Wednesday, February 29

quantum leap.

y'know, neighbors,
i could've taken today off from composing
my misguided missives of massive misgivings.
i mean,
it's not even a real day.
but that's not worthy warrior poetry,
worsted through unweatherable wear and tear,
now is it?
so here we are, instead.
the 29th.
it is to february what neil young is
to crosby, stills, and nash.
which is to say:
the most expert part.
i pretty much wasted this whole F*ing day.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
take it easy,
i already told y'all
it's not even a real day.
i just spanned an invisible gap in the timestream,
waiting until tomorrow's opportunity
to refresh some luck,
and reinvigorate the nutrients of an impending springtime.
don't worry,
we've got raging stormswept snow activation
looking to smother any sap-strapping syrup
with a whole lot of ma nature's special blend of helping.
another 'nother day off,
over and out.
another month gone by.
there just never seems to be a shortage of all of this.
it's happening,
and even consciousless objectors can't stop
participating in real life's big action.
wallflowers and waterbabies notwithstanding,
we're still part of it.
even the people trying to sell me something
readily admit that today,
life IS pain.
i misspoke, perhaps?
"to blathe", y'all.
i think that's what i must have said;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, February 28


this is only supposed to be the end of the month.
it may just be the end.....
we've got one more day to
properly send off the second page
on our calendars.
good thing, too-
i don't know how well that rabbit rabbit sh!t will
work on the march madness of a complete
and total devastating breakdown of worthy warrior poetry.
don't worry about it, neighbors.
real life always knows how to assist nature in winning.
leap day had better be dope, duders,
because today sucked balls.
never quiet, never soft.....

update 2016:
four years later,
one full leap into the future,
and nothing is easier,
although there is so much more of all of it.
life is harder now,
and the days and nights are both implausibly longer-
i've replaced what i lost,
and then some,
except for true believing.
i don't think that comes back.
i see things differently,
and the half-empty side, concave, or convex, but not complex,
is the predominant lens-framed flare of light,
or dark, more aptly,
that i'm focused on.
it's still all really happening,
..... even if this is lost in the archives forever and ever-
that's fitting,
because so was everything else.

Monday, February 27

short but sweet?

february, duders.
what's up?
four weeks of worthy warrior poetry,
coupled with weak-sauce waterbabyism,
and topped with a finale
of irregular and inconsistent extra time.
a temporary temporal anomaly,
a clock-shocking, watch-resetting, bedwetting
saucy sorcerous spare day.
i'm talking about wednesday, kids.
just sayin',
it's hump day for you duders who know what's up.
that's not all it is, now is it?
it's leap day, too.
and what's that all about, y'heard?
an imaginary semi-solid sometimes day???
i like it.
it's like it doesn't count.
i mean,
it's not on the calendar next year, y'know?...
which means that, like,
it's even better than a snow day.
holy crap, neighbors!
what if it IS a snow day ON leap day?!
i think that i'll sh!t my pants with potential opportunity,
anything real, and anything magical, and everything else
could probably happen on a one-two combo like that.
i checked the weather report,
and it's 70% likely that infinite natural moebius loop
of berserker battle beastliness could occur.
all we'll need to activate it is some hot fire...
and lucky us, y'all,
i just bought a buttload of strike-anywhere matches.
that's a thing.
i'm down to make moves
and instigate some regrettable unforgettable memories.
it only happens for one day,
every four years.
it's almost like my conscience.
only more frequently enacted.
it may just be the weekend for
us really real ones again already.
time slips between the fingers of grasping hands.
probably because of the arthritisy gnarliness
resulting from all the tattblasting.
for serious, my ninjas,
i could use a little rest,
even after eleven prior days off.
i managed to squeeze in a lot since i've been back home,
and all the little chores and obligations i missed
waited very very patiently for my return.
lucky me.
with month's end, plus a little extra,
looming in front of me,
it's time to look towards the lions and the lambs.
march is great if you're a kite,
it's alright if you're somewhere that spring arrives
with flowers in a proper timely manner,
and it's straight-up suckie if you're julius caesar.
get ready, or not,
but it's coming your way in just a little bitty baby minute.
but not before the free-pass of a jumping journey
across the cosmic chasms of leap day;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 26

mystical wizard action....

snow day theory?
anything could happen,
and everything did.
i did a couple fresh tattbombs,
and i even took pictures!
you can't see 'em,
because i can't load 'em.
oh the cruelty of that fickle snow day magic.
alas, y'all,
anything isn't limited to new good opportunities.
the bitter comes after the sweet.
i even stayed well late to activate the nutrients, too.
hard styles and wind chills are all that i have to show
for that whole-heartedly half-A*'d attempt at
bringing some arthur-making hottness to you duders.
what's more,
i tattblasted all dang day today, too,
and outside of some practice at competent communication,
there wasn't much to show for all the work i did
on a non-snow day, either.
back to work has been backbreaking work.
not to mention the fingers-breaking part
that plays as important a co-starring role
in the day's doo-dooings.
an oh-snap! cold snap is crackin' at us, neighbors.
single digit degrees of windy, chilled-out brutality.
warm and roasty-toasty covers,
and crisp new sheets,
are the only things that can get me through, i think.
i'm on it, don't worry;
i've got a perverse and pessimistic interest in
seeing what happens next...
it all really does, huh?
you bet;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 25

anything could happen?

is it still considered a 'snow day'
when it falls on a saturday,
during a school vacation week?
for serious, kids,
we got pooped on by ma nature,
bird style.
that's where it's mostly wet and white
and shoots down from the secret universal butthole
and squit-squat splats on every single thing.
check the breakfast table teleport:
i'll ask y'all again-
is it a snow day?
i mean,
could anything still really happen?
i'm wondering, neighbors,
because i think a little randomized magic
might be pretty expert today.
just sayin', duders,
some unpredictable roulette-type participatory
hard-style activation jauns may be just what
this sh!t-salad saturday needs to go to eleven.
word up.
it's beautiful and sh!t, for sure,
when the whole dang place is coated in pure,
freshly driven winter seasoning,
but it's not exactly gonna get invited to
any make-out parties i'm throwing, y'heard?
boots and shovels and and manual labor,
segueing into tattbombing and
deep into the dark-end of the afternoon.
no frenching on that noise, my ninjas.
i'm putting all my energy into that chaos-theory
snow day kaleidoscopic lottery long shot sh!t,
and getting busy getting busy,
loudly, with fresh hardness for all the F*ing faces.
that's a thing,
and that's what's up.
who said that the woodsly goodness could use
some more linoleum-block rockin' prints?
was it you?
i agree,
and i'm getting all the ingredients ready again,
for more slivery scooples of corky refuse,
and even more inky blots of hottness.
we're back in the north,
and Folk Life & Liberty is still in full effect.
arthur-making moves again?
i guess anything can happen on a snow day;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 24

all the way back.

back to work, duders.
what a mutha-lickin' hard style, too.
watching the snow fall,
stayin' late,
missing dinner,
and freezing my A* off of my body.
welcome home?
i've got a full schedule this week.
plenty of movie check-stackin' suckers
need that electric activation,
and i guess i'm past due to provide it.
i must be getting rickety as well as crotchety,
because after just one little bitty long day
of doo-doo buttery zipzappin',
my fingers are fixin' to fall the F* off.
this calls for some candy beans and cookies, kids.
when the day is done,
and was zero amounts of fun,
and the night is looming ahead as a gaping toothless mouth
dripping it's own icy spittle on your head,
only junk food and eagles' eggs can give me the
necessary nutrients to power on and muscle through,
and seeing as i've got no eagle aeries within reach,
i'll need twice as much junky jauns for my face.
really real life checks like a hockey player;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 23

things i missed-

hey there duders!
i am back in the chilly expanses
of pure woodsly goodness again.
home sweet home an' that.
i didn't mention president's day.
...because it's lame.
and i left out blogging entirely on ash wednesday.
....because it's lame.
and i missed out on a few opportunities
to interact with folks from up north
while i was whiling the days away by the pool
catching raybeams of ultraviolet violence for my face.
...because wherever i am is the place to be,
and therefore i'm far too busy at the epicenter
of all the things that seem to consistently keep happening
to get all chatty on the phone lines.
i still hate using mobile phones.
in the spirit of a successful trip,
and the happy return to the homefront i'm enjoying,
and the projected 7" of heavy wet snow we're
probably getting pummelled with tomorrow,
here's some leftover teleportation from the future,
currently existing in the past,
light years ahead of everywhere else:

i'm back on that grind tomorrow.
in a storm,
in the cold,
on vacationary waterbabies and tax-return necktards.
life is pain, kids.
and everything costs somethin'.
it's just the way it is.
real life is designed to kill you, slowly;
never quiet, never soft.....

the height of good manners... knowing when to leave.
we made sure not to overstay our welcome
with tom and betty,
and not to sink too deeply into our vactionary
floridian attitude, either.
you don't want to let yourself become a
flatland weirdie from the south, y'know.
we gave the kids another 'nother new experience
at airports and in the skies-
thunder and lightning delays?
we GOT they, y'all.
unsafe explosive weather patterns stalled our
expeditious departure for a little minute,
and made the wifey pretty nervous, as well.
and when we made our layover connection?
instead of a leisurely wait at the terminal,
we sweatily sped across several tram-connected
gate-enclosures, up and down stairs,
terminator-type terminal terrorism in full-effect,
far and away from anything resembling leisure.
mad dash scrambling for a last-minute gate-reopening
barely-made-it entrance, from miami to harford?
air travel!
it's like hanging out with a claustrophobic group of
A*-holes you'd otherwise avoid at all costs on land.
that happens.
and now we're in connecticut.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, MAN!!
safely returned from eight epic days of
active participation and family togetherness
and intensive relaxation and vacation magic.
we couldn't have given these kids a better time.
that's a thing,
we couldn't have had nicer weather,
better companions,
more-accomodating coconspirators,
or worthier warrior poetry in motion.
i'm sure super grateful for the time spanned,
and for the family and the togetherness.
it all really happened.
maybe the secret universal plan cashed in
a little bit of store credit for us;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, February 21

the last night in town....

awwwww, man!
this is it.
we've got half of tomorrow to activate
the remains of vacation sensationalism,
but tonight's the night, neighbors.
our very last one in the hot southern climes.
our next night will bring us back to
the interim awfulness of the weak-sauce
nutmeg nancypantsery of connecticut.
that's a thing.
a doo-doo buttery bookend to a fine
getaway from the woodsly goodness.
there's no place like home,
but when i'm with all my ladies,
and a few fine gentlemen as well,
we can get busy getting busy anywhere.
even here.
even now.
but not for very much longer....
it's almost time for the timewarp,
a jump to the north,
and a return to the hard styles and
movie-check wrecking wasteland of
the great white northern exposures.
but, duders,
tonight is all about family togetherness,
and vegan cupcakes,
and home-type cooking.
we hit up ethos again,
and stocked up on some new hottness
for our bellyholes and our mouths.
dessert is on the menu,
in full effect, to eleven, tonight.
and after the entire afternoon's worth of
poolside gliding and waterlogged lapping,
i could use a sugar boost to take me back
to bedtime and beyond.
i am gateful for the people spanning this
worthy week of warrior poetry and motion,
and i'm lucky as a duck to be here;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, February 20

even more of all of this.

we gave it another 'nother go,
and the results of the second chance are in:
disney still sucks balls, y'all,
the animal kingdom is some seriously
super dope wildlife magic sh!t.
it's like a deluxe zoo,
with marginally ethnically accurate rides
and pretend cultural iconography.
and rhinos.
everybody knows rhinoceroses are what's up.
and they've got two dfferent kinds
of my most favorite nearsighted berserker battle-beasts
lurking along the safari tour of pretend africa.
i'll give it some propers, neighbors-
it was the best of the bunch thus far.
what's that?
what about hollywood studios?
stop it.
anything with an american idol ride
is clearly for giant american A*-holes.
i mean, yeah,
sure i love star wars,
just not enough to stand in line for two hours
behind a batch of b!tchbags who would've been
experiencing it with us.
it's never the actual thing that bites it, duders,
it's the other people who want to participate
that start the weak sauce flowing downhill.
it's pretty much like they always do it so wrong.
F*ing ruiners, y'know?
we've got a few hours left tonight,
so i think we're closing out the evening
with a return to the happiest crap for fat dummies,
but at the nerd park this time.
epcot fireworks for our faces.
the giant golf ball is calling us,
and we're listening, and answering.
this is they way it is.
marathons of fun,
iditarods of family togetherness,
century tours of realish life...
it's still happening,
with sore feet and suburns and empty wallets;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 19


you betcha.
molto tortugas?
of course.
weird fish?
is gatorland the most expert sh!t
you have ever even heard about?
unless you're clearly a butthole.
how can you top vegan brunch?
watching half chickens get tossed to
hungry crocodilian dinomonsters, obviously!!!
that place is the hot fire for my face!!
tank after tank of brutally lazy giant reptiles,
a whole bunch of whom are missing body parts.
nature wins,
because it does what it does even in captivity.
these mutha-uckers have bitten the bejeezus
out of a whole holy messload of 'necktard wrasslers.
that's what's up.
take a teleportational peek at what i'm speakin' on:
like i already told you, neighbors-
how about this guy?
he's NOT an albino, sucka.
he's got leucism.
that's some blue-eyed aryan business, i think.
awwwwwww, man.
that's racist, and during B.H.M. at that.
but he did have his own tank.
then again,
so did this dog-eating, man-biting battle beast:
death-dealing dino-dopeness, duders.
they GOT they.
we got our socks rocked right the F* off, kids.
sunday in the south,
to eleven;
never quiet, never soft.....

vegan brunch, my ninjas!!

mike holmes always knows how to activate
all the important information, my ninjas...
he's a positive planner,
and an asset to any vacation itinerary
and all of it's included mealtimes.
that credit being givenwhere it is due,
he hit us off with a hot tip,
and this morning we followed up on it.
ethos vegan kitchen, y'all.
word the F* up.
you already know that when it comes to
vacation time shark-gluttonous overeating
on those earth-nest-type jauns,
the woodsly goodfellows and goodwives
are all about bringing the bellyache to eleven.
we doo-doo that witout hesitation,
and without regard for the aftermath.
you had better believe we showed these
warm-weather waterbabyish floridians
why the north stays on top,
and the south won't ever rise again.
check the teleport:
breakfast burritos,
french-style toast,
fruity cups, fake breakfast carcass slabs,
cinnamon buns,
biscuits and gravy,
tofu scrambles,
mountains of homeboy fries,
panniecakes that were both vegan and fluffy,
and sweet tea,
which is just about the only kudos i'll grant
as a credit to the deep and dirty.
we left nary an ort on the plates, neighbors.
vegan brunch is what's up.
i don't think miss betty was ready to bear witness,
but she must have a newfound respect
for the vast caverns and body cavities of
professional vegan eaters.
how much did we swim today?
a lot.
because it was a billionty-five degrees in the shade,
and the pool is heated, b!tchbags.
bathwater magic on vacation?
of course.
after all,
what are we?
no way, jose.
taking it easy,
taking it to the limits,
taking it to gatorland.
all of it, y'all,
really happening, really dope;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 18

two bucks.

y'know what my favorite thing in the
whole wide world is?
yeah, that, of course.
but y'know what my other other
favoritest most bestest thing is?
being right.
i got to experience the righteous rightness
of my half-empty predictions.
disney world is a b!tchbag explosion
from the butthole of the devil.
a sh!t-salad sauce splatter of the weakest variety.
how could that be?
what makes the happiest place on earth
less likely to turn frowns upside down,
but rather facilitates just the opposite effect?
you know i loooove crowds, right.
today was a banner day at the park.
record attendance an' that.
lucky mutha-F*ing us, y'all.
what did that entail exactly?
how about lines longer than a shakespearian soliloquy,
rude fat families ponderously clogging the thoroughfares,
starvation-preferable food option attacks,
and crowded causeways of spanish-language screamers
gibbering their way across the whole kingdom.
...magical is one word we could use,
but it would have to refer to a hex or a curse,
and it would definitely have made those sensitive
potterpants waterbabies cry even harder.
hot days,
hard styles,
horrible people,
and a huge tab to overcome...
we took going nowhere to eleven.
just so we're clear:
i'm not ever EVER ever waiting two hours to
ride anything that doesn't have boobs.
oh, MAN!!
that's inappropriate, for sure.
and even less likely on this particular journey
to the realms of recreation, relaxation, and reciprocation.
day four, duders,
and the styles just got harder.
tomorrow holds a poolside sabbath-type jauns
in store for our ease and enjoyment,
and maybe even a midday 'gator wrasslin' show.
there's more than one way to make a memory,
and not all of those ways are good for you.
if there's a choice,
i'll choose the wrench every time;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 17

triple threatening treats!!!

so much hottness,
in the mutha-flippin' sem-rainy insanity,
i busted two cameras in a row.
that's how we doo-doo that
dangerously big-type family funtime.
islands of adventure knows how to get it poppin'.
we experienced multiple levels
of myriad genres of multiered amusement
that re-blew our minds.
those thousands of supernerds who
flip the F* out over butterbeer and boogerbeans
or whatever else you wander your wand around
sure do look like a hot batch of virgins-for-life.
i mean,
for serious??
i mean,
it's not like you're meeting the beatles.
man the F* up, nimbus riders, and carry on...
that's a brutally hard style, neighbors.
but i'll tell all you gryffindorks straight up-
the wizarding world looks pretty dang good.
if it wasn't filled with warty hogs,
it'd have been perfect.
we dominated yet another 'nother day of dopeness
all over the homogenous terrain of central florida.
and even without picture perfect proof,
i'll assure every one of y'all,
it's definitely drizzling a dose of all-really happening
happenstance all up and over all of this vacation.
breakfasts, lunches, and dinners,
with hours of powerfully active participation
crammed in the creases of in-between.
early to bed,
early to rise,
too early to call today done,
but too soon to be sure when it'll end.
vacation, duders...
nonstop explosions of What Is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 16

holy blue man group!!!

twelve consecutive hours, duders.
in a row, in the sun, experiencing
the super-duper sparkle magic explosion
of universal studios' big flippin' action.
disasterpiece theater,
twisted tornado alleyways,
sarah connor crushing it on those terminators,
the simpsons' simulator,
shrek's 4-d squirt squad,
e.t.'s bicycle b!tchbaggery,
M.I.B. gunfight space alien laser attack,
the mummy's weirdminicoaster,
and a whole buttload of blue men, in a group.
and that was the hottness,
to eleven,
that brought the house down tonight...
paint, pipes, and huge freakin' balls.
now that's my kind of party.
we did it ALL.
and we did it hard.
day two,
over and out,
an expert success story from the future.
islands of adventure.
that's that harry pottery jauns,
and that jurassic park sh!t,
and some other other nutrients.
real life is melting into vacation life.
melting pot brundlefly metamorphosis,
today, tomorrow, and the rest of the whole dang week.
it's happening,
off the charts,
and even further off the clock;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, February 15

day one of blisteringly big vacation fun.

we just got here,
and our minds are already blown.
you got that, kids?
the contents from inside of my dashing, graying,
glad dad-dome are on the outside now.
we are putting the great big fat F U in fun!
today is actually the day, duders.
since waking up before the dawn's early A*crack
hit the tarmac with it's first bright and shiny reveal,
me and harvest and maple,
and my incredibly fresh, hot wifey
have been getting one hundred and eleven percent expert.
...and that's a fact.
vacation translated into real talk means not giving
even one half of a sh!t,
and flipping out so hard all over the place.
it's just like being a berserker barbarian battle-beast bard,
but with more rides.
there's not much woodsly,
but there's plenty of grandparental goodness,
and we can all hang out with some of THAT
super dope family togetherness.
my in-laws scoopled up an elite get-rad pad.
for real,
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
hot, sweaty florida flatness,
and impending themed amusements
in site-specific douchebrain-washing.
we're on it.
lounging around,
leisurely strolling,
and generally relaxing,
but with all our might.
even our taking it easy becomes a savage,
raging, stormswept affair.
day one, duders.
it's all really happening.
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
and to the active participatory patrons
who've made this jaunty little jig possible.
no kissing, no books,
and a valentine's day of doo-doo buttery dreadfulness
make today so much better, too.
there is a book,
but the only kissing in it has been with a ghost so far.
and get this-
it's set in florida.
site-specific for your lavarle-cerebro blowin' brains.
word up.
and the kids are seriously crapping their pants
watching anoles get rad on big ugly bugs.
lizards eating insects their own size?
nature wins, mother-F*ers;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, February 14

i love you.

happy valentine's day.
i heart you minky, mincey, mealy
meat-mouthed mutha-'uckers.
it's true.
lacy hearts and fancy chocolates
and dozens of thorny red flowers,
that's what's supposed to get poppin'
on this delightful day dedicated to the
undying hot fires of enflamed romantic love.
you could say i'm on a voyage of discovery, neighbors.
i mean,
it's blog post 1492, after all.
i may be onto some whole new/
brave new/
it's a small world-type jauns.
word up, duders-
so many levels of travel and exploration,
to places that already exist,
and levels of realness that heretofore did not.
we're transcending space and time, my ninjas,
and with nary a sparkle-magic minute
of true romance to speak of in the forseeable future.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man!!
hard-styles are what awaits a vacation dad.
dumb-dumb heads will tell you otherwise,
but they are lying.
check it:
it's all about the children.
how many times in the last month has some A*-hole
tried to ply that ploy on my face?
too many.
and i'm just not buying it, y'all.
on the ones,
i'm just too narcissistic to accept that it's not
at least a little bit about the grown-ups
who make it all possible.
if it's all about the children,
then why are the adults the ones getting plundered
for pictures and payments and packing and everything else?
just sayin',
you know what's really for the children?
wu-TANG is for the children.
that old dirty killa bee, russell jones told me so.
be mine.
now that's a sentiment, huh?
talk about possessive.
but that's how it goes.
be mine,
and mine alone,
to have and hold
and do with as i determine.
that's that lightning-striking viking plunder thunder
and that's how we get busy getting busy on valentine's day.
berserker barbarians do feel emotions, after all-
as chest-pit pit fights for your favor and flavor.
we're off.
on our way to the bitter,
en route to the sweet.
some of it is offspring related,
some of it is spousal,
all of it is really happening.
spanning time,
by choosing the wrench.
happy day, duders;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, February 13

the weekend is plenty long....

...when it starts tonight,
and then keeps on keepin' on until next thursday.
you've got that information correct, kids-
that's not the sixteenth, but the 23rd.
that's right, duders.
our floridian holiday in the sun gets
it's tailgates opened right up this very evening.
it's the last day of grinding on that daily sh!t for some time,
and the first night of many spent 'relaxing'
without that omnipresent sense of impending
movie-check-wrecking purpose.
taking it easy, neighbors, is what's being proposed.
...we'll just have to see about that.
whatever ends up happening while we're off doo-dooing
whatever it is we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves with,
we WON'T be working in the bitter cold.
word up.
we're saving all our bitterness for the sweet citrus-type jauns
we're sure to be encountering down in the dirty dirtiness
of the alligator-laden lairs of sunshinyness.
that's a thing.
and us worthy warriors can sure use the rest.
it's been a belligerently brutal non-stop tattbomb assault
on our whole entire everythings for a
whole mess of consecutive days.
my spindly spider-leggish presto-digits are due
for a teensy-weentsy little tiny bit of rest.
tomorrow is the big heart day.
but instead of chocolates and roses, my ninjas,
we're getting mired down in a preliminary dose
of bummer-type hard-style pre-airplane activation.
connecticut is our destination for the first leg of the trip.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
looks like romance is gonna have to wait a while.
nothing ruins the hottness like a dousing of weak sauce.
vacation nutrient enjoyment wouldn't seem as expert
if we started in the turbo-dope demesne of
the rural really-real Folk Life & Liberty.
smart, huh?
a little compare-and-contrast blast is what's needed.
the south isn't so suckie
when you've just been in the suckiest.
don't hate on my perfect logic, friends...
florida, mutha-uckers.
the woodsly goodness it ain't.
flat, hot, and wet is where we're headed,
and we're ready.
packed, stacked, and on the attack.
big fun,
for our faces;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 12

the brrrr in febrrrruary

what's going on?
it's super sunny.
and holy flippin' cold.
witches' teats are practically boiling by comparison.
that's dang cold, y'all.
that's the big psyche out-
it looks nice,
but it feels awful.
...and it's windy.
son of a b!tch, but that extra bite of knife-edged
bitterness blasting into bones beneath bodies beneath
sweaters beneath coats is a real bummer.
(this next part isn't for half-full folks)
y'know what happens before an unwarranted vacation?
y'know why?
because disney world F*s you up the A*,
under the pretense of making memories.
and up until we head south to the sunny climes of
the wiener-shaped state of orange juiciness,
i'm grateful for the opportunity to generate revenue.
for serious.
hard work is it's own reward,
but hard styles?
for those, i need to get paid, son.
it's yet another day jammed full of rough action.
i'm telling you-
pain-in-the-doodiehole-type tattoo jauns are all that
there seems to be scheduled for my A* these days.
more soul-destroying, physically taxing, artistically ruinous
raging stormswept income-tax return spending fury
than you can empty a whole trailer park into, kids.
that's real.
don't assume i can't extol the virtues of preying on 'people'
who can't see the sense in any investment in their own
continued well-being.
i mean,
free will is a hell of a thing.
and if doo-doo buttery waterbabies want to get
hard pounded into unemployability?
that's their own dang prerogative,
and i'm ON it, neighbors.
some people know about just being dope,
or alternately, failing the former,
F*ing right off into weak sauce obscurity.
other other ninjas want to spend those remunerative
government movie checks like straight-up ninja-rich ballers
at the tattbomb factory getting 'hood-tarded and uglier.
we all know a grand doesn't come for free, right?
so i've got to get whilst the getting is at it's peak.
striking while the iron is hot, an' that.
the time is now,
it's all really happening,
and when it comes to sticking ninjas for their papers,
via corporeal cruelty and a healthy dose
of loud, fresh, hardness from the future??
i GOT that sh!t.
it's like a salmon spawning,
or a lemming mass-suicide,
or a massive mayfly melee.
an annual mad-dash scramble to do
something sort of fun or whatever,
but that ultimately culminates in a
big stinking heap of rotten bodies.
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
...holy crap!
i'm totally using that out loud today.
sorry, y'all.
the legendary, imaginary, good idea counsellors aren't
working pro bono up here in the woodsly goodness,
word up.
it's what's happening.
documented for your digestion, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 11

half as much, twice as good.

haircuts and beard trims, neighbors.
that's how we go to eleven,
on the eleventh, even.
at super early o'clock this morning,
me and the wifey activated some sheer shorn
super-nutrient scissorfighting,
and got our ears lowered an' everything, at that.
...yes, that's a thing.
why buff up on that craggy crapball i call a head?
i figured that our impending warm weather
magical sub-tropic vacation-times
warranted an early spring cleaning on my
dusty, busted, derelict dome.
i got rid of more than half of my beard,
and it's still a great big bushy burly barbarian one.
and then i tatblasted a holy sh!tload of zipzaps
all flippin' day long.
i'm freshly shaved and polished and snipped
and all kinds of trimmed up,
but still broken,
still broke,
still ugly,
and still dope.
my fingers are falling off,
my skin is so dry it might catch afire,
and my eyelids are drooping into slumberland.
saturday night?
it's all really happening,
better looking on the outside,
and that's sure not saying very much.
it's all just lipstick on a pig, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 10


hey, y'all-
what do you duders know about new block prints?
not much, huh?
would you like to know more?
i started off my day getting busy with that sh!t,
and i used some tasty-looking paper to get activated.
thick, sloppy black blops of inky dreadfulness tried
to thwart my plans for all this arthur-making,
but little did it know i had some diluting agents on hand.
as in: water, neighbors.
if it works good for making more soup out of whatever's left,
it's practically magical,
so i tried it out on the ink.
and then what do you suppose happened?
expertism, kids.
that's what's poppin' in the woodsly goodness.
what's that?
you want details?
oh, alright:
dig it, ninjas.
some bearded weirdies are just plain psyched.
what about sophisticated root vegetables?
we got that, too, mutha-uckers.
check the teleport:
if you aren't 'bout it,
you may be an A*-hole.
it's been yet another 'nother doo-doo buttery day
of wasting and whiling and whittling and whistling
away the whole dang time.
i mean, sure, there was some tattblasting.
and some delicious dinnertimes.
and all kinds of conversation.
but besides all that noise,
it's been a long flippin' day of enduring.
real life doesn't give extra points for style;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 9

cramped fingers, wrecked hands....

...and a calamitously cricked-up neckbone.
cork scoopling and tattbomb zipzapping as hard
as the loud freshness permits me to,
and all of a sudden,
my old age has caught up with me!
i've got bonsai roots for digits, duders.
i've got gnarled knuckles (what's up silent letters?)
i've got a stiff one,
but it's holding up my actual head.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
i'm too old for this sh!t,
but i'm waaaaaaay too young to be all old and busted.
it's a conundrum, my ninjas;
one that has no ostensibly accessible solution.
what i do have is a whole bunch of new hottness.
and that's a good thing.
tomorrow morning i'm inking up these blocks of rock:
sorry (sorta) about the super-seventies soft-focus blur,
but sometimes,
that's how life looks to some people.
those little baby beauties are due
to get slathered and pressed on some super-sexy
thick-stock earth-toned paper.
arthur-making hand-crushing neck-snapping action.
it's happening.
i'm on my own tonight.
it's true.
all by my lonely,
left to languish in anguish over my hurtie parts
and sore bits and broken, ugly, haggard head.
awwwwwwwwwwwww, man. (again)
it's nothing but long, cold nights
and hardy hard styles.
this is the leftover lamentation of a post-full moon
monsterpiece masterwork of hard work and sh!t.
i'm grateful for the time,
but i'm not that amped on the consequences;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, February 8

gentleman acorn.

i love it when my man vido comes to visit.
he means business,
as in- he's here for business.
like, it's business time all the time.
he scoopled up one of my favorite original paintings
and a couple other other o.g. artworks from
the capable collection of my wifey.
that's right.
baller-A* doodie twankle art collector jauns, y'all.
they do it molto big in texas i guess.
and then,
after an afternoon together doo-dooing some
woodsly lunch and sh!t,
that crazy ninja got back on the table
for some more hard pounding.
the object is always more, innit?
you betcha.
he wanted some raw and real Folk Life imagery,
and we activated that hottness as hard as we could.
check out this teleported big action:
a pipe smoking acorn?
c'mon, neighbors.
that's what's up.
the duders abide,
the woodsly goodness provides,
the warrior poets reside,
the eleventh level never subsides;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, February 7


have you looked outside and upwards yet?
just peep your wolf-eyes at that shimmy-shimmy
ya-ya of a shimmering shiny circle, son.
the moon is as full as it can be,
and it's beaming down it's blue light, tonight,
as bright as any cracking crack of dawn ever could.
heck yes it is.
so i know y'all are wondering about just
what goes on in the woodsly goodness
on a windy tuesday of rural really realness?
did i take it deep on car repairs?
so deep, in fact, that i can taste it.
and did i tattzap my ninja vido another 'nother time?
you bet your A* i did, duders.
and did i take a snappy shot of what i zapped up?
i actually did, neighbors.
can you see it?
...but not until tomorrow.
stay tuned,
and in the meantime,
check that heavenly orb orbiting the firmament, F*er.
it's got that expert-type wolfen jauns on lock;
never quiet, never soft.....

blocked up.

before i got busy tattbombing yesterday,
i got a little bit expert on some old timey sh!t.
that's right-
early morning woodsly goodness folk art action,
for everybody's face.
the limited edition first printing of my newest picture.
linoleum-style cork-poppin' block business,
complete with activated nutrients and moustachio madness.
teleport to the past via the future, neighbors:
Folk Life & Liberty.
we doo-doo that kind of really rural rustic art jauns.
18" x 10.5" of an old balding ninja talking noise,
and talking in picturesque speech, i suppose,
in a garden,
wearing a too-small or maybe just right, bowler hat.
who wants one?
that's  cool.
i might give one away,
just one,
if somebody asked reaaaally nicely.
just sayin'.
i've got a couple more blocks to finish.
i've also got a bunch of drawings to do.
i've also got an out-of-town guest who needs
seeing to and sightseeing and all that, too.
busy busy busy, b!tchbags.
that's how it goes.
a whole lot of nothing gives way to
all of it really happening all at once.
that's what it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, February 6

hard pounding.

my duder vido took his lumps,
and he took those lumps like a trooper.
hours of execution,
piles of poked holes,
and one swollen turtled-up neck.
and the result?
a werewolfen gentleman on the side of his head-stem.
check the teleport, my ninjas:
howlin' and prowlin'.....
now that's some full-moon appropriate action.
once in a while,
i still doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
i blame it on our regional sports team
totally sh!tting the bed last night.
the collective misery of the meathead meat-tards
who hoped for buffalo-wing-fueled victory,
but instead sucked a bowlful of super sh!t salad,
stimulated some secret universal hottness,
for mine and vido's faces.
that's a thing.
their loss was our gain.
i may actually get a day off tomorrow.
then again, we'll have to wait and see-
i mean,
my homeboy came up all the way from
the lone star skyline for some albie rock jauns....
the lunar berserker battle-beast barbarian brutality
is taking over my whole scene.
and my hands hurt almost as much as that dudes neck.
for real.
we're repping that full moon, son;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 5

soup? or bowl?

oh MAN!!
the pull of those magnetic forces
is messing up my nights,
and stressing out the days,
and activating the werewolf nutrients
circulating throughout the woodsly goodness.
have you seen that big silver skyball, neighbors?
it's big, it's almost fully round,
and it is making moves on my brain and sh!t.
wolf moon magic, mutha-uckas.
i'm on that futuristic evolution jauns,
convergent hybrid human canine lycanthrope action,
but that's just how warrior poets get fresh, y'heard?
the rest of america is taking gaytardation off the charts.
the big game is kicking off,
and bringing the fat, the stupid, and the lame
all the way to eleven.
now, some ninjas know what's up,
and aren't checking scores and eating buffalo wings-
but everybody else is getting excited about commercials,
and otherwise gorging on consumer culture and bleu cheese.
no celery for those duders, right?
vegetables are like being literate-
y'know, super gaysplosive.
weak sauce is the boss tonight,
and that's cool.
more hottness for the really real ones.
that's a thing.
my out-of-state graffiti guerilla, vido,
is back on the attack,
looking to attach some more neckzapping
to his messed-with texan tattoo situation...
one half of his throat is already done,
and the other other side is due for some tattbomb abuse.
lucky for both of us,
i GOT they!
that trumps sports every single time.
did i mention we're going on vacation next week?
what better way to demolish valentine's than by
going to connecticut?
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
that's not romantic at all.
at all at all.
we're not staying there though, yo.
what are we?
because we're going to an even darker place.
that's right.
the magic flippin' kingdom.
disney sunovab!tchin' world.
me, the wifey, her dad, his wife, our kids.
brutality for february's face,
and ruination for all of my whole entire everything.
i'll be putting that boastful braggadocio about the
'happiest place on earth' to the test, friends.
believe it.
real life,
not televised sporting events.
both are really happening,
but only one is dope;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 4

weekendering F*-bags.

what sucks the fullest hardest balls
in the whole entire world?
genocide, probably.
what sucks the second biggest batch of
swollen balls in the whole wide world?
vacationers waiting for seats at restaurants
in the mount washington valley.
word up.
each and every weekend gaytard is up here
waiting for the big dumb super-stupid game.
and in the meantime?
uh-huh they're getting ripsh!t piss-up drunk
and taking up a whole lot of space at all the
local eating establishments and watering holes
whilst watching other other big dumb games-.
i've got some hate all up in my heart
on a shivering saturday night in the woods, neighbors.
and i had to eat twice as much three times as fast,
just to rinse away the hard-style angst and indigestion
that the hot fiery acid-reflux-spitting reality
of doo-doo buttery sports jersey A*bags brought out
of my 'hood-type ninja bag, y'all.
that's a thing.
my homeboy matt riordan came up and got activated
on some tattzaps and hang-out time today.
that's always expert, duders.
i mean, yeah,
he is from out of state, and he was out to dinner with us,
but it's cool, friends...
he was with us.
and that's nothing to scoff at when it comes to
judgementalism and considerations.
a free pass was freely given.
and that's even after accepting that
only worthy warriors and/or berserker barbarians
can qualify for an exemption on our List.
if we weren't picky,
the List wouldn't matter, right?
you know it.
good times.
it's early morning pre-game block printing.
inking up that sh!t,
stamping up the whole joint,
and then tattbombing until kickoff.
the rest of the mountains are pulling a
Ph balanced tim leary tomorrow
(that means no acid, dummies, but extra dropping out)
leonard cohen is on the stereo,
deep, dark, and depressing.
the perfect lullaby to send us into the good night;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 3

sneaky peeking...

what's poppin' tonight, y'all?
supports my head-
gives me something to believe....
that's me, duders.
it's friday night,
it's been a hectic week,
and i still haven't finished my newest block print.
so far so good.
check the teleport:
those little scrapey shovel-jauns take forever
to carve away and create the negativity that
becomes a picture for your face.
believe it.
it's not so much what you remove that matters,
but what you leave behind.
and i'm leaving a lot behind,
and even more to be desired.
february is kicking last month's A* right off,
and after the twenty pounds of bloppity glops
and globules we just ingested at the indian restaurant,
i'm making like february on my own A*.
fun times, my ninjas,
to a steady rockin' soundtrack of DMX.
that's earl simmons to you, b!tches.
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 2

el dia de la marmota.

hold on a minute.
do you smell something?
what is it?
pulled pork?
it's ground hog.
oh, c'mon, duders.
today is the da is the day is the day is the day.
get it?
groundhog day, mutha-b!tches.
el cerdo del suelo, son.
the same sh!t, on a temporal loop, forever and ever,
being commemorated more by a film than a marmot,
and prettty much deadeye representing the way it
feels to be a responsible adult in the modern world.
lather, rinse. repeat.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
maybe it'll be spring soon?
it's as cloudy as a fogbank all around us,
a Fortress in shadow, if you feel me...
but who knows what's poppin' in punxsutawney?
six more weak weeks of winter is what, ninja.
y'know what today also is?
nine years of dwelling on my dwelling
up here in the goodsly embrace of all things
woodsly, rural, and really real.
nine years.
holy F*ing sh!t, neighbors.
to think i woke up all those years ago
in the ancestral home of my forebears,
and got a ride to new beginnings in
new hampshire from my best buddy the cucchie,
(because i didn't own a vehicle).
that old house i ventured out of connecticut from
after a year's worth of regrouping and recouping
was sold off, when it's owner shed his mortal coil-
but i replaced it with the Folk Life & Liberty Fortess.
i filled the position of eccentric, opinionated uncle
left vacant by my former landlord's passing....
sorry, duders.
i'm seeing shadows,
and i'm reliving the same day over again.
i'm celebrating IX years of taking it to XI
in the northerly climes and cultural cul-de-sac
of the top half of the bottom of the barrel.
that's that new hampshire jauns!!!!
the albie rock day-off gut-bustin' glut-explosion scenario
has once again found a garderobe garden
for gastric gendarmerie.
a great big bunch of closets full of barbarian groceries.
no, for real.
i scoured the cabinets, consulted the cabinet,
and crafted a crucial crippling cabbagey cube
of brutal, raging, stormswept vegan A*blast activation.
what does that mean?
it means i made a pie the likes of which
the lion and the witch couldn't hold a spoon to.
try to follow along, kids,
it's complicated but i think you can do it-
shepherd's pie?
i think not.
groundhogger's glutton-bucket, more like.
check the teleport on this big burly pile of fattitude:
that's what expert looks like, y'all.
believe that.
and when i rep my mashed up tubers,
i always keep the skins on.
because i hit skins like i was a drummer, b!!!!!!tch.
word up.
peas and carrots and cabbage and onions and garlic
and brown blops of pro-fessional-tein,
and homemade gravy, baby.
because i doo-doo that greasy globule-type sh!t.
that's 300 cubic inches of edible vegetables.
nine years of all of this.
no way in heck is that an enormous disappointment.
woodsly goodness,
Folk Life,
really realness,
hot fire, lightning, and warrior poetry.
it's all really happening,
today especially,
over and over again;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, February 1

rabbit, rabbit.

word up, duders,
it's full blown february, SON!
you know what i did?
i pulled a rabbit rabbit out of my mouth
like a magically tricky treaty on good fortune
first flippin' thing as the clock spun and the calendar flipped.
heck yeah, i did.
it's the first of the mutha-ucking month, my ninjas.
i said my charming chant about bunnies,
and now it's time to tune up some Tea aNd Toast
before we begin some next level futuristic hottness.
oh, y'know....
bass-boosted battle-beats and demonic drum thumping,
and taking it to eleven like pipers piping an' sh!t.
rowdy ruddy rudimentary hot rod ones, probably even.
you're right-
it would've been marginally more appropriate to
redline at 10 like those lords a-leaping,
just like the year, y'heard?
...but only because we get to enjoy a twenty-ninth day
of this cold, bleak, stormswept savage gypsy wasteland.
awww, c'mon.
at least there's probably gonna be vegan chocolates
for our so-F*ing-in-love faces and hearts and parts,
and that's only a few weeks worth of spanning away.
yep. for those romance-type jauns an' that.
and just to let my rose-colored necktards know
what's up with B.H.M.,
we've got a nonstop loop of loud, fresh hardness
being pumped up at volume throughout the hills
and the dales and the dwellings of the
woodsly goodsly white mountainous northern extremes.
we doo-doo that 'hood soundtrack attack, kids.
it's breakfast, neighbors.
i already told y'all what we ate this morning...
i'm talking about the end of my abstinence.
the material fast is over.
no more responsible expenditure-restraining.
that sh!t is over and done with, duders.
which means it's time to burn through
a few of those movie checks i made yesterday.
i might get a fancy toaster oven.
oh, F* you.
it's my money, and i'll do with it what i please.
that's right.
early starts and late nights
and only one day off to get rad on
all the big action i want to activate.
quick like a bunny,
and jacked like a rabbit-
it's all really happening,
it's all really february;
never quiet, never soft.....