tatblasted.

Folk Art.
simple.
unpretentious. 
real.
i love it.
and as such,
i try so hard to make it.
and emulate it's simple, primitive approach.
but mostly,
i draw weirdie beardies instead.
and now that that's noted,
here's two more spirited memories,
straight from the woodsly goodness:

a serene shrubbery reconnects with his roots in a pipe dream....
of course, originally, pipe dreams were the desired byproduct of smoking opium.
so maybe not pipe dreams,
but definitely smoke signals.
you get the idea.
he may be a bush,
but he has no ambitions for a first-world leadership position,
and there's a lot to be said for that, anyway...


amazing, grazing, hazy, horned homeboy.
wheat is so useful...
because it is delicious.
so is a nice hot cuppa.
he's got the 'queen victoria memorial statue' pose goin' on, too.
word.
i like pipes.
they just seem to lend themselves to reflective, introspective,
and procedurally meditative mental activity.
and they're utilitarian art objects, even.
plus,
a whole bunch of fresh, bold, and worthy fortunate favorites
have been known to have rocked pipes...
sherlock holmes!!! although he never rocks a calabash in any of the stories,
his on-screen tobacco burner is still his iconic implement.
norman rockwell! norman rock-a-pipe-well is more like it...
santa! father XI-mas style, though, before america weak-sauced him up...
frosty the snowman! he also had a button nose and two eyes made out of coal.
okay,
so three out of four examples are pretend,
still,
i like pipes.
throw in a beard, and you've got a case of instant handsomeness.


i had an overcast evening FULL of hot fire.
just try and tell me that isn't some d&d lookin' flame tower sh!t.....
and i'll tell you that you're probably stupid.
and possibly blind.
or at the very least,
uninformed about kickass lord of the rings type hottness.

how about these phoenix wings?
wu-TANG! ya'll.
it turns out that a great big pile of burning is the best medicine for an over-busy brain.
well,
that and a bunch of mindless entertainment.
....
we watched the rocker. it's pretty awesome.
and zombie diaries. also awesome, but less so.
AND hell ride. which had an awesome amount of exposed, enormous, sweeeet boobs.
and guns.
and bikers.
but it was really the least awesome movie we saw.
times is hard, ninjas.
times is hard.
and what's the best cure for hard times?
wellllllllll,
i'm getting tattooed this afternoon.
courtesy of my especially friendly friend,
the optimistic,
latin-teachin',
uber-talented tatzapster,
and all-around super nice guy,
mr. phuc tran. 
we'll be working on my giant lobster.
or at least he will,
while i squirm and complain really, really hard.
i'm pretty psyched,
except for that whole part about getting tattooed.
because that sh!t hurts.
all ya'll should really get tattooed by him,
if you haven't already....
his shop is off the f*'n' chain in terms of fresh-to-defness...
he reads books!!
he works really hard!!
he's painfully genuine!
they listen to and support public radio!!
they encourage shopping at local businesses!!!
and they drink tea and be nice to everybody all the time!!!
y'know, exactly like what goes on up here, too.
right?
*ahem*
anyway,
i get to enjoy a day in portland, maine,
the downeast hotspot of the extreme northeast.
the agenda?
herb's gully burritos.
red bean steamed buns,
boba mutha-flippin' tea, mutha-ucka!
and tattoo thunder from my hip to my knee.
ouch.
thank goodness for elite, high-minded, excellent people.
i need a healthy draught from that phial of flavor, and not a second too soon...
i sure am grateful for the time i have been given.

i have got some clean undies on,
and my game face is all set and ready to go,
fat lot of good that it'll do me.
if you're in maine, more precisely in portland, after 4:30p.m.,
stop in, say 'ello, and watch me handle it so poorly,
you'll not be able to feel anything but better about yourself.
i'm here to help;
never quiet, never soft....