there's no time to cry

i'm craving a new tattoo. which can only mean i'm restless.
if i could just ride it out like a bad acid trip until tomorrow, where charleston lies ahead and cursive lies before me... oh, my darlings of cursive, how i long to see and hear thee. charleston, you too, but that should go without saying. i'm very much looking forward to perusing the city, brimming with history of it's own and of my childhood. i love the south, oh so very much.
perhaps the streets will be littered with little trinkets, cast off by others, to you maybe known as trash, to me known as diamonds in the rough, just waiting to be transformed into something lovely to worn by whomever's spirit it speaks to. or their eye, depending upon the person. my things will be here next week, which means the creative energy built up inside of me by this restlessness of which i speak will be able to spring forth like a fountain. and i, for one, cannot wait. my wallet, can, sadly.
if only bartering were the way of the world, and soon enough, i fear it will be.