Wednesday, December 31

adios, aloha.

dear 2014,
        in as far as being dope is concerned,
you were over and done with months ago.
it's well past the due and proper time to F* off.
the height of good manners is knowing when to leave,
and you've overstayed your welcome.
i'm sayin',
show a little class, for once,
and maybe take the back door out.
we'd love to say we'll miss you,
but that'll really depend on what '15 bring to the party.
time will tell,
but for now, you gotta go.
                                             your pal,

what in the actual F* is going on?
how is it still 2014??
i mean,
wasn't that all used up around hallowe'en?
it's not just me, is it?
oh, word!
i didn't think so.
we're doing what we do,
and while we're at it,
we're riding out the clock on this stoopidheaded year.
i'm thinking on all the good times,
and yeah, neighbors,
there were plenty of 'em at first...
they all fell off along with the autumn leaves!
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
womp womp.
the styles stay hard in the woodsly goodness,
and they seem harder when those bright spots melt the shadows for a spell.
for all the fresh-to-death family togetherness
that harvest and maple and i are activating,
there's an equal but opposing force of furiously really-real life
working behind-the-scenes,
trying to wreck my movie checks,
and crap up the causeways and the effectways of our unfolding life and times.
the thing of it is,
i'll throw what's left of my loot at the problem,
and we'll stuff ourselves with ALL the treats, until we burst apart at the seams,
before i let us fall apart from dark-dark-dark-black-light pyrolysis.
well, it's complicated,
it distills to this-
there will always be wrenches to choose,
it's just a matter of picking the right tool for the job.
in this case,
we picked a whole lot of driving and eating,
the shared experience of spanning time and space,
and stuffing our faces in a breakneck bread-breaking show of solidarity.
portland, maine.
the green elephant.
ALL the appetizers.
check the teleport:
and we each got ourselves a big ol' bowlful of noodoos.
AND dessert, too.
too much is the right amount,
especially when there isn't enough of everything else.
it's ticking away.
we're losing light, and heat, and time.
the last few grains are circling the funnel of the hourglass.
and this year has run out of chances.
there's a restart coming, for sure,
and that's good news.
of course, really, that just means there will be more of all of this.
given the alternative,
i s'pose that's not too terrible at all;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, December 30

a second-to-none second to last second.

looks like we're headed towards another 'nother quiet finish.
a limping last lap,
less languid than lazy,
more lurching than lunging,
lungless and listless,
laden with the lightness of loss, lack, and longing,
as seen through lucid, limpid lenses......
it's a hard style.
that line, though-
laden with the lightness?
y'ever feel crushed by what's missing?
that's some heavy sh!t.
and as this year creeps towards a close,
and the dark days become seasonably abysmal,
replacing the warmth of the previous holiday
with the cold shoulders of a stout and surly new year,
i've gotta tell you, neighbors-
i'm glad it's almost over,
but i'm not overly anticipating the promise of a fresh hell,
frozen over, and frightful in it's frigidity.
i hate endings.
even when i hated the story enough to wish it was over.
maybe i just wish for more happy endings?
i dunno,
i've never ever really been one to want to be touched,
so even the most accessible massage-related finales still elude me.
on the really real, though-
2014 started out pretty strong, too-
lots of new hottness,
tons of better decisions,
loads of promise and heaps of cultivated potentiality....
when it really mattered most,
the whole last quarter still managed to eat hot logs
of the most diarrhealistic doo-doo buttery b!tchbaggerism
all along the house-arrested homeward stretch.
i guess it's true, too-
nobody leaves with the title.
awwwwww, man.
just how hard a style have the last few days been?
they've been the kind of uninspiring stretches of responsible adulthood
that leech away the spring from your step,
drain the jingle and the jangle from your jaunt,
and generally suck the heat from your fire.
that's real.
dinner has been paying the price for it, too.
check the teleport:
a steam-bent-out-of-focus dimly-lit bowlful of ghetto'ronis?
more beige blops for our faces.
well, yes,
harvest's happy smile and chinny-chin-chin are psyched about it.
don't get me wrong, guys...
these girls actually love it.
they're kids and they can't cook, so they're not exactly elite food critics.
i know it works,
and the herby chick peas and the sauteed kale hep out a bit, too,
it's just not exactly my best work.
we're full, in our bellyholes;
and we're lucky for having all of our family togetherness;
and we're freeeeeezing in the frosty folds of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
all of it is happening,
so i guess this is how 2014 goes out-
old and cold and broke, broken and busted, disgusted, disgusting,
and discussing the finds, failings, flailings, and facts that made led us here.
we're spanning time,
and we're running out of it.
time traveling into the future-
seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years.
this is it,
and that's all there is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, December 29


2014 is slipping all the way away.
before you know it, it'll be gone.
before it goes, though,
there are a few more dinners we need to figure out and freshen up...
for starters,
a stoopid sunday of tattbombin' left me feelin' spent,
even though  i'd had my fill of doin' stuff for the day,
i still needed to stir up some supper for my family.
i'll tell you, neighbors,
i blew into the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress like a flippin' hurricane
of pouty-pantsed hard styles,
and started banging pots and pans all over the place.
that's the truth.
a real pissy tantrum-throwin' dinnermaker, that's me.
i took whatever we had,
and i helped it transform into something super special.
all the insides of all the burritos took up all the pots
on all the burners on the whole stove,
and all the while the oven was preheating for exxxtra activation
after the wrap.
i doo-doo that last step for turbo-charged hottness, and a crispy skin.
check the taco-sauce-topped-type teleport:
red and green sauces for after-christmas after-party mealtime celebration.
it's definitely what's inside that makes 'em expert, though, y'all.
a super-spreadable slap of underchee'?
a base coat of beige for creamy-smooth gooey goodness;
and refried beans, blended with a ladleful of salsa to make it fancy;
sauteed broccoli? in a burrito??
it met the vegetable needs of our designated dietary duties for the night.
sliced up small, simmered in pureed tomato sauciness,
spiced with g.p.o.p. and cumin and mustard and black pepper and basil,
for a taco-style crumble of vegan magic;
and jasmine rice for bulky, burly, sticky superiority?
all good things.
for extra good burrito business, that's what you need to include.
the institution of expert foodstuffs in the woodsly goodness
is sacred to us.
that means even the simple stuff needs to be dope.
actually, everything does, all the time.
just be dope, we say,
or F* right off.
because rules is rules.
and now,
there's today to deal with.
we've got a whole other 'nother 'nother case of the mondays.
and we'll all be at the tattbomb studio spanning time with all the
doo-doo butteriest waterbabies that vacation-times can produce,
with spending money and spare time to burn.
we'll take it away from them,
with extreme prejudice, even.
the last gasping gulps of this year,
sputtering out,
and falling apart.
that's what we're left with,
and that's what's up.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Sunday, December 28

simpleton is next door to fancyville

keeping it simple is SO stupid.
i mean,
i've got all the fancypants ingredients right here,
in the kitchen,
less than an arm's reach from the big ol' bowl i'm
mixing everything up in.
why let regular jauns be the only ones we've got?
i can't hang out with that, neighbors-
and what's more, i won't be suckered into being less expert,
when obviously,
the whole flippin' point is to be MORE.
for really realsies.
this morning,
it's all about scones.
burly british biscuits for breakfast.
hearty hunks of homey, homely harmony that happen to enhance the happiness
of our faceholes.
and before i expound on the various virtues of my add-ons and mix-ins,
let me just say it, from the jump off, before we get into any of the rest of it....
my scones are moist.
y'all can keep that crumbly crap to yourselves-
i fold 'em molto molto (and molto, still),
until all the flaky freaky-diki striations cause molto sensations
all up on your mutha-F*ing tongue-piece.
i got cream chee' coupled with the butters,
i got extra big butterish blops in-between them, for added blending,
and then i hit 'em up with that soy yogurt, instead of generic egg-replacement,
for added heavy, healthy wet wallops once the flours start absorbing everything.
i got my systems,
and i know what works.
the folds are key.
i added a couple extra ones this time, for good measure.
they're layered upon the layers that i laid out from the beginning,
and they're folded into furious fragments of ferocious freshness...
and you should also know, kids,
that in those folds, in this batch, at this time,
as in- right now,
in the early hours of a woodsly goodsly easy sunday morning,
there's some fancy sh!t filling in the blanks.
believe it.
the whole house smells like a country garden, guys.
that's no joke.
because it isn't just that i'm reppin' that oh-my-darlin'-style
clemen-teeny-tiny satsuma zest,
although it does impart subtle super-sweet citrus spike
that's miles and miles above, beyond, and better than all the rest...
and it's not because i'm using the most delicately caramel-touched
sun-dried succulent plump and pleasing golden-hues raisins,
with their rich but gentle toothsome tease,
instead of those garishly overdone purplish-brown doo-doo blops.
i mean,
yeah, for sure,
that's enough to make 'em pretty dang good already,
as those are both very important flavor components
for actively casting the magic spells needed for activating the scone zone.
pretty dang good is not enough is it?
don't be dumb, duders-
too much is the right amount.
and as such,
the perfume that's activating my airflow is from a whole other 'nother bit
of superfresh, extra-fancy new hottness for our family togetherness mealtime
on this grey and rainy ante-meridiem.
check the teleport:
it's lavender.
and it's taking this morning to eleven.
that's word.
best scones yet?
well, i'm just sayin'.....LOOK at 'em.
the stacks on stacks on stacks are on the attack,
and that's just the beauty that's skin deep.
the flavor of the lavender is STRONG.
i like that.
my daughters, however, aren't as psyched on old-lady-soap-smelling food,
they're also still very young,
and that makes them a little bit dumb.
the foundation has been laid for a new era of breakfast.
and that's good news.
it's all a part of the bigger picture.
next time,
less flowers and fruit,
and more chocolate, for the children.
in the meantime,
i'm toasting and buttery-patting another one for myself;\
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, December 27

yes, we like waffles.

if you took the dome of the roman pantheon,
and laid it out flat,
and then covered it with deliciousness.
you got it.
XI-mas morning called for something extra-good,
(as did the lack of a loaf of toastable bread in the cupboard).
the most qualified candidate?
c'mon, man, pay attention-
waffles, obviously.
i had coconut flour, and wheat flour, and oat flour, and tapioca flour,
and i used 'em all, y'all.
because too much is the right amount,
especially on holidays.
brown sugar and butterish and vanilla,
plus vegan sour cream in place of eggs,
for added loft, and bitterly better instigation for the baking sodas and powders.
i do what i do because i've learned what works and what doesn't.
i'm kind of expert at breakfast, y'heard?
if girls were made out of dough,
i'd be a real romeo,
and that's no joke.
i'll just cook treats in the morning for my daughters,
and hopefully demonstrate the pros and cons between box-mix b!tchbaggery,
and elite active participation.
i've no doubt they can certainly taste the difference.
check the teleport:
extra-fancy four-flour full-flavor waffles,
with homemade apple-cinnamon compote.
....what else would i do with two sad apples sittin' on my counter?
and roasted buttery black walnut sprankles.
and real maple syrup, for added woodsly goodness.
and ka-powdered puffs of wintertime sugar blasted on top for good measure.
we take our mornings by storm, while you're too busy taking it easy.
that's weak sauce, and we're worthy warrior poets who want MORE than that.
more and more and more.
that's vanilla black tea in that wintry mug,
and yeah,
it DOES go great with the apples and nuts and grains.
the whole is greater and all of that.
the three of us, me and the girls,
are something so vastly improved over me all by my lonesome.
i like that,
and i like that we nourish ourselves with time spanned
and with treats eaten.
i'm still psyched on all of this,
and i'm so glad there's a whole full week's worth headed our way;
never quiet, never soft.....


we've got a system for making our pizza pies extra expert,
up here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress...
so that it has optimal activation from the bottom to the top.
and when it's XI-mas,
and it's dinnertime,
AND harvest and maple are both just as hungry as i am?
we gotta bring the heavy-handed fistfuls over to our topping times.
the system works.
but, for realsies,
i love that we can plan for success using our simple formula for pizza creation.
here it is:
sourdough circle;
custom underchee' shmear;
crushed tomatoes;
overchee' (a.k.a. daiya[rrhea]);
vegetable hottness-
beige-hued plant-based animal-mimicking protein parts.
so simple, so effective, so i said.
there are three of us,
sitting pretty (well, 2 out of 3 are pretty, anyway)
in our woodsly goodsly mountain manse,
and that obviously means we had to activate a proportionate number
of pies for our faces.
that's our thing, after all......
check the pee-eye-zee-zee-ayy-type teleport:
word up.
and individually,
they were stretched and topped as follows:
baconesque-bits, and caramelized vidalia onions.
chickenish-chunks with broccoli florets.

doggish-discs over baby kale leaves and scallions.
i'm just sayin',
we get it goin' on pretty fresh in this kitchen,
and the oven has all the lovin' for that baking stone in it's center.
we reap the rewards of our efforts, too, duders.
we ate every last morsel.
munching up each one while the next one was baking,
and then assembling the next next one before the previous one was ready.
i'm tellin' y'all-
it's a system and it's a good one.
efficiency and effectiveness,
with panache and timing honed to a razor-fine edge of expertise.
that's what i'm teaching these kids.
that IS my job, isn't it?
family togetherness isn't enough.
there's also the subtle suggestive acts and interactions that show off
all of the big benefits of an involved and participatory Folk Life.
this is What Is,
and we're sharing it,
second by second,
the whole time, every time;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, December 26


and when X-mas is done,
and we're back where we belong,
in the north,
nestled in amongst the mountains,
tucked between the trees,
waking up to the wind howling along the hills and hollows
of the woodsly goodness........
that's when it really gets good, guys.
what's one better than X-mas?
you'd better F*ing believe it-
the most expert time of the year.
that's right, neighbors...
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress was waiting for us,
quietly weathering the weather,
and sheltering all the best parts from the elements,
until we got here and got ourselves ready for all the big action, big fun,
and the epic unwrapping we look forward to all year.
so now that me and my girls are all inside,
and relatively warm,
and ready for anything,
it's time to get molto-activated and put our picture-perfect
second 'mas morning into full effect.
check the properly-placed-and-superbly-stacked-type teleport:
i mean, C'MON.
i love this part.
in the dark, before dawn,
with all the lights glowing warm-
all the stuff, all ready, all rad,
and all under the baller-A* boughs on that luxurious mantle.
i am just so grateful for the time i have been given with these two young ladies.
i appreciate who they are, what they're about,
and how they interact with me and the larger waiting world around us.
it's pretty flippin' great.
and the effort they make to be better and better?
it makes me try harder and harder to, too.
it's synergy,
and it makes my XI-mastime go to eleven, for sure.
the resultant stacks on stacks on stacks are definitely lookin' really expert.
for serious:
that's our thing,
and that's the way it is.
the kids deserve big fun, and big treats,
because that's the appreciation i'd like to show to them,
for being genuinely awesome individuals whenever we're together..
in the spirit of gratitude, and in the greater spirit of generosity,
i do what i can for 'em when i can.
and this is one of those times.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point.
XI-mas morning, afternoon, and night.
we span time,
we make moves.
we're participating in a party only three people are invited to,
and we're enjoying the elite exclusivity of our private Folk Life.
today is the day,
and it's one helluva day at that;
never quiet, never soft.....

baking in the electric glow.

creating christmas treats in an foreign kitchen?
i doo-doo that holiday sh!t, neighbors.
on the real?
i do it the most, and i do it the way i'd do it anywhere else-
off the cuff, on the fly, with no firm direction at first,
and the available ingredients determining the dopeness that
i'll be baking from batter to bread an' that.
just because i was in connecticut doesn't mean the treats should stop.
so, i got myself down to the overcrowded and overloud gross grocery store,
and i got all the goods i'd need to make something great.
that's the way it is,
and that's the thing i'm gonna do wherever i am.
with chocolate chips, and fresh dark red cherries,
and some almond oil, and a whole lot of cocoa,
i got it poppin', people,
and i made it work.
check the cakey-nutty-holiday-sweets-type teleport:

chocolate chocolate-chip cherry amaretto christmas cake,
for your malcolm-xmas A*.
wordimus prime, i keep it expert whenever wherever.
and the chocolate almond cherry flavor had fruit, and candy, and preserves
all over the place, in it, around, it, on it, and throughout all the elemental activation.
F*ing right.
and that's cherry amaretto ganache oozing all over the top, too.
with halved black cherries doubling down as sprankles.
that's what's up.
i had to get my cake game going.
rules is rules,
even on holidays,
and that deep, dense, rich, righteous fudge-style barbarian brownie ring
was precisely the right course of action for keeping it molto real.
the kids might've been impressed, too-
if they weren't all too busy playing with their phones and sh!t.
maple star, surprised that she could hear me through her beats.
and she wasn't alone in her electronic absorption:
harvest, and my niece ca$h,
tippity-typing the whole dang day away as well.
there was plenty of food,
and plenty of less-strained family togetherness,
and all kinds of cake.......
that helps any situation along.
it didn't feel like christmas, being sixty degrees, and sunny.
it felt pretty good,
and that's about all i could ask for.
we bounced in the afternoon,
while it was still light outside,
and got home to the woodsly goodness before too long, too.
we're here,
and that's the best part.
fun vacation family times until the new year, and then some;
never quiet, never soft.....

the recap, from away.

i made food,
for christmas dinner, even,
in connecticut.
i s'pose that constitutes a minor miracle,
and a big deal for all of us spanning time together
in the 'hood-adjacent jauns that i grew up in.
check the teleport:
angel hair pasta,
with peeled plum tomato sauce,
loaded up with caramelized shallots and sauteed garlic,
tempered with braised asparagus,
and held tight with baby spinach!!!!
there's herb crusted tofu (!!!),
browned to perfection in the presence of my parents....
tamari-blasted brussels sprouts, too?
baby cabbages all up in it to win it, on the real.
and baked butternut squash with herby oniony sprankles!!!!
i kept it expert,
and i took the opportunity to make it all extra fancy,
because, really, that hasn't happened before,
and who knows when it'll happen again?
was i inspired by my second time at the ethiopian spot?
at the very least, my color palette sure was...
oh, yeah,
i went back for more.
i had to.
i'm sayin', duders,
i even hung out with the owner for an hour.
nobody should have to eat alone, he said.
so we talked, and i ate,
and we talked some more,
and i ate some more,
and then we talked a bit more,
and i put another portion in my face....
too much is the right amount, kids.
and i really made sure to do what i could to be the best example.
overdoing it to eleven on ethiopian food?
oh, go ahead-
insert any terrible joke from the 80's right here.
{                                                                        }
i filled way up on all of it,
well past the advisable limits of good sense,
so that by the time christmas eve's dinnertime was in full effect,
i didn't want to munch up a single thing.
not that there was much going on anyway...
italian families get absolutely filthy with the overdoo-doo-ing
of all things aquatic on the night before,
and everything is stirring, in a pot or a pan
until the whole place smells
like a dead-zone in the ocean.
then, on the big day,
i got busy making the magic happen,
uninterrupted, and uncriticized,
surrounded by the old people from my old life,
inside my childhood home,
y'all may not know how crazy that is,
so you'll have to trust me.
it's nearly unbelievable.
but it all really happened....
and that,
was the best present i've gotten in ages.
i'm grateful for the small gains we've made,
me and mine,
and all of us,
spanning time as it unfolds along the creases and edges of a secret plan
that is only becoming less mysterious as we march across the threshold of
the unknown outer limits.
and to all a good night;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, December 25

merry Xmas

happy holiday, neighbors.
if you're fortunate, it'll be expert,
and if you're unfortunate,
it'll still be over soon enough.
today is the day,
and i hope it's a good one for y'all.
me and mine will make of it what we can-
eleven pipers piping,
and leaping lords, too, or whatever.
it's all really happening....
joy to the world,
and some peace-on-earthy sh!t like that;
never santa, never claus.....

Wednesday, December 24

fatter and fatter.

ethiopian food?
so many blops of mushy magic for my F*ing face, neighbors.
i love it,
and i've missed it this past year, what with no trips to minneapolis
on the menu from now until forever and ever after.
i needed an infusion of reds, yellows, and greens,
with that fluffy diapery injera hottness to hold onto, too.
that's where the new doo-doo buttery blarpity blop spot comes into play-
in the depths of downtown new haven,
has got it going ON.
when it comes to a barbarian battle-beastly binge-eating brouhaha?
for like, 11 bucks,
it's an all-you-can-eat buffet of brutality.
check the teleport:
green blops, green blops with potatoes an' sh!t, yellow blops,
red blops, brown blops, red blops with chunks,
rice, and rolled hunks of teff-based untensil-style bread blops!!!!
so expert, so good, so filling, so fresh.
the only thing that could improve upon it?
i drove a while, way up into cheshire, several towns over,
picked up my daughter, maple.....
harvest was at a track meet, busy being athletic or something-
and we had a repeat performance of emergency tofutti!!!
the thing is,
i had to drop her off almost immediately,
because mr. & mrs. dealy, my duders from l.a.,
we're sliding into town,
and we had limited time to squeeze in some hangs...
we slid into one of the most elite spots in the area,
one where i'm known and loved, even,
and where i can get the goods in full-blown italian activational style.
pepe's world famous brick oven pizzeria.
you know what i'm about.
check the pizza-pie-type-teleport:
good people,
good food,
good times,
and all of it,
all for me,
all before five p.m.
too much is the right amount, kids.
i baked a flippin' cake when i got back to my folks' place.
that's no joke.
choppin' cherries, and melting chocolate,
and dying from overindulgence and indigestion.
i know how to make the time pass, don't i?
never quiet, never soft.....


maple is great.
i mean it.
not the tree,
and not the syrup either.
i'm talking about my kid.
my thirteen year old daughter.
i had a great time with her on her berfday,
just she and i,
shopping for papier mache, and home decor,
and dragons.
that's the sort of sh!t that makes my heart swell with pride and joy.
that epic nerd fantasy jauns.
i can relate to it, i can understand it, and what's more?
i like it.
word up.
she's a good kid,
and she likes hats, y'all:
i'm just sayin', we have a lot in common.
of course, we differ in some ways, too-
they're not sucky, or rude, or difficult, or selfish...
in fact,
they're expert.
i prefer their company to most anyone elses'...
that's a thing.
and i'm grateful that my children are the kind of people
that surpass the rest of us by leaps and bounds.
i mean, they're determined, and dedicated and dope,
years, maybe even decades, ahead of where i was as a teenager.
i'm impressed.
on the really real-
that's some sort of feat, when you think about infinite nature,
and how it always wins.
who'd have guessed that there'd be so much to say
for nurture's role in their development?
i am as surprised as y'all are.
i'm just psyched on 'em,
and i'm looking forward to our week in the woodsly goodness,
and all of the focused family togetherness that's in store.
this is it,
and there's bound to be more of it, too;
never quiet, never soft.....

filled to the limits.

it's no big secret that i always have a tough time going back
to the place where i'm originally from.
it's just no longer where i'm at,
and that simple fact makes it tough to reimagine
the wheres, whats, and hows i used to enact and overact and act up and act out
with here in the pits of patheticut!
the thing of it is-
i'm well and truly a woodsly goodsly hermit,
wholeheartedly ensconced and entrenched in my
mountainous methodology,
and a really big fan of a plan.
down here,
in the congested and distracted jam-packed A*-crack attack
of uniformly unpleasant hordes of the hapless and the hopeless,
there's no such thing as a plan.
if i see you i see you,
and whatever happens happens.
that means it's ALL really happening,
but there's no way to know what comes next, and when.
it defies logic, eschews reason, and relies wholly on whim.
i can't hang out with that kind of chaos.
everything down here is a rush.
running late, missing out, hurrying up.....
there's a lot of doing stuff, but not a lot of living life.
it's mostly transitions to or from somewhere we aren't really enjoying,
surrounded by people we aren't really interacting with.
there's a reason i stayed in the northern mountains,
even after all the initial encouragements had turned to sh!t.
when the dust settles after all the talking and doing and going
is over and done with,
there's one inescapable truth that recurs over and over,
and demands to be concurred with:
i don't belong here.
something went wrong, (or right),
and i'm just destined and/or doomed to warrior poetry,
Folk Life, and true storytelling all by my lonely, in the cold,
eating vegetables and baking treats far and away from here.
i'll wager that's it's tough for everyone involved,
but i get five hours in the car each way, as well.
y'know what fixes those sour sentiments?
filling in the blanks.
with food.
check the shark-gluttonous-gift-of-giving-type teleport:
super-expert chipotle lunchtime?
a barbaric bundle of every single vegan item in one flour diaper.
and that was just breakfast.
there was emergency tofutti when i scooped up the berfday girl, too.
obviously, rules is rules.
check the holiday-sprankles-type teleport:
oreo-style cookie hottness for my big fat face!!
and y'know something else, kids?
mamoun's falafel hole was where we hit up our celebration.
me, my girls, their ma, her man, his sons, my ma, my sister and some dude,
all of us, in the dimly lit, fairly filthy, somewhat sketchy spot,
getting expert on all that family togetherness.
we definitely got full on food, at least.  
i had a falafel, AND a hummus sandwich:
AND moujedhra:
and a few extra falafel balls found their way onto my plate, too....
.......then we had cake.
because if you have nothing to say, it always helps if your mouth is full!
too much is the right amount.
and sometimes,
that's what we need,
other times,
that's what we get.
at all times, it's always really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, December 22


it's that time, kids.
berfday time.
you know what's up.
maple star, my little lady,
my darling daughter,
my genuinely sweet-hearted baby girl,
is a mutha-F*ing teenager.
right now, she's thirteen years old..
today is the day,
and that's the truth.
i begin serving my term of obligatory family togetherness today,
and i'm gonna kick it off properly.
firs things first,
it's not a berfday if there's no treats.
that's a thing.
since i LOVE cake, and i LOVE my kids,
and i want to share the sugary sentiments of celebration,
i'm bringing a fattie-boombattie stack of frosted freshness
down to the weak-sauce of the nutmeg state.
really real men bring their own vegan jauns with 'em.
ummmm, i think that's what happens, anyway.
i mean,
it's what happens if you're serious about active participation,
and cognizant of the lack of interest and intention you're most likely
to encounter, if previous experiences in prior times are any indication
of the probable unfolding of events.
if you want the best, and you are the best,
you'd better make the moves necessary to provide that expertism
to yourself and to your peoples.
otherwise, it's like you're looking for reasons to be disappointed.
all that boils down to is that i made a cake,
and i made it extra-good.
thirteen is a big deal,
even without a bat mitzvah, or a bloodsport trial by combat, or whatever.
it's the passageway to adulthood.
phase one in growing up,
and a special day in every sense.
that's why the cake had to be even doper than usual...
check the heart-shaped teleport:
a white chocolate vegan banger,
lathered in vanilla buttery, creamy, lightly creamchee'd frosting,
and then taken to eleven in honor of that thirteenth-type sh!t,
with the legendary hottness of freeze-dried fresh strawberries,
powdered and whipped into a secondary, somewhat lemony-laced,
creamy other other 'nother style of frosty flavor.
that's extra-good,
because it's for an extra-special teenie teenager.
what's that?
well, yeah.
those ARE wintry ice-style silver glitter sprankles.
don't think i'm not gonna do it right, neighbors.
i mean,
i've got great kids,
and i'm grateful for that,
and for the time i have been given to span and experience alongside them.
today is a big deal,
and it's going to be a good day.
old and busted is sort of my thing,
but getting older and wiser and better with age is what we're doing,
me and mine,
especially today.
happy berfday maple;
never quiet, never soft.....

observing tradition.

yule, y'all.
that's my raging fuego-a-go-go, y'know?
sure thing.
a blazing barbarian log jam,
on the darkest day, and longest night?
you get it.
you gotta.
it's good.
and whenever there's a solstice,
there's gotta be some flippin' fire.
rules is rules, after all.
check the teleport:
it feels good to let the battle-beast out once in a while, neighbors.
primal transformations of matter into energy,
light and heat stored up, stashed away from the waking world,
released all in a rush,
steaming and stoking and licking upwards and otutwards....
consuming and emitting, at once,
with the smoke and the sparks and the snow melting all around us.
if you can't hang out with outdoor activation,
and that hot fire sh!t,
you aren't invited to MY makeout parties;
and two,
you are definitely an A*-hole.
that's word.
never let it be said i don't respect a plan.
i stacked the pyre in the morning, before my real day even began...
it's preparation, kids, and it's good for you.
that way, in the night, by torchlight,
(which is so expert, by the way),
i could fill the center with combustible inflammables,
and spark it off like a woodsly tower of rocket-stove sexiness.
......and it worked.
check the elite-ambiance-type teleport:
and with the torches, too?
not everything is a sh!t-salad sandwich, guys.
once in a while,
there's just the basic elements, in quantity,
making the time pass with more importance.
making minor minutes matter the most is what warrior poetry is all about.
and that's sort of why i take the time to celebrate my lonesome traditions.
i mean,
i share the sentiments like i'm at a seance,
cultivating the convergence of spirit and memories,
as an ethereal essence.
spanning across the moments shared,
and the times spared from the cold.
the fire died down:
and then it was time to enjoy another 'nother tradition
in the fallow hold of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's right.
emmet otter's jug band christmas.
that's my thing.
puppets, and elaborate but folksy sets,
exposed wires, and no computer generated effects.
it's barely younger than i am,
but it's my fondest and most-enduring memory of christmastime.
that's no joke.
traditions are important, if you care about history.
if not,
then anything goes, and there's no commemoration of time and life.
just the elapsing of time, like a liquid.
it's the ceremony that i need.
i love it.
i want it.
i have it.
because i make it happen.
i do what i do,
and i don't know why i wouldn't.
this is really real rural Folk Life,
kind of ugly, sort of simple, true, tiring, and tradition-heavy,
but it's mine,
and it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Sunday, December 21

putting the win in winter

happy winter, neighbors.
that's it.
today is the day,
and the ley lines and solar revolutions and back-bent far-reaching lean
of the earth and the stars and the moon and that,
and the deepening darkening days have all converged at a nadir,
on the assigned and designated day, to complete a cycle of birth, life, and death.
that's what's happening around us right now, above the equator,
facing forward, and headed north.
believe it.
the winter solstice,
the whole thing,
right in front of your face,
shortening those sightlines by removing the sunlight,
and the creating some semblance of sameness with sparks and fires an' sh!t.
y'know what i mean?
it's real, and it's definitely a good thing.
from here on out,
things get brighter,
in infintessimally incremental units of luminescence,
but eventually....
i think we all are well aware of how long it takes to get to the opposing side
of the darkness.
light purple flower buds.
like, the plant that invented the color lavender?
i'm 'bout it, guys-
just go ahead and check the teleport:
i GOT they.
because i'm thinking it'll be so expert in a scone.
what's that, now?
that's cake.
i baked a little bit of cake already this morning.
i mean,
there's a big deal big berfday coming right up tomorrow,
and i'm not gonna miss out on celebrating,
because some indifferent box-mix b!tchbaggery is standard issue
among the less-capable and inactive audiences that compose
the ancestry my peoples are descended from.
y'feel me?
active participation means being involved,
and bringing the big action with me in a cakey case,
down to the waterbaby butthole of new england.
word up.
i come bearing gifts,
and i come bearing arms.
my sincere hope is that with the aid and assistance of both,
i'll bear the time spanned with poise.
of course,
berserker barbarian battle beastly scourge-and-flail fury will do just as nicely.
it's infinite nature,
versus infinite focus,
versus indefatigable just-be-dopeness.
i'm taking all three traits to eleven all day every day,
so really,
it's a contest i can't lose,
and that's no joke.
i'm winning at winter outright at the onset;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, December 20


there's been snow on the ground for a month,
and currently it's only nine F*ing degrees outside,
today is still actually the last day of autumn.
tomorrow, all sorts of stellar cosmic heavenly sun-and-moon sh!t
starts poppin' off and activating.
it's just really flippin' cold.
worry not, my worthy warrior poets and active participants.
the season may have unofficially ended forever ago,
and the day may be a busted, albeit bright, blemish
on an already unfulfilling month,
but you can still rely on one thing from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
nestled away, out of sight, and mostly mindful,
tucked into the rolling foothills of the woodsly goodness-
expert treats for your big dumb faces.
check the sophisticated-holiday-hottness-type teleport:
are you drooling?
if you aren't, your salivary glands need checking,
because that is the super-sexxxy sour creamy coffee cake you WISH
you had on your plate this morning.
real talk,
to get the crumb and the bite to be all hannukah-grandma-yiddishy,
i hit it off with that vegan sour cream, AND plain unsweetened soy-yogurt.
it's so perfect.
mini chocolate chips in full-on overdoo-doo-it overdose inside the cake,
with so much orange squeezed of it's juice and microplaned of it's zest.
i mean, a LOT of that, all up in it for megadoses of dopeness,
and then, on top?
MORE of both.
i even used bigger burlier chocolate chips,
for bolder boulders of sprankle magic,
blended all in together now with those zesty jauns.
oh, yeah.
and cocoa powder powering down deftly for a dusty grown-up presentation,
representative of a more intense and focused approach to dessert.
that's right.
super-fancy unnecessary and super-delicious meets expert holiday flavor,
and then gets a little more of all of it for good measure.
don't forget-
too much is the right amount.
i mean,
what are you?
an A*-hole?
don't you dare play around when it comes to treats.
i won't stand for it.
that's word.
this is it.
today is the day.
the last one of fall.
it's the first day of winter,
and the last day of the astrological length of sagittarius.
then things'll really get going,
once pile-of-crap-ricorn shows up.....
firsts and lasts and worse and worst,
it's all really happening.
time travel, into the future, over and over,
spinning spirographs of concentric circles in thought, and word, and deed,
a top view,
bird's eye-style, of a tornado.
that's what these changes of season seem like....
rings, interlocking, and rolling along, picking up bits and pieces,
and pushing them around until they're thrown out or placed somewhere else.
goodbyes still suck sh!t,
even when what you're saying adieu to has been gone for months,
in practice, if not on paper;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, December 19


hello, neighbors.
we're getting down to the last minutes of holiday preparation.
i'm just sayin',
i lose a whole week of gettin' readiness,
because i live in the woodsly goodness,
and my peoples are all down along the doo-doo butteriest byways
in the weakest and wateriest babyhole.
connecticut is pure crap,
it holds all my genetic lineage and legacy,
so i gotta go see e'rybody for a few.
my daughter has a big-time big-deal activated berfday coming right up,
so there's that too.
i do what i have to to meet or exceed expectations.
and that includes donating a week to the low-interest bank of
my folks and my kids,
and the collateral damage report including my sisterly siblings,
and all those exes that make ex-mas so expert.
that's not real. c'mon.
but also the spouses and houses and my niece, too, neighbors.
there's a lot going on,
with all of them,
and all of that,
all week long,
the thing of it is-
real life doesn't give a F* if you're ready or not,
if you're into it, out of it, off your game, on point, or anything.
the days are dwindling away;
winter is nearly here;
and the spirit and memory of times gone by,
those happy and hapless, helpful, hindering,
humbling hard-headed hopes and hard-hearted hates,
the bygones and never-weres, the should'ves, could'ves, and would'ves,
and all the rest are nestled in and waiting to be rekindled or diffused....
there's no telling what's going to happen,
but whatever it is, all of it is really gonna, with gusto.
it's christmas in connecticut,
and we're all bracing for impact.
that calls for treats, doesn't it?
i think so.
something smooth,
but with a little textural variety.
maybe sweet and cool,
creamy and crawnchy,
and chocolaty, with seasonal flavors and flair.
check the teleport:
pepperminty candy cane chocolate creme pie!
so many powdered and pulverized miniature candy-style canes,
mixed in, melted down, and added into and onto and around.
the minis are better, when you consider the diameter-density-to-crush-ratio.
they're better for bashing, because there's less white core proportionately.
that means more stripes, by volume, and that means it looks better.
cocoa and graham crackers and all the usual bits and bobs
for an especially thick crackery crust.
creamchee' and butterish and confectioners' and vanilla and sooooooo
many more crushed candy canes, for that soft and silky frosting flair
that's keeping it so luscious all around the edges.
and sprankles, duders.
sprankles for DAYS an' that.
you know the way i do it.
too much is the right amount.
that's my style.
i'm downing slice after slice of this icy-cool and refreshing action.
it tastes like winter in your mouth,
and it looks like a brown circle covered in glass.
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
truth tellers, y'feel me?
it's feel-me-friday, friends,
so maybe make a little more of an effort;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, December 18


cocoa is pretty dry on it's own.
i mean,
it's basically delicious brown chalk, isn't it?
it is.
with melted butterishness and brown sugar,
and melted chocolate chips, and a splash of vanilla added to it?
double-dutch non-alkalized extra-sexy batter gets birthed from the bowl.
and once all the other other crap gets mixed in,
and a blast or two of chocolate chips gets pushed inside it, as well?
well, well well well,
what do you have then?
you've got yourself some soft cakey cookie dough, yo.
check the early-morning-treats-type teleport:

i think they look kinda cool.
you can go ahead with your christmas cookies,
but i'm steady reppin'  my krampus crankles,
with that crackle-wrinkly confectioners coating all broken and busted open,
for extra-special-effective effect.
they start out so mellow, and then that chocolate hits you right in your face.
a brown bomb of burly richness,
after the soft dissolving dopeness of that sugary skin.
i love treats.
and i need to make 'em in order to feel like my day off was worth a damn.
no joke.
i do what i do,
and i do it the most.
loud fresh hardness, and soft sweet cookies.
this is What Is,
and that's all there needs to be;
never quiet, never soft.....

matching fire-spitters.

hey man,
it's like, no fun at all to be worrying about shystie piles.
y'heard me?
that's the truth.
nobody likes a short stack of cheap gifts.
and if you meet some mincey, minky liarmouths who deny that?
you know the type-
the ones who says they'd be happy with just a card?
just a card?
that's right up there with 'remember the reason for the season'
shuuuuuut up.
too much is the right amount,
and an onslaught of carefully selected, site-specific, seasonally appropriate
considerate, objectively expert objects cannot be objected to
by any  but the most basic bottom-rung weak-sauce waterbabies.
it's not about a lot of thoughtless crap.
it's ALL about paying attention to what's good,
and then wrapping up the biggest and most beautifullest.
normally that's NOT the case, but at XI-mas? it is.
however, regardless of the size or beauty,
as always the object is (still) MORE.
if you know a repeat bad gift-giver,
or an indifferent or reluctant observer of holidays?
that'd be the perfect opportunity to manifest some latent mutant x-factor jauns.
meting out a blast of tele/psycho/cryo/pyrokinetic devastation
is absolutely the apropriate response when dealing with that level
of missing the whole point of  a warrior poets' uncivilizational
all-american faith-free christmas.
family? feelings? peace? genuflection?
sweet baby jeezus on a berfday biscuit, b!tches......
a berserker barbarian battle beast cares not for any of that noise.
if you can't hang out with overdoing it,
and adding that hot fire and explosions to it,
then just stay home, and stay away from me and mine.

don't misunderstand me, here, either, guys-
gratitude and generosity are in play here,
no doubt,
but don't play dumb about the true meaning of this woodsly goodsly
holiday merriment magic and time-spanning
it's a F*ing contest, neighbors.
don't you dare doubt that for even one second.
oh sure,
showering your peoples with presents is a semi-sh!tty way to say
'i love you MORE',
.....but it works.
and that means no shystie piles.
going XI-mas shopping in the rain,
and spending stacks on beefin' up those stacks
works up a righteous appetite.
i had some red chili and garlic paste,
and i had some red chilis and garlic and green chilis, too.
with red onions, and celery and little mini carrots,
scallions, peas, broccoli, and potatoes,
braised with black pepper and g.p.o.p.
and then soaked in coconut milk.
and that coco-loco jauns?
it got spiced so nice with roasted cumin,
cilantro, coriander, basil, ginger, ground mustard,
and hot smoky paprika forever and ever,
with so much lime juice and zest for all that bite and heat and sweetness.
a little bit of beige-hues pea-protein,
and a lot of coconut-jasmine rice, too?
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
i overate.
i had to.
even though it was terrorizing my tongue with hot hot hottness,
and that was certainly the harbinger of hotter holes to come.
dinner for three, eaten by just one.
that is how it's done.
a long day of picking out perfect presents for my girls,
and a long night of burning holes in my guts.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, December 17

nutrient-rich self-destruction.

i know you like chipotle.
i mean,
chances are,
you're a regular person, who enjoys food, and knows what's up.
you wouldn't be here,
you'd be reading sports stats or watching morning talk television.
....and that's just not cool.
chipotle is cool.
because chipotle has just. too. much. vegan. sh!t. for me to hate on it.
where else can i eat a couple of pounds of tortilla-wrapped wreckage
for under ten bucks?
word up.
check the XI-mas-shoppin'-refuel-type teleport:
that's it!
a single serving foodstuff the size of a swaddlin' babe?
it has everything i can have in it.
that's no joke.
brown rice, with a strip of white rice, too, for variety.
both beans, b!tches, because i'm not about to discriminate.
fajita veggies?
of course. don't be dumb.
plus that smoky no-joke sofritas jauns all over all of that, too.
which one?
what do you mean, which one?
ALL the mother'ucking salsas, stoopidhead. obviously.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
romaine lettuce, for that crawnch;
and that gooshy green guac', too,
because an extra two bucks and change isn't gonna beat my dinner up.
did i squeeze lemons in it?
did i drizzle that greenish ho' sauce on it?
.......are you even paying attention?
i want it ALL, kids.
i'm sayin',
-and this is real talk right here-
if they don't have to at least wrap it up in more tortilla,
to hold in all the hottness??
then you are clearly F*ing up.
i need to know i'm doing what i'm supposed to,
and usually,
the look of disgust on the burrito-makers' faces,
coupled with the skeptical glances in my direction from those
basic b!tches and weak sauce wimps in line,
with their chicken bowl or whatever,
lets me know i'm gettin' there.
it's the burly burrito blowout that confirms it though.
double wrap at a minimum,
or your sh!t is NOT poppin', y'all.
and also,
it shouldn't take more than six minutes to destroy.
if it doesn't hurt a little, you're doing it wrong.
portland, maine,
in the rain,
at the mall,
in crazy holiday roadway and walkway and register-line congestion.
all of that,
coupled with indigestion from stressful holiday shopping lists,
aaaaaand too much chipotle,
made sure that by the time i got home,
i had nothing left over for anything else.
today, however, is a new day,
and i've got plans for TREATS .
treats on treats on treats on treats, even,
because it's not just burritos that the rules apply to-
too much is the right amount forever and ever.
do the things you like until you hate yourself, guys.
i think that's a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, December 16

wrapping it up.

it's time to start slicing with the scissors,
and adhering with the magic-style scotch tape.
the preparations are still underway,
as is the purchasing,
but it's high time to get busy bundling up the boxes.
oh, hell yeah!
you already know i got my metallic foil printed wrapping paper
with all those crisp edges and sharp corners, kids.
rules is rules.
my tissue paper is coordinated;
my secret scented tea light treats are ready to infuse the fabrics
inside of the packages with all of the XI-mas aromas;
and now,
all that i'm missing to take this presentation from a perfect ten
up to an eleven are all the bows and ribbons that really make it look good.
what's the first thing you put in a stocking?
the dopest present, the big banger, the encore track, the grand finale freshness.
yeah, obviously.
the toe-present is the last thing you pull out,
and it determines the success of the first course of present opening,
so it kinda HAS to be the most expert.
after the toe-kicker goes in,
then you get to packing up the whole middle with chocolates
and candies and F*ing lip balm or whatever...
but then, for that last third?
you gotta blast it off with all the wrapped up little rad bits of holiday hottness.
that's right.
the mutha-ucka' has to look all picture-postcard perfect,
so your present-opening-time snappieshots make alllllll the moms jealous.
i mean,
c'mon, neighbors-
if you aren't winning at holidays,
what the heck are you celebrating for?
and seriously,
all the 'good' moms out there hate it so hard when my old-and-busted
bearded-weirdie spindly loudmouthed self,
all long limbs and awkward angles,
totally dominates their faces right off in the theater of christmas cheer.
word up.
gift-giving is a key element of lightning-striking viking virtue-
gratitude and generosity are both strong attributes of proper presentation.
i say this same sh!t every year,
but only because it's still the truth, and it bears repeating.
i'll admit it isn't what it used to be, though.
don't get me wrong,
my dear darling daughters,
the sterling starlings who make my heart sing,
or whatever the F*,
are still getting the new hottness in the old tradition.
shystie piles of presents can't come to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, after all.
it's the part where i go bananarama apesh!t cuckoo-crazy all-out extravagant
for an appreciative and actively participating partner that i'm missing.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, MAN!
these days,
i have neither the means to go as mental as i previously have,
nor is there a real-life real-time real talk recipient for that focus...
which is arguably listing my laments in the opposite order.
i still have a basket of sweetheart-specific stuff, for sure.
i mean,
i don't wait until the last minute like an irresponsible and/or indifferent dummy.
they're wrapped, too, (without ribbons)
in the preferred pattern of my ersatz partner,
awaiting the right moment to be given away as an early,
and incomplete, christmas gesture,
or maybe as a bittersweet parcel of parting gifts?
everything gets harder,
even when practice has made it perfect.
real life documentarianism means telling the truth,
and the truth is a real piece of sh!t.
it's all really happening, anyway.
so, yeah, umm,
happy hanukkah, b!tches;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, December 15


hey neighbors...
it's a sunny monday in the woodsly goodness,
the brightness of the day and the relative warmth in the air
have yet to reach the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i mean,
the environment is picturesque and site-specifically seasonal and appropriate.
there are big white blankets of driven snow, twinkling lights,
boughs of evergreen, ribbons and ornaments,
and everything else that should bring holiday cheer
to the deepest cracks and crevices in the hearts of the most bah-humbuggered
berserker barbarian battle-beasts.
while all of that is in place and performing at optimum efficiency,
the tone is taciturn,
the light isn't illuminating this darkened doorstep,
and the hottness is turned down well below eleven.
the good news?
just like every year,
i've gotten myself a present or two.
i like what i like,
and i do what i do.
check the teleport:
triceratops is my favorite,
and it's also the best one.
i was missing this particular specimen in my collection.
and now i'm not.
i get what i want for myself, because i know what i want for myself.
and that's important.
knowing what you want, i mean.
it's the first step in acting in accordance with your beliefs.
what you think should determine what you say should determine what you do.
if that's all out of sync, you gotta reassess the whole dang thing.
that's why if i was a dinosaur, i'd be a try-ceratops, i think.
or maybe a try-even-harder-next-time-ceratops.
oh, c'mon.
trying hard is one of the main components of being dope.
trying is the first half of doing.
the other half is not quitting once you start.
whew, it's simple enough to say,
it's a lot of work, trying to be the best version of yourself,
i think a few stony spikes jutting out of my head would probably
add a degree of protection while i'm introspecting and introverting.
plus, that way, when you butt heads over ideologies and perspectives,
there's some small comfort that you're most likely going to poke a few holes
in the opposing opinions.
get it?
oh, stop.
y'ever worry that if you were given two options you'd always pick the worse one?
wow. you're pretty lucky, or a big liarmouth.
i don't know if i can say the same.
i think, sometimes,
that if i were even given the opportunity to choose between being right,
or being happy,
i'd pick being right every single time.
the thing is,
that's not usually a choice we get, is it?
on the other hand,
if i'm already unhappy,
then at the absolute very least,
i'd like to take some small comfort that i stand on the side of what's right.
the difference in the sentences is slight,
but the difference in meaning is monstrously big.
i'd LOVE to be right, and happy about it,
but how often does that work in real life?
it's a matter of principle,
it's a beautiful day out there,
but it's a furious ferocious blizzard in here.
that's right,
and so am i;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, December 14


todd knows about what's good.
this guy:
activation is what's good.
as in-
the interaction and high-level communication that comes from
being involved in good times, surrounded by good people,
having good conversation over good food.
like i said-
he knows what's good.
and after dinnertimes,
a hot cup of tea and a fistful of peanut chews?
that's good.
and if that just so happens to follow a guided tour,
listening to wu-Tang whilst driving through the heights of the
woodsly goodness's luxurious locales, alight with holiday delight,
accompanied by a luxurious slow-burning sungrown stogie,
in it's own turn lit by a luscious new torch lighter?
that's good.
he came bearing gifts,
but after all, he IS a wise man,
so i suppose i should've seen that coming.
i am very lucky to know him.
the kind of people i surround myself with are few, and far between,
and usually also far away.
my friends are all based on their individual merit,
and not the history we've shared.
if they used to be cool, and they're not cool, not no more??
you gotta abandon that crunch, neighbors.
rules is rules, and no amount of old times' sake can change it.
y'know how it goes, even at XI-mas-
just be dope, or F* right off.
it's simple enough,
but there are only a handful of folks out there who can hang out.
i am grateful for the times and the places and the moments they make.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point.
creation and destruction,
and everything is connected even when it is not.
uh huh.
the secret universal plan is a real motherF*er.
we pick which circles we spin in,
but they all overlap each other eventually.
broken echoes and sentence fragments,
implications and accusations and dislocations,
all playing their part in a bigger pattern.
...truth and consequences are just a couple of the ghost rings i haunt in,
and they're also the two emptiest ones.
and EW.
oh well,
at least todd can hang out and hold his own.
the ricochets of cultivated coincidences can't always be predictable,
so it's a goddamned boon when the orbit of another 'nother
worthy warrior poet, doing the work, and working the plan,
returns to the local loop for a little baby bit.
hard styles and long nights cold air and no sleep?
i'm still going strong.
a lovely evening with a good buddy was a welcome respite,
but even the best guest goes home eventually.
and when that time rolls around,
there is always a remainder of 1;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, December 13

stay or go.

y'ever heard of how prisoners are sometimes healed,
just so that they can be killed, like, extra hard later on?
capital Punishment with a capital P is SO a thing.
if you're going to be executed,
it's oftentimes because you're an evil awful terrible bastard,
so the powers deciding your fate don't want it to seem like mercy-
if you're injured or sickly,
you get made whole and wholly well again,
just so that your forcibly inflicted demise is a fitting punishment
enacted upon a healthy specimen.
it'd be like patching up bullet holes sustained while apprehending a fugitive,
to insure that he can face a firing squad without it looking like a do-over?
i dunno.
sounds a lot like most close interpersonal relationships to me.
but maybe i'm just doing it wrong.
i don't think i'm an evil awful terrible bastard, anyway.
then again,
whenever i get patched up, and work things out,
and start relating to others at a more than superficial level,
it sure seems like what is really happening is a little bit of building up
for a whole helluva lot of tearing down.
awwwwwww, man.
in a way, that's warrior poetry at it's most appropriate,
destroy what you create,
and create new destroyables from the debris.
 over and over,
refrain, sustain, sustain, refrain.
y'see what i did there?
i don't have anything good to say, today, neighbors....
other than a little self-indulgent diatribe against goodbyes.
yes. goodbyes.
i F*ing hate 'em.
that's what constitutes my lethal injection, my hangman's noose,
my lightning-striking viking electric chair.
i can't help but reason it out,
and there are so many reasons for that, too.
oh, c'mon.
the mathematics of endings amount to if-then statements.
and those are completely conditional.
there's inductive arguments based on previously existing examples
and data from earlier events,
and there's deductive arguments based on rules, facts and definitions.
the thing is,
they're both arguments.
if rules is rules,
and wisdom comes from experience and information,
that means i'm a superconductive inductee into the pantheon of both.
you know how it goes, don'tcha?

if you're going to talk, say what you mean;
if you aren't going to talk, then listen with both ears;
if you're going to make promises, don't break 'em;
when you're wrong, you don't get to decide what makes it right;
when you're making choices, the consequences are on you;
accountability for all of those things is what makes you worthy of
the time and space and active participatory activation that comprises
uncompromising co-operative, interconnected, overlapping life and love.
word up.
the long-term plans that come from competent, culpable,
capable communication and dedication are the result of trust and truth.
if you can't do any those things,
you'd better be an actual little kid.
syllogism suggests you might really be an A*-hole.
two or more accepted truths can compose a conditional clause for almost anything.
liars are A*-holes,
promise-breakers are liars,
promise-breakers are therefore A*-holes.
the thing is,
we ALL get a choice.
don't cut off your leg and then complain you're limping,
but don't cut off my leg and think i'm going to thank you for it.
real talk.
our choices define us,
and no justification, rationalization, or explanation speaks louder than what we DO.
what are you gonna do?
never quiet, never soft.....