It is not really something you can slap on yourself. A good nickname, a monicker, it must from outside sources reflecting you internally. At least, that is my take. You see there is nothing worth doing without passion. Even nicknames cant be handed out and tossed around all hot potato, willy nilly style. There have been four that have owned up to over the years. Currently take full pride in ownership of Mr. Yogi. You see, have much in common with that most smarter than the average bear. Brilliant, quite so, of the charts even. Oh these elaborate fanciful day dreams, mechanisms of rarified divinity, i tell you. Such designs the likes of which fail justice of description. Yes, as ether thru the transom, they come overwhelming ones ability to think clearly in the waken state. Without my friends, my loved ones, this inner circle of sorts... those with strength of mind enough keep me in check, oh without you my family - failings of nature even epic would belie. You see, can craft most elaborate a rouse. The ether hits, under tow pulls... shiny bauble. Picanic baskets. Oh my picanic baskets. Weakness of weakness, to smell, see, so close my picanic basket. Proffer forth your luscious treats. Knock out my senses, give me touch, allow this taste. Oh sweet picanic basket.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Mar 2014 06:25:05 +0000