RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Wednesday, February 9

SONG OF THE DAY: yamships, flaxseed

It’s winter but today was warm, except I didn’t know that entirely when I walked out the house with the dog to go down the road until we get to the crook in the gravel where some other dog gets all loud and obnoxious up at that dude’s compound, so we turn around. But this meant I got to rock one of the greatest styles known to man – the stocking hat barely on your head. Started with it over my years, but it was way too hot for all that, yet still enough chill to the day (“airish” as they say) that wasn’t no need to tuck it into my back pocket just yet. So I pulled the hat up so it was off my ears, higher on my head, barely holding on, like a condom receptacle. Such a lovely style, and one you can tinker with constantly, slightly tilted to one side (a classic), or even all the way up on your head so it’s not even like you’re still wearing the hat – it’s just floating along with you like an aura of a hat. That’s a top quality style, and I can actually think of a number of dudes I remember rocking an exceptionally floating stocking hat at one time or another throughout my life. A good stocking hat float really sticks in your mind, because it defies physics, and mainstream sensibilities perhaps. With my hat like this, found a bottle stash I’d made a while back, before the snow, which finally melted, and there was a pack of four bottles I must’ve dug out from further into the edge by the river. I walked over just in the off chance there were more, and found a raccoon skull, with a strip of pelt still decaying, so I stuck it in a tree to come back to later, just like the bottles. No rush on anything. You rush too much and you’re fuckin’ hat might fall off. It just ain’t worth it.

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