what's the weather like here?
still raining.
naturally.
it's great!
(but not really.)
speaking of great...
my homeboy, ro-ro,
sent me THIS. weak sauce, ya'll. check it out.
word.
yellow-bellied jelly.
not for sweet-type rolls.
wet woods make for weird science.
i mean, who needs a translucent blob posse?
these little guys are teeny tiny, too.
from my head height, they look like frog-egg marmalade,
and of course, due to the wide-open skies,
everything looks like an alien movie,
all glossy and wet and sh!t...
honestly,
there's a certain filthiness to glistening gooey woodland wonders.
these are the smelliest mushrooms out there.
strong scented and savage stenched stinkbomb spores.
steaky-undertoned aromas make for nostril stinging whiffage.
if horseshoe crabs and scrubbing bubbles had a batch of babies, it'd be these guys.
i can NOT stress how pungent they are.
stank-ass steaks, ninja.
take a whiff, i dare you.
i know, i KNOW.
i'm obsessed with mushroom spotting.
but i'm just sayin',
my backyard is a bountiful barbarian bouquet of budding button-tops.
cut me some slack off, son.
it rains all day.
everything is damp.
so,
i'm making the most of the one thing that thrives in this waterlogged water-baby wonderland.
spongy.
inside those airy red biscuits is fluffy yellow cake.
i'm gonna eat one and see what happens....
cuchulainn was an ill mythical irish warrior-poet.
he would get so crazed with blood-lusty battle-boner bulging that he would get stewed in three successive cauldrons of ice water.
he would boil the first one 'til it was steamed empty,
boil up the second one to a scalding frenzy,
and be cooled off enough by the third that you could still cook pasta in it......
i was reading about him all last night.....
the battle bard be-dopeness of the pre-christian british isles has got it goin' ON.....
you should read up on those dudes.....
knowledge, my ninjas,
of the past, present, and future.
a shining stone of wisdom.
never quiet, never soft....
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