Sunday, August 31

see you in september

i did three portrait tattoos on one dude today.
that's too many.
normally that's the right amount.
i actually don't care for portraits.
i mea,
i DO 'em,
but that's because i'm a goddamned tattooer
and i don't pretend i'm here for myself.
i'm there at the tattbomb studio to garner all the movie checks in the building.
and that means that i doo-doo that kids' faces sh!t sometimes.
i had zero fun.
the thing is,
they kept getting better and better,
so by the third one,
i was on fire.
and that's great news for the kid who got tattooed,
and i suppose that's good for business, too.
in my private life,
i was vastly more fulfilled by making prop weapons for no reason at all.
real talk.
i took the sh!ttiest plastic pistol,
and turned it into a teslonic reactivation blaster.
plastic tubes and wires and the end of a recorder.
hot cross buns, neighbors, in F*ing full effect.
no, really.
check the dress-up-to-mess-you-up-type teleport:
want more?
i'm taking my nerd to eleven,
and there's plenty more of all of it slated to get created in the near future.
in fact,
there's no time to blog about it,
because i'm about to go BE about it.
that's it.
bye bye, august.
short, sweet, busy, and barbaric.
now let's see what the autumn season has in store;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, August 30

building up steam.

hey neighbors-
i'm making things.
i'm not sleeping well,
and i'm eating less,
and i'm very distracted whenever i'm not tatooing.
(i'm still paying enough attention to THAT, at least)
i'm getting just a little bit makey,
and i'm staying a whole lot of lame.
there is an awful lot of drilling and sawing and sanding, too.
turns out,
crafts are a huge pain-in-the-A*.
that's no joke.
there are bits and pieces and components an' stuffs EVERYwhere.
i'm slowly bending wires and gluing toys and epoxy-rocking wood and glass-
and the results are sort of encouraging.
if the constituent elements are expert,
the whole of it will be too, yeah?
that's the premise of my latest endeavor, duders,
and i think i'm getting the hang of it.
check the world-according-to-larp-type teleport:
but, but...
its technology from the past, turned into the way of the future,
just for the sake of doing something artistic,
but that isn't edible for a change.
i've been stacking stuffs on stuffs on stuffs all up on itself,
and gluing all the best roundies and nibs on all of it every day.
so nerdy.
that's what i've been up to.
costume party projects, with no party to speak of.
i don't even like parties.
i love playing make-believe.
a quick scan over the past would lend itself towards that being realllly obvious.
tricking and treats,
but no treaties, because compromise is for losers.
all out war on sleep;
nonstop onslaught of crafts;
rub'n'buff brouhaha of simulated science-
it's ALL really happening,
and that's the best part of this whole week
(besides all the pizza).
i am deep into the pseudo-science of inventive non-invention.
i'm making it up as i go, but i'm moving pretty quickly;
never quiet, never soft.....

chocolate is good for you.

i didn't have pizza last night.
nor the night before.
in fact,
i didn't even eat dinner the last couple of evenings.
i've been obsessing over bits and pieces of plastic,
and trying to make them look like metal.
so many foul substances,
so many toxic fumes,
so many off-gas irritants an' that....
too much is the right amount,
and that's true even when it's bad, i think.
in-between these prolonged bouts of petro-chemical warfare,
i also took some time to activate that expert bakery business.
i needed to huff some tastiness in amongst the noxious jauns.
that's a thing.
and tastiness abounded immediately.
i mean,
you know i can't slack off on treats, neighbors.
after all, what do i look like?
an A*-hole?
stop it.
and when you're finished stopping it,
check the squares-type teleport:

golden cake.
raw sugar and plain soy yogurt are the secrets to these crisp-topped b!tches.
you like individual squares of baby chocolate-chip chocked chunky mini-cakes?
me too.
the crumb has all that mellow brown sugary subtlety,
without the molasses overdoing it.
i think about these things while i'm drifting off to dreamland.
especially after an addled iron-lung stupor from gluing and epoxying.
double the amount of cocoa for twice as much sugar in the frosting.
^ that's a statement.
it means that the double-fudge creamche'' frosting,
is in reality quad-choco fatty boombattie blasted dark brown hottness.
that's a lot of everything in one cube of cake.
i doo-doo that overdoo-doo sh!t, kids-
because i know what the rules are.
the days are whipping by,
and the nights are, too.
the darkness is encroaching,
but not on my outlook.
i'm all about this bakin' and craftin' and tattooin'.
i mean,
everything else is just for regular people,
and i can't hang out with that.
everything expert, that's the way it has to be.
and nothing that is worth doing isn't worth doing harder.
this day, and this night, are all about going to eleven;
never, quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, August 28

doing even MORE of it.

there can't be pizza on the menu again,
can there?
ummmm, well, i mean, yeah.
pizza doesn't get any less expert after weeklong love affair, kids.
don't be dumb.
more pizza is the way it is.
check the teleport:
three more pizzas.
so good, because there's just so much:
underchee'-stcked, extra-heavy on the brussels,
and a little dark leafy spinach.
and then another one:
over-the-top tofurky tubes and onions.
because beige circles never get boring on a pizza. neighbors.
that's a thing.
and then afterwards, there was another 'nother one:
overchee' tomato baconic-bitsies and more onions.
i did it with the overchee'.
spoondrops on the tops.
sometimes, you need to freak it off a little bit.
and if i already activated that concoction of cashews and tofu and nootch,
then i'll disperse it wherever i damned well please.
believe it.
i spent most of yesterday underpainting toy guns.
that's the truth.
and gluing and epoxy-dabbing,
and dismantling,
and arranging,
and all sorts of planning.
the thing is,
i didn't really get very much accomplished,
but i did get excited.
and excited has been in short supply creatively in recent times.
even if i'm building props just to get props,
and not to be featured in a science fantasy film,
i'll take it.
in fact,
i'll make it, and then i'll make the most of what i've made.
every day, i'm basically playing dress-up anyway,
why not take it way over the top?
too much IS the right amount, after all.
i guess that's the plan, for today;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, August 27

nature wins, but today she's on MY team.

$13 a pound.
that's what the mushroom tards get for wild foraged fungi.
the rare sexy ones, i mean.
i'm not saying i'm a cheapskate-
far from it.
it's just that you almost never ever see those especially elite ones at the grocery spot.
when the woodsly goodness surrounding the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
offers up a special present out fo the cold nights and dewy mornings of recent memory,
i'm certainly not gonna shun that uncharacteristically generous gesture from ma nature.
it may not happen again anytime soon,
so i'll always get whilst the gettin' is good.
the big ol' busted long-felled mostly-mouldering compost-pile abutting birch tree,
of epic girth and heroic nitrogen-activating decomposition has done it again.
every once in a while, as in- not reliably, not predictably, and not even every year-
but only when conditions are perfect,
she does come up with a grand gift from the mycological kingdom.
check the six-pounds-of-orange-hottness-type teleport, baby:
the good ones.
and it's fresh and direct, live from my literal own flippin' backyard.
if that's not expert, then nothing is.
i'll be butchering it up,
and packing it away,
so that i'm reppin' extra-radness throughout the next few days.
i love when nature is on my team.
i do so enjoy getting a rare win.
it's all really happening,
and i am grateful for the windfall of wild woodsliness that cropped up
because of the beat-A* weather of the last two weeks.
thanks, ma nature,
i'll be sure to put it to good use.
expert recognize expert.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

mornings are for treats.

when you wake up thinking about apples,
and you go downstairs,
and there are totally apples hanging out on the counter?
it's a lot like when life hands you lemons, neighbors.
i had apples on my mind,
and organic fancy ones in my kitchen,
so i did what anybody would do-
i peeled and cored and sliced and diced and simmered the sh!t outta those
little red F*ers, with maple syrup and cinnamon and salt and a pat of butterish.
because that's the way you make 'em soft and succulent in place of other
liquids and leaveners inside of breakfast bombs.
breakfast bombs?
you read that right.
the big muffin cups got shaken out of their retirement,
from the way back of the baking cabinet to the front rack of the oven.
that's when you know it's serious.
giant apple cinnamon muffins in the morning is where i needed to take it.
and it got taken there, and then some.
check the teleport:
a little soy yogurt, and a cup and change of demerera sugar,
vanilla, and maple, and cinnamon, and a stick of butts,
a dash of salt, a few tea-style spoons of baking pow-pow,
and a tsp. of baking soda, for good measure (that is a big muffin tin, after all)...
all of that,
plus a little tapioca, a lot of oat flour,
and even more real grown-up flour-
and the juiciest warm wet apple filling, too
that makes 'em soft, and spongy, and cakey, and dope.
the icing?
since i wasn't using streusel, or sprankles, or nuts,
that meant i had a small problem-
i needed something super-sweet and sexy to amp 'em up another step or two.
cinnamaple honeybun-style icing was the obviously the only right answer.
that's the key.
thick and aromatic.
the whole house, and the whole tattbomb studio,
all smell like autumny activation.
that's real-life air freshening.
wherever me and my muffins go,
we're instigating big sniffs.
because that good-air-stank is what we provide.
if you think they smell ghood,
wait until you put one in your mouth, friend.
i mean it.
the apple awesomeness of the seasonally-appropriate tree-ripened early reds
sure as sh!t make it all even more expert.
giant cakes in cup shapes,
with all the best in copious quantity?
too much is the right amount.
that's it.
we do what we do over here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
super-concentrated folksy vegan woodsly goodness is all that there ever is going on,
but that's more than most can handle.
dreaming it,
AND being it.
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t;
never quiet, never soft.....

there can't be MORE pizza?! or can there be?

i have been destroying myself with pizza.
because creative destruction is what i do,
once i'm done with my destructive creations.
cause and effect and effective causality.
all actions are caused by entities.
i'm the entity in charge of pizza, i guess.
it's all about pizza.
pizza all the time.
pizza forever.
and i'm not even kidding-
when i didn't feel like firing up the oven?
i went out and got pizza at a restaurant...
but that wasn't even close to the expertism i activated yesterday.
pizza pizza pizza,
triple pizza magic for my face!
check the teleport:
all the pizza!!
look at these jauns, y'all:
with those red onions,
and andouille soysages!
and this other one:
with spinach and canadian-style bacon-style bits!
and this whole other other one, too:
with smoky beige circles and under-onions over the under-chee'!
pizza, kids.
so flippin' much pizza.
sourdough, tossed and stretched and chee'd and nootch'd and taken to eleven.
if you are overdoing it,
you aren't doing it right.
that's a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, August 24

more pizza?

too much is the right amount.
you know it.
i know it.
they know it.
even the pizza knows it.
when there's still some dough cold coolin' in the fridge,
we gotta activate those circles of sauce and chee', don't we?
don't be dumb.
i just led into this by saying it's obvious.
i LOVE pizza.
and that secret cashew-tofu-nootchie underchee' jauns is going crazy.
i mean it, neighbors.
the base layer adds eleventh-level expertism every single time.
and that's no joke.
i guess when good times are being crushed by the lack of time for anything good,
the only real viable solution is to make time for what matters...
and what matters is pizza.
a man has got to eat.
and if i gotta, i gotta do it like i'm on a suicide mission to a vegan valhalla of melted mozzarella.
that's real.
what i'm saying here is that every day is too full of sh!t,
so i'm just trying to fill myself up with pizza until i sh!t.
i just want a lot of delicious pizza to smother the rest of the day.
those hand-cramping back-tensing motormouth hours and hours
of nonstop working on big dumb underrewarding tattoos every single day?
they're practically begging for stuff on a sauce-covered crust to crush them into forgetfulness.
i achieve oblivion with beige faux meats.
real talk.
check the pizza-party-on-again-type teleport:
twice as many toppings?
you know it.
we'll overload 'em when there aren't other people around.
if you've got enough bits and pieces for four pies,
but only enough dough for two?
two times the treats on half the eats is clearly the answer.
and like i just told you,
we had dough for two of 'em.
all the slithery slipperiness of wet stuffs on sweetened salty sauce,
on a crusty whole wheat disc.
daiya('rrhea) on top makes the meltiness seem slightly more believable.
i like that.
the real flavor is that spread underneath, anyways.
the thing is,
the only good thing is pizza.
everything else is just catching up to the baseline.
too much pizza i can handle,
not enough time i can't control so much.
i fight to win, and i win where i can.
in my oven.
it's all really happening,
mostly tattoos and pizza,
but all of it is going down all around me;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, August 23


i'm currently reppin' team pepsico, kids.
that's not entirely true,
i did get the fattie-boombattie hookup from my buddy jared.
that's real.
his family is runnin' sh!t on the ones and twos around these parts.
so when it comes to carbonated jauns,
i've got corporate endorsement of my flavored worse-water consumption.
that's good news for me, for sure.
check the seventy-two-can-type teleport:
i'm gettin' fizzy as F*! neighbors.
i can honestly say that i meet some pretty rad people through work.
which is a good thing,
since the exact instant that work is over,
i instantly resume my antisocial hermit styles as hard as i can.
that's no joke.
i work, i go home, i go back to work,
and somewhere along that timeline there's a little grocery shopping in there, too.
the great news for my hydration situation is that i've got so much seltzer to suckle.
and i like that.
thanks go out to the people who are generous with the tools at their disposal.
that's viking virtue, and that's expert.
it's not big news, at all.
it's all really happening,
and sometimes i gotta make mention of those moderately above average blips
on the flatline of my daily despair.
try that on for size;
never quiet, never soft.....

continuing to stay ugly. endeavoring to stay dope.

my friends,
i find myself looking worse and worse,
and doing more and more.
i s'pose that's the way it works, really.
the more beat-up and run-down and worn-out and broken-in i get,
the more i gotta get busier and busier to offset the onslaught of old bustedness.
right when i might maybe be feelin' a little blue about becoming
a creature of unappealing peeling pieces and shedding shells,
i see a little something that reminds me that it isn't ALL bad getting uglier,
especially because sometimes you get add-ons to enhance whatever you've got left.
for serious.
check the Folk-Life-&-Liberty-Fortress-type teleport:
how flippin' cool is watching a bug pop out of his own head?
pretty flippin' cool, for sure.
cicadas spend all their lives in a dirt-hole eating crap,
just to climb up out of their soiled soil prison,
climb a tree,
blarp out of their admittedly F*ing gross looking carapace,
just to air-dry into an equally unpleasant, but airborne, carapace.
then they get to get loud as heck, stay fresh flying through the air,
and get all the hard-style pounding out of their system as they can,
so that they can die as a cooler but just as hideous version of themselves.
that's what i'm talkin' about, neighbors.
stay ugly, stay dope.
everything else is bullsh!t.
for every hair i lose,
i add a skill.
for every hair that hangs around, but turns grey?
i do a push-up.
for every eyebrow whisker that coils up and freaks out and goes all haywiry?
i draw a plan.
for every wrinkle i worry into a furrow on my face,
i bake something expert.
for every additional degree of haggard countenance i assume,
i read a book, and absorb that knowledge.
the outside isn't looking so hot,
but the hottness is increasing by leaps and bounds as a result.
it isn't easy.
i think i'm on some sort of wizard path?
making magic happen is what's up.
i guess that's what today is all about;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, August 21

more pizza!!!!

the cucch surprised me.
he popped up into the woodsly goodness,
all married-up and sh!t, but flying solo-
and we spanned an excellent afternoon together.
that's the best way to get over having the girls gone
from the freshness of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
a secret best friend intervention is so expert.
and i knew what needed to happen, neighbors.
i mean,
it was OBVIOUS-
i had dough,
i had sauce,
i had chee',
and i even had amber coming over after work for dinner.
all those things combined means super-deluxe get-rad super supper sh!t
was fully going to go off like circles of serious 'za-'za, kids...
check the once-more-with-bigger-feelings-type teleport:
pizza party!
there can't be more, can there?
there sure is, guys.
too much is the right amount,
and pizza is the best!
pizza party time is good for you.
so good, in fact,
that i had a second party pizza plan just a few days after the first one.
double-down double-down-under-chee' doubled-up double dough doo-doo!
overdoing it.
that's still a thing.
everything else is just pretending to go to eleven.
and that's not invited;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, August 20

we do things.

my daughter wants to make a steampunk costume.
we start thinking about hallowe'en early.
we have to.
or, at least, we tell ourselves that.
she secretly watches all this internet content about modifying stuff,
and adding bits and pieces to other stuff,
and stuffing stuff into other stuff.
not like that.
jeez. you guys are A*-holes.
i'm talking about tutorials on crafts.
and googling information on cool costumes.
 i sure do love nerding out.
after she showed me a few pictures of nerf guns that's been altered to look
like victorian battle-blasters from the alternate future of the distant past,
we got one for ourselves, and got to work.
we decided on a small one,
since they live with some pretty staunchly anti-gun lefty nancypantses.
no sense in getting the kid into trouble, right?
after a little black paint, a lot of epoxy and superglue, and lots more paint,
and paint markers, and wire, and sorting through odds-and-ends and bits
and pieces we found in the clearance bric-a-brac aisles at the department store...
....we ended up with this:
pretty cool, huh?
like, a tiny pneumatic lightning inoculator!
and how F*ing rad (and cute) are those little lightbulbs?
no.... they aren't functioning.
take it easy, killjoy.
that big lightbulb carburetor jauns, from wire, a sink strainer and a travel bottle?
neat-o, neighbors, is what we were shootin' for here.
we used a lot of small parts from actual firearm accessories,
a bullet casing, bottle caps, gear findings, a fishing swivel,
a giant thumbtack, fake leather felt, weird string, a drywall anchor, tiny beads,
and just a little bit of patience.
we made it all happen in-between work and pizza and movies an' that.
not half bad for a quick foray into nerd munitions, though.
and i think the other side is pretty good, too:
maple likes it,
i like it,
and we had fun putting it all together, together.
it still shoots nerf darts.
that's kind of expert, isn't it?
family togetherness,
and craft party activation,
with guns!
all guns are dope, even the plastic weirdies.
oh, yeah, and just so you know what we got ourselves into-
it started out looking super-gaytarded:
the retrofit teleport time-travel unravel upgrade is what's up.
making things, together.
that's that family sh!t friends.
and it's good for you.
we didn't make a whole costume, yet.
it's still only august.
go easy.
in anticipation of the effort,
i gave her an old broken pocketwatch i've had for some time;
and an old beat-up bowler hat i bought from the long-gone hat shop in town;
and we hit up a craft store for all the felt and glitter and fabric,
so she's well on her way.
i try to help, guys.
i mean it.
we do nerdy stuff,
but it's how we bond;
never quiet, never soft.....

pizza party.

i'm home alone, again.
after too few nights with harvest and maple,
family togetherness is over and done with for now.
that's no joke,
but it sure is a total bummer.
we did activate and participate in an awful lot of big flippin' fun, though,
right up until they got in the car to go home-
and that means the last night in town was a busy one.
i mean, it had to be extra expert,
because there won't be another one for a little minute...
y'know what that means?
it means that it was about time for a righteous pizza party.
heck yes, neighbors-
because we LOVE PIZZA!!
reppin' on that pee eye zee zee ayyyyyyyy!
how much pizza did we dominate?
ALL the pizza.
the baking stone,
the super stretchy dough,
and some elite mise en place of various beige things.
word up.
check the party-time-excellent-type teleport:

numero uno!
spinach and sliced little tomatoes. so cute.
and circles of especially smoky browned tofurky dawgs.
underneath the simple lightly sweetened and salted crushed tomato sauce,
there's a heavy slather of rinotta cashew-nootch-tofu chee'.
it's the secret activation that makes the whole thing go to eleven.
and of course, the daiya('rrhea) vegan cheese, for a little added hottness.
the crust gets so dope with the soft secret under-sauce chee' top
and the cornmeal rolled stone-baked bottom.
real talk-
once it got quartered and served,
each steaming hot slice took some actual worthwhile time to eat.
heavy, hearty, massive foodstuffs need to be conquered.
that's the only way to enjoy them.
and there's more, obviously.

caramelized sweet vidalia onions!
secret chee' business, heavy on the sauce, not-so-secret daiya,
and that hot crustiness for your face.
this one had ALL the flavor you could ask for,
and then just a little bit more flavor, too.
we do it right when we doo-doo that italiano-type sh!t.
and then we ate another 'nother one, too.
check the tiny-green-trees-type teleport:

broccoli and brick-hued faux bacon squares!
so much food!
no daiya this time, for the sake of variety.
the secret chee' is burly, kids.
for all it has going for it in regards to the realm of creaminess,
it contains double that in the density department.
all that nootch and garlic and tofu and cashews definitely adds mass.
and the bulky double-crust concentration made each piece a meal in itself.
that's how we can all be sure that we remain on the correct path.
too much is the right amount,
and when three pieces of pizza leaves you feeling stuffed to the uvula?
you guessed it, kids.
you gotta terrorize one more for the road.
tomato basil soysages?!
sizzling circles of slightly burnt spicy diced beige tubes.
oh stop it, you know they're delicious.
don't be dumb.
and more of that shreddy chee' sh!t, browned at 500 F*ing degrees F....
we came, we stretched (the dough), we administered the high heat,
and we filled ourselves until we couldn't fit anything anywhere anymore.
that's it.
there was no reason not to go a little overboard.
i mean it.
a few paltry days to smash a summer of fun in?
that's impossible.
we made all the moves we could.
i won't ever stop trying my hardest to impress my daughters.
i do what i do, because that's just how it has to be.
and there's no excuse to cut corners and lame-out,
to take it easy and lazy and weak.
i gotta do it all, and do it right,
and do it louder and fresher and harder.
rules is rules.
best dad ever?
not hardly.
really real worthy warrior poet?
these girls need to be exposed to some of that more often.
i am still grateful for the time i have been given,
even when there's nowhere near enough of it.
(there never is)
i miss 'em;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, August 18

two fires.

fire, neighbors.....
the furious flames of a roaring, soaring, searing hot,
blazing, barbarian raging daytime fire!
you know it's the best part.
the decision was made,
the kindling was stacked in a square,
and the match was lit.
check the teleport:
that's how afternoons get activated.
i made two fires, yesterday.
that's right.
i sort of had to, really.
harvest and maple and amber and i did some grilling,
and we needed extra space for potatoes.
that's right- extra space.
i mean,
you can't take up all that griddle area with spuds.
that's just plain dumb.
you can do it to 'em in the primordial elements in the pit of doom.
so they go right in the coals, wrapped in foil, campground style.
so expert.
a packet of buttery baby fancies,
and a pouch apiece for sweetly yammed-up orange ones, too.
that's fresh right?
a half an hour in the furnace and they're all ready for gettin' munched up so hard.
the other fire was in the proper fire containment receptacle.
the big fire goes on the wild lump charcoal pit,
inside the blacksmithy forge i call a grill.
we had zukes and squash, and asparagus, and brussels, and carrots,
and big muchrooms, and soysages, and corn.
too much is the right amount,
so we got right with out meal,
and we made nice with our makers.
our meal-makers.
sunday is for food, not spirituality.
family togetherness is no joke.
in fact,
it takes a whole lot of effort to stay fun all day.
that may even be true for most everybody-
but, when you're me?
(which you may all deeply exhale out in a heavy flood of relief that you aren't)
it becomes brutality.
not because these kids aren't rad.
far from it.
all i ever want to do is be around them, honestly.
it's just that i'm SO not fun.
at all.
it's just possible i'm funny, or at least, funny-lookin'-
but i'm NOT fun-
and honestly,
i think i might kinda hate having fun.
real talk.
i love hanging out in the kitchen and cooking,
and making artsy-type projects,
and watching movies, and arguing about which dr.who is the best one (#10)
and talking about books...
but that's nerd-dad stuff.
they don't care about other sh!t, really,
which i guess means THEY aren't fun either?
the pressure to engage in the maximum amount of interactive participation
is dominant in my mind, though.
having family togetherness action in full effect,
in the interest of entertaining my daughters and making the minutes matter more,
takes all the effort i've got just to make things marginally alright.
a whole 'nother day off,
no work, no plans,
and just ourselves to keep us occupied?
no question,
it's good stuff, having all those hours all to our own,
but it gets sandwiched in the center of a hard style.
making it matter,
and making it the best.
that's what we're here for,
and that's we're determined to do.
real life unfolds,
fun or not,
ready or not,
it's all really happening,
and i wouldn't trade it for something else at all;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, August 17

short but powerful cakes

powdered sugar and a little lemon oil and ground vanilla beans
stirred up, into, and all over a whole quart of sliced strawberries?
if you don't have the expert toppings,
you're just eating bottoms.
which really isn't always all that bad in some cases.....
the strawberry stuff is seriously tasty,
and it has all the right proportions of tart and sweet and wet and thick.
simple slabs of syrupy adornment are what we adore on our cake, kids.
and speaking of cakes,
check the oaten-circles-of-excellence-type teleport:
oatmeal and lemon zest and freeze-dried strawberries!
circles cut out of a burly batch of dough,
doing double-duty as extra-bannock-y scone coasters.
just slightly sweeter than i'd usually score a scottish cake,
and twice as toothsome for all that oaten hottness.
there's just the right amount of  layers and layers and layers and layers.
a LOT of layers-
folded and flipped and folded forever and ever.
that's how it was going to go before we even started preheating the oven.
you had to see that coming, friend.
after all, too much is the right amount,
and that's especially true when making soft hearty biscuits for breakfast.
word up.
the berry bits and pieces were the airy super-crunchy kind when they got added in,
but they soaked up the moisture and act as little steam engines while baking.
time release aroma activators are always welcome in MY house.
that's real.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress has enough mystery smells that arrive uninvited
during overly rainy days and unvearably hot days
that all pleasantly dedicated and indentifiable odors are nice to know about.
but anyway,
with a sploosh of soya in whipped creme conditions on top?
breakfast shortcakes are in effect.
they ARE pretty short.
oh, c'mon.
me and mine are all gonna hang out extra hard.
i'm talking about shopping and cooking and talking
and hot fire and maybe even lightning
and crafting and movie-watching and EVERYthing.
family togetherness is important,
and working on tattooing tards is going to have to F* right off for today.
losing oney means less than losing this moment.
i've got things to do,
and a couple of halfway-decent little darlin's to do 'em with.
stop it.
they're all-the-way decent.
and they're all-the-way-expert, too.
it's all really happening,
and we've got the biscuits in our bellyholes to see us through until at least lunchtime.
too much of each other, all day long.
really real life unfolds;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, August 16

when the nerd takes over.

what the heck is sleep?
it's what i didn't do last night.
of course.
why, you ask, was i wide awake well into the wee hours
that welcome the brightening morning skies?
because sometimes i get excited about reading.
that's it.
i read the last few hundred pages of the new book i got on thursday.
it was about magicians.
not true life tales of the modern day stage magicians.
but, like, magic magicians like with spells and secret powers,
in other worlds between ours and that sort of sh!t.
it's called the magician's land,
and it's already cover-to-cover eaten up by my eyes and brain.
it was super good;
and yes,
i like that sort of thing;
and also yes,
i'm very tired.
really, though, you can't leave fifty pages until the morning.
that's really lazy and quitterish, and i can't hang out with that.
i'm a real sleepyhead right now.
hell, neighbors,
my daughters went to bed hours and hours and hours before i did,
but somehow, they're still asleep.
i can't figure that out at all.
no matter when i go to bed, i'm up and at 'em around six.
then again,
i'm not growing up big and/or strong,
which these girls are theoretically deep in the throes of at the moment.
they're synthesizing proteins or somethin', and that's probably pretty tiring.
all i'm doing is getting more and more busted up,
and losing more and more hair.
that hardly requires any rest to achieve.
the good news, though, friends, is that we made our own magic happen,
all by ourselves, way before bedtime crept up on us.
check the teleport:
apples forever.
cinnamon apple sheet cake, for your face.
there are apples all up in it.
inside the batter, there're bits of gooey, chewy chopped braeburns,
and then, to make sure that there was more than you could handle,
but enough for us to enjoy correctly,
we slapped all those sweet, sloppy, stewed and spiced fuji jauns on top of it.
because too much is the right amount,
we crushed up some crunchy dried granny smith apple chips,
and hit 'em off with butters and oat flour and cinnamon an' that,
and ca-choppled it all up into streusel-style sprankles.
i know, right?
we get expert every time we get together.
and that's just what i needed all summer long.
not so much the apples as the family togetherness.
that's real.
we're eating cake for breakfast,
and we're spanning time with each other for the limited hours we've got
as a team of worthy warriors poets and active participants in the woodsly goodness.
for my part,
i'm surely making the most of it,
and i'm making more treats, too.
we get what we get,
but it's what we're doing with it that matters;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, August 15

pie? pie!

banana chips, neighbors.
those crunchy, sweet, sorta sticky yellow circles.
i crushed up a whole lot of 'em.
two or three big ol' handfuls.
and when they were all roughly crushed up,
with few chunks and pulverized dusty extremes?
i made some magic for our faces.
that's real.
graham crackers and raw sugar and a punch of oats,
and those crushed-up 'nana chips,
all buttered and vanilla'd and soymilk'd into a crust.
and where there's crust, there needs to be filling, right?
you know it.
bananas and their dried-up dessicated chipper brothers were mashed
and mushed and hit up with tapioca and vanilla and melted chocolate,
and a creamy dream of brownest brown was born.
check the teleport:
pie is good for you.
i'm just sayin', that's probably a thing.
especially with chocolate and bananas an' that.
yes, kids, that IS fancy walnut activation on top.
buttery vanilla-glazed chocolate-covered toasted walnuts.
because all those flavors go together as if they knew each other
really well back in high school and still talk from time to time
like they just saw each other yesterday.
no kiddin'.
i like pie.
and i like bananas.
and i love chocolate.
and i feel verrrrry amicably towards nuts, too.
i'm happy to have this in my belly, that's for sure.
there's some left, too, if you're interested.
you know where to find me;
never quiet, never soft.....

peanut buttery bananas.

banana bread is good.
mostly because of the bananas.
but also,
because of the bread.
there is so much moistness in it,
and so much vegan faux-dairy, too,
that it almost seems like it's not capable of taking itself very seriously.
mushy 'nanas, and yogurt and sour cream and butt',
all smashed together to make a powerfully built batter.
...and that's just a small part of what's up.
i'm serious.
i'm taking banana bread to eleven,
with the awesome addityion of yet another 'nother butter that has no butter in it.
peanut butter is in F*ing full-effect up in here, neighbors,
and it's inside the mixed-up mash that makes the bread bake best.
check the teleport:
peanut buttery crumbly fresh-baked baby sized loaves.
i just think that the little minis are so kyooooooot!
it sounds better later, talking about how much you consumed in one shot.
think about it-
'i ate three slices'??
that sh!t is weak.
now try THIS-
'i ate three loaves'?!
that just feels F*ing tough.
i love treats.
i LOOOOOVE treats.
i can't even help it, kids.
i get excited and i wanna squish 'em all between my fingers.
that'd ruin it for everybody else, though-
and honestly,
i had a better idea than crushing cake under my thumbs......
go on, look at 'em again.
you got it.
peanut buttery cream chee' frosting filling is layered in the middles of them.
so expert.
i couldn't let them alone.
and just having one extra part to their production wasn't nearly enough activation.
we all know better than to leave it alone once the product is better-than-average.
good enough is not enough, and this was no exception.
a smooth squeeze of pieces-type p.b. goobieblops,
in the style pioneered by reese, tho?
that's the little somethin' that did it to it like it's s'posed to be done.
i doo-doo that upgrade-type sh!t.
thursday in two ports.
that's what happened.
portsmouth first, to pick up my daughters,
get some specific ingredients,
acquire craft supplies,
and generally represent woodsly goodsly warrior poetry along the sour seacoast.
we did that.
and when we were finished with southern new hampshire?
you know we weren't finished for the day.
we sped north to school shop in the mutha-lickin' maine mall, ya'll.
portland was destination number two.
and we did what we came to do.
eat tofu, talk sh!t about b!tches and buy shirts.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

gravy makes it better.

i thought i was making properly proportioned plates.
a normal quantity of all the ingredients.
i should've listened to myself, neighbors.
the bread was too thin to hold it all together.
too many oats and not enough flour,
or something like that.
whatever the reason,
the stuffed sandwich magic must've been mistcast,
because it backfired badly,
and became openfaced fury for our faces.
all the shredded carrots and pea shoots didn't render the really realness
of a whole lot of fat beige bits useless and tasteless and weak.
i mean it.
check the teleport:
fat fried potato slices, in a sandwich?
you're damned right, duders.
and when they're complementing caramelized red onions,
and sauteed shiitake jauns?
so expert.
and that's before factoring in those cornmeal-crusted seitan slabs.
and gravy, kids.
gravy over everything.
the gravy is the glue that really held it all together.
i should pay more attention when my intentions
start getting responsible ion the kitchen.
the rules clearly state- too much IS the right amount.
maybe my manly dinnertime sandwich business would've been more successful
if i'd managed to make more of most of the stuff on the stove.
that's probably a real thing.
it had to get munched up on with a fork;
and yeah,
the pieces that wouldn't fit at first all got eaten up too.
i mean, c'mon.
we're not gonna wimp out on shark-style gluttony if it is right there,
staring at us through crisp potatoey circles, are we?
no way.
the days are slipping away, again.
that's serious time travel.
when friday shows up and you don't remember wednesday?
car rides and travel overlaps and family togetherness, though.
that's the stuff that helps it all flow smoother into the future.
i've got two kids here.
big kids, really.
harvest and maple are finally in the woodsly goodness with me.
that's the bright spot.
dear ol' dad gets a tiny minute to appreciate the people he made.
it's been a while.....
so, for the first time all summer,
i'm really stopping what i'm doing,
and i'm soaking it up and savoring it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, August 13

spicy noods

not having to cook is especially expert 
when the food you're served is totally delicious.
almost any food that gets made for you specifically should be appreciated,
but when it's ready,
and it's hot,
and it's super spicy,
and it has the big thickness-style noodoos,
and the sexy garnishes, too?
if you can't hang out with elite dinner activation,
you have GOT to be kidding me,
because you're obviously an A*-hole.
and that's no joke.
check the homecoming-to-spicy-noodoos-type teleport:
the limes, though.
you gotta squeeeze 'em all over the top of everything.
that takes it to eleven, for sure.
i love brussels sprouts,
and i love seitan,
and i love those wicked wheaten ropes of slithery asia-time spaghetti, too.
i get excited about there being so many small green pieces
of vital vegetation hiding in there,
especially when all of them have heat and crunch and nutrients aplenty.
super spicy jauns with all the hot peps and ho' sauce are precisely
what i needed to nose-run and lip-burn my face off
after a very long day of covering-up craptard smears,
and adding waaaaaay too many lines to pictures on people.
my fingers feel like broken glass inside of burnt sausages.
(and that hurts a whole bunch, for the record)
the next two days are for baking and getting ready and set,
and driving and making moves.
i want to make treats.
i mean,
i always want to make treats.
but, today, i think treats are going to be the saving grace for a crappy situation.
it's one of those days-
the weather is rotten-
rainy and cold and it doesn't look there's a plan for it stopping
until ALL the water rinses off all the rocks off of ALL mountains,
and pours down and down until ALL the floods overtake ALL the rivers.
nature wins, kids.
that's real.
and i want in on the victory party, with cake and sh!t.
nothing brightens a grisly day of grim skies and worrisome waterfalls
more than baked greats and the aroma of freshly enhanced floury flourishes.
this is What Is,
and that's all i've got time for.
real life mostly revolves around my oven;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, August 12

five means two.

almost nobody showed up!
hang on for a second, and you'll get it all.
i thought dinner was happening.
(and it did happen, actually)
what i mean is-
i thought a small get together of good people with big appetites
was going to go down over here last evening.
overlapping social circles of friends,
convening at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
with the specific intention to attend to getting busy
with pots and pans and plates and sh!t, so that we could produce,
and consume,
way too much of some radical expert vegan hottness.  
i thought that was what was happening.
timelines and tempers and moonbeams all conspired to keep most
of my main mamas and papas away and at bay all day anyway.
it was just my literate and articulate and excellent homeboy travis,
and me,
and two big fat F*ing plates of heroic shark-gluttonous goodness.
nobody came over,
and that was a bummer;
but i made enough for everyone,
and didn't hardly have to share....and that was just flippin' right.
check the teleport:
herby spicy chicken-fried homemade seitan steaks,
activated in semi-sorta-salisbury style,
with thick-cut taragon-baked portobello mushroom strips.
that's good.
garlic-leek sauteed kale, with vegan roast bacon bits.
that's better.
travis came over carrying a casserole dish, duders.
and it had tubers for tearing into under the tinfoil, too.
it was jam-packed full of seasoned and spiced sweet potatoes.
that's the best.
and all of it got drizzled with wet wallops of nootchy, thick, hot gravy.
that's expert.
like i said.
it would've been too much for just two men,
if those men weren't well-spoken barbarians of all-out culinary armageddon.
lucky for us, we are just that.
all of it all disappeared down the hatches and into the furnaces.
so good.
and there were sorbet spritzers for dessert!
don't worry guys.
i have the big fat boba-tea-type straws for maximum suck.
that's a thing.
i'm sayin',
if you love treats, but lack the right implements?
you're probably F*ing up in more ways than just that one.
life is hard when you aren't rad.
it's hard enough when you are a worthy warrior poet.
i can't imagine the box-mix minciness of being a mealy-mouthed mediocrity.
that's it.
work, more work, and then more work.
and then?
even more work.
that's what this summer has been all about.
the next two days are all mine.
and there is a little something more than just that on the horizon.
word up, kids.
harvest and maple are finally gonna span a tiny moment or two
up here in the woodsly goodness with their dear old dad!
family togetherness is what i need,
and it's coming my way thursday morning.
that's it.
folks can't make it over;
and other times,
people flee far away from everything to do what's important to them;
and there are other other times,
where things just don't seem to work out.
all of THOSE times are what make the next few days mean so much.
when the goings on get aligned,
so they go on all in the same place at the same time with the right people?
that's the sweet that beats all the bitter,
and that's the way it is supposed to be.
it's all really happening, and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Monday, August 11

the system.

and then,
i love 'em,
and i may have been a little distracted by circles in the sky,
and forgotten about buying bread for toast in the mornings.
this is what happens when breakfast needs making, anyway-
check the flat-flapjack-type teleport:
good morning.
standard issue, single flour, straight-up pan-style cakes.
that's it.
once in a great while,
the original throwback version is nice to munch up on in the a.m.
i mean it.
i was going to eat a single slice of toast...
i'm four fluffy griddleb!tches deep into breakfast times.
being too involved in worrisome, wearying werewolfen nights
made for a molto masculine lumberjackin' monday morning.
that's expert.
once the day begins,
it rushes way out ahead of me until i fall asleep chasing after it.
really, neighbors.
i get pretty beat up playing catch up all dang day long.
i've got pots bubbling,
and pans frying until i leave for work,
and then i come home and do that again,
with a whole lot of performance piece monologue jauns in between,
and a lot of bloody hole-poking to pay my way through the thickets
and thinning patches of this hairy hot mess of a life i'm livin'.
not every day is a well-composed essay on excellence.
like today,
it's a heavy heap of hotcakes,
and a heavier heap of hands and hearts prepping
for a big ol' pile of work.
that's what warrior poets do best, duders-
toil and trouble are where i'm at;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, August 10


did you guys see it?
the furious and ferocious full mutha-'ucking moon.
it is right up there,
all shiny and sh!t.
shooting some serious rabid and ravenous raybeams
into the wilds and the woods of the world.
the woodsly goodness i dwell on my problems in is no exception-
and the dwelling i call home is soaking up the wolflight from the
lunar lycanthropic moon mysanthropy magnets,
so the isotopes of archetype can activate and attack
with anthropomorphic manual and mandible manipulation.
that's hands and teeth, tooth and nail, claw and fang, all at once.
that's what the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is for, i guess.
i mean,
besides keeping all my stuff out of the elements,
and being the headquarters of the activation society,
and the vegan expert Test Kitchen.
i'm sayin'-
the other other thing this epic edifice is designed to do
has to correlate and align in sync with the waxed moon
and it's nighttime nightline nightmare magic business.
y'feel me?
it's like this:
the metal roof is attuned to the frequencies radiated by the moon.
i think that's a thing, probably.
like a negative-effect solar panel for moonbeams.
for super-soaking all the blue and silver out of the sky,
and concentrating it directly from outer space to my personal space.
NO, that's not science.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
it's better than science-
it's werewolf sh!t.
alright, alright....fine.
that's almost certainly NOT a real thing.
it would be waaaay more expert if it at least could be,
because it should be.
and anyway, if i had the technological know-how?
it totally would be.
cyclical circles of lunatic lumens stored for later?
that's a good idea.
in the intervening times between science and science fiction,
the moon sure does look good.
a great big ol' cheese-eye,
staring down at the hungry little animals running rampant in the brightened dark.
i dunno, neighbors.
maybe i just like full moons;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, August 9


let them eat cake?
let 'em?
just try and stop 'em.
i mean,
when it's a cake that's THIS expert?
you won't be able to keep 'em away.
pecans are fancy.
and there're tons of them hiding in the cake batter.
a little nutmeg, a little cinnamon,
a lot of soy-based binders, butters, and leaveners,
and handfuls of toasted crushed pecans.
because we aren't weak-sauce watered down diaperbabies over here.
in fact,
we're woodsly goodsly werewolfen full moon foodies,
and we want much much more of whatever is any good.
that's a thing.
and another thing about this cake is that it was baked in two layers,
each topped with a hugely activated sliced and spiced slathering
of incredibly juicy red pears.
two pairs of them, even.
and when they got stacked once they cooled,
the big action was to use the bottom one's topcoat as glue,
to hold them together forever, and become filling for the middle.
that's smart planning, and that sort of thinking is what makes these treats
so expert.
mmhmm. i know.
pears and pieces aren't nearly enough hottness for a two layer cake, are they?
no way, kids.
so, while the batter was mixin',
i had all those whole pecans roasting,
and when the aroma of nuts was up my nose,
i hit them with a pat of butterstyle yellow stuff,
and a dash or three of cinnamon sugar glaze.
holy crap, neighbors.
we needed fancy whole pecan sprankles, right?
you're g-danged right we did.
all the right things in all the best places all came together
to make the magic happen in a two-disc dispensation of dopeness.
cake is ON menu.
you'd better be ready for a big slice.
anything else is a show of babyishness.
did you just ask if it is moist?
of course it is,
don't be dumb-
it's got wet pear puddin' all over the place!
hmm? what's that, now?
is the full-moon pregame getting to me?
yes. it sure is.
sleeping is for suckers when the light of the night
is as bright as a silver circle spot in the sky.
wide awake and thinking about cake is all i ever want to do.
all i even did for all of last night, anyway.
i'm going to allow myself to indulge in adventure.
i feel rushed, pressed, excluded, extruded, intruded upon, and rude.
i'm also a fire-spittin' lightning-striking viking of the first order,
and i'm gonna do what i do,
with or without a surplus of time, energy, or funds.
today is the day.
that's it.
the loudest, freshest, hardest one.
just like everyday is, if you allow it to be.
allowances are being made, allowances are being paid,
and allowances are not gonna be the make or break between
permitted permissions and nocturnal emissions.
there is a whole lot of everything that is happening all around me,
and time isn't going to take ME away.
not today.
berserker barbarian battle-beastly juggernaut jauns are all i'm thinking about
(and more cake, too, please)
so that's all i'm gonna do.
if you aren't ready,
i'll take a moment to advise you to get ready, right quick, in a hurry-
because we've got a lot to do,
and this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, August 8


there is something missing.
i mean it.
and seriously?
it's a secret ingredient.
a hard-to-find super tip-top secret one, too.
because i don't know what it is,
and i don't even know where it could be.
if i did, i'd be looking for it with all my might.
that's no joke.
these days,
all i do is work,
and somehow,
i've got comparatively little to show for it.
and that's just the thing of it, guys.
i'm putting up quantifiably more effort, to less effect.
i'm activating measurably more participation, to less end product.
i'm over-the-top and out-of-bounds spending more time and energy,
and i'm only clearing marginally better results.
i hate to say it,
but working all the time, and not getting over with those movie checks,
and getting one up on all the slackers?
that's what poor people do.
and that's really very uncool.
it's getting harder to just be dope,
when the just is elusive and expansive and subjective.
just be dope?
it's just as unjust, and it's not that simple, anyway.
how about be old, broke, broken, busted, haggard, ragged, raw,
sore, tired, sorry, worn, forlorn, forgotten, frayed,
and still be dope?
i'll damned if i'm not doing what i do,
despite the discouragements of daily doo-doo buttery disappointment,
and the erosion of time and energy.
i mean,
what else is there?
i'm getting wiser with each elapsing cycle of day and night,
accruing information and experience in meteoric amounts,
linking events like lace in complicated arcs and angles,
interconnecting all the dots and points of light and dark into a lattice
of overlapping circles of spirit and memory.
i stay on track,
even against the onrushing tide of obligation and responsibility;
even when it seems like i'm ebbing instead of flowing;
even when it takes it's toll on my F*ing face,
leaving deep lines dark bags and grey streaks and missing pieces.
i mean it.
even still, even now,
i do what i do.
and you know what it is i do, don'tcha?
that's right:

stay ugly, stay dope!
because that's the rules.
i won't stop striving.
i don't think i can.
quitters aren't invited,
and lazy b!tches aren't either.
grind harder, try harder, do more.
that's the mantra nourishing my friday afternoon.
good enough is not enough, neighbors.
because good is good,
and bad is everything else.
stopping short is not far enough.
because too far is the same as too much;
and two,
because too much is the right amount.
now you know the parameters,
so now you also know what is underway.
overdoing it,
until i have more than i can handle,
and twice as much to show for it.
when the exhaustion of expensive time-taking
becomes free time for spending extra money,
then maybe i'll just be dope,
but chances are,
i'll still be ugly.
awwwwww, man.
harder and harder styles make for tougher and tougher breaks.
do more.
that's the key;
never quiet, never soft.....

yellow sun.

berries and sugar.
berries and sugar and lemon zest and lemon juice.
and when i say berries?
i mean big ol' fisty-punchy handfuls of those little globes of fruity hottness.
and i don't mean multiple jauns of one variety, either.
no way.
i'm taking about blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.
ALL of 'em, mixed together in a wildstyle harvest basket of ripened glory;
fired up in a pot and simmered to pectin-producing perfection,
in that lemony zesty juicy sugar syrup especially for placing in a prepared piecrust.
that's right.
y'know why, neighbors?
because it's linzertorte time.
check the teleport:
almond meal, and coarse-ground almonds, raw sugar,
blended with a bit of oat flour to smooth it out,
and bound together with lemon zest, lemon juice, vanilla, and butters.
tarts are for experts,
and expert recognize expert.
if you're the type to bring the thunder and the lightning and the hot fire?
you should feel free to come and get yourself a slice of this tasty little treat.
don't worry-
consider your active participation your backstage pass to tart-town.
you know i'll know you when i see you, if you get what i'm gettin' at.
by the way,
if we haven't met, yet....
i'm gonna warn you about a little something that happens
when i'm tattzappin' along every day at the studio.
i talk about buttholes.
a lot.
nothing especially graphic, necessarily.
definitely that word: butthole.
it's true.
somebody recently said i talk about buttholes too much.
and, damn, man,
if that wasn't encouraging, i don't know what you think would be.
after all,
too much is the right amount.
that means i'm working my plan, i guess.
it'd maybe be nice to be known for some of what i'm actually adept at,
but i guess i'm the butthole guy.
turns out, i may be an A*-hole, after all.
just not in the way i thought.
my styles are hard styles,
because those are the only kind i create.
i don't want to talk about sports, drinking alcohol, television,
local gossip, celebrity gossip,
or the comparative joys of parenthood and pet ownership-
i will, however, talk about that wrinkledot with everybody.
i know what i know,
and i do what i do-
everything else is just window dressing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, August 7


a whole lot of charred coals,
for just a wee little bit of foods.
oh, y'know...
i'm just reminiscing about last night.
i think about food all dang day long.
i wouldn't joke about that.
some sweet eats make even the least productive day a good one.
check the fired-up-type teleport:
balsamic soy molasses glazed barbecue brussels sprouts?
and oiled and seasoned french bread, with that burnt black grill mark magic?
hell yes.
and grilled corn ears, post soak and peel?
and salad.
because all vegetarian folk have to have salad every single time, right?
here it is, though-
with scallions and radishes and cukes and cilantro and baby kale
and tomatoes and celery and all the fancy baby greens-
drizzled with a tamari-lime-ricewine vinaigrette.
those plates are packed full,
but only because veggies were all there was to eat.
i s'pose that makes sense, really-
what with being vegan and all.
there probably should be a heavy load of leafy jauns for munching up on.
i know.
it looks like some sort of hippie business was underway.
i guess it kinda was,
but what the heck am i supposed to do?
grilling is dope,
vegetables are dope,
summer nights are dope,
and when you add in a cigar and some toenail painting?
it all really happens to be happening,
and when the circumstances allow,
it sure is kinda nice.
that's right, i said it.
sometimes, things are nice.
good is good, friends,
and bad is everything else.
so when something is good,
i gotta savor the flavor of it,
because there are enough bad tastes (including post-cigar mouth)
waiting to reside on the tip of my tongue.
maybe i talk so much sh!t because i taste so much of it?
could be a thing.
grilled eats and soft spots for going hard towards easy nights?
that is definitely a thing.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given.
that's for sure;
never quiet, never soft.....


just recognize, neighbors,
that even when i'm all kinds of F*ed up-
operating on not nearly enough sleep;
doing too much work;
leaving me with absolutely no down time;
and yet also somehow even less money;
whish leads to being perpetually super-complainey;
blah blah blah.....
like i said-
ALL kinds of F*ed up.
even then?
i'm not F*ing around with my morning times.
check the teleport:
a big ol' vat of dark rich luxurious breakfast tea.
and a whole plate of scones for devouring.
that's right.
chocolate chips aplenty,
and crushed walnuts,
and lemon zest out the wazoo (which might be the butt?)
and flaky fancy coconut,
so that all the hottness is represented effectively.
i hit 'em up with those extra-large demerara sprankles.
sugar makes almost everything a little bit better.
that's a thing.
expert treats get activated when the situation calls for it.
and the situation always calls for  it.
too much, too often is the only way to doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
real talk.
i've got two six-way-wedge-style split circles of scone-type triangles.
that's eleven, plus one.
and that's how you know i've got my math correct.
too much is the right amount,
and more ingredients means more food means more winning in the facehole.
every bite is a victory.
i think that's an actual fact.
and i'm only ever interested in that lemon zest these days.
preposterous portions of citrus sexiness-
i'm talking grated lemon optimism, guys.
it's like life handed 'em to me,
and i'm not that thirsty, so i'm skinnin' 'em alive to spite the charity.
and, yeah, sure,
orange is nice enough-
but there's never enough, is there?
not if you're doing it right.
word up.
lemon, kids-
lemon is what's up.
and that's certifiably better.
we all want better, don't we?
we deserve it;
never quiet, never soft.....