slippery when wet.

slowly but surely,
i'm gettin' it goin' on over here.
i don't know if this sh!t counts as fantasy art.
i mean, it's got swords and sorcerers an' that,
but maybe it's more urban folk art?
or rural urbanism?
fact is,
i don't know what to classify it as.
not because it 'defies convention',
or any of that cliche' crapola,
but because it's a little bit of everything,
at the same time.
any ideas?
i'm referring to it as albie art,
because that's what my old-time homeboys and girls used to call it.
all i know is:
too much is just right.
when it comes to making some albie art,
i have some pretty strict rules about this stuff-
like:
i only use jess's discarded busted brushes,
i only use cardboard laying around the house,
and i make all the backgrounds out of all the mail and manuals i don't feel like burning in the backyard.
i guess i like the idea of taking a bunch of leftover doo-doo butter,
going apesh!t bananas with it,
and making a grilled doo-doo butter and banana sandwich out of it.
y'know,
like elvis.

'read all instruction before using this'.
c'mon.
what possible instructions could it have?:
'please use asbestos floss'?
i mean, really...

'your opinion is important to us'
a.k.a. a flippin' LIE, son.
antithetical irony with a few loose teeth.
word.
if i had a more elite clientelle,
who gave less of a crap about enduring permanent, regrettable, marring man-marks,
i would tattoo this kind of stuff all day.
unfortunately for my tatblasting daily reality,
tourists and old moms hate it so hard!
luckily,
zappin' up those baby names and sports logos make it possible to spend hours making bobot battle- bard collages,
so all's well that ends well,
i suppose.

so new england got drenched yesterday.
a few days ago there was snow on the mountains,
but last night saw a savage stormswept sky spit out a serious stream of rainwater warcraft,
and that flooded the river up pretty dang good.
nature goes to eleven, sometimes.
baby diarrhea.
that's the only autumn color left outside.
oak leaves have never learned when to say when.
so they keep on keepin' on,
poopy lentil doo-doo napkins swayin' in the rain.
the height of good manners is knowing when to leave.
pun notwithstanding,
that's the mutha-uckin' truth.
never quiet, never soft....