goodbye.

twenty thirteen ate it, neighbors.
hard.
but now,
we're gonna eat it.
...even harder.
yeah.
tonight's the night.
me and mine are making the magic happen,
and amassing all the last minutes of our time in this place.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress;
winter vacation;
the woodsly goodness;
family togetherness;
the works.
we've had fun,
but it's all almost over and done with, now.
check the group-self-portrait-type teleport:

c'mon.
it's our very last night as a group,
and it's the very last night for doo-dooing ALL those things
that make room for a whole brand new year.
are we gonna burn sh!t?
c'mon.
of course we are.
out with the old and busted and flammable.
hmmm?
what?
are we gonna roast marshmallows when we do it to it?
naturally.
we aren't lame waterbabies, y'know.
but,
before we blaze our barbarian cold-weather combat combustion
we're gonna do what we do,
when we are doing what experts do.
huh?
yeah.
dumps.
on our faces.
believe it.
pinched packets of celebratory super-hottness?
yes.
that's what's up.
before the party gets started,
there are lots of preparations .
always.
for example-
you can't use warm filling inside your folded-up pouches.
duh.
it bursts the dough open and ruins the dumplings.
so i made it early, and chilled it out.
(it's pretty cold in here still)
check the teleport:

that's the good stuff.
brussels sprouts,
and spinach, and red onions,
and spices and spices and spices,
and exxxtra-firm sprouted hyperactivated tofu,
and carrots, and celery, and sprouts,
and secret recipe seasonings,
and all of that busy business that is sure to take it to eleven.
yup.
we are well stocked on stuff that doesn't suck,
and we're well and truly intending to go for broke tonight.
broken, and busted, at the very least,
and maybe actually impoverished as well, before we're finished.
but
before all of that,
we have to make sure we have our sauces marrying, too.
the complex blending takes time to reach a perfect balance.
no jokes.
check the one-two-type teleport:

brown and sweet and made for drizzling and dunking and dipping.
word.
and also this:

so spicy.
garlic and garlic and garlic,
and chilis, and sriracha, and sesame, and soy,
and a splash of secret sweetener, too.
this one doesn't F* around.
and neither do the rest of us.
the party is gonna start any minute.
this is it.
the last of it,
before the first of it.
it's ALL really happening,
and it's about time.
*
goodbye 2013.
nobody liked you,
and we won't miss you,
and it's high time you remembered your manners
and stopped overstaying your worn-thin welcome.
the biting bitter brutal cold is in my bones tonight.
the scathing raging savage stormswept fury is in my soul.
and all of it unfolds and expands and emanates and overlaps
exactly the way it's supposed to.
me and mine are traveling into the future;
never quiet, never soft.....

nobody leaves with the title.

so,
i totally ran out of fuel oil for the furnace
here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
uh-huh.
i know.
that IS what poor people do.
gross.
the worst part?
i had just finished bragging about what a baller-A*
doodietwinkling XI-mas i'd made happen for my kids-
detailed descriptions of the delightful dopeness
that is activated expert gift-giving one minute,
and then i'm waking up to shivering timbers,
and visibly frosty breath steam indoors the next one...
yikes.
huh?
yeah, neighbors,
that's some weak sauce for sure.
and it was sunday morning,
which means that the oil man F*s you in the A* a little bit,
to the tune of an extra $100.
...and not for nothin', y'all,
but i don't take kindly to an upcharge for A* F*ing.
real talk.
so,
 we waited until yesterday for the delivery.

yuuuuuuuuup.

camped in front of the stove, 

keeping it cranked up to eleven,

whilst the extra fat foot of flippin' snow serendipitously

insulated the hallowed shallow hollow halls and walls around here.

it's not the money, y'know?

it's the principle.

so we kept it really real, 

like forest dwelling winter druids,

and used hot fire and infinite nature and cast iron to 

cast a magic spell of turbo-hottness for our faces.

that's Folk Life rural woodsly goodness sh!t for sure.
mmmhmmm.
and then we got a big fattie-boombattie filled-to-the-brim
tank of oil delivered yesterday.
all set, right?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A-hole?
don't be dumb.
the silty, sooty, sh!tty dregs at the bottom of the barrel
clogged the lines and gummed the works,
and wrecked the workings inside the hotbox.
awwwwwwwww, man!
ugh.
the furnace took a cold crap after a last-gasp gulp of sludge.
that's more like it, really, right?
a complication borne on a barge bitter b!tchbaggery.
yeah.
so,
that meant coming home late to an even more frigid manse.
ouch.
the fire went out while we were out,
and it takes a minute to reheat the cavernous cathedral i call home.
and with the mercury dipping low low low into the negatives,
it got a little hard to stay positive.
the kids had a sleepover at jess's house.
hmm?
yes, kids-
that's ex-wife step-off  stepmom-type sh!t-
but it surely beats having them frost bitten and twice-shy
before they go back home to connecticut.
what about me?
what about me?
i kept the home fires lit,
to keep the pipes unfrozen,
and waited until today to have the lines set right.
oh, it's alright.
i'm a MAN, remember?
that's real.
so this morning has been about baking treats,
to keep the oven going,
to keep the kitchen temperate,
and the treats well-stocked for tonight...
...and for waiting for the furnace repair man to make moves.
i guess they were gonna F* my A* for all that extra loot,
one way or another,
or so it seems.
that figures.
anyway,
there's always one last pain-in-the-heinie hitch,
every time.
it's the nature of infinite nature.
if it ends,
it ends at an all-time-low.
because without those bitter bits,
how would we know what was sweet instead of sour?
yup.
hard styles get harder when they're frozen.
long nights get longer when you're on hot fire duty.
and all of it is all really happening.
that's the whole point.
hopefully it's all sorted out, now.
there's hot air blowing out of every available vent,
the stove is pumping auxiliary BTU's too,
and slowly, ever so slowly, it's getting less arctic,
and a little bit more manageable.
nobody leaves with the title, friends.
rules is rules;
never quiet, never soft.....

ugly is the new hottness.

that's a thing.
teleport:

yes, neighbors,
i'm determined to deface my face;
never quiet, never soft.....

and the winner is:

neighbors-
vanity isn't always such a bad thing.
check the teleport:

always expert,
always to eleven;
never quiet, never soft.....

bits and pieces.

sophisticated?
i guess so, yo.
i mean-
based on the kinds of gifts i get,
we can reasonably deduce that i attend an image
of dapper dopeness and elite intricacy that warrants some
seriously sherlock holmesian hottness.
what?
oh.
you know.
i get that super-fancy unnecessary jauns that just oozes out-
it leaks luxury and alludes to licentiousness,
and it's other people who pick it all out.
unspoken and understood actual artisan good life gifts?
yes, yes, y'all.
that's expert.
check the teleport:

huh?
they get it,
i get it,
they get me it,
i got it.
y'got me?
gotcha.
***********
duders,
the woodsly goodness doesn't care.
i mean it.
fresh powdery snow on a long vacation weekend?
ma nature is obviously not giving a F*.
y'know?
this whole northern mountain valley has quadrupled
in population and congestion and aggravation.
but just until wednesday.
the weak-sauce outta-town white people;
the ones who ruin all the idyllic rural charm of the area?
yeah.
they leave the same day my daughters do.
i'll be enjoying their rudimentary motor vehicle operation skills
ALL the way to asscrackachussetts.
awwwwwww, man!
ski bums, and drunktards, and ice climbers, and pub crawlers,
and discount after-christmas elderly deal shoppers,
and timesharers, and snowboarders, and fat families, OH MY!
they're all up here,
moving sooooo slowly,
rubbernecking each individual mote in every site-specific spot,
and generally smearing their sh!t-salad on every pristine surface.
they do what they do, neighbors,
so we can feel our self-assured smug superiority.
(and it's working like gangbusters)
without diapery nancy-babies,
experts would only seem like perfect tens,
and we're taking worthy warrior poetic participation and activation
to eleven.
c'mon.
that should be obvious by now.
*
okay,
so, i'm a little put out and grumpy about traffic and gaytards,
but it's not all bad up here, of course.
for instance, breakfast was superb.
check the teleport:

panniecakes, panniecakes, baker-man!
i doo-doo that griddle-browned burly lumberjacked jauns.
and we know about really real grade B maple syrup by now, yeah?
no?
pay attention.
it's the deepest darkest thickest richest most mapley of all the drizzles.
get some.
you can thank me later, right after your face explodes with ecstasy.
real talk.
we make the most of what we've got going on,
and we make the best of the worst of it.
...and we make pancakes, too.
the woodsly goodness stays good,
even when it's filled with the cookie-cuttingest sodapants.
after all,
we're here,
balancing the scales,
documenting real life,
and eating breakfast.
it's all really happening-
without the bitter the sweet's just not as sweet;
never quiet, never soft.....

XI

XI-MAS.
better than just your ordinary X-mas,
and that by an order of magnitude.
it goes to eleven because it has to.
expectations run high as to our Folk Life country holiday.
yeah.
you know how it is,
but don't fret, friends-
we did it right.

c'mon.
picture perfect woodsly fireplace magic.
that's some elite crackery jauns, for sure.
stuffed stockings,
crisp edged metallic-foils on the boxes,
color-coordinated bows an' tissue an' that,
with scent-locked memory-bank activation inside and out.
hmm?
the candles are the key, kids.
it smells exactly the same on the inside of the boxes
as it does inside the Fortress.
smart.
even the chocolates matched the stockings.
i know.
expert.
white chocolate polar bear in the polar bear sock,
and a dark chocolate penguin in the penguin.
fortune smiles sometimes, neighbors.
anyway, it was perfect.
check the showboat-and-grandstanding-type teleport:

harvest's haul.

and maple's.
c'mon.
i may be a savage.
i may be an ugly duckling.
i may be a werewolfen barbarian.
i may be an abominable blizzard wizard.
i may even just be a real rat-bastard sunovab!tch-
but,
when it comes to the times i span by choice?
i put every ounce of intention and attention and detailed focus
into making sure that i make up for all the rest of it.
these kids are important to me,
and i present my presents as a reflection of that.
it's just stuff.
i know that.
but it's also exactly what they wanted,
and it's exactly the kind of thing that lets 'em know i'm listening.
it's not only about what's in the box, dummies-
it's the whole thing.
the big picture.
the grand gesture.
the fancy holiday family togetherness good feelings.
i'm sayin'-
we make magic,
and we create memories with the time we've got.
every minute counts more when we're together.
that's the whole point.
the piles were heaped with excellence,
the sights and sounds and smells were intense,
the fire was roaring,
the lights were shining,
and all of it was just what we wanted,
and exactly what we needed.
what's better than a second christmas?
XI-mas, every time.
more beautifully, more super-fancily,
more expert.
the name says what it is-
eleven-mas;
never quiet, never soft.....
.....mas means more, duh.

party pizzas.

what's for lunch in the woodsly goodness?
well,
let's worry about breakfast first, friends.
waking up on XI-mas was expert.
waking up to hot, gooey, chewy, sticky cinnamon buns
was probably even better.
i wouldn't know.
i was too busy making 'em.
awwwwwww.
check the breakfast-time-family-togetherness-type teleport:

mmmmmmmm.
yeah, i know.
you wish i was your dad, huh?
i had all the candles lit,
and that just added to the wafting warm aroma of perfection
that permeated the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
and yeah,
i totes hit 'em off with the site-specific seasonal spranks.
you need a sweet and sugary breakfast if you're gonna get rad
on a big ol' pile of XI-mas presents an' that.
true story.
so, we did that.
and after all the unwrapping and oooh-ing and ahhh-ing,
and all the gratitude and generosity had done what it had to,
we kept the dough going,
and kneaded up another 'nother batch of floury hottness.
check the pizza party-time-type teleport:

mmmhmmm.
neighbors,
i've got my pizza jauns going hard these days.
beige bits of chickenish, fresh green bits of brocc'd florets,
and two kinds of chee'.
harvest and maple powered it all right down
before i could even think of getting a slice.
shark-gluttonous barbarian appetite may be hereditary.
nature winds,
and in this case, nurture doesn't help much, either.
there was more of it, though.
obvi.
teleport:

soysage, custom chee' blops, and double mushrooms?
that's that fancy business, b!tches.
we doo-doo that double-down topping-terrorism-type sh!t.
why wouldn't we, anyway?
right.
we aren't A*-holes after all.
and it's garnished with parsley and frenchy onion-style bits!
that's because we know what's up.
huh?
you want more?
greedy.
but, yeah, okay, anyways:

asparagus and leeks!
so good.
i'm tellin you guys,
my vegan cashew-and-tofu nootch-blasted chee' blops
may be blarpity, but the also take my non-dairy pizza reality up a notch.
eleven plus.
that's it.
what about all the remaining ingredients?
what about the baby kale and the spinach i had?
what about even more of all of this?
yuuuuuuuuup.
we did what we do, neighbors.
garbage-disposal-type teleport:

the big dump.
whatever's left, on one disc of dope deliciousness.
expert.
sure,
i went heavy on the store-bought chee'-
but we gotta use up what we've got before we go get more,
y'know?
*
we had a great day,
with great food,
and great times,
and greatness oozing out of every surface.
i am grateful for the peoples i've got.
these girls of mine give me a good reason to do more.
and more.
and more.
i'm teaching the next tyrannical troupe of raging stormswept valkyries.
the next generation of gypsy battle-beasts.
the future of warrior poetry,
and the new hottness in woodsly goodfellowship.
it seems like we just make food and hang out,
but every little bit of extra effort is an example i'm setting.
this is what we do.
expert recognize expert.
each one teach one;
and before you know it?
uh-huh.
we're all inextricably interconnected,
and taking it further, going farther,
getting busier, and being better.
no.
it's not easy,
and that's how i know i'm doing it right.
this is what's up,
and i'm grateful for the time i've been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

pizza parties.

if i'm gonna be in connecticut,
and my ace numero uno homeboy
is also gonna be in connecticut,
well,
then there's just no way we aren't gonna get together.
i gave my bestest friend his present while we spanned time
down in the ruts and ruins of our childhood.
yeah!
me and the cucch go way back,
to the bottom of the barrel,
and to the early days of being broke, broken, ugly,
and somehow still so dope.
he was around when all of this all started,
and he's still around.
a friend like that you make sure to stay connected to.
no jokes.
if you haven't been through it,
you probably can't really understand it.
rules is rules.
check the what-the-F*-type teleport:

word.
i guess some duders just can't be content wearing just one hat.
that pipe isn't actually that big,
but perspective goes a long way sometimes.
so we rode around being expert,
and getting gifts for people.
we do what we have to do, neighbors,
right up until the deadline.
and if we're last-ditch half-A* low-effort XI-mas shopping?
that's right.
we definitely need fuel for our bodies.
i mean,
how else are we gonna ward of connecticitits?
that's a thing.
the environment in the nutmeg state is toxic to warrior poets.
that's why all the really real ones all moved away.
anyway,
world-renowned super-famous nationally-ranked-and-accredited,
high-rated turbo-elite neighborhood pizzeria,
frank pepe's,
was what we got to hold us over.
two pizza-pies for two pizza-pie guys.
check the we-got-there-before-the-crowd-type teleport:

c'mon.
so simple,
but so flippin' rad.
we get busy with our throwback business.
a meal, a minute,
a few laughs, a hug, and that's that.
see you next year, my ninja.
life is pain,
but it hurts in a good way once in a while
like when you laugh until you cry a little.
yeah.
***********
overlaps of circles and cycles and routines and roads.
it's all interconnected,
rings of fire, smoke, memory, spirit, and electricity-
everything touches,
and intertwines,
and becomes a spiral of layers and layers and layers
of all of it as it all really happens.
ripples from the center,
and echoes from the edges.
people come and go and return and leave again,
and so do places.
i'm glad i came up where i did,
and i'm glad i'm at where i am now.
what i look forward to most, though, friends,
is where i'm headed.
it never ever stops moving,
all of it,
unfolding outward and picking up speed.
the plans might be secret,
but every interactive participatory piece reveals a little bit more.
and the object, if nothing else,
is always more.
where i'm from and where i'm at combining
to make something better than both?
time takes time.
that's a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

nailed to the X-mas.

flee!
huh?
yeah.
as we sat in the restaurant,
on christmas night,
watching an actual horde of hungry humans
get their orders taken and their food served,
whilst we munched up on fried wonton wrappers,
and waited,
and waited,
and waited,
and waited.......
well,
the thought going through my brain the entire time?
FLEE!
there was no fight to be won in that place,
only the crush of a million non-celebratory-types
sitting pretty and eating easily whilst we got some
of our food, intermittently.
don't worry, duders-
it all arrived cold.
expert?
hardly.
so,
in the face of impending winter weather,
and an empty belly,
and high anxiety,
i bid a fond farewell to connecticut,
and broke north like a compass in the nighttime.
yeah.
we absconded with our intentions and aspirations,
late late late in the dark dark dark,
and we re-entered the woodsly goodness under the cover
of starlight peeking through stormclouds.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress was waiting for us,
and we enveloped ourselves in it's embrace.
family is good when it's good,
but really,
there's no place quite like home.
*
new haven is really beautiful.
no foolin'.
it's a good-lookin' city.
and so are all the ladies who live down there:

yeah.
so many girls.
and we're all sharing the same space,
at the same time,
going through the same sh!t.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point.
*********** 
my family did good this time, y'all.
in many ways,
this holiday went pretty smoothly.
no brouhahas amongst the blood relatives.
that's a new one.
i think the fools at the chinese spots inadvertently
unified us all in our common cause of causing a commotion
and getting especially werewolfen on their weak sauce.
uh-huh.
somebody is gonna catch wreck on Xmas.
rules is rules.
i had a time.
i saw my peoples,
and we did our things.
i'm grateful for the times i have been given, y'all;
never quiet, never soft.....

shopping spree.

duders,
today was a rainy, congested, clammy,
clogged-up sh!t-hot mess of pure uncut connecticut.
uh-huh.
it seems even the elements make sure to conspire
and plot out all kinds of crappiness while i'm here.
whatever, though-
i brought the thunder AND the lightning-striking viking jauns
right along with eleven kinds of secret sunshine.
that's real.
huh?
well,
i just happen to have had maple and harvest
with me all dang day long,
and we made our own magic wherever we went.
...and we went everywhere.
that included mamoun's.
what do you guys know about the the original longstanding
365-days-a-year real deal falafel business?
what?
you don't know nothin'?
well,
you'd better ask somebody to set you on the right path.
introductory activation is mandatory when in new haven.
no jokes, no excuses.
i did my duty to history and old-time's sake an' that.
teleport:

more than a few of them found their way into our faces.
i mean,
we know what's good,
and we want all we can get until we're stuffed to the brim
with ultimate expertism, and tahini.
wee know how to beat bad weather and worse vibes
when we're surrounded by weak sauce and worse.
the shoppers trying to last-minute their messy situations
made it harder to get around town than it needed to be,
but we were powered by chickpeas,
and did all we had to and more.
(and the object is ALWAYS more)
more and more and more.
more what?
more of all of it.
and that included my personal favorite part.
check the celebratory-type teleport:

sprankles in XI-mas colors?
expert.
i'm telling you guys-
when i've gotta drive through the crackery causeways
of cheshire, connecticut-
you'd better believe there's gonna have to be a few
fresh-to-death scoops of emergency tofutti, too.
without the treats,
it's just a long drive to nowhere and back again.
real talk.
coffee crunch and cookies 'n' cream together?
the best one, neighbors.
that's exactly what that is.
***********
i'm here.
i'm spanning time.
i'm doing the best i can.
and sure,
i'm missing out on the woodsly goodness;
and sure,
i'm missing those ones i'm without...
but,
i've also got a whole family's worth of togetherness
to try to survive down here.
i've got what i got,
and i'll get what i deserve.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

berfday.

this is it.
a dozen years.
no jokes.
maple star turns twelve.
years old.
in a row.
today.
did i activate a cake?
even though i was racing around like a last-minute maniac?
even though i was cleaning, and cooking, and packing?
even though i was wrapping and sealing and watering?
c'mon.
of course i did.
i'm a worthy woodsly goodsly warrior poet,
and we do what we have to when we have to.
especially when it's for my sweet littlest daughter.
jeez.
you do know i'm not actually an A*-hole in really real life.
teleport:

yeah.
silver winter snow magic sprankles
on an even butterier betterthanevercreme-frosted
super-moist vegan white-chocolate infused yellow cake.
that's right.
i get busy,
and i get even busier when it comes to providing the goodness
for the great girls i've got in my life.
i took it to eleven for her twelfth.
and that's because i think she's so expert!
that's just what is done, and how.
and i doo-doo what needs doing.
also,
i wouldn't get to eat my cake if i didn't make it, too.
vegan treats creation is not among the abilities and interests
of the people i'm having party time with today.
but it's cool.
i come bearing gifts.
....and cake.
let them eat it.
and i'll take a neck-wreck check at the guillotine for a few days.
today is the day.
we're older and wiser,
and the roads are worse than ever.
there's ice pouring down from the clouds,
daring me to dart down south for the party.
am i worried?
am i frightened?
no way.
nature isn't done with me yet;
there's no way i'm not destined to endure another XI-mas
with the wild things and werewolves that raised me.
i'm going back to where it began,
to celebrate with my peoples,
and power down slice after slice after slice of cake.
it's all really happening.
...and i'm so grateful for the beautiful brilliant bouncing
boisterous baby girl who was born today.
happy berfday maple;
never quiet, never soft.....

seventh day rest.

the last day.
number seven.
the final night.
over and out and finished up.
that's all there is, neighbors-
pizza week is done.
it's cool, though.
i'm not sad.
it had a good run,
and i made the most of all those doughy circles.
i was hurried and harried and rushed and pushed,
and saturday night was not feeling very lively.
the icy rains and dark skies thwarted outdoor fire-times,
and so the solstice entered the annals as a silent segue into winter.
awwwwwwww.
what's even worse?
yeah.
totally phoned it in for the finale.
check the dang-that's-kinda-sad-type teleport:

what?!
personal-sized pizzas on english muffs?
no way......
c'mon.
what am i?
a lonely bachelor all by himself on a druidic holiday?
jeeez.
ouch.
i rep a long and benighted post-sunset subscript.
huh?
oh, stop-
it wasn't all THAT bad, kids.
go easy.
and those are salsa,black bean, chee' and jalapeno jauns.
was i getting winterized on some spicy multi-cultural sh!t?
yeah.
i doo-doo that ethnic cross-continental activation stuff.
on a flat nooked-and-crannied multigrain jammer to boot.
i know.
multi-F*ing-grain usually sucks all the balls, too.
punishing myself with just four mini pizzas seemed a little weak.
and eight bites later, when i was all finished?
oh, yes.
i fired up the oven and made myself a real one.

wordimus prime.
a much bettter lookin' and tastin' solstice pizza!
expert is as expert does, y'know?
i guess i refused to become complacent,
even when pressed for time, and energy, and space.
F* that.
active participation means doing stuff right,
all the time,
even when there isn't enough of any of it.
winter is no longer just coming, kids.
it's officially here.
pizza week ended,
and the grayest and the coldest and the darkest day did too.
it's all always really happening,
and we all always get a choice about how we're gonna interact inside it.
i opted for more.
that's the best way to be, i believe;
never quiet, never soft.....

six six six.

duders.
it seems i'm only a little bit less 'sgusting
when i'm all by my lonely.
uh huh.
that's for serious.
i ate five pizzas with a friend....
but what do i go and do when i'm hungry,
it's late, it's cold, it's dark,
and it's pizza week?
c'mon.
i do what needs to be done-
and i fire up three pies in a row, solo.
six days of pizza all the dang time,
and what happened?
three more types of dinnertime activation got poppin'.
i just don't get tired of pizza, friends.
........ever.
and when i'm reppin' those custom jauns?
bread and stuff and stuff and stuffs?
yeah.
i could do this allllllll day.
real talk.
neighbors,
check the teleport:

yeah!
crushed tomatoes,
thinned-out not-ricotta blops of chee' hottness,
pineapple,
and jalapenos.
i'm tellin' y'all right now-
it had all the right flavors all together in one place
having a filthy bad-touch time,
but in such a good way.
mmmmmmmm.
i doo-doo that sweet and spicy, salty, squishy, crunchy-type sh!t.
expert.
...
more?
yeah.
there's more:

asparagus and watercress,
with daiya(rrhea) chee' and tomato sauce,
and finished off with sprouts for added nutrient acivation?
F*ing-A right, folks.
green things are good for you.
pizza is good for you.
green things on pizza is doubly good for you.
word up.
-
and last,
but not least, by any means,
is the white french pizza deluxe action for your faces.
check the luxurious-richness-type teleport:

that's what's up.
creamy tofusion cashew chee' on the bottom,
thin potato slices,
leeks,
baconish bits of brown,
and fresh-from-the-Fortress-greenhouse rosemary!!!
expert is as expert does, y'heard?
and i do all my dirt on my own,
but,
i still do it regardless.
***********
tonight is the last night of pizza week.
tomorrow is the first day of my connecticut vacation.
in between,
there's an ice storm rolling in
just to make sure of an added degree of difficulty
in my worrisome and wearisome trek down south.
hard styles abound at all times-
tricksy road and slick paths and unsure footing.
it's all really happening.
and it it was easy,
anyone could do it-
where's the fun in that?
in with a icy escapade in perilous power outages,
and downed limbs?
soulless is the solstice, kids.
happy F*ing winter;
never quiet, never soft.....

my friends.

i made holiday rock bloxxx.
i mean, i kinda had to.
and to do it,
i chopped up a whole heck of a lot of vegan marshmallows.
duders,
those air-puffed mallows?
ugh.
they are the stickiest cubes i've ever sliced into.
seriously.
i had to drop each individual tiny diced marshy mess into
some pre-ground oatflour,
and wipe off the blade i was using with hot water,
after each and every single one.
total pain in the A*.
y'know?
yeah.
but,
once i added some chocolate chips,
and drizzled some icing on 'em,
and added colorway-specific holiday appropriate sprankles,
the effort was rewarded with one hundred percent expertism.
full marks and five stars and all that.
check the teleport:

yum.
that's it.
***********
neighbors,
my friends are good to me.
the XI-mas season is clearly upon us,
and the spirit of gratitude and generosity 
hasn't been lost on my peoples.
first off,
sweet de activated some crafty jauns:

doomsday deathbug alien cyborg dinosaur battle!
that's a thing,
and it's all mine.
then shawn and meryl sent me this sexy wall-mount vasey jammer:

mmmhmmm.
more fresh Folk Life business for my Fortress.
i win?
yeah.
but only because they do, too.
really real ones know about being and recognizing the state of remaining
expert.
and last but not least,
i came home to a rad package from elsah:

a deep dark bark and bitemarked woodsly wodengeist,
as a warrior poetic rooty carving?!
yuuuuuuuuup.
i can't begin to tell you guys how lucky i feel about my friends.
but trust me, anyway-
hyperbole couldn't begin to be adequate enough to satisfy the sentiment.
i'm grateful for the people i call my peoples,
and i'm grateful they think highly enough of me
for them to wager i warrant the effort they make.
it's all really happening,
and i'm better off for all of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

5x5x5x5x5x.....

WOOOOOOO!!!!!
five times the thunder,
five times the fury,
five times the dough,
five times the toppin's,
five times in a mutha-'ucking row!
five is the number, neighbors.
pizza week.
day five.
what did i do about it?
i fired up five flippin' pizzas!
that's it.
we get it in.
the thing is,
i might've just gone easy, if i was all alone-
y'know?
maybe english muff'd a set of smallish slider-style pies...
but,
my equally shark-gluttonous friend beau was around,
and i'm not about to miss out on an opportunity to
activate with a fellow woodsly werewolf
who just so happens to know all about
how totally F*ing expert pizza really is.
so we tandem tag-teamed a synergistic appetite instead.
the more i made,
the more we ate,
the more we ate,
the more we made,
until we were out of dough,
and time,
and room.
yeah.
so without further preamble-
check the heroic thor's-day-thunder-type teleport:

right from the jump-
numero uno goes to eleven.
thinly sliced fresh roma tomato,
daiya chee', g.p.o.p.'d black beans,
frozen corn kernels, scallions,
and a gratuitous cilantro garnish.
i love pizza, kids.
that's real talk.
we slowed it down a bit,
to pace ourselves, with pie number two, too.
teleport:

so much basil,
over crushed tomatoes and olive oil,
with a handful of lightly-sauteed red onion ringlets,
and sweet sweet sweet pineapple.
what happens when it's basil vs. yellow fruit magic?
full flawless face/tongue victory for us.
word.
yep.
then we activated a whole other 'nother level of dopeness.
check it out:

pesto,
whipped-up secret-recipe albie-rock chee' blops,
soysages, and nootch!
holy sh!t, for serious.
this one had some complexity an' that.
mmmhmmm.
duders,
we kept going and going and going.
we're over the middle-mark,
and we rode off on some sourdough dough ball jauns.
look at it,
through the marginally-more-traditional-type teleport:

tomato sauce, asparagus, onions, a little bit of chee',
and a hefty healthy green curly-leaf parsley spray.
what's that, now?
was it good?
what are you?
an A*-hole?
of course it was, c'mon.
jeez.
but,
friends,
what about when there's bits of all kinds of pizza left over,
after all the initial assembly?
yuuuuuuuuup!
you fire up a grand finale.
otherwise,
it's just a fourgy of fresh-to-death flavors.
and we're gonna need a little more than that.
check the smorgasbord teleport:

white pie!
no sauce?
no problem!
shiitakes, and baconish squares, and red peppers,
and little babyleaf kale, too!
that's whole hot layer of my custom chee'-blarp blops
as the base.
uh-huh.
those tofu and cashew and creamy goobieblops are my bottom-b!tch.
that's no joke.
***********
pizza week.
so good for all of us.
and this was yet another successful set.
five more elite circles of spirit and memory and magic?
yes.
get after it;
never quiet, never soft.....

on the fourth day of pizza.....

oh, MAN!
i loooooooove pizza.
that's the honest-to-goodness gospel,
according to the worthy woodsly word-is-bond
true stories being told truly by yours truly.
i mean it, neighbors....
me and pizza pie?
that's amore.
real talk.
and duders?
yeah.
you all already know all about it:
pizza week is so flippin' expert.
that's what's up.
toppings?
did you say you wished there were more toppings?
oh.
okay.
check the top-heavy-type teleport:

tippity-topped off with toppings,
for your hungry hungry hippopotamus mouth.
huh?
of course i'm gonna tell you about it.
calm down.
you start with another 'nother off-the-cuff crust,
this one customized with other other flour powers,
and then there's crushed tomatoes, salted,
with a splash of oregano and rosemary;
and red peppers, sauteed to soften 'em up;
and onions, from the night before, for old times' sake;
and radicchio, because fancy red leafy jauns are dope;
and spinach, since i'm strong 'til the finish;
and fresh basil, for your face,
to feel the hottness and savor the flavor and stuff like that.
yeah.
i needed a vegetable infusion, to activate a few more nutrients-
and that hit the spot.
hmmm?
oh,
well, yes,
definitely.
i obviously had pizza for lunch, too.
c'mon.
it's pizza week.
what am i?
an A*-hole?
check out the elite edible excellence i whipped up,
and rolled out,
and baked off for a midday snack.
teleport:

first-take daiya-stuffed crust, with minimal blowouts?
uh-huh.
beige bits of chicken-styled veggie protein?
yum.
broccoli?
green florets from the future!
stuffed crust goes to eleven, it seems.
and i went along for the trip.
i only brought back crumbs,
but if it's good enough for gretel, and hansel,
it's plenty adequate for a lost traveler on the road to pizza heaven.
wordimus prime.
***********
the wolf.
it's in there.
i guess it's more a non-specific candied candid canid battle beast,
than a dire dopplegangbangin' loco lobo.
y'know?
the point i'm making is-
i've got a post-full moon manic monster slowly returning back to
bard and beard and basic barbarian nature.
words and hair and fury i always carry with me,
it's the teeth and temper and tantrums that get all kinds of amped up
under the silvery threads of skylight at night.
mmmhmmmm.
i rep a hard style,
all checks and imbalances,
with a healthy dose of real real reality,
and fantastic Folk Life,
and imagination inculcation in F*ing full effect.
it's all really happening,
and instead of trying to make sense of it?
yeah.
i'm just making pizza.
nature always wins,
so join the victors,
and share the spoils.
me?
i'm spoiling my daughters with XI-mas magic,
and i'm spoiling my supper with ever more slices of 'za,
and i'm spoiling for a fight, with words, not weapons,
and all of it is better than anything else that could've been.
this is What Is,
and i'm grateful for every frigid, rigid minute of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

going bananas over chocolate.

holy sh!t!!!
post #2222 right here.
that's bananas, huh?
it sure is.
but anyway, guys,
i'm pretty sure chocolate is good for you.
i think that is still a real thing, right?
no?
c'mon.
well, it should be.
anyway, i know some stuff.
for example-
banana bread is good;
chocolate is good;
chocolate chips are good;
and baby things are so cute!
what's a worthy kitchen commander to do with that info?
get some baby-sized chocolate chips,
add 'em to some banana-based batter,
stir in some cocoa powder,
add it all into mini loaf pans because lots of baby breads is good,
and sprankle some big crystals of really raw sugar,
and a generous gratin' of german chocolate shavin's on top.
obviously.
what else would i do?
don't be so stoopid.
how's that for expert?
uh-huh.
check the proof-in-pictures-type teleport:

pow!
nothing activates the bananarama jammie-jam jauns
like adding a bunch of brown stuff to it.
yeah.
i can't stop eating them.
they're just too damned good.
for serious.
i'm maybe getting the hang of this baking thing.
hahaha.
false modesty is for suckers.
expert recognize expert.
if you don't know, then you aren't.
***********
sleep is for A*-holes.
at least,
that's what i told myself at two in the morning,
staring out into a bright and snowy blue glow,
miles away from slumber,
scratching and shaking and quaking with moonlit berserker energy.
yep.
full moons have an effect on me.
savage red-alert hypersensitivity,
blue moonbeams,
and quicksilver threads of spirit and memory and snow and everything.
all at once,
a smorgasbord of barbarian bluntness,
irascible irritability,
shredding and spitting and freezing and burning,
frostbitten werewolf wintertime warrior poetry,
unfolding in my racing thoughts,
and keeping my eyes from finding rest.
styles are hard these days and the nights are long.
the wind is howling, and so am i.
this is how it all unfolds,
baking, and making, and doing and undoing,
shedding layers and shedding selves,
and shoveling and shoveling and shoveling.
piles of snow, piles of food, piles of sh!t.
real life doesn't care about sleeping;
never quiet, never soft.....

now, here we are.

neighbors,
it took me a few forays into the oven,
but i've found my masterstroke,
and i'm ready to really get busy with some big business
in the flat breads with stuff on them department.
really.
pizza week.
it's still going strong.
in fact,
it is moving along stronger than ever,
since i'm back on my custom dough game so hard.
duders,
guess who found a weird old regifted pizza stone?
yuuuuuuup.
now,
we're cooking on a crust-busting clean slate,
so that my dough gets crispier and even more expert.
word up.
i blend my flours into a garden of greatness,
and i roll out my irregular circle like i'm summoning ghosts.
that's a seance ring-style round spot for sauce an' sh!t.
friends,
i made the magic happen,
and it happened in triplicate.
(that's the magic number jauns, yeah?)
check the freaked-off-type teleport:

kabooom!!!
thick, gooey, great globbity blops of notzerella, y'all!
hmmm?
how's that, now?
what in the name of going apesh!t is notzerella?!
friends,
i made some custom chee',
and it's not mozzerella.
c'mon.
freestyled off-the-cuff, in the buff, butt-naked hottness,
with nuts and tofu and olive oil and g.p.o.p. and nootch....
and it's mysterious, and serious, and it's got molto nutrients,
and twice as much activation.
it actually tastes a little like eating an eggplant parm.
at least, if memory serves. (and it almost always does)
confusing?
a little.
elite?
a lot.
pizza week magic is really truly happening.
i already told you that.
uh-huh.
and there's more where that came from-
check the greenery-type teleport:

basil-cashew-parsley pesto sauce.
fresh roma plum-shaped tomato slices.
shiitake mushrooms.
a blast of nootch.
expert as F*.
but, hold on, one more second, folks...
there's still another 'nother other one.
check the checker-squares-type teleport:

vegan bacon, and onions,
over that chee'?
c'mon, kids.
the best.
browned brick-colored little rectangles;
and wet sweet vidalia bigger little rectangles;
and sauce, an' that.
all combined to make something more awesome than
the slices that came before them.
escalation of the exaltation of the expert ingredients is what's up.
pizza week knows how to get it in.
Folk Life dinnertime celebration time is going on all week.
there's bound to be more and more and more.
you all know the story by heart, by now.
the object is always more,
and too much is the right amount.
jeez.
i say it every day.
*
the best part?
it's only wednesday.
there's more of all of this,
and it's all really happening-
that's the whole flippin' point;
never quiet, never soft.....

getting a little fancier.

duders,
pizza week.
it continues on,
and it increases in volume and volume every night.
that's a thing.
day two,
we turn it up just a little teeny tiny itty bitty baby bit.
check the no-cheese-type teleport:

white balsamic and brown sugar glazed,
soy splashed,
and black peppered quartered brussels sprouts,
on a bed of arugla,
with shallot sprankles,
and a powdery punch of nootch?
yuuuuup.
so expert.
*
tonight,
there will be newer and more elite custom crusts,
and fresher and more labor intensive ingredients.
neighbors,
it may take a moment for me to hit my stride on this,
but i'm telling you now-
too much is the right amount,
and too often is the frequency for it.
pizza attack?
pizza attack!
it's pizza week,
so that's what worthy warrior poets are eating.
the bread is flat,
the sauce is spread,
and the toppings are tipping over.
this is what i'm all about.
concocting occasions to get activated,
making moments matter more,
and requiring presence of mind,
and presentation of ideas,
and active participation,
and shark gluttony.
all of it is what needs to align to make sure
that it all always goes to eleven.
anything less,
and you're just reppin' weak sauce boxmix babysh!t,
and that can't come over to play.
y'know?
yeah,
you sure do know.
and that's what i like about y'all.
***********
it's still below no degrees.
minus minus minus.
subtracting is not the right equation, kids.
and that's way too cold.
i can even feel the waves rolling in past the woodstove,
drafty drifting over my feet and freezing off my toes.
styles get harder in the winter,
and we're seting new records for unseasonably brutal times,
especially in the windchill department.
i hate wind when it's warm out,
but i totally F*ing hate the holy hell out of it when my
spindly spaghetti body gets shredded through my layers.
all the heats are on high,
and all the spirits and memories are on low.
XI-mas is encroaching on my pizza,
and pizza is encircling my waist,
and my waist is shriveling by the second,
a spiraling decline is in effect,
and the effect is spinning like a drain.
awwwwwww, man.
maybe it'll warm up?
sure.
it may, in may;
never quiet, never soft.....