This week on Little Magick Things we are begrudgingly accepting our own existence. That’s right we’re hauling our asses out to the forest to look at a bog and go “nice” only to moodily hop in the car and take ourselves home. (And if anybody asks if we’re okay we will simple scream YES WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW then run away weeping.)
To put it simply, it just makes me feel so much better sometimes to just be a sad bit silly instead of trying to fake it. I don’t mean a tad bit silly, I mean a sad bit silly. I mean to take your stormy little rain cloud of a mood and go whole hog with it. (And that includes whipping out phrases you haven’t heard since your Southern Kindergarten days when some 163 year old woman tried to talk to you through three sets of fake teeth and all you heard was the Lord’s soul dying in the background. {Bless her heart})
Sad bit silly is always a good time and it usually comes with silly boots so how can you not be a little bit angry that it works? You match your boots to your mood and then you clog your way into happiness what’s more professional than that? You slap on a pair of toe-stompers and get your butt onto the dance floor of life, take a turn or two and then realize you’re breathing still so some things must be right in the world. Then you call up your Dad and say things like “I get it now. You didn’t actually hate me that one time you forgot to bring home coca-cola instead of sprite for our Spiritual Sunday Supper” and he says, “What?” and you say, “I love you too.” and then you hang up and don’t see each other again until Christmas.
Where did it all go wrong? Is what you want to ask yourself but your dedication to the craft of nonsense won’t allow this so, instead, you buy that copy of Stringer’s Myths like you always wanted and when asked if it’s a real book you respond, “yeah, totally” and then proceed to waltz into oblivion. You can’t be upset at the world when the world is dancing on its head at a pop-tart parade and you’re the only one who’s gluten free. Such is life.
But I’m rambling now. See what happens when you put on the silly boots? You’re likely to two-step your way into crazy town. Where was I? A Roundup! Well that’s perfect because we have boots and this is a shindig. Let’s get started.
The Roundup #5:
I drank alone at a bar whose logo was an armadillo and I wondered where the little guy got his fashion sense.
Two days ago I was driving through the hills of Tennessee and I watched sixty-seven Bucee’s billboards pass by and I wished I had that much passion for my craft.
Thousands of tiny souls are trapped in a bog right now, as we speak. I don’t know how to release them but I do know all of their shoe sizes.
Puppies are heavy. Everybody’s always holding them like this is not the case but it is. It is very much the case.
Sadly there will never be enough to thrift to shift the rift in the space time continuum. Don’t do the math on that. I already have and it’s not good.
That’s all I have for you. You can’t expect me to hold this much chaos for longer than two foam fingers put together. More to come next week! (If we survive…)