I often think of the children I’ve tried to help in many generations.
I knew your parents. My parents knew your parents and never told me they were bests of friends. I met your Grandma amongst a Table o’ Grandmothers and I have not sat at the kids’ table since I was 6 years old. I had came Home and earned it. Another reservation to get to; the Last Ticket Home.
I could only hope within the Act of Nuance-of-Maturity or rather zXHachxaka – that I was doing a good thing. The kid older than me or a lil younger than me – tried to fuck my life up. I left and tried to keep life well for those I cared enough about and we had never shared this ain’t the first time we met and it ain’t the first time we’ve seen each other.
A community so contradictive, there are many wounds within Family & Life and the secrets that seemed like Destiny to never pour.
I’ve always had well-water jumpsprings for shower knobs. I can springs to flow with the tunage of a knob I learned From SXCWVB radios and the Lingos the Nations of Men {Tribal Leaders} taught me.
I gave my dog a day old fridge slice of cake that absorbed all daNasty out the fridge and she dipped her Toy Bear into it. {for a lil sweetness in her soft-Flavor for Dogzzz…}(she didn’t want the half of banana I saved in a Ziploc baby I broke up for her on the plate but at least’ she got a whiff and now my room is gonna get cleansed Tropical instead of StoneFruit.)) Her first was a Polar Bear. Then a Grizzly. Then a Grizzly again. Makes sense for chiweenies and Adoptive Parents from El Paso. I’ve been there too and rode around the roundabout of the Flag on my way to throw up blood in Vanhorn for some barrel of White People a.k.a My People that Turned Pale somehow and came back after they rode an Island and we found them again in funny voices of Octaves to figure where actually you’re from that ain’t from around here (you sound familiar to me, somehow in your diction and dialogue.) Asking HaaaoooWWWWWW???? Di dy ou getHere?? [you’re not from Around-these~Li[a]kes are yaa??]
I always wonder why people dye their hair and wonder what happens when bleach comes up. I have black hair and it turns orange to Level 7 on first bleach. Sometimes I can get to 8 or 9. I hid my sickness with Silver Hair for 3 years. It never grew I was waiting to see it back-In-natural-Blackness again. Level 1.5- let’s call that. Let’s say that’s the Level my hair grew for me. Salt-n-Pepper was for when I was 13. It’s been Natural Black for a year and a half now.
I still cough up and spit all the time as if it’s a nasty thing to do and not a natural way to get the toxins out.
I feel the same way about my Sacred Truths.
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ps. You say you’ve never had Fry-Bread and gotta go to a Mountain but never had a honey butter roll or biscuit or eaten French Toast?? I really don’t understand why you wanna make bread batter every time when virtually – it’s more inclusive to try Evverryonneee’s Version at the Potluck. :DDD . zP. -Sam. -SBWV> I’m sorry Grandfathers’ that I broke your nose up there on the mountain. I can’t stand dis-symmetry. I’ve set enough noses by hand myself- including my own that got flattened the first time climbing the Turpentine Pine logs Vertical!! Spanish Moss is good for grip. \😌🤮😮💨🥲😴
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