Walking Around Wind in the Willows Hanging at the Next Best Spot

It began like this…

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Walking around wind in the willows, hanging at the next best spot. Doing our thing until the grind is up, then moving on out, and smoking some spliffs. Rockin on down the little street once you feel, what never was, once will be, and happened all at once. The culminations of production limits are so fathomable to the point that there is no multi galactic existence a part from the existentialist reality we are a part of.

Believe it or not music is the word, the word is out, and the people are catching on. A new generation is forming, the youth of tomorrow. This generation takes strides from the funkiest phreshet coolest hip fads. This is it; the music scene, the Jams. Life comes down to few things and in the end if that thing can make your spine melt in a single guitar lick, you know you found it. When you think you know what I speak of, just forget you knew my name.

Wanderlusting in a whirl of magnificence is grand. Surround yourself with people that create a happy vibe, and you too will be happy. Energy is the key to all existence. Without Energy you can't be. Cosmic auras connect eyes, eyes connect souls, souls connect reality. Ignorance crushes all. Never let it get to you for if you shall then you will lose.

All the stars aligned and I felt it like a cheetah pouncing upon the antelope. It was absolutely incredible. If it had a taste it would have been cherry funk London broil top cut USDA beef with a mix of chicken wings, grass fed of course. The galactic blues echoed in the offset environment. From the outside the place looked like a decrepit hellhole out of the 80s on a Saturday night. While in fact, this place stood, the next best place to be…

Crazy nights. They also begin half normal, but swirl into the madness your momma warned you about getting mixed up in.

Drugs: they ain't nothing. It’s only a medium for the message. The real message lies deep within. Sometimes you just need to get out of your skin to realize what’s inside it. Deep withering realities of wretched recreation rank in the rear of society when judgment passes. However, when that fails to be present, the show is on and it’s full throttle.

When your spine is melting and the man next to you is broke and the funky hippy whacked out chick you thought you looked fine, ain't dope. You gotta take a step back from the motion picture and let the reel keep spinning and spinning.

When you are the Danish of my delight, you are the one that’s out of sight, you seem to be alright, but what it means is that I might, think a thing or two, about what we could do, to pass the time in rhythmic rhyme, to see what may be, and become of the fun.

What you want, is how you feel, but how you feel reflects what’s real. A look inside can be real fine, but when it’s you without a clue, it’s scary and pantomime. If you were a dip and I a chip I would maybe add a bit.

Little droplets of joy, little funky fingers of fallable follies… As the liquid limerick caricatures of pre-pubescent nights cross my mind, I lean on back and think of time. Let it flow, just let it go, give up your courage and be your own... Give up your money and be advantageous, give up your funny, and be egregious, Gimme some of that squeeze, all you gotta do is ask me please, when it comes and it goes, the stress will pass, but not the woes. What’s fun, what’s cool, is real and tight. It is the apple of my delight. Be yourself and do your thing. Tie your shoes and cut that string.

Buttered bread is good for you. Digest the ginger, cure the flu. Let that freeze and then just squeeze, some potato pancake onion seeds. Drink some milk and fry your eggs, watch your daisies, feed your head.

Just another Saturday night in this hell hole of a city, San Francisco has the vibe man. The beat is cool. The rhythm is flowing and the people are beautiful. That’s right another Saturday night of being yourself, dropping your ego, and changing nothing for nobody. Is that what others do?

Could you stream a line a doctor's notes saying it's ok? You know I know the best method to analyze how I feel… inside and out, both physical and mental. I’ll tell you this, Manitoba never felt the heart that existed when existentialist souls crossed paths and started a drum circle… it would have been nearly impossible… that’s a fact.

Music is the remedy of what’s cool, music is what’s up and I don’t fool… I love to be around smiling faces! I was searching for the sound and the sound found me. I followed it out the door and down the street. I passed the cool old black man jingling for some feed. “Posters or change, spare me what you don’t need…” This man knew the deal, he was trying... I respected him. Following the sound we arrived outside a club. A boy dressed in a funky suit wore band-aids on his face. I could not tell what in the world was going on, it was quite strange, this excuse of a man was a mere disgrace but it was not his appearance that led me to this conclusion. It was his attitude, energy, stature, way of being.

That’s when the peanut butta broke out and that shit got everywhere… UGH! The drums destroy the palindrome that creates the optical illusion of allusions. The mere dissolution of the breakaway creates the existence of the far scathed ordain. Life not asks of us to give, but asks us to appreciate beauty, take darkness, and shape it. With these shapes of mere juxtaposition one can frame the world in his or her mind and undergo transmogrification therefore changing one’s ways to those manifesting better life experiences for those around you/him/her/them/us.

It ain't about the place to be, it’s about the NEXT best place to be. Ride or die. Live it.