symbolic Summer's end

thanks cucch!
panniecakes got ate up this mornin',
in a tag-team albie & michael griddle flippin'
yum4tum battle royal.
we used some super alaskan syrups.
that birch business tastes like mole's asses.
but the salmonberry is so nice....
after a phonecall from our little buddy waaaay up and over,
we celebrated his flavor by using the flavor he mailed here....
perfect.

i tattooed the weiner guy, glen, again....(guess where...)
as always, it was an interesting time.
and instead of staying around our small but fresh town,
my city-savvy shiny-shoed peoples flew northwest,
in a car, not on an airline,
sans woodsly goods (a.k.a. us),
and did some bread & puppet....
i am SO glad that duders can go and be on that stuff.
it is super important big-fun barbarian recharge recreation;
and all of you who missed out,
really missed out...

i haven't slept in days, ya'll.
i've got that foggy early-mornin' wake up head all day, too....
bonfiery hottness tonight,
and tomorrow,
the symbolic end of summer hits hard.
labor day.
i'll be workin'.
but not laboring.
and before that,
i'll be shootin' some firearms with the digits i dig it with on my spit hot fire arms.
i plan on some easy,
fluid smooth-talkin' hot fire spittin',
after all,
meaningful moments equate eventually into epic events.
it's the collection and categorizing of all the small awesomes that add up to momentous mountains.
make that volcanoes....
make sure you ninjas find time to erupt in honor of the passing (spanning) of time....

glorious, and laborious,
never quiet, never soft......

ringin' in, cashin' out.

octo-tarded!
mike and rita reppin' the super tuber,
olive the dog was all about it....

it is more important to let go sometimes,
than to be right.
don't misread that.
i LOVE being right,
mostly because i'm a snob.
but sometimes,
it isn't as important as letting it ride....
word,
today i completely let it coast along the secret universal blueprints.....
good times...


six years ago, my ninjas.
summer ends tomorrow.

this is how it goes:

free day...

get ready for holmesian hijinx....
one set of my peoples leave, another arrives;
mike holmes and co. are en route to the woodsly goodness.
no breaks in space and time for the epic adventures of your favorite real-life warrior poet/wrench-chooser/berserker barbarian/documentarian....
should be dopeness and big style fun times.

shawn hebrank is the man,
without his helpful and active participation,
there would not be these:

we gets it in, ya'll.
no sleep,
loud, hard, and fast,
you know the drill........

thursday thunderball...

shootin' shootin',

shootin' shots of shots of shootin' shots.....

jimmie shot the big baby jesus,
the 3.5" magnum shotgun,
and he took that sh!t like a champion.
props were administered.


we also took turns poppin' off some brass tacks,
with the new hottness,
my tactical fresh-to-death m-4 rifle.

look close,
the brass is flyin' through the air...


we ate out,
and some f-'tards were representing the college-age b!tchsap bagholery i like SO much.
nothing steps up the anxiety like loud stupid young people with no agenda other than being loud and stupid.
i have NO hate in my heart for eleventh level volume and berserker behavior,
but when it's happenin' as a  shenanigan byproduct of worthless lives lived poorly by weak-sauce waterbabies,
i gotta tell ya,
it cheapens it for the rest of us battle-beasts who keep it really real.
today,
even without sleep,
i am gonna be playin' it hard and fast,
with the thunder and the lightning and the oh-so-hot fire all destined to be spit with precision accuracy and sniperlike remorselessness...

this morning is glorious,
hard, hot, loud, and fast,
i got my peoples all around me,
gettin' at me,
and comin' and goin'.

here's to visits as epic and enjoyable as the ones that got it poppin' right now.
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
and the ones who doo-doo that freaky sh!t with me,
never quiet, never soft.....

r.Kelly and Chinese food.

last night we blazed stumps and coals again.
twice as warm, and for half as long.
the perfect amount of toasty woodsly chill-takin'.

immediately afterwards, we went inside and i fell out,
comatose, yo.
big fun wreaks insane toll-taking dents on my endurance.
hiking, and walkin', and msg chinese food eatin'.
i need my beauty sleep,
seriously,
i look like this WITH it:

let's not push our luck.....
word.

ghost story style flashlight face,
it's a so a-spooky.....

we went and saw snakes and berries and tall-ass grass action in eaton, nh,
on uncle steven's property,
where some still-life soul-stealing went down,
courtesy of mr. knuckles and his panoramic photographic visions.....

today looks to be a berserker barbarian double-barrelled buckshot kind of day.
it is wednesday, after all,
and that stands for woden, and that stands for odin,
and that stands for doooooooooooooope.
i'm bringin' the big bore battle-beast flavor, my ninjas,
hard and loud,
and i've got a crew of mosquito-bitten and otherwise itchy trigger fingers ready to snap to it, too.

best quote of the evening?
'i got mad associates, but not so many duders i can hang out by the bonfire with...'
thanks, jim.

in other news,
i just learned about something awesome:
that's right.
'real talk',
it's some r.kelly incredibility!
my city peoples turned me on to that business last night,
and if you didn't know about it,
you've been warned.
'tarded dudes talkin' some sh!t, son.
follow that link, & go listen to it somewhere.
you SO truly need to get on that sh!t.

get on it,
i'm fittin' to ride, ninjas,
never quiet, never soft....

more flavor, more fury.

berserker barbarian bonfire bush.
like a bonzai of cindersparkle ghost-branches.
light, captured and translated into something moving at less than it's own speed.
we're slowin' it down, ya'll.
that's how we decompress and reduce the pace of a hard summer of frenzied wizard move-makin';
good food,
nature hike explosions,
picture takin',
and making sure there exists a record of the lives being lived.
fortune's worthies, my friends.
that's the designated nomenclature for active participants who produce throughOUT their career.

in these spots.....
i f'd up my eye,
spraying some burberry cologne....
what an A-hole.


mushroom season is wrappin' up.....
this festy mold monster is the carcass from a massive meaty-gilled spore cap.
that part that looks like a 'sploded blueberry muffin is extra butt-nasty,
and the filthy gray broccoli bits aren't much better.


it has been brought to my attention that real bloggers take pictures of their food.
i ate this.
it's crostone, which is crusty bread and garlic and mushrooms and spinach.
it's delicious, too.
ha-HA, ninjas.
i got you.
i'm official and sh!t, now, b!tches....


nests & tunnels,
woodsly as hell,
we doo-doo that,
never quiet, never soft....

bonfires.

b&p, get the documentary:
'brother bread, sister puppet'.......
massive masonite block prints, b!tches.
they're SO on the ones.....
today's schedule involves a little tiny bit of hard workin',
and then some hot and tasty eatin's,
and then stumps and the hot hot fuego,
'til somebody starts sweatin'...


a lot of j-named people are up here representing the woodsly goods, yo.
the lovely ladies above have been maintaining some strong bonds of sisterhood,
and that's dope.
jess and jenny hung out by the fire, and posed for pictures....
there was also a shootin' star spotting, and wishes were made.
good folks livin' the Folk Life are what's happenin'.
a little bit of rural reppin' does a body a LOT of good.....

jimmie was the digital documentarian for the evening.
and no,
that isn't a michael myers hallowen costume he's wearing.
i have gotta say,
talented folks surround me,
and it motivates me to do more...
my man got a shot of the sky and the homestead that screams out 'comfort'.
seriously,
it looks the way comin' home to a  warm pot of soup feels.....
nice.

my trip to glover, vt. has managed to alter my perception of priority yet again.
ninjas don't wanna see me work,
they wanna see me LIVE.
recognize, ya'll.
i'm sayin'.

concurrent creative construction.
every different direction we divert dopeness down,
every single pathway we peruse,
it is absolutely ALL relevant.
each new fresh-to-death idea,
each white-hot fiery furnace of flavor,
makes a laser-sharp slice of just-be-dopeness out of the coarseness of real life....
a diamond is a diamond is a diamond,
but the rough ones just don't have the same sheen as the myriad multifaceted prismatic  powerhouses we produce.
woodsly mutha-flippin' goodness.
"of the earth"....
like diamonds, yo,
because no matter how brilliant,
them sh!ts is still rock.
straight out the earth,
seasoned in the lava-lined hottness of a warm gooey, molten center.....
i'm tellin' you, son,
that's how we doo-doo that freaky sh!t;
never quiet, never soft........

bigger, better, more amazing.

bread & puppet, my ninjas.
epic.

there were so many flippin' people there,
and most of them weren't a-holes at all,
excluding the topless hag, and the aggressive dog owners...
my peoples maintained woodsliness, and goodness,
with perfect attendance in full force.
hard props are being issued:
the whole rovetti posse: steve, jenny, fiona, & cullen,
jimmie & jenny,
and even other jim,
all represented the Folk Life in flavorful ferocity....
so much super-freshness, and great vibes all around;

except for this guy.
right in front, tall, AND on a chair.
what an inconsiderate weak-sauce waterbaby.
his attempts at being a ruiner were for naught,
as the day rolled on in infinite dopeness, defiantly....

plenty of chunky crusties also showed up.
non-contributors, yo.
(shawn hebrank's old seattle crew type business.)
skanky, grit grimy genderless stinkbombs.
why do they all wear the same uniform?
and what's the reasoning behind dread headlock chemotherapy hairstyles?
duders gotta be involved, producing some hottness,
not just sucking off the flavor remnants of the doo-doo'ers of all the freaky sh!t.
participation is important.
remember:
sharks are dope,
remoras not so much.

this was one of those days.
the ones where everything and everyone all fit together just right.
ya'll shoulda shown up.....

hard.
always and forever.
never quiet, never soft....

saturday move makin'.

jimmie & jenny are headed up.
that's word.

when you're wondering what the f* you're doing,
it is important to be aware.
i don't mean in the sense of world calamities and current events,
but aware of the world and your place in it.
i am aware of the where, ya'll.
as in:
where i belong: somewhere, or here and also there;
where i am headed: everywhere and nowhere;
where i have been: someplaces and sometimes.
and where my peoples at: all over, and under, and in between.
everybody belongs to their own world.
i mean,
there is a place for everything, and everything in it's place.....
the hard part is being able to pinpoint the locations of all the every's, the no's and the some's.
the wheres, yo.
if you're making the most of your minutes,
if you're being about the things you're about,
and you're doing it all as hard as you can,
then you're already at where it's at.
even when you smash your face in on your bicycle,
even when you make major mistakes,
even when the harshness is competing with the hottness,
and even when you send japanese crap to your job and f* up some duder's situations,
as long as you were doo-doo'in' it hard, loud, and proud,
the whole mess is a piece of a bigger picture,
a catalyst,
an answer, my friend, blowin' on the winds, of war and change.
if you're doing what you do,
honestly, truthfully, wholeheartedly on the real,
then eventually the rest will all fall into place...
every avalanche starts with a single snowflake, y'heard?
so are you a frosty delicate crystal b!tchbag,
or an earthshakin' groundbreaking devastatin' berserker barbarian abominable snowman?
exactly, yo.
i'm sayin'...

i know i am exactly where i'm supposed to be, and at exactly the right when o'clock for whatever's in store.
i know it, and i don't sweat it because
every day, in every way, i try my damnedest to just be dope.
moves, kids.
you gotta make 'em,


dry weather plays havoc with the mushroom magic of the woods.
there are hundreds of these leathery dog-treat lookin' ones, though.
hot fire and cool evenings,
bread, puppets, and my peoples,
never quiet, never soft.....

road warrior poet. (NOT kerouac.)

i spent the day driving and listening to the black keys and weezer.
after hours and hours (and hours) in the car,
i hit up susty's radical vegan eats and tuned up some seitan sandwiches.
yum4tum, ninjas.

letting go of thoselittle lovely ladies is too rough on my constitution, ya'll.
i get sick with it.
and my car doesn't have a full dose of freon, so the a/c was a no go.
SO hot.
'til you sweatin'. as we said across the pond in england....
this visit was as elite as ever,
and i've got boxes and boxes of berserker playmobil barbarians to prove it....

let me tell you about accident rubberneckers, kids;
what are they thinkin'?
i mean, yeah, they might see somethin' horrifying,
but,
they could also just drive along and get on with living their lives too.
vicarious vantages of violence and veracious vehicular viciousness?
no thanks.
their quick look at mortality somehow adds half an hour to my trip.
speed on by, f*-tards.
and don't forget:
every one of us is gonna die some day.
i'd rather take the twenty minutes i spend in traffic,
just so some a-holes can look at some other a-holes who are less automotively fortunate,
and do almost ANYthing else.
all for a glimpse into the inevitable
(although the inevitable is usually less mangled, metallic, and broken-glassed)
i really like the saying, when referring to someone presently deceased,
that they have 'passed'.
not passed away, or passed on, or whatever.
just passed,
like they did well on a test.
like they have earned a respite after putting in some time on a really hard exam.
A+, at life, even.
or maybe i am really into it because it is a homonym for past,
which means history and beyond.
the past, and going past.....
both at once,
thought and memory.
study tools, for that secret universal s.a.t.
i'm takin' time to appreciate what's happenin'.
and i have a few minutes to breathe, too.
and no pants on, either.
i'm down to hang out, my ninjas.
so to speak.


night light.
i've got logs stacked into a tower,
waiting for the inferno to bring the hot heat,
and the warm glow,
to the cool and the dark.
my duders are comin' up,
and even more other duders are joining in for a big fun last hurrah for the summer.
a second bread & puppet trip.
glover, vt.
google map that sh!t, and join us, yo.


never quiet, never soft.....

the last day.

epic barbarian battle-beast stickers are here.
these go to eleven.
you know you want some.
send me some mail,
and i'll send you back something louder than 10.

my small 'uns are leavin'.
weak sauce, son.
the kind of thing that stays hard to do.
or at any rate, it never gets easier.
heart wrenching.
especially the wrenching part.
word.

this time is to be spent with the pebbles, son,
as in the small rocks, like.
act like you know about it.
summer is over.
harshness.
still,
the moments i've made monument to in my august living were well worth the costs.
time and money, and one equates to the other,
but spending both to create thought and memory, son.
overlapping rings of resonating ripples.
it's the sound of Folk Life livin'.
get with it,
never quiet, never soft....

weak sauce work week.

my hands have teeth.
harvest got me this claw of doom at the beach.
these girls know what's up, y'heard?

the seedlin's went to story land today.
i went to work.
disparate methods of makin' moves to be sure....
but i know what's important;
so after leavin' early,
i made the most of the remains of the day.
homemade pizzas were what was up.
food made with good vibes and intense ingredients always makes my mouthpiece happy.
not to mention the freshness i feel with a full bellyhole.

we watched 'penelope'.
it was pretty good, too.
holly suggested it, we listened.
way better than 'machine girl', to be sure....


two days without rain, i still can't believe it.
that bike is part of my secret collection.
it's a heron touring bike,
in the french randonneuring style.
there was also a mouse nest in one of the panniers.
(motor-scootists call 'em saddle-bags... weak sauce moniker iron horse baloney)

my time is taken up,
these girls demand a dope dad,
and days of due and proper homeland hottness.....
no sleep, ninjas,
never quiet, never soft....

dry, but cold.

oh man!
we rode around on our bikes until it got dark.
and no,
i don't ride for the health benefits,
that much should be obvious from the photo.
i don't wear sport-specific clothing either.
i just do what i do, how i do it.
loud and hard and big, too, if it's an option.
even my small-talk skills only come in XL.
true story.

we had a day:
we had waffles.
we got our extended special forces for our playmobil battles.
we read books.
we went to the post office.
we got artisan sourdough bread (and cookies) at the old village bakery,
we made delicious dinner.
we had soy milkshakes.

 the girls have mastered two-wheeled upright maneuvers.
they are even  practicing tricks now.
the time i have been given,
the people i span it with,
all worthy of being told and retold.
the ways and means of just being;
dopeness,
hottness,
going-to-elevenness,
woodsly goodness,
bererker barbarian battle-beastliness,
i live this life.
hard.

because even the most meaningul, magical moments blur by and fade away.
the lasting value lies in thought, and memory.
words to the wise, from the wise.


one last thing, ya'll.....
i am especially thankful for those persons i get to interact with, and overlap moments of living,
they keep the warrior-poetry alive and well.
without the people who remember, without that spark of thoughtfulness,
the wrench-cranked limits of eleven level loud large/larger than life folk heroic woodsly goodness are just a ghost circle... 
i appreciate being considered. 
for those about to [albie] rock,
we salute you: 
never quiet, never soft...

spent, and spending.

today,
we made peanut butter/seeds/pinecones bird feeder balls to hang out amongst the branches of the woodland borders of our homestead.

it is important to provide for nature as nature provides for you.
the pinecones are from our yard, naturally,
and the rest was all jess and the guardian goodness girlies' idea.
i spent the remains of the day maintaining eleven levels of unheard of/unhealthy keep-it-realness.
i was up early (as in: 4 a.m.) with the mid-august midnight insomnia.
going back to bed wasn't the way to do it,
so i pushed back,
and wrenched the day before dawn even cracked.
you gotta be ready for whatever comes down the pipes, y'know?

we all went and watched the computer-powered star wars hott hottt hottttness!
now,
i know there's people out there who want to be little whine-holes about so many myriad manifestations of mealy misanthropic minutae when it comes to making more movies.
i don't care about your opinions about the plot, the animation, the greedy lucasfilm antics;
all i can say is:
jog on,
and while you're at it, klingon your weak-sauce romulan rump to a star trek convention.
lightsabers, ninjas.
and blasters and whatever else awesome happens to happen.
sharing a big-screen star warrior poet clone battle was just what i needed to bring some balance to the force.
thirty years since my dad took me.
do or do not be dope.
there is no try, son.

i am looking forward to an open-mouthed full-bored log-sawin' snores galore make out session with the spirits of slumber.
winkin', blinkin', and noddin',

the woodland realm i inhabit is a good one,
twym tan, rhyfelwr profiadol;
bwyth tawelwch, bwyth llaith...

ninjas from the city.

this is my homeboy,
johnny halo,
scitar prodigy, musical genius, and metal-haired wizard.
(and yeah, that's a shark with aviator sunglasses on his arm)

he came up from n.y.c. and got a fossa tattoo, in blue.
fossas (pronounced foo-sah) are weasel cat rat beasts from madagascar,
and eat every part of whatever they catch,
including bones, feathers, fur, teeth, beaks, whatever.......
they basically keep it the realest.
what's really 'hood, b!tch?
this kid took his lumps, too, yo.
and he took 'em like a champ, at that.
i always appreciate the road-trip duders who make moves to get tatzapped up in the heart of the hottness.
word.


^^^jess did this.
only someone supremely fresh can take the doo-doo weakness and make it so dope.
celtic knots, a cross, weird irish life preserver donut circle, aaaaand metallic tribal?
somebody knows how to get busy.
yet again,
i count my blessings for being surrounded by the sweet sweet move makers in my life.....

i don't have the reserves of energy to wax poetic on the rewards of working,
and playing,
and loving,
and living as hard as an all-the-way-to-eleven berserker barbarian battle-beast;
but suffice to say that the volume and the velocity are pressure-powered and full steam ahead,
taking what i can, and leaving nothing for the return journey,
never quiet, never soft.....

harder.

sparkle-magic makin' & lightning-strikin',
we know how to be the light-bringers in the darkness.
we are the silver lining to these raincloudy days.
bright spots in otherwise dismal durations.
these uneventful evenings spent with small lovelies are every bit as excellent as the adventurous afternoons we enjoy.
there's an attitude of gratitude, all around us.


the moon has been an epic orange orb for a few days now,
and full moon fever is definitely gripping the vacationing masses.
i would love to unload some silver-lining bullets, ya'll.
a cursebreaking barrage of lycanthropic lozenges,
to cool down all the craziness that vacation self-importance brings.
and when i say i'll be using silver bullets,
i am NOT talking about coors light either, y'heard me?
i live here year round because i know how fresh the woodsly goodness is.
tourists don't need to clog up the works with werewolfen weak-saucery.


these next few days will determine the dopeness i can distribute to my daughters.
they go home on friday.
until then,
we'll be doo-dooin' all that freaky fun,
readin' all the words in the books,
eatin' all the sweets and treats,
and otherwise occupying our days with mystical wizard-type sh!t.
(it still rains a little every day, but the in-betweens of hot hot heat are wrecking the mushroom magic)


this is my new baby.
ain't she pretty?
SO much hot fire is slated to get spat,
never quiet, never soft...