soot-eater.

okay.
so this guy flies around munchin' up on burnt bits of smoky air.
y'know,
a sentry spirit,
keepin' out the smog and foulmouth fog from the sh!tty city world,
and helpin' the woodsly goodness stay crisp, ya'll.....
well,
except that he can't actually fly,
which is where the pet moths come into play.
and he's obviously not very heavy,
or those two little heterocerae couldn't flit his ass around for too long.
i'm tryin' new things,
and keeping some old things,
and making other 'nother things.
he's got sleeves, but no shirt on,
globe ornament kneecaps,
and a serious pair of ice-skating boot-tights on as well.
and let's just address the obvious fact:
eating soot all day makes your face into a skullish black mess,
so your hands are goin' to need teeth
clip art churches and buildings for an instant whitechapel neighbourhood.
really,
it's just two of each,
plus extensive photocopying,
some ledger paper,
and a healthy infusion of alcohol markering.
a touch of the ol' 'albie rock architecture school', an' that....
think londony thoughts,
circa 1866,
with pre-renaissance cimabue proportions,
charles wysocki smokestacks,
and churchy triptych colored backgrounds,
but without the gold-leaf gaudiness,
or lapis blue tempura figures in the foreground.
it isn't easy keepin' it all rough-cut and cardboard halfway housed.
i'm sayin',
i respect dudes with all that solid technical ability,
honestly, a lot of those guys don't get near enough credit for executing that slick stuff,
but,
and there's always a but with me,
(that's what SHE said,)
that Folk Life Folk Art coarse ground hottness,
as elusively simple a style as it is,
takes me to the happy place in  between my ears.
i'm workin' on it,
and it ain't easy,
but what ever is?

so yesterday,
i griped about tatzappin',
and then did mostly fresh-as-fresh-gets ideas all flippin'day.
vanilla skyed a batch of better business, i did.
the squeaky wheel gets all the oil, after all.
and i was a well-lubed hub in the heat of the hub-bub,
you better believe it.
no pictures,
but it's still true.
i promise.
i even had a dude WALK OUT,
in a huff and a puff,
like a big bad wolfman,
after a blitzkrieg barrage of lightning-striking viking verbosity.
some folks just don't get down on the basic B's, y'heard?.....
thankfully,
while he pouted out loud so hard in the car,
his ol' lady still got tatblasted,
and i still got paid,
so at least there was a happy ending after it all was said and done.
(that's what SHE said.)

i've decided to let the deeds of my days determine my disposition.
makin' moves.
makin' progress.
makin' arthur.
makin' decisions, mutha-uckas.
i'm feelin' it.
all grown-up and responsible!
just be doper than ever before,
that's the reiterating rallying cry for the whole month.
fortune's favorites have a understated obligation to maintain
eleventh-level untold boldness.
that said,
i'll be in minnesota next weekend, if you hadn't already heard,
with my homeboys shawn and todd,
who are infinitely more personable, it seems, than i am....
so who's comin' to hang out?
you can even talk to them first, if you'd like;
never quiet, never soft...

in case you were wondering,
but not that you asked,
i'm not as sick as i was,
but i've still got a powerful camembert aging facility in my nostrils,
pumpin' out that soft, french dairy doo-doo in dizzying dollops.
it's even more awful in person.
word up.