Tuesday, September 30


you know what's up, right?
that's right.
more fair.
more falafel.
i mean,
work was a tired old slow lazy mess of a butthole, anyway.
and that's always a bummer.
going to a place you aren't psyched on in the first place,
because there's somewhere else you'd rather be,
and then being unable to make the best of it,
when nothing good even walks in through the doors all day?
SO lame.
that meant closing shop early,
and terrorizing the afternoon away with great treats for my bellyhole.
what happens when you ask for no beets,
and the falafel wizards conjure it up anyway?
you get another 'nother free exxxtra one.
check the triple-threat-goodbye-to-september-type teleport:
that's the universe trying to fatten me up with freebies of frighteningly good mojo.
and luckily, for my mouth,
the beat-A* beets one went down so smoothly, regardless of the red pulpy poop on it.
i LOOOOVE falafels, neighbors.
and once those clankers sank into the sarlaac in my stomach,
there was really only one thing left to do.
you better believe it.
apple goobieblop-topped, maple-icing-drizzled, powdery-sugared fried F*ing dough.
being a shark-glutton is good for you.
it tastes good for you, at any rate.
september, friends.
all gone now.
bye bye.
next up?
i'm ready for what's next;
never quiet, never soft.....

there is only one truth...

...and that is falafel.
check the teleport:
the one on the left has babaganoush in it,
instead of hummus!!
that was yesterdays's especially special.
and it sure was especially special and supremely delicious.
so that happened,
because rules is rules, after all.
and the fair is for eating.
i've been twice so far, and i haven't looked at a single animal.
i might not even at all this year.
i mean,
honestly, true stories are what i tell, so here's one for your face-
i don't give a F* about farm animals.
at all.
like, AT ALL, at all.
poop and wool and poop and sausages and poop and leather and poop and steak.
that's pretty much what they are made out of.
it smells bad and looks worse and feels terrible to be around them.
i'll probably skip that whole section.
that leaves me way more time for fried dough dessert moments.
(steer buttholes, while enormous,
just aren't very good for inspiring maple-icing apple-pie treats.
too many sour beige splats ruin the idea of sugary beige splats.
that's real.)
september is just about done for.
but falafel is still going strong.
the bust times at work are over and out,
but i'm still showing up and fighting the good fight.
now i bring craft supplies with me, too.
effective time usage is becoming more and more important.
as i close out yet another 'nother month of hard styles and grim prospects,
i'm grinding away at those movie checks,
and i'm dreaming of treats.
i do what i do because what else is there?
other things?
that's dumb.
the big action of the best month is hours away.
that also means i've only got thirty days to wrap this costume up. too.
long nights, hard times, rough patches, and dreams of castles with ghosts,
that's what's really happening.
all of it,
in chick pea-induced hallucinations,
and iced tea-related glycemic elations,
and interwoven commiserations-
today is the day.
the last one in september, even.
but the fair continues, and so do i.
i a grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 29

it is that time of year again.

if you aren't up in the woodsly goodness right now,
you are seriously F*ing up.
like, SO hard.
because the very best time of the year is in full effect,
and it's positively affecting every last one of us.
that's real.
do you even understand what i'm saying to you?
check it out.
right now, and for the next week,
the FRYEBURG FAIR is blowin' up the mountain vale with
expert next level Folk Life rural righteous really real hottness.
wordimus prime.
and the fair means a lot of things to a lot of people,
but for warrior poets of the truth and the consequences thereof?
it means just one thing.....
check the ultimate-activation-type-teleport:

that's the whole point of the whole thing.
the best falafels for eight straight days, in a row, down the hatch, for your face.
longtime readers will know that this sh!t is no joke.
three of 'em, day one, right down the hatch.
because too much is the right amount, for sure.
fried up chick peas;
smashed and spread out hummus-y chick peas;
pickled stuff;
v.h.s. (very hot sauce from habanero peppers);
salsa, lettuce, tahini, and that bread, y'all.
this is all that matters to me for the whole week.
i hope you weren't hoping for any meaningful conversation,
because the only three syllables i wanna hear?
if that's not what you're sayin',
then i'm not listening.
this is it.
all the days.
today, especially.
big action, in my mouth,
big bellyhole stuffin' in my life.
i love this part;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, September 27


i put my mack-hand down hard on treats, neighbors.
because i know what time it is-
coconut o'clock.
that's right.
don't think so?
you might be an A*-hole.
in fact, you'd better check your timepiece,
i told you.
coconuts for your butts.
check the early-a.m.-activation-type teleport:
all the shredded coconut flakes,
in fancy rich person unsweetened sexiness,
with coconut, wheat, and tapioca flours to bind it up,
a little raw sugar,
a lot of maple syrup, vanilla,
and maple extract(which has all the power in it, kids).
all together, moistened up with coconut milk.
that's the big action right there.
because too much is the right amount....
i ground up some vanilla beans, and melted them into some dark chocolate,
and hit all of it off with a splash of coconut milk,
and drizzled that ropey dopeness all over their F*in' flaky selves.
i took it to eleven because i'm expert.
and that's no joke.
there are still a few left.
if i see you, i see you, and whatever happens happens.
it'll be macaroon snack-attackin' solidarity,
and not a mack-hand backhand for your face.
life unfolds like a fist into a slap;
never quiet, never soft.....

parts of a whole.

too many little plastic nubbins.
that's what's rolling around all over my floor,
and falling off of the counters,
and sticking into my stocking feet when i wander around in the dark.
i know the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress pretty damned well, duders.
for real.
so i can navigate without lights through the twists and turns and doorways
(there are SO many doorways)
without smashing my face on a jamb.
little bits and sharp pieces are always around these days.
and i find myself trepidatiously tippie-toeing in the nighttimes.
believe me,
i'm glad it's dark out while i doo-doo that ballerina business,
because i bet i'd look really dumb if anyone could see me.
my summer-feet are still tough,
but these craft scraps and steampunk shrapnel shards are murder on my insteps.
it's just that i want to make cool stuff.

and instead, i tape and epoxy everything.
details are the worst, and the best, and the most time consuming.
without 'em, the things we make look like sh!t.
of course,
even with 'em,
the finished product looks great, but nobody notices
the little stuff it takes to make all the small pictures into one bigger better one.
i guess that's a thing.
like salt in bread.
you especially notice it when it's NOT there.
so i'm treading lightly, neighbors.
and i'm getting ready.
y'gotta be prepared for anything,
and up for everything,
and watchful for cool tiny glimpses of what could be.
salad bowls are photonic refractors.
vanilla bottles are vapour regulators.
sewer caps are cast-iron woodstove grates.
it's all what you're looking at,
and more importantly,
HOW you're doing it.
this is how i'm lookin':
askance and old and busted,
with new views on established artifacts.
it's ALL really happening.
because we're taking what is, and making it what we want it to be.
that's active participation,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, September 25

sweets for your bitter self.

dried cranberries?!
they're delicious.
y'know what else is pretty good?
chocolate chips.
y'know what's even better?
chocolate CHUNKS.
and when you throw in a burly dose of chopped-up walnuts,
and add even more of 'em as sprankles,
what you've got then is a big ol' batch of being expert.
check the teleport:
y'wanna know a secret?
i eschewed the orange,
and supplanted lemon in it's place.
holy sh!tballs, neighbors-
that was the best choice i've made in ages.
i mean,
everything lemon is dope,
and walnuts and chocolate are both in love with lemons,
and cranberries need lemons, too-
like double-bitter brothers from other mothers.
that means i did something triple good.
and very proud i am at the results!
breakfast for my face is what i've accomplished,
but then again,
burly barbarian bakery business is what i'm all about.
so, gettin' over on that first-meal magic is fundamental,
but bringing the thursday thunder to the oven was gonna go down anyway.
so, really,
when you think about it like that-
expert is as expert does in this Folk Life & Liberty test kitchen.
word up.
a slice is nice, surely, but two plus two equals foremost activation.
overdoing it on the slabs of sexiness is the way to go.
and my mouth is en route to that destination, too.
i love eating treats,
and i love baking treats,
and i'm in love with this morning.
tea and fancy slices make for all good things until noon.
it's not optimism if you stack the deck in your favor-
it's logistic predetermination.
that's today.
cultivating all the big fun and better times.
that's a thing.
today is the day,
and it's destined for greatness;
never quiet, never soft.....

making it nicer.

the air!!
it's warm.
it smells like leaves and woodsmoke.
it's sunny outside, too.
it's a Perfect Fall Day.
and that's expert.
wordimus prime.
i love pumpkins, and i love fall.
i also love the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
y'know what that means?
that means i need ALL of that all at once.
that's what's up.
check the entrancing-pumpkin-lined-entrance-type teleport:
so crackery.
that's how you know it's good.
ALL the kinds, kids.
you know the rules-
too much is the right amount.
nothing else is even close.
believe me,
there's more where that came from.
so, hey, if you're thinking of coming over,
maybe bring a pumpkin with you while you're at it.
we can add it to the collection,
and keep all the real hottness turned up to eleven.
Folk Life is all about that autumny sh!t.
no doubt about it,
that's the real rural woodsly goodsly truth.
i'm grateful for this place i call home,
and i'm doubly grateful for another elite seasonal explosion therein;
never quiet, never soft.....

plasma-powered nerdcraft.

you need a plasma power-cell if you've got mechanical parts,
and you're a steampunk aetherqueen, or somethin', right?
i think that might be true.
here's what i know-
my daughter is gonna have an expert costume,
or, at least, expert parts of her costume,
courtesy of my big dumb old mangled strangler's hands.
that's a thing.
i had a day off yesterday.
i mostly just got crazy in the kitchen in the a.m.,
and crazy on the kitchen floor in the p.m.
no, i mean it-
sawing and slicing and gluing and painting and staining
all across the bamboo and the carpet.
what do i have to show for it?
i built a box.
big deal.
i based it on the bigger, better nerds out there in the universe,
who were kind enough to post pictures of their own plasma boxes.
neighbors, those guys take their st'punking very seriously.
like, rivets and leather and anvils an' sh!t.
i get it, but i'm not about to start tanning hides anytime soon....
without a plan, any know-how, and very few skills,
i skipped the hammer-and-nails carpentry altogether,
and super-doomsday ultimate-high-temperature-hot-glue-gunned all
the crafty wood i cut up for the occasion.
check the teleport:

pleather, old shredded craft leather, wire, rivets, a touch-up woodgrain marker,
tea lights, screws, beads, spools, a pin, brads, and some fancyish buttons.
that rubbed-down and buffed-up pvc 'boiler' on the bottom.
y'know- to generate the juice necessary to spark the plasma activation!
i'm just SO like that.
but seriously, just look a it:
i'm into it, kids.
wanna see more?
have a peek:
and this, too:
...aaaand that's what i did yesterday.
or what i completed, at any rate, among other crafty, yet unfinished, endeavors.
this stuff takes a while.
all the rivets and base coats and drilling,
and all the sanding, too.
so much sanding.
so much dust.
so much of all of it.
there's an awful lot of effort that goes into combat against awfulness.
tricky little situation that begets, i'll tell you hey-what.
back to the grind today, though, friends.
tattbombing away on all the big dumb dudes who love big dumb tattoos.
i s'pose that's not a bad thing, overall.
i mean,
c'mon, big dumb dudes spend big dumb movie checks on all their big dumbness.
so i guess i'm gonna half-full this one,
just this once,
and take ALL the money for ALL the zipzappin' crap on the schedule.
that's how it goes;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, September 24

pump' it up.

Perfect Fall Days.
those are what i want,
and that's what i'm chasing after.
check the teleport:
spanning time, even when there really isn't a single moment to spare,
that's called taking time out.
and we doo-doo that temporal epheme'reality.
hazy ghosts of the future, taking shape under cover of clouds and golden light.
the idea is that by redirecting our energy and ideas,
we have managed to making those stolen moments matter more.
that's a thing.
more pumpkins, even:
patchin' our way through the afternoons,
indian fooding our way through the evenings,
and crafting all kinds of artsy farting blasts through the darkest hours of the night.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point.
i'm utilizing my time wisely.
i'm investing it.
this is the way things are supposed to be...
profitable in some way, regardless of the monetary influx or expenditure.
real life unfolds along the vines and lines of the gourd hordes we're gallivanting through;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, September 23

it's called FALL.

birch trees are jerks.
did you know that?
well, you do now...
it's true.
there are just SO many reasons why they aren't invited.
their bark peels off,
those wormy-lookin' flower-seeds are gross,
they have the worst wood for fires,
because it's always in a big hurry to burn up,
and yeah, sure, it lights fast,
but it dies out and cools off even faster.
and i'll agree that pioneer species are important for fixing nitrogen into the soil...
but only so bigger burlier better trees can show up and take over.
that's not why they're jerks, though, neighbors.
this is:
see why they aren't invited?
they can't hang out.
i mean it.
the first scary autumn gusts of the season;
the windy blistery blustery bustedness of the equinox;
the answers and the changes blew in,
and birchy b over here took a sh!t-salad swan-dive .
i hate the wind, too, but c'mon, kids-
this guy up and quits in the dark hours of the early evening,
at the onset of a seasonal blast of fast moving air,
right onto the powerlines?
that meant that not only was it dark and windy,
but linemen got to peek in all my upstairs windows
while they reconnected all the snapped poles and disconnected cables.
bobby birch up there took the juice out all the way to the transformers
around the corner and down the street.
nice job, jerk.
it's fall, now.
and i guess that's something.
the time for pumpkins and apples and all good things is upon us.
my favorite.
mostly because it's the shortest season up here.
the segue into winter is brutally abrupt,
and the rapture of rupturing weather patterns gets old almost immediately.
but for the next three weeks,
everything is expert outside,
and for that,
i am excited;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, September 21

not enough chest candy.

awwww, man.
i just didn't have any red ones.
you may remember that i made all these medals,
for secret nonexistent societies and their imaginary honors,
when i was all finished,
i realized there wasn't any red.
or any purple, either, for that matter.
i got crackin' all by my lonesome,
and took time out on a cloudy, dowdy, doodiecrinkly saturday night,
and with the help of scissors and a glue gun and an old necklace,
i remedied all of that.
check the teleport:
when i get busy with gettin' busy,
i do it to eleven.
why am i like that?
because i'm LIKE that.
you know the rules-
too much is the right amount.
that's for sure.
i'm gonna need to start bench pressing heavy weights or somethin',
because i don't have enough pectoral real estate for all these awards.
hearts and crosses an' that.
those are the sorts of things kings and dukes and barons and sh!t give out.
in an imaginary world, it's possible i'm a hero, not a hermit.
eh, you're probably right.
this costume stuff should be a lot of fun,
if it all comes together the way i'm picturing it.,,,,
i love making stuff.
that's the truth.
i hate how obsessive and single-minded i become, though.
up late every night gluing itty-bitty pieces in place.
plotting and planning and matching parts up, to see if they'll fit,
or determining if they can be made to fit.
i'm doing what i can to impose my ideas on plastic made to appear as metal,
ribbon made to look like distinguished accolades,
and toys made to seem sinister.
duplicity is just one of the hard styles i'm reppin' these days.
and it's the last day of summer.
for serious.
the ley lines and orbital patterns are all converging.
spirit and memory, thought and action, gratitude and generosity.
all the good stuff is aligning to let us know there's balance for a little minute.
equal portions of light and dark.
equal doses of day and night.
a harmonious overlap of circles and circles inside of circles,
cultivating coincidences and capturing all the magic.
it's all coming together, for a little minute,
and sometimes, that's what we need.
goodbye summer,
   you were cold and short,
 and never really got started.
 i had high hopes for you,
 and you let me way down.
 now you're going away and i'm feeling cheated and unfulfilled
 by your passing into the passages of spanned time.
 just like always,
 the end isn't a grand finale, it's a nearly-unnoticed sigh.
it's always over before you're ready for it to end.
sometimes, though,
there are surprises just around the bend.
so don't be scared to go 'round that bend;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, September 20

saturday is for cake.

i don't know about you guys,
but i'm in the mood for something expert.
that's a thing that has to happen today.
after all,
it's not warm out,
it's not sunny out,
it's not a lazy end of summer weekend for me at all...
so i've got to  have a treat to activate this day,
or it's all gonna go straight to sh!t from the jump-off.
what to do?
what. to. do. ???
no worries, my worthy warrior poets and powerful valkyrie vixens-
i'm on it, from the wee small crack-a-lack of the morning hours.
i'm sayin',
for those of us with flour and sugar and an oven,
the tools were already in place to achieve maximum success.
expertism on a saturday morning involves a pastry bag, neighbors.
believe it.
i learned something these last few days,
or else there might not've been anything to show for my efforts.
that's real.
strawberries are slippery.
too slippery.
first, check the teleport:
strawberry-filled brown sugar cream chee' cake,
cream chee' frosting,
strawberry frosty fresh highlights,
and color-match sprankles.
like i done already said.
...the thing is,
version one of this concoted confection took a digger,
and biffed it hard onto the floor.
and an ill-fated escape attempt by those berries in the middle
that ended in use of lethal force,
administered without remorse by the floor of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
this time i baked 'em into the batter,
and they were securely locked down tight.
that's right.
i learned something.
imagine that.
i've been fighting the good fight, kids.
trying to combat falling temperatures,
failing light,
post-summer-tourist-seasonal economic downturn,
costume creation,
book writing,
book reading,
working and working and worrrrrrrking,
and making all of that come together into one cohesive really real life.
a Folk Life.
one that makes sense.
it's very nearly autumn.
it's very nearly fair season.
it's all really happening,
and i'm doing whatever i have to, and then some,
to be a part of it.
this is it, today, and everyday.
more of all things,
and less time for the effort;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, September 19

making tattoos.

i did a pretty cool tattoo on my old buddy larry.
i hadn't seen him in a little minute,
but we spent a whole bunch of tedious lining and shading together today.
he didn't really care what he got,
and that's e\xactly what i needed to hear.
i've had all this costume crapola on my mind lately,
and i just had to put some of that into practical application.
oh, yeah, and i love half-unstenciled unmarkered monster mash-ups.
i drew some out, i purple-inky-stinked some on,
and i made up a whole bunch with a tight tight tight little liner
after the concrete foundation was set up and started.
check the lovecraftian-dream-beast-type teleport:
crystals, armor, waistcoats, canes, top hats....
that's what i did today for a little bit.
lots of lines,
some simple and some complicated,
and all of it a welcome relief and respite from the hard styles and daily grindin'\
of woodsly goodsly post-labor-day straight street tattbombin'.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, September 18


legions and secret societies and royal orders and guilds.
oh, y'know-
just thinking about who would appreciate me.
no....not in real life.
really real life is always unfolding,
without mercy or remorse or conscience at all.
it just keeps happening, harder and faster and rougher.
that's not all there is out there.
the styles of daily developing ordure are our ordeal to deal with.
so while we're doo-dooing that responsible adult-style sh!t,
we might wanna put the imagination activation into effect.
that's it.
do you get it?
i'm talking about hallowe'en jauns.
backstory is always good for fleshing out ideas.
fictional accounts of that's a fact.
playing at playing pretend as hard as ever.
i mean it.
if you wanna play dress-up, you need to dress UP.
and that means gettin' super-fancily unnecessary in the details.
check the general-disappointment-yes-that's-a-pun-type-teleport:
because you gotta rep the order of st. cholmondley-on-pent!!
and don't forget the silesian cockatrice society!
jeeeeeeeez, i am a HUGE nerd.
i spent too long folding ribbons and hot gluing it yesterday.
a trip to portland, and several craft stores, fabric shops,
and a dirty bargain-bin-hole yielded up what i needed.
so many charms, and almost all of them on from the discard bins.
that's how you know you're getting that expert business.
secret stuffs are the best ones.
i'll be the highest-ranking imaginary steamcaptain,
and i'm pretty sure i'll also be by myself while it happens.
schedules are dumb.
and work is for suckers.
which makes me one unholy hellfire-furious dumb sucker.
i wonder if my daughter is excited?
i mean,
i made her eleven of her own other other medals and badges, too.
that's not all.
i'm on the lookout for two two-inch threaded brass grommets for her goggles.
y'gotta have the goggles, guys.
that's a rule.
i even got us some fancy magnifiers.
with the little bead-end upgrades on the ends?
i'm not gonna poop out on the little things.
i'm more of a ruining-the-big-picture guy.
i wish she and i were doing this together.
awwwww, man.
that's a high-pressure pipe-dream of the steampunkiest variety.
get it?
hard styles and sleepless nights and figuring it all out.
it's all really happening,
including the unreal, unrealistic, and surreal spans between daily doses of dolor;
never quiet, never soft.....


i've been trying this cool thing.
it's called "taking terrible photos of tattoos".
i'm getting pretty expert at it.
nothing is more disheartening in my day at work.
i mean it.
after tattblasting so many lame-A* jauns, day in, and day out,
for days and days on end,
taking a picture of some freehand stuff should be sort of fun.
no matter how confident i am about image quality, they always suck balls.
(yes, i DO check the shots while i'm taking them.)
i do cover-up tattoos.
almost every single day.
last week,
i did five cover-ups in six days.
that's no joke.
this week, i've only done one so far,
but i'm sure that'll change.
but enough of the mundane workings of my life and times at white mountain tattoo....
check the washed-out-because-i'm-washed-up-type teleport:
irish flag celtic knot tribal done at home?
not anymore.
now it's a skeleton king.
and in real life,
it actually looks pretty cool, neighbors.
there are even crystal shard things.
those are ioun stones, which you'd already knew if you' were in the know, yo....
that's why i don't take many photographs of what i do at work.
womp womp.
the trick is to really make the swollen parts look weak,
and the dark parts look overly contrasted.
subtleties don't translate to the technological null-zone that is my workspace.
that's a thing.
need a picture of a steampunk toy gun?
i got you, because we GOT they.
need a picture of a F*ing muffin?
we GOT they, too.
but tattbombs aren't cooperative.
it's as if life was trying to steer me in another direction.
secret universal plans probably get frustrated when they aren't heeded,
just like anything else.
spend a few hours making movie checks,
spend a few seconds ruining photos.
all i need to do to ruin a photo is appear in it.
i'm trying this out instead.
more today?
half sleeves and sacred geometry.
so many lines,
so much spirituality.
i might not be able to contain myself.
i might have to just eat cake and talk a little sh!t about b!tches and drink coffee.
that's the ticket.
harder styles and more of all of this.
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 15


some people loooove recycling.
it's true.
they get all excited about corrugated cardboard versus gloss cardstock,
and separate their newsprint from their magazines and all of that.
they don't understand how being expert works.
because all of those things are inflammable,
and that means all of those things aren't for recycling into anything
besides light and heat and smoke and ash.
check the cucch's-last-night-in-town-type teleport:
i had so many paper bags full of papers and bags.
now i don't have any.
conversion to energy is what we needed,
and that's exactly  what we made happen,
that's the best part.
with dizzying doses of big dirty giant cigars for our faces,
and good time hangouts for our everything-elses.
the cigars were so big, they're called the 'colosso'.
(that means big in cigar.)
amber and i got a little last baby bit of my best buddy
before he embarks on the big trans-american trek to the land of lawful weddedness
and cohabitational hottness with his wifey.
that's a thing.
the times are the best tinmes when we're all together:
we made the most of it.
(we always do)
and it was all we could do to look at the sky,
and look all around us,
and realize that it all really happens, whether we're ready or not,
and whether we're prepared to be apart or a part of it.
in a way,
i hope i never really see him anymore-
wait for it.....
because that means he's got things going right and well and according to plan
for his happy future west of the mississippi.
i mean it.
i miss him already, neighbors,
but i'd rather miss him while he's happy,
then get him all to myself at his most miserable.
real talk.
another whole chunk of time has been spanned to the logical conclusion.
we do what we do,
and that's it.
i have no questions about me and my ace numero uno homeboy.
brothers in arms,
brothers in all but blood, actually,
and i am grateful for our times together.
safe travels and best wishes and even better intentions are this morning's decrees;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, September 14

try to stop me.

that's right, friends.
spiced oatmeal raisin, to be more specific.
oat flour, regular wheat flour, a little tapioca for toothsome tenderness,
soy yogurt and sour-style vegan creaminess, raw sugar, and all the good things.
the great things, actually.
golden AND purple-type raisins,
thrown into the mix by the generous two-scoopin' handful.
and spices?
in a maple syrupy solution to suspend 'em in while i mixed 'em,
i added cinnamon, and nutmeg, and mace, and allspice, and ginger,
and even a dashing dash of cloves.
that's spicy, neighbors, especially in with those spongy soft raisins,
for all the absorbent big-bite barbarian business.
we all know that's not enough.
after all,
too much IS the right amount.
on top of that there's apples forever.
seriously, seven sexy, succulent, crisp, cut-up early season jauns-
in butteryish, sugared, cinnamon'd sauce,
slathered in a heavy dose of dopeness all over the top of the batter.
THAT'S expert.
check the teleport:
the white stuffs?
that's vanilla-sugary icing in between the slices, obvi.
the other other white stuff?
that's whipped soyacreme, for that eleven style a-la-mode sh!t.
i mean,
what do you think i am/
an A*-hole?
no way.
i do it the most,
i do it the best,
i do what needs doing,
and i do too much of it.
the world will only tolerate so much hottness,
so i'll eat it up before the balance is tilted too far towards the future.
you're welcome.
i'm eliminating threats to culinary stability moments after i create them.
that's the way it goes.
create destroy destroy create activate activate activate.
there's a system in place,
based in chaos and order,
ingredients, heat, hands, teeth, beauty, ugliness, dopeness.
all of it,
all at once.
this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....


i keep doing what i do.
and one of the things i do is propping up these props, neighbors.
that's no joke.
now, i've said it before, but it bears repeating, anyway-
nerf guns have been a steampunk staple for a little minute.
i guess that's just a thing that happens.
i don't really know about what's the norm.
sure, you can image search about a hundred different ones.
they all basically look similar.
i don't give any sh!ts about any of that,
or about what's acceptable to the canon of hand-cannons, or whatever.
i just make cool things when the mood takes me.
and i've been moody taking it to the limits of tolerable temper-tantrum
for a few weeks in a row.
that's actually the bad news.
what's the good news?
that's easy-
slowly, but surely,
i'm getting even better at the things i undertake,
and entertaining thoughts about pseudo-scientific fictional tinkering
as plausible invention activation, in the nerdiest toy gun modification activation.
i want what it is to make sense,
even though it's make-believe.
just check the teleport:
that's what's up.
a steampunk flamethrower.
germ-x and food dye in a travel bottle sealed with liquid plastics,
simulating the sump and storage for the napthol fire juice;
air-hose couplings for pilot light protuberances;
a toy stethoscope and a sink strainer for an exhaust port,
epoxy rivets everywhere;
a vanilla bottle and a meat thermometer for the air-mix regulator;
wall-levels for fluid level indicators- that one looks especially expert;
and that big cast-iron pump box is two new-work electrical boxes glued together.
there're plenty of odds and ends and nubs and nibs that make it better.
more pieces means more awesomeness.
that's real.
even though what it is is so faux.
at any rate, it started out like this:
i guess i might be onto something, huh?
i hope so.
i've got lots more to do,
and no good reason to do it,
other than letting that expert craft-costume stuff overflow out into the real world.
maybe i'll make a movie?
maybe you'll be in it?
y'wanna play dress-up with me?
you might be invited;
never quiet, never soft.....

light emitting diodes.

when you buy eighty LED fingertip lights,
there's really no good reason for doing so.
i mean,
they come in a great big four-color twenty-of-each box,
and they aren't expensive at all.....
there is no reason to get so excited.
unless you're prepared for an impromptu kitchen party.
check the raving-mad-type teleport:
thanks to the cucch for documenting all the activation.
don't worry,
i returned the favor-
check the groucho-raw-vegan-sausage-type teleport:
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t up in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
the lights didn't stay on long, though, around here.
because otherwise, this couldn't happen:
third eye flying through the deepest darkest dopeness.
we make our choices,
and we make the most of the consequences.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, September 12


four forms of coconut?
F*ing right, duders.
check the elite-treat-type teleport:
coconut flour and medium flake coconut and coconut milk
all in the mix makes coconut cake.
that's two layers of the first type of coconut activation, kids.
it's frosted with coconut spreadability,
extra firm, fully-formed, and semi-fondant in it's dope density.
that's the second style of coconut.
in the middle, holding it together,
and in the florets dolloping like a worthy warrior wallop on top?
cocoa-coconut frosting, too.
that's three.
and last, but, really, neighbors, most importantly-
toasted coconut sprankles everywhere.
that added depth.
that extra bite.
toothsome and terrific and all really happening.
i only want what's best.
and this is the best.
and that's no joke.
coconut, and coconut, and cocoa-coconut, and toasted coconut.
i do what i say,
and i say what i mean.
too much is the right amount,
...and without excess,
how would we know how much better we are than everybody else?
if i wasn't overdoing it,
then just regular-doing it would seem okay.
and that's NOT okay.
not one little tiny bit.
activating the extras,
and bringing more to the table.
these are the things i value,
and this is what i'm eating for breakfast.
don't even kid yourselves.
i'm all-out ball-out bringin' it this friday morning.
wordimus prime;
never quiet, never soft.....

the anti-scurvy chocolate treats brigade.

chocolate creme pie is expert.
that's obvious to anybody who knows anything.
it's not enough.
i mean,
there could be more going on.
and i insist that there has to be all of it at once,
or else,
why am i even standing at the stove, stirring?
i took the crust i crushed up and graham cracker'd,
and added oats and sugar and vanilla,
and baked it firmly at a few hundred fahrenheit degrees.
i sliced a few oranges up.
that's correct, neighbors.
vitamins, and acids, and citrus oils, and everything.
i put some zest in with the melting chocolate,
i put some juice in with the powdered sugar, and the tapioca,
and the silky smooth supersoft tofu, (and added a bit more zest, too)
there was essential orange extract activation to complement the vanilla,
and then,
when i couldn't contain the new hottness anymore,
i poured it into the pan and let it chill the F* out.
that's the way it had to happen.
while all of that was going on, there was a whole other 'nother set of situations unfolding.
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
candied orange peels.
sliced, fileted, pithed, and boiled.
three times, i cooked 'em up.
that's the magic number, friends.
two cold water baths,
and a simple syrup saturation soak,
with vanilla added in at the cool-down stage......
then they're drained, strained, pressed, and rolled in sugar
before they took a turn in the fridge on top of that pie business.
i'm tellin' you- too much is the right amount.
which also means that that IS chocolate orange frosting, too.
after all,
i'm not just gonna talk about it,
i've gotta be about it, too.
i rep a hard style with my smooth treats.
i think that's the way to do it right.
i haven't slept worth a sh!t in days and days.
i don't think it's affecting me poorly, really,
except in the face-piece.
that's looking worn out and beat up.
the thing is-
i can't see my own face,
and avoiding mirrors is way easier than you might expect.
real talk.
i'm getting things accomplished,
they aren't the burdens i should be shouldering.
i have to say, y'all-
i don't do anything just a little bit,
and this new lot of lots and lots is really expanding outwards and upwards.
there is always more of all of it,
and it doesn't look like nights are gonna matter much in the progression.
i'm tryin' to get my props, so to speak,
and that means my eyes stay open in the dark;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, September 11


there's no room on any countertops.
that's for real.
now i'm on the floor.
that's slowly filling up, too.
i'll just be outside,
i am getting all kinds of rad stuff, though.
like what?
like clear magic lights, that strobe and sh!t.
the thing is,
i keep getting more and more and more and more...
and that, in turn, leads to even less space,
and extra projects,
and all of it is underway at all hours in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
it makes for  hard styles and headaches and heavy traffic from room to room
for all the pieces to puzzle out and put together .
i'm burying myself in parts of parts and bits of flash and dazzle.
i'll have something to show for it besides a ruin of a room,
and a wreck of a kitchen.
i'm still baking.
i'm not an actual A*-hole, after all.
i've got rain outside spoiling my spray-paintables,
and i've got too many free-floating slow-going gadgets to glue,
and there's no keeping track of any of it,
even with a labyrinthine crazy-brain spanning across time and space
to create all of this play-pretend make-believability come true.
i'm swamped with tasks i've set myself,
and there's still so much that needs doing in my daily real life routine, too.
i guess that sleep isn't really an option these nights.
and wide awakefulness is keeping me slim and trim and purple-bagged around the eyes.
you know the rules-
stay ugly, stay dope.
i've got hours of cutting and sanding tiny details you'll never notice, neighbors.
this is the way it all starts.
chaos makes for order in the long run;
never quiet, never soft.....

never forget...

...to activate that expert sh!t, neighbors.
for serious,
if there's one thing i took away from the disasterpiece of american dramabombing,
and the ensuing terrors, trials, tribulations, and triumphs?
we only ever get what time we get,
with no guarantees of good, bad, ugly, or explosive...
i'm grateful for the time that i have been given.
i'm doing what i do to span it the most expressively, expensively. expansively.
and with all the raging savage stormswept berserker gyspsy enthusiasm i've got.
if this is all there is,
then it's gotta go to eleven,
even when it's not going anywhere at all;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 8

full moons.

it's SO bright out at night.
specifically the last couple of nights.
because of the giant glowing circle above us?
it's got all the magnetic ethereal lunatic-tock clock-rockin'
anybody could ever want, and then some.
i guess the moon knows that too much is the right amount,
and that's the way it's going up in the sky,
and it's going hard while it's at it.
my much-needed beauty sleep isn't hanging around,
in fact, it has essentially deserted  the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
plastic pieces and paint sure are picking up the slack.
i mean it.
i've been masking stuff into the wee small hours of the morning,
falling asleep with paint under my nails,
dreaming about rotary tools in a reciprocating cycle circulating around
my r.e.m. eyelids and polarized full-moon brainwaves.
i mean it.
weird nighttimes and angsty awakenings,
and pvc pipedreams with enough white dust to trigger an FAA body-cavity search.
what did i do first thing this morning?
start taping up some more sh!t, to repurpose into other other sh!t?
you know i did.
check the teleport:
that's right, guys.
wrappin' it up is important.
keeps all the bad parts where you want 'em.
it is surely necessary, if pretend-time maskin' is on the schedule.
and that's not all.
i'm also gonna start adding faux rivets to these jauns, too:
drippy-A* epoxy droplets to mimic that brass bastardry.
got to have those tubes lookin' expert.
after all,
no mechanical eldritch arm-armor is complete without weird pipes.
that's real.
a braced brace of bracketed bracers for me and my kids?
you know it.
the pistol prop i've been slowwwwwwwly producing still evades completion.
too many sidebars and time-fillers to focus fully on the flamethrowin' firearm.
i did scrape, tape, paint, rub, buff, peel, reveal and assemble the rear aerator.
whatever that is.
it's sorta see through!
which should be obvious,
and pretty flippin' cool.
alright, fine-
i'm a big nerdy old guy.
that's just great.
thanks for joining in, with that observation-
i know i feel better now.
fullest moons,
and wolfen wariness with wholehearted wild wiles,
all together make for some battle-beast bullsh!t all night,
and total fallible human weariness all dang day.
my lids are heavy,
and my hands are clumsy,
and i'll be outside grinding plastic as soon as the temperature warms up.
that's no joke.
once the chill of this mountainous realm lifts in favor of the sun's rays,
and the blue-lit spots of silver moon magic are erased again until tonight,
i'll be cross-legged and lame in the driveway,
doing what i do.
it's all really happening,
and it's all that there ever really is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, September 6

mocha, sorta.

how much cocoa is enough cocoa?
too much cocoa.
too much is the right amount,
especially when we're talking about that brown magic.
turns out, the more chocolaty hottness you add,
the more satanic the devilishness of the food-cake gets.
devil's food is new to me,
and i don't know actually what that is supposed to be....
there are no tormented sinners in my kitchen,
besides me,
and i'm not climbing into any batter anytime soon.
i'd sooner go straight to hell.
i see.
i used thirty-three% MORE cocoa than usual,
and i shaved up and added in some chunky chocolate, too,
for melty thickness in the crumb of my bundt, baby.
that's right.
i kept it blacker than black,
and took it back to my origins.
check the devil's-own-type teleport:
yum4tum, F*ers.
and that's so much coffee on there, too, neighbors.
that's right.
espresso was the liquid used to dissolve the confectioners' sugar.
instant coffee snuck in there, too, for added activation.
when i needed to make sure it went to eleven?
vanilla and coffee extract.
was that enough?
no way.
there's never enough.
i took a handful of caramel turtle sprankles,
and gave that butthole-shaped bomb a little something extra.
you know you like it.
it's so rich,
it's out of your pay-grade, friends.
there is still a slice or three left,
if you're in the woodsly goodness and need a little somethin' to see you through.
and it's already saturday again,
and it's already full-moon time again.
the pregame insomnia is in full effect.
i haven't slept well in a little minute,
and the big dark discs around my eyes have me looking especially skeletal.
long nights,
and hard styles,
and tough workdays,
and worse weeknights.
i mean it.
this one has been a dumb one,
and i can't hang out with that.
maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow,
the big action will come back around again.
i'll have a faceful of cake and a handful of wrench,
and a respirator mask on, too.
the fumes were really wrecking my eyes and my nose and my brainwaves.
werewolves and waterpistols, y'all.
this is what happens when real life doesn't really give a sh!t;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, September 5


you can keep your waterpistols.
i'm on that ray gun/blaster/cannon/boiler sh!t.
i want your old busted jauns,
because i'm trying to create some unique antiquey new hottness.
that's the truth.
but, well, yes, actually...
...i did use a couple of cheap waterpistols to do it.
i'm making things out of things,
and i'm using common items for imaginary science,
and inventive surreal physics and mechanics.
nerd action.
i am all about that, neighbors.
i'm building up a cache of cool-if-you're-lame-type tools.
i bought a dremel.
the good one.
all the bits, and twice as many pieces,
and even more speeds.
high and low, and super-duper-high,
and everything in-between on an incremental dial of dopeness.
word up.
it's the waterpistols.
alright, guys.
go ahead.
check the teleport:
pretty neat, right?
yes, i know it's not a cake.
i think sometimes you folks get the wrong idea about me.
i love guns, even pretend ones-
even fantastic creations based in the realm of a jules-vernian musing.
uh huh.
all guns is dope.
that's a true story, told truly.
that's a mostly the same watergun.
a hose, a lanyard, a recorder tip, a pvc ring rear sight,
the waterpistol water plug converted to a front sight,
epoxy 'rivets', and a thread spool make it expert though.
then i took the same style of squirtgun,
and chopped and altered it in different styles and poses.
y'gotta love a two-pack, friends.
because that means more and then a little bit more.
good stuff, for sure...
my daughters and i are in constant contact about this project,
and that's absolutely great news.
next up,
it's goggles and gauntlets for me and mine.
superior nerd activation, at a distance, is bringing us closer together.
cake and muffins doesn't even do THAT.
so yeah, y'all, just try to bear with me.
i'm creating family togetherness bonds for the children.
these little crafty crapshooters are something we're sharing,
and i'm sharing them with you, too.
you can't have one!
make your own.
there IS plenty of cake at the studio, though-
so you're welcome to come collect a slice of that;
never quiet, never soft.....


berries, duders.
berries are just so dang awesome.
and that is especially true of the wild maine blue-bombs.
bluberries have got it going on.
and the woodsly goodness is right on the borderland of the best ones around.
i love those itty-bitty smaller-than-the-tame-variety circles
of activated antioxidant excellence.
i had a whole bunch on hand,
and i had the freeze-dried version of 'em, too.
i'll say another 'nother thing, also, neighbors-
the wild small guys are way more expert than the big fatties.
i assume that's probably true everywhere.
those cultivated rounders are good,
but the free-range roamers are great.
that's what i'm using when i get the choice, every single time.
when it comes right down to the bottom-line dirt-dirtiest things,
it isn't enough to rest easy on the laurels of a good thing being good.
i mean,
not when it could almost always be better.
and better is better than best,
when best has room for improvement.
that's a thing.
anyway, anyway,
keeping in mind that striving for maximum hottness never ever takes a break...
check the better-than-best-type teleport:
my vegan blueberry chee'cake is for the future.
time-travel style.
i used four kinds of thickners, y'all.
four different mass-affecters,
for the ultimate in dense, soft, sexy cakey business.
i doo-doo that sort of freaky sh!t.
tapioca starch, corn starch, egg-replacer starch, and flour,
in small but important roles, all contributed to making this one the best one.
and seriously, kids,
it IS the most elite one i've yet tasted.
that thick crust?
oatmeal, raw sugar, graham crackers,
and some of that shredded unsweetened dry coconut,
gummed up and glued together with butters and vanilla and soymilk an' that.
so firm,
so soft,
so crumbly,
so perfect.
with that lemon juiced, lemon-extracted, vanilla laced,
lightly sweetened simmered saucy berry compote
drizzled spread, and set up to chill out on the superior-side of the circle.
that's what i'm trying to say, friends-
this one gets an A+.
i think we're starting to slow down.
at the tattbomb studio, i mean.
thirty-three percent.
that is what history has taught me to expect to see disappear.
that's a lot?
no sh!t that's a lot.
it's this damned tourist town.
love and hate are vying at all times for dominance.
i mean it.
all summer long,
while i'm enjoying th scenic expanses of this minute mountain vale,
i'm also hard-heartedly hating and harranguing the hapless tourists.
when they leave?
so do those fat movie checks.
and i love the dough, yo.
that's no joke.
so, sure, the roads and the restaurants are wide open,
but my wallet isn't as obese as it was last week, by about a third.
hard styles return to the woodsly goodness it seems,
just in time to start stacking firewood.
cycles, circles, sumps, stumps, summits, and sleep.
it's ALL really happening.
this is the way it continues to unfold,
and that's that;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, September 2

just give me enough glue.

i've been working on these props for a little minute.
and now i'm lookin' to get some props for 'em.
like, due and proper kudos, an' that.
i've still got plenty more work to do on most of them.
oh, yes.
i've got a whole bunch of toy pistols and waterguns and pipes and plugs.
there will be variations and extrapolations on the theme for a bit to come.
that's no joke.
i don't really see the point in doing something one time just to try it.
if the first take doesn't suck balls,
the next bunch of 'em should be turbo-elite.
i'll keep working on taking another 'nother new nerd skillset to eleven,
adding it to my ample reserves of unmarketable talents and abilities.
awwwwwwwww, man.
before i bum myself out thinking about the time i span doing projects
just for the sake of doing interesting things with my brain and hands,
instead of doing things that might be more profitable and productive.....
let me at least show you the fruits of my most recent sleepless night.
check the pulse-point-pistol-type teleport:
and the reaction-hand-side, too:
i'm excited.
the little bits and pieces are what's up, y'all.
every extra tube and screw makes it cooler.
next time,
there will be way more rivets.
rivets are expert.
the only problem,
as i can foresee but not forestall,
is that my nerd-brain starts engineering reasons for the add-ons.
i'm not kidding.
stratospherium converters,
and sonic inverters,
and all sorts of mostly-pretend elements and places and powers.
a lifetime of science fiction, fantasy, comics, and roleplaying dork sh!t
has poisoned me down to my deepest core.
that big lame teenager oozes out if he's given even the slightest leeway.
...so now this is what's going on.
there are cut, chopped, lowered, louvered, cantilevered halves and wholes,
all needing more and more and more of this polyvinyl mad-scientist activation.
there are worse things, certainly.
i could be memorizing sports stats,
or learning the lyrics to pop-country music...
i s'pose i'll take some small comfort in creating something from something else.
making more.
that's the thing.
and it's the center of everything.
more action, more adventure,
more creativity, more money,
more time.....
making more of it, and making what you've already got matter more.
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

lightning striking viking.

what happens when you mix styles?
they get harder.
they're like two-part epoxy in that.
when it was time to terrorize matt's chest,
we made sure to take his drawings and my tattooing,
and mix them together in a modified hodge-podge hegemony
of lightning-striking comicbook ghost-face barbarianism.
ten years of punishing this guy with hot lasers of pain,
and he still keeps coming up to get his lumps.
sometimes i use a tight three needle grouping for extra bikery norse details.
check the teleport:
sternum beard!
so many lines.
too many lines.
the right amount of lines.
unless you're his xiphoid.
then that up there is waaaaaaay the wrong way to put hair on your chest.
we spanned a whole lot of time together, he and i,
and all of that is what took up a big ol' bunch of yesterday.
so much for labor day.
and yet, labor was what i seem to find myself doing a lot of all the time,
and labor is probably what he felt like he was in.
the thing is-
labor day is always just another workday.
sorta like every other three-day holiday since forever ago.
no breaks for me since the nineties with that sh!t, neighbors...
fifteen years of labor days at work?
that's a thing
it's been one heck of a summer.
nonstop hustlin' and grinding.
six-day work week steady hard-style pounding away at that flesh.
so gross.
and now?
it's also time for chimney sweepin' and firewood stackin',
and before too long, fairs and apples and pumpkins, as well.
the little window into new englandy hottness is open just a crack,
and i'm peering into it.
it looks good to me.
i s'pose we'll see about that;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 1

rabbit rabbbbittttt

the first of the month.
a last day, extra day-off long weekend finale.
americans are celebrating labor day,
by NOT working.
nomenclature is not invited to the barbecue, apparently.
they should maybe call it lazy day, then,
if sittin' and sippin' is all that's going on.
of course not.
don't be dumb....
i'll be at work, neighbors.
you know that's a thing.
it's what i do.
...and speaking of what i do-
another 'nother thing that today is all about is magic.
those magic words.
word, really, but twice in a row.
of course i woke up way too early after crashing out waaaay too late,
rules is rules,
what had to be first thing to sound out loud from my morning-breathy lips?
rabbit, rabbit!
i'm on it.
y'gotta be, unless you want that weak sh!t running rampant.
and because i'm summoning the spirits of cultivated coincidence to my house,
the woodsly is going extra heavy on the goodness.
that's right, kids.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a focal point for the loud fresh hardness
from now until november. even.
that sounds good to me,
we'll see what happens.
i'm starting this day with lots of nerding out before work.
that's real.
spark that teleport:
dips and dots;
sanding without eye protection;
epoxy fumigation;
and metalliv wax rubbing are the priorities before i shower.
there has to be progress.
there HAS to.
forward momentum will produce results,
but consideration and pondering and musing will not.
i'm just doing sh!t as hard as i can,
as much as i can,
and in as many different ways as i can.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point.
i'm doing that, too.
all day tatzappin' is going to try and halt my toy-gun prop jauns.
(it won't work)
belabor the obvious day.
that's what today is all about.
the first of the ninth of the fourteenth.
today is the one;
never quiet, never soft.....