Saturday, January 31

january's end.

bye bye, guy.
i'm talking to YOU, january.
it's time to go.
i made the most of you, for a change,
and that's nice enough news to leave you alone for a year or so,
you lacked crunch, y'know?
not hippie crunch!
don't ruin your last day by being an A*-hole, man.
but, seriously, i remember you used to have crunch-
i'm thinking you're just not cool- not any more.
i guess that means it's time to activate a little
antiquarian aquarian february freshness.
it's comin'.
rad rabbityrabbitude;
the F*ing A*-hole stoopidbowl;
plus, more importantly,
the really real big action, best served between two slices of bread.
oh, yeah.
and that's no joke.
before all of that gets poppin',
it's still time to stay all about cookies every mutha 'uckin' day! least as far as my oven is concerned.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress barbarian small-batch bakery
is still going strong, and in F*ing full effect, friends.
believe it.
and while you're at it, check the teleport:
and the weirdest part?
they're gluten-free!!!
that's right.
i got motivated, probably due to my dude daruma,
and went freestyle on some oatmeal, and brown rice flour.
they're bound to each other with butters, and sugars,
and the ever-important adhesive molecular magic of xantham.
which i'm pretty sure is germskin.
whatever, neighbors,
i'm not even a little tiny bit worried about it-
why not?
because those are cocoa coconut mackin' macaroons,
and they are so damned expert, it makes me dizzy.
word up.
coconut flour, and coconut flakes, and all that cocoa,
smooshed into balls of baller-A* doodie-twinklin' dopeness.
and there's even four chocolate chips apiece, on top of each one,
as candy sprankles of turbo-cuteness.
i doo-doo that glutarded chocolate un-poco-cocoa-loco sh!t.
that's a true story.
we're one month into the new year,
and it's sure looking a lot like every other year before it.
right around this time. like clock's nervous ticks,
and calendar's stomach flips
there's a certain specific temporary temporal sadness i experience,
it's not at the fleeting first month of resolutions and old-aging berfdays,
but at the milemarkers that it denotes in other areas of my life and times.
circles, cycling through time, in spirals-
getting bigger, and smaller, situationally,
and frequently overlapping each other.
that's the nature of spirit and memory,
and there is absolutely no way to fight it off, or even to a standstill...
nature wins, and time is on her side.
it's all really happening,
subtly different, but thematically consistent.
this is What Is,
and those ghost circles and smoke rings always revolve and revive
and come back around again.
january ends, nothing changes;
never quiet, never soft.....

jar sauce.

two more is better than another one, right?
it's been so snowy!
so snowy that every day has been deader'n dead in the whole entire
woodsly goodsly white mountainous wintertime wonderland.
the main roads are clear, but everywhere else is a sh!t-salad suckstorm,
and that's keeping everyone home.
that's not exactly a big deal, though, except that the tattbomb studio has had
some noteworthy absences on the schedule.
whole days of school-style cancellations.
that's gross.
a snow day means anything can happen,
and that's good news for people who like unpredictability.
mostly, however, i like crappy paints, worse brushes, and biscuit boxes.
i'm kind of a garbage artist, and that works on a literal and figurative level.
i made more little jarheads.
daruma, again, and again.
check the red-sauce-beard-zen-type teleport:
he's a meditative motivational urn with a face!
and, again, check the teleport:
a grumpy ol' jar with a shroud on it?
is this appropriate action during a lull in my more lucrative labors?
of course,
i may be misusing time by practicing my poor craftsmanship,
since it's unlikely to become my secret passion.
but, while it's poor crafty crafting, with craft (not art) supplies,
i won't blame my poor tools for the results.
i'm just making myself utilize the mislaid skillset of my younger days.
i'm positive that's not a bad move on my part.
don't use it, lose it, find it, refurbish it, and it counts double in the end.
so it's cardboard against boredom,
and tiny little studies in illustrative diversity.
they're the same thing, time after time,
but they're all different.
and that's good for you, and me, and everybody else,
i mean, that's probably a thing, right?
i hope so,
because if the weather stays crappy, and the days stay empty,
there will be more of all of this.
which is kinda cool, in it's own way, anyway,
because little red vase-faces are expert in my opinion,
which, is rarely relegated to opinion, and issued more as edicts.
daruma is dope, because i like him,
and that's the decree, duders.
i make rules for myself.
the berserker barbarian battle-beast of savage raging stormswept
lightning-striking viking venom and gypsy hot fire lavaspit,
a.k.a. infinite nature,
needs a little structure
...or else it's just flippin' out all over the place, all the time,
with too much of everything wrong as the right amount,
and a lot less cookies and pies.
we wouldn't want that, now, would we?
no way.
so the rules are in place for safety's sake,
and cake's sake,
and for heaven's sake,
don't break 'em!
that's no joke;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, January 30


wishing is a waste of time.
i think i'm fairly resigned to that being the case.
i mean, wishing is fine, in theory,
but working gets more results, by a landslide.
i still make my wishes, since they don't cost anything,
and then i get busy doing stuff to make what i want a reality.
no sense in waiting around expecting magic treats to surround you
simply because you want them to.
in that sense,
daruma is kind of an A*-hole.
clearing your mind, and not wanting anything,
and sitting around for like, nine years, staring at a wall?
what the F*?
i can't hang out with that, at all.
i've got sh!t to do, neighbors.
at least he looks cool,
and that counts for something in my book.
he can have my share of all the sitting around,
and while he's straight grillin' his see-balls at the walls,
i'll be plenty busy wishing a mutha-'ucker would try to halt my grind.
on the other hand,
the dolls symbolize perseverance,
and goal-oriented accomplishments.
oh, yeah, and good luck,
and all of that is pretty rad.
i'm calling it even,
and i'm letting my daily daruma drawing jauns continue.
check the set-your-goals-type teleport:
he's just a little guy!!
it's like a jar of frowning bearded weirdie!!
and that's expert.
it's not wasting time if you're doing something.
maybe it's just practice for the bigger action, the bigger picture,
or the bigger, better version of your really real life...
maybe this is actually all that there is.
either way,
it's all really happening,
and i'm doing plenty of my own stuff while it does.
y'all can mush in your rooms,
but i'll stay portabella.
there's a grind date to make, kids,
and i'm on it;
never quiet, never soft.....


what even is toffee?
turns out, it feels like it should be buttery.
it feels like caramel glass,
but it's just sugar and butter, and high heat.
...and that's it.
y'know what, though?
it's pretty effin' delicious, too.
i have the ingredients,
and although vegan butter butts have way more water than
even the cheapest really good real-life butter,
i just drained the excess liquid,
simple enough, right?
because being vegan is only a problem if you're lazy, or stupid, or both.
and without the wet, the left-behind caramelized crystals
activated all the expected toffee-type dissolving and reconstitution.
that's real.
i poured a puddle of it, and it hardened up into that brown glassy goodness.
that's when it really got expert, guys.
because i smashed the sh!t out of it, and made candy shrapnel
for baking up some more cookie hottness.
i have coffee beans, and i ground 'em up;
i have instant-style coffee, and i creamed it into the butters and the sugars
that i mashed up and mixed together;
i even have coffee extract-
and i exacted a small spoon's worth, tempered with vanilla;
and what about when you get all of that in a big bowl?
well, yes.
it IS very coffee-ish.
what i meant was-
what about taking it to eleven?
guys, c'mon!
it needs those toffee chips,
to activate the ultimate candy cookie crisp crunch.
jeez, obviously,
i went through all that toffee talk for a reason, man.
check the extra-buttery-sugar-bomb-type teleport:
of course, i leaned a lesson.
the oven gets hot,
and that turns that solid toffee into liquid toffee,
and that melts into small spots.
so much spatula work went into freeing up those little flatties.
i mean it, between the extra butter in the dough,
and the butter in the toffee, they melted outwards, and adhered downwards.
but once they cooled off enough, they stayed chewy, but also so crawnchy.
that's complexity,
and that's rad.
cookies every day.
at least until,
until sunday, anyway.
then it's time for a whole 'nother 'nother thing,
thematically consistent, but varying in style,
for eight more deliciously dope days,
in a row.
that's no joke.
in the meantime,
the oven is preheated,
there's gluten-free 'tardation underway,
...and it's snowing.
anything can happen, again.
that's the rules.
nothing is scheduled, so, that's truer than ever.
whatever goes on today is gonna be better than the nothing that's planned.
secret universal stratagems are in place, i'm confident,
and all of this is just another crease in time and space.
it's all really happening,
whatever it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, January 29


skulls don't have eyes.
that's it.
i said it,
i meant it,
and that's just a thing that is.
think about it, neighbors-
what's the first thing your sh!tty pet cat is gonna eat the minute you die?
your eyeballs.
both of those squishy little marbles, right down the hatch.
they're the juiciest, wettest, most delicate windows to the soul,
and also the very first things to shrivel up, wither away, and fall off.
what i'm getting at it is-
skulls don't have eyes.
and there you have it.
i might've F*ed up a little bit.
being all fired-up about my crappy paints,
and all the extra boxes in the recycling bin,
i got carried away with small art making mishcief,
and i made a bobotron bear-bot, with a skull face,
and he's got eyes.
he's trying to be so cute,
but he's got eyes.
i don't even know how i thought that was a thing.
oh well,
he is cute, though.
check the pink-eye-type teleport:
awwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
i've got a lot or work to do,
because i've got a lot of energy to burn.
long days, longer nights, hard times, & harder styles.
i've got time that needs spanning,
and wrenches that need choosing.
this is it-
my life is consumed by cookies and characters and comedy,
laughing at all of it as it unfolds,
origami shuriken style,
spinning outwards, and revealing step-by-step instructions for self-destruction.
time takes time,
and the reward is that there's less of it less,
but it's filled with more.
i guess i'm treading spaces and dreading faces and leaving traces
with cheap brushes and cracker box clayboards....
it's all really happening,
and it only gets harder from here on out.
just like every day,
broad shoulders and thick skin are needed to carry the burdens,
and bear the brunt of the blunt and brutal bludgeoning that beats and bruises
every barbarian battle-beast worth his weight in salt.
we have to endure.
that's the rules.
since forever, until forever.
it never gets easier,
but don't worry about it, friends-
there's plenty more where this came from;
never quiet, never soft.....

five grains.

i learned about triticale today.
it's what happens when you make rye and wheat fit together in a lab.
real mutant hybrid jauns.
i guess scotland has a thing about tough-as-nails groats,
and they wanted a monster of a hearty hardy grain to grow in their sh!tty soil.
they made one.
that's cool with me, because it looks exactly like every other rolled seed
from a grassy stalky sheaf of leafy bladerunning.
what's better than oatmeal cookies?
five grain cookies.
and if one of those high-fivin' stage-divin' guys happens to be triticale?
so much the better, really.
and anyway,
i already had some worthy wheat, righteous rye, burly barley, outstanding oats,
terrific triticale, and fantastic flax, on hand.
our buddy bob, and his red mill have prepared a big ol' bag
of rolled-out ready-to-go goodness,
chock full of all of that-
and i bought some just for cookie time magic making.
that's six things, not five.
too much is the right amount.
i had myself a satchel of flat gristy (but not grisly) grains,
and i soaked it in soy yogurt, vanilla-style,
with even more added vanilla,
for as long as it took me to drive around on my day off and do a few errands.
that softened it up enough for use in cookie-baking greatness.
that's the truth.
check the teleport:
how about that Folk Lively rustic activation, y'all?
and with chocolate chips, too?
i mean, if there are already gonna be all sorts of tasty things in 'em,
there may as well be some of that super-elite baby chip jauns, as well.
and then,
just to take 'em up a 'nother level...
y'know, like, to eleven,
there's a blarpity bloppity drop of homemade vegan fudge creme
pressed into the center of each.
i do cookies correctly, kids.
and i'm reppin' cookies every dang day until february.
i mean,
why wouldn't i bring the cookie game molto strong, and molto hard,
right up until the stupid bowl demands i doo-doo a iottle special somethin'.
(i mean, besides not watch it, of course),
cookies every day until sunday,
which also happens to be the rabbit-rabbit rapture of february first?
word up, kids-
and you all already know what happens, right?
when what happens?
oh, MAN!
i'm sayin',
you must know what happens when the first day of the month
pops off on a sunday, don't you?
you're in for a treat, then.
or at least,
i'm in for a treat.
and i'll tell you all about it as it happens.
in the meantime,
i've got tons of cookies,
and more on the way.
reppin' that triticale, and all the rest of it, like a flour power crunchy,
that's real.
vegetarian monsters for vegetarian monsters.
hybrid vigor is what we've got;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, January 28

peanuts and butters.

peanut butter cookies are always trying to let you know what they are.
y'know what i'm talking about, neighbors?
those tic-tacky-toe-the-line crisscrossed forklines!
i don't hate them, since they're sort of an understood thing.
tacit symbolism of the type of treat you're gonna eat.
but, i just feel like we can freak it off a little and get the same results.
i gave it a shot, anyway.
here's my effort to make the magic happen without a fork.
check the flattop peanut-butter-type teleport:
i pressed 'em down with a clean thumbprint,
and they smoothed themselves out into clean tables of total hottness.
i love when that sort of stuff happens by accident.
i used naturally delicious peanut butter,
but i wanted to have a little bit of that crawnchy raunchiness too.
i pulverized some actual un-buttery peanuts,
and plastered the batter with magical shrapnel.
they add the good bite factor, y'all.
that's a thing.
brown sugar made 'em crisp up on their skin,
but they stayed soft as silk within, exempting those nuts for your butts.
i love cookies,
and i love peanut butter,
and i LOOOOVE peanut butter cookies.
after looking at the cooled-on-a-rack stacks of circles,
i couldn't tell what they were.
awwwwwww, man.
they needed those lines, man!
and i knew just what to do.
what brings peanut butter up to eleven?
and what do we do to put chocolate on our peanut butter after the fact?
that's correct, buddy.
we drizzle that dark chocolate jauns all over 'em!
stylized gridlocks, of dark and delicious black gold?
you know that made 'em so much more expert.
because that's what we do in the kitchen over here.
we activate our inner expert, one batch, from scratch, at a time.
i had a busy day, yesterday-
cookies, and art, and soup.
shoveling, and studying.
making big messes and tidying up just a little bit.
there's no point in relaxing, unless you're lazy.
there's work to be done,
and there's moves to be made.
we do as much as we can, and then, when we're finished,
we do some more.
it's all really happening,
and there's plenty left to be done;
never quiet, never soft.....

six years?

i can't really remember the last time i actually painted a picture of anything.
i'm thinking it was before i moved into the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i mean,
i'm pretty sure once i packed up and moved all my stuff,
it sat in an organized drawer, waiting for me to get around to it.
a snow day means anything can happen,
and the strangest thing did.
i picked up some of the old and busted cheap-o craft paints,
and found an even cheaper little bag-o'brushes,
and i busted apart a cereal box, and i got a little bit busy.
check the teleport:
our favorite little red bodhidharma doll of bobbleheaded zen buddhism.
if only i could've made it look like it wasn't sent to the present from 2005.
oh well, i guess that's what happens when you don't practice.
let that be a lesson to everybody.
y'gotta USE it, or else you'll eventually suck all the balls.
and that's not cool, man.
the thing is, i made another 'nother one, too.
the same subject matter, slightly different, a little fatter, a little ropey
...(it says rOpey, take it easy)...
but still so F*ing cartoony.
check the twice-as-nice-type teleport:
i dunno what's the matter, guys, but this is what's in there,
and this is the arthur-making weirdie sh!t that's coming out.
it's all really happening,
even when you're shooting for something that is undefinably NOT that.
damn, but that's the truth.
i'm not upset, nor discouraged, but i am surprised.
i though that this style of bubble-cheeked picture was all the way out of my head.
i guess there's still some remnants of original recipe albie rock imagery
still kicking around in the back room of my brain.
who knows?
maybe the materials dictated the depiction?
i've been drawing a daruma a day for a week or so,
but these were the first ones to be so cute.
this is what happens when anything can.
dear snow day,
            thanks for the acrylic encouragement.
i think i'd better practice a whole lot more.
there are textures and techniques i may not ever know, though.
i'm serious.
i prefer sh!tty markers and crappier papers and garbage-type goods
for making bad things into better things, but barely.
i keep it coarse, and i keep it real,
and it keeps me from getting too cute for my own good.
i'm living in the past,
but only when we're talking about $0.50 paint pots.
i do what i do, even when it's doo-doo.
this is it,
and that's that;
never quiet, never soft.....  


mornings have never been very much trouble for me.
the rise, and the shine,
the waking up and getting started and getting busier as the minutes pass...
all of that stuff is, and has always been, easy going for the woodsly goodsly
warrior spirit inside my head, hands, and heart.
i want to get into a fight with all the hours i can beat up,
before i finally succumb to slumber.
fitful and fleeting that sleepytime may indeed be,
but it gives me just enough recharge to attack a new day, first thing,
before the sun rises,
and well in advance of any sense of kinship with the waking world.
hold on-
i was doing my thing, in the dark, by myself,
awoken by the howl of the wind,
knowing there was a storm of savage snowy winter weather
blustering about in the mountains, pushing ice and bending trees,
and doing whatever else it could to blowhard and bellow
about what a great big bad dire wolfen war warg of worry and woe it was.
now, i hate wind, super hard, because i seek my answers out on my own,
instead of waiting for them to waft in on the waiting breeze....
i'm pro-active, and i'm professionally activated,
and i'm telling you something else, too, kids-
i can't sit in bed doing nothing.
once the whipping frenzy of forceful cold air rocked the curtains
and the curtain walls of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress with gusts
hard enough to stop my dreams from unfolding any further,
i got up and i got at 'em,
and i got my knife, and i got to work.
diced up onions,
discs of carrot,
shards of celery,
cloves and cloves of crushed garlic,
and patience....
the snowstorm that heralded the end of days or whatever?
it was a big fat letdown.
i stayed inside all day anyway.
i mean,
if i'm getting a snow day,
i may as well make the most of it, right?
i started a super-huge pot of soup for myself.
and i added stuff into it as the day progressed.
that's right.
add-ons and mix-ins and hook-ups and lentils.
by lunchtime,
i had a big ol' vat of turbo-elite hottness,
and i did it proper justice by barreling through bowl after bowl of it.
y'feel me?
i ate it allllllll day long, and i regret not one spoonful.
check the soup-is-good-for-your-face-type teleport:
the simmering was a lengthy process,
albeit a relatively low effort situation-
i had a couple kinds of saucy red tomatoes,
a couple here, a couple there, sort of from all over the place,
diced and pureed, and dumped onto the red lentils.
where did red lentils come from??
y'gotta bulk up your broth with some protein and fiber, guys.
don't be dumb.
and when it all gets seasoned...
with g.p.o.p.;
and black pepper;
and nootch;
and better-than-bouillon, which is a pretentious name, but also a true statement;
and white wine vinnegar;
and liquid smoke........
it starts shaping up to be an expert meal for your expert faces.
i also added a few fitsbump punches of green lentils.
double lentils for twice as much hearty stew-style bulk!
i gotta stay warm after all, y'all.
and spinach leaves  drifted into the juice, as well.
before too long,
i started thinking about grains.
that's right, grains.
who doesn't love a little seed or somethin' in their burly bowl
of barbarian-style one-pot indulgence?
quinoa, brown rice, kaniwa, and millet.
i used ALL of those.
i did.
tossed 'em right into the boiling cauldron.
this wasn't just soup, friends.
it was an experience.
too much is the right amount.
you know the rules.
and what do you soupy poopers even know about croutons?
all anyone needs to know is: croutons are dope!
junior-sized toast sprankles for my food!
so expert!
i cut myself some sourdough cubes of stale loafy density.
and when i had enough to decorate four or so servings of my stuff,
they all got shaken up inside an olive oily bag,
and then generously doused in herbs and spices.
dill, mustard seed, celery seed, rosemary, sage, nootch, and g.p.o.p.
that takes the whole shootin' match to eleven, man.
it's just water and stuff, plus heat, over time,
but i'll tell you what-
there's a lot of it, and it keeps getting better.
worse ways to start a day off are everywhere,
and that's no joke;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, January 26

the calm before the storm?

for those of us living and lovin' in new england,
the prophecies of powder and pain are being promoted
through the airwaves and electromagnetic currents on every available
form of publicly available broadcast, print, and social-tyle media.
imagine that.
in the north,
in january.
i mean it, neighbors.
oh, yeah, for sure-
i'm as surprised as you are, kids.
i mean who are we kidding, here?
how completely seasonally site specific,
how apt,
how utterly, totally insanely expected.
it occasionally snows in the woodsly goodness in winter.
that's just a thing.
of course,
most folks up here are psyched as sh!t,
since skiing and sledding and sliding and boarding are pastimes that
all these rubbery redneckers are all always all about.
that just sounds like the coldest and windiest wet mess of a way
to ruin a day of cold wet white inevitability, anyway.
especially when it could be so much better.
spent in front of a fire, or a stove,
or some other other hot spots where tasty treats
can be created and enjoyed and appreciated.
but then, what do i know about anything?
i know,
those things are tons of fun.
i don't have time for fun.
i'm busy.
for reals, y'all.
i'm gonna shovel,
and sweat,
and do all the things that need doing,
because i'm a responsible homeowning adult,
and those are the rules.
we haven't seen a single flake.....yet.
i know it's coming,
and i know what is expected of us.
i avoided the grocery store.
i already have bread AND soymilk,
so my emergency sandwich and cereal situation is accounted for.
it always is, anyway.
it's coming though,
and it's gonna be just like winter.
i mean,
it IS winter.
so that's kind of the way it is supposed to be.
i get another extra day off from work,
which really means i'm working for free on things that need to be done,
that aren't fiscally lucrative,
but will have to be rewarding in their own right.
i'm on it,
but i'm not happy about it.
this is it,
and that's about all there is to say about it.
my gloves and boots are ready for action,
and my stove is just waiting for a big ol' pot of soup.
Folk Life & Liberty in the woodsly goodness is practically
made for snowy abominable blizzard wizardry,
and for that, i'm grateful.
i'm bundled up and hunkered down, and like every single person up here,
i'm waiting for the sky to sh!t a frozen salad of stormy weather on us;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, January 25

oh, say, can you coelacanth?

i did it, neighbors.
i finished carving out the opposite image
on the corky card i'm using to print some pictures.
it took longer than i planned,
mostly because i thought about it more than most things.
and sure,
a litany of limitations sprung up at the very last minute.
the ink i've been using has seen far better days,
so i had to do a little alchemical manipulation to make it work.
the paper was too thin, and soaked up all the moisture, curling it;
the other paper was too curly, so the rolled edges peeled away from the plate;
the other other paper was jussst right, texturally,
but just a wee bit too small to produce two pictures on one piece.
i maybe could've spent a little more time on the end-product materials.
what can i say?
i thought i had all the good stuff all already in place-
i was, and am still, always doing twenty other things at once.
i doo-doo that multitasking-myriad-focus-ten-thousand-directions-style sh!t.
that means my paper products may be a little lacking,
but only because the treats are especially expert.
on the real-
i can EAT the treats,
and that's better than the sexiest paper i've ever marked, marred, folded or torn.
i'm not NOT gonna get as busy with my big action as i conceivably can,
using what i've got on hand to get it poppin' all the way to eleven.
once the difficulties and technicalities of a morning spent mixing up
insistently inconsistent fudgy blarpity blops of brayer-rolled black tar,
i got a few proofs pulled from the block.
we sure took our time getting to the teleport today, huh?
check it:
the best. fish. ever.
they're my underwater dudes;
my shamanic spirits of proto-limbed infinite evolutionary memory;
my lost-and-found fossil-fueled furious bottom-dwellin' battle-beasts;
my favorite fomorian depth-chargers.....
....because all they do is just be dope.
i'm sayin',
for practically the whole entire time that everything has ever even happened,
nobody even noticed 'em, down at the bottom of the ocean,
just doing what they do, and doing it SO well,
they've managed to remain at the top of their game
for millions and millions (and millions) of years.
that's pretty impressive,
in my persona opinion,
they are by far the freshest looking fish in the sea,
by virtue of looking the least like fish from the last epoch or two-
that's word.
the stay ugly, stay dope jauns is no joke, jerks.
for longer than almost everything,
they've endured,
by just being all about what they're about.
and it works, apparently, as well as anyone could really hope.
imagine being so well-suited to your assigned tasks that you reach,
and maintain throughout the millennia,
a penultimate zenith of adaptation and activation so flawless,
you just do what you do the best it can be done,
and i'm up here, in the mountains,
the actual opposite of their environment,
still just trying to figure out how to amend the ink situation,
before i buy more and start over.
awwwwwwww, MAN!
i guess that's a long-term goal, then, no?
the new ink is en route already.
that's attainable by tuesday.
i mean,
to be the best at being the ugliest and most well-adapted individual
to the area i abide in,
and then to do that as hard as i can until there's nothing left.
is that depressing, or inspiring?
i'm actually too old to tell the difference anymore!!
there WILL be more prints made of this.
for you to get from me.
pulling prints is on the menu for my next day off.
and when i get what i need,
you can get what i've got.
enduring whatever happens,
when you know all of it is really happening,
is a skill i admire, and one i emulate, every damned day.
take all that life throws at you,
survive it,
and then keep on doing what you do.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, January 24

white mountain white girl.

hey guys!
i made midsized cupcakes.
i didn't just get cheap with the batter,
and underfill regular-sized cupcake tins.
i didn't cheat and overfill miniature muffin pans, either.
take it easy.
i actually found some new hottness for my Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
in the form of stepped-up cups that split the difference
between mini and traditional.
two bites, compared to one for the smalls,
and four for the full-sizers.
i had some mint sitting in the refrigerator,
and i had some chocolate chips,
and i needed to test-drive the new baking tools,
so i put all of that together,
and came up with some good stuff.
check the white-girls-from-north-conway-style teleport:
here's a little snippet from my daily conversational regiment-
when i'm at the studio,
tattzappin' whatever unpinteresting poop that the screen of
somebody's mobile phone has revealed to me as a mandatory fresh original idea,
i ask all the ladies what their favorite ice cream flavor is.
every. single. one.
i'm like that.
and more often than not,
and by that i mean, overwhelmingly so,
the answer is mint chocolate chip.
i guess that's just a thing up here.
it goes great with en masse college girl tastes.
(like zebras,
you're safer if you're indistinguishable from similarly patterned individuals,
thereby no longer being a single entity, but a collective non-mind,
governed only by the instinct to become overtly visible,
yet completely camouflaged by quantity)
too much is the right amount?
the thing is,
mint chocolate chip stuff is good, neighbors.
and therefore,
flying in the face of my anti-popular contrarian infinite anti-infinity symbol nature,
i activated that style of cool refreshment in lovey-dovey cakey cuties.
mint and chips and cake,
and ground chocolate and mint in the frosting,
and shaved chocolate sprankles,
and a sprig of nature on top,
for extra-special added leafy expertism.
it worked the way i wanted it to, too.
they are just-so wispy with illusory cold-to-the-tongue minty mystery,
and the precisely-right balanced blend of delicious chocolate in, on, and around
the slightly-crsip-topped soft crumb on the cuppy cake parts.
the flavors are complimentary,
not competitive-
and i really love it when that sort of sh!t starts dancing around inside my mouth.
a cold winter saturday in the woodsly goodness?
that's it.
what else would there be?
today is the day.
another 'nother one.
as time slips past us,
and january jets into the future,
i can't help wondering aloud where the big fun and fresh-to-death action is hiding?
i mean it.
it's not even that there's all work and no play.
play is lessened by the minute,
but there's not as much work, either.
more free time, and less accomplished?
whoever thought of that is probably an A*hole,
and they can't come over, kids.
i'm mostly solo inside my castle,
carving and cooking and being a fat weird hairy/not-hairy hermit.
it takes some getting used to, sure-
but it's been years already.
there's that time-ticking waste-away war-torn world-weary passage
to there, through here, from there, all over again.
more of it, and less of it, and none of it,
while all of it is really happening.
a little,
but it's a true story, and that's all i ever have for you;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, January 23

twice as much dinner for one.

two pizzas?!?!
after an unimpressive and underrewarding day at the tattbombin' zipzap shack,.
i desperately needed to do something especially expert
to rinse away the lame elapsed ellipse eclipse that lengthened
the languishing anguish of the weakest workday in weeks....
....and i also needed some dinner.
with lots of time on my hands,
and also lots of lines to cut out of my cork pad coelacanth,
i preheated the heck out of my oven,
with the hearthy heart of a pizza stone sittin' and supercharging inside it.
sourdough rising for circles of sexy crust on the counter,
ingredients preheated and prepared for toppin' 'em off,
and ruts being gouged by my tools along horizontal angles while the
hotbox got extra-exxxtra hot.
i like a crusty pie, neighbors,
and i got that convection connection circulating the superheated air in patterns
withing the appointed place for pizzamaking perfection.
y'know what i'm talking about?
word up.
once everything was ready,
and the dough was rolled,
and the underchee' was spread, and the sauce was spooned in a spiral overlay?
check the pee-eye-zee-zee-ayy-type teleport:
i love pizza the best of all.
and that's no joke.
i especially loved this one, until i bit it into oblivion.
the topping situation was exactly what needed to happen,
and it happened to be exactly enough for a disc of dough
to be deviantly devoured in defiance of my overall well-intentioned waistline.
what's the story with it?
there are lots of things on it,
and lots of each of those things, at that.
rules is rules, as you all already know.
in this instance it started with well-browned thick mushrooms.
and a panful of seared brussels sprouts.
with bitty baconical bric-a-brac.
and a handful of daiya(rrhea)chee'.
that's what's up-
all at once, on that puffed-up circle of crispity crawnchiness.
i ate it all up,
because i'm a growing boy.
of course, i'm only growing outwards not upwards,
in a blarpity bloat of bread and beans.
but, wait,
there's MORE.
i said two pizzas, didn't i?
that's correct, kids
check the even-filthier-type teleport:
chili chee' pizza???
whatever didn't make it onto those jacket potatoes the other night
found it's way onto this underchee' and spinach layered beast.
holy sh!tballs, y'all.
eschewing traditional sauce for a stew of super-explosive masculinity?
i think i made the right choice.
at least,
it was a good idea to make this particular pie for my eye,
especially with those scallion sprankles.
that's what took it to eleven.
the idea that two pizzas was better than one?
that's dedicated self-destruction at it's most determined.
it meant that i felt full for a few full hours.
then i had some cookies.
awwww, man, i KNOW.
too much is the right amount, isn't it?
that's just the way it is.
inside my raging stormswept savage cage of animal activation.
i got it like that.
not just anybody would spend over an hour making pizza time,
when pizzas only take eleven minutes to bake.
i invest my time in being expert,
because that's what warrior poetry is all about,
tons of training for bursts of battle.
it's a thing.
and it's what i'm doing when i'm home all alone.
it's all building towards something,
each action is a piece of a bigger big action activation sensation.
if you want more, you've got to DO more.
be dope, duders,
even when you're dining all alone.
you deserve it from yourself above all others,
or you don't deserve it at all;
never quiet, never soft.....

too many fruits.

and strawberries?
damn, neighbors.
that's a LOT of fruits.
and when you add in half a lemon's worth
of extra tart and tangy zest, too?
breakfast gets pretty flippin' expert pretty much immediately.
check the large-and-in-charge-type teleport:
oh, yeah!
the only downside to a crunchy crusted loaf of very burly breakfast bread? tastes like a fruit punch biscuit.
awwwwwwww, man.
don't get me wrong, kids-
i still love it,
and i've been positively destroying it with my extra big mouth.
it's just that it has so dang much dried berry business inside of it.
it's borderline distracting, really.
the crumb is buttery and soft,
and the outsides are so dang crisp,
but every bite has about a billion bits of berry and cherry,
and honestly, it's almost too much of too much.
that's not a thing.
too much is the right amount,
i'm bound by the rules,
and so,
we can rest easy, if a bit queasy, because i'll be eating it up until it's all gone.
maybe i should make another one?
with chocolate chips, and maybe just blueberries?
who knows what the future holds?
i mean,
i've got a mixing bowl, a bag of blueberries,
chips of chocolate, and a piping hot oven full of fire.....
all i need is the initiative, and i'm actually too full of the original jauns
to consider making that mix of wholemeal and fruit.
the thing about baking all this stuff all the time
is that i really do have trouble reining in all my completely all-consuming
consumption-oriented actions.
i just want all the treats, guys.
sure, there's other stuff going on all the time.
i'm not lazy, nor am i unimaginative,
so making moves in creative and constructive ways isn't an issue.
denying myself another 'nother 'nother bite of some sweet new delights
is pretty difficult to do,
when there's a whole luscious loaf of edible excellence sitting next to my art stuff.
i have to have it.
and i get it, and i've got it,
and now i'm a bellicose bellyaching barbarian battle-beast for the rest of the day.
today is the day.
full of fruit,
and citrus,
and cakey bready slices,
with furrowed brows,
and feisty feelings,
and sharklike gluttony,
and harder and harder styles by the minute.
it's all really happening,
and that's really the reason i'm here;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Thursday, January 22

be wary of overfeeding.

more food.
that's all.
last night i dominated another 'nother meal.
yes, i did.
jacket potatoes.
giant tubers, busted open, and filled with everything expert.
that's real.
i had a chance to work on my timing,
because food, like comedy, relies pretty heavily on precision clockwork,
waiting patiently, setting up all the pretense,
for a wholly enjoyable consequence arriving right when it's most appreciable..
no F*ing joke.
get it?
oh, c'mon!
potatoes take forever to bake,
but that's actually the good news.
i had plenty of minutes to meal plan on the fly,
and fry up all the fresh sh!t that we stuffed up in 'em.
check the my-evening-jacket-type teleport:
a bed of arugala garnish makes eveything better,
and that is almost inconceivable in regards to this herculean meal.
so what's it all about?
i'll be more than happy to spout off on the individual merits of what
my sarlacc-style bellyhole is digesting as we speak...
on the left,
inside of a rightfully righteous idaho russet,
blissfully buttered along the burst seams of it's jackety skin-
there are brussels sprouts, lightly browned on one side;
sauteed mushrooms, thick and juicy,
but without the slime or the dryness that come from improper preparation;
black-pepper-fried tempeh strips, steamed first, fried later,
and peppered to pieces on their golden browned flax-seeded sides;
and a parsley garnish because that's some crackery-A* stuff to put on a potato.
like i said earlier- expert.
and on the right?
total all-american filthy glutton-style yankee food indulgence.
another big ol' 'tato-
but this time with slow-cooked tempeh and roman bean chili,
over nootchy vegan chee' sauce,
with exxxtra-turmeric for that doo-doo buttery mellow yellow glow.
that's important. if it isn't bright, you're doing it wrong.
chee'sauce is s'posed to be borderline unnatural.
that's how you can be sure it has all the nutrients.
i think that is a real thing?
caramelized onions, a little overcooked, on accident,
which only added to the elite tastiness of the overall display;
and bacon-style brick-colored strips of smoky vegetable protein;
and scallions for garnish like a proper bacon-and-onion chili-chee' bomb.
i done already told you- expert.
that's what's up.
the thing is, kids, i can't stop eating.
i mean it.
there's so much good stuff waiting for my teeth to chomp down on,
i'd feel lazy and stupid if i let it pass by.
i hope you do.
i know it's all really happening, and i know it's all really right there,
i've got means, i've got opportinity,
and honestly i've never lacked motive, nor motivation,
for sharkbite feeding frenzies whenever there's vegan hottness
in the fridge, on the stove, in the oven, or anywhere, for that matter.
i had about a pound of leftover baked macaroni for lunch,
i needed fridge space, and then, a few huge bites later, i had lots and lots of it.
a man pan of penne is no small rectangle, y'all.
the extra room was put to good use in preparatio of potatoes, too.
even before that,
i started off my day with style.
i got up, i got busy, and i terrorized a fat stack of these:
so many panniecakes.
inside my body, there is a war being waged.
my metabolism is stoking all the flames that fuel the boiler,
and fanning the fires in my furnaces,
and trying deperately to devour the calories i'm consuming.
i don't want to be a big gross fattie,
but i also don't want to miss out on all this good stuff.
conflicting interests are never what you want to feel
when you're filling up your face with bite after bite of deliciousness.
i mean, buyer's remorse is better than waffling over whether to eat pancakes,
that's for sure.
of course,
the half a homemade pizza, after a cookie,
after a muffin for dinner wasn't helping my brain decode the destructive impulses
of intake versus exercise versus more and more and MORE and MORE..
neither was this:
a surprise day off means extra treats for the exta time, obvi.
two days in a row of decadent devouring.
like the fenriswolf, except i wouldn't bite the hand that feeds me,
for two very good reasons-
first, it's my own hand, so that's dumb,
and second,
my hands have teeth, and getting a bite-back b!tchslap from myself?
that just seems like a terrible,idea
but i'm STILL so F*ing fat, on the inside.
and i've always heard it's what's inside that counts.
almost exclusively by the unattractive creatures who would prefer to be judged
on something other than the lack of effort they've made
to activate a little personal style for offsetting the weakness of the raw materials.
holy shallow sh!thead, huh?
i'm not saying i don't get it, or that it's fair, or that it's nice.
but if you're busted, you gotta try a little harder,
or accept that inactivity doesn't make you better at anything but being inactive.
i just said i'm so fat on the inside,
and that might be what counts.
take it easy.
that means i'm very likely just as ugly on the INside, too.
awwwwwwwwwwwww......... .
regardless of the interior renovations,
or the exterior undesirablility,
i STILL dominated another enormous diaper-monster,
and i devoured it in record time.
i guess i practice what i preach, princess.
a. you can never go too far.
b. life is pain.
c. too much is the right amount.
d. stay ugly, stay dope.
that is all there is.
what else?
stuffed full of stuff, and fit to burst.
ranting, raving, and ravenous;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, January 21

surprise day off!

what happens when there's nobody going to the studio,
and there are no appointments left on the schedule,
and it's a sunny day,
and you've got a list of stuff you need from somewhere else?
you go to that somewhere else,
and you don't even think twice about it.
i had surprise day off, and it was expert!!
not working when you're not at work is a pretty cool thing,
especially compatred to not working at work,
which is a sh!t-salad sandwich of suckballs.
instead of wading through the hours at the empty tattbomb shop,
i drove downeast to portland,
and got my art supply shoppin' done.
that's right.
and the i stopped at the crystal magic wizard weirdie spot,
and i got some nature-style refractory prism earth node stones, too.
check the facinating-facet-type teleport:
pretty flippin' cool, huh?
i know.
and that's not all, y'all.
i've been wiring 'em up, in full-blown big nerd crafty fashion.
i even got some weird braided wire,
and some brassy barbarian chains, too.
whatever, man.
you can't hang out with earth elementalism?
well, maybe you just haven't really embraced nature's winning ways.
how about this one?
it has a phantom quartz living inside it, AND it's from tibet.
that's that wu-TANG/shaolin sh!t, and that's dope.
i'm cultivating coincidences with convergent overlaps,
spirographic ven-diagrammatically-correct style.
i think that's real.
maybe not.
i'm still doing it anyway.
just a brief little bent-wire sidebar from removing strips of block,
so that printing can finally get poppin'.
you might be a bit worried right now...
and have a few questions for me.
let me preemptively answer a few.
i'm not going to turn into a hippie.
and also no,
i'm not going to go full hemptard.
i like showers, and violence,
and ambition, and resentment way too damned much to indulge
in tolerance and pacifism and do-goodery like a b!tchA* diaperbaby...
there will be sage,
but in my food,
not in smudgeclumps, or whatever the F*.
i got some crystals, friends,
because rocks are dope.
take it easy,
and wait for further instructions;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, January 20


more butter,
more bits and pieces.
that's what i wanted,
that's what i did.
i made some seriously sexy sweet softy cookies.
that's right.
two and a half dozen super-soft, chewy, gooey discs,
all the way expert,
and also all gone already.
that's how you know they were dope-
they didn't even last through the whole day.
that's a testimonial to their incredible edibility, no?
you bet it is.
check the teleport:
cranberry almond chocolate chip activation!
slivered almonds, and almond extract, as well,
insinuated into the vanilla juice...
that really made 'em smoothly flavored.
the crawnchiness of the almonds added body to the batter,
and complexity to the texture, too.
i chopped the sh!t outta those dried cranberries,
and i ham-handed a big ol' honkin' heap of those red-getters right in there.
i put an overdose of all the add-ins.
a ton of those nuts,
and a ton of the tiny mini bitty baby choco-chips, as well.
extra extras make the doughy bonds SO smiley-face-style happy.
and that, in turn, makes me happy.
i love it when it all comes together.
of course,
the overdoing it is what makes it work.
i guess that's the secret, though, isn't it?
too much is the right amount.
it's just the way it is...
i mean,
whenever i apply that science to practical procedures,
the results are better than best,
and that's turbo-reliable, each and every time.
those were some very adult-tasting cookies.
the brown sugar in 'em made the outsides firm,
the regular sugar made the insides sweet,
and the exxxtra butterish pats made 'em stay so blarpity,
but in a good way.
not bad for throwing whatever was near enough to grab in a bowl
and bashing it around until i had something to write home about.
that's it.
i'm also still carving cork.
it looks like a heart,
that must be because i loooove it.
so cute!
it takes a lot of labor-intensive time to make it the way i want it.
but i think that's probably a good thing?
i'm just sayin',
the singular focus required to remove the correct scraps and scrawls,
and still end up with a very rough-looking Folk Life freshness,
all scratchy and coarse,
but with all the right details in all the right places,
is some very meditative pressure-point awl-and-gouge exercise.
i'm doing things.
it's really happening.
i'm loud, and i'm fresh, and i'm hard-headed/hearted/styled.
that's real;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, January 19

the catch.

i'm reppin' all the treats, all the time,
there's a catch.
days and days and days of treats on treats on treats on treats,
and then sometimes,
i can't think of anything to make.
baker's block.
is that a thing?
it might be.
oh, for sure, neighbors.
there are long stretches where i can't NOT have molto molto ideas,
and then, in a flash, all of a sudden........nothing.
and i don't wanna just mine the archives for some previous hottness.
i mean it.
so, instead, i'm sittin' here.
and i'm wishing i had a set of silicone dinosaur molds
to make a batch of triceratops-shaped chili chocolates.
that's the truth,
because how cute would little dino-choxxx be in the frosting of some cupcakes?
i'm coming up short on that sh!t,
so it's more lament than advent.
i'm not just sitting here.
i'm also carving little lines of cork out of my block-rockin' albie rock block print.
there are ribbons of beige block everywhere.
i make messes, and i make mistakes, and i make moves,
and usually, they all show up simultaneously,
that's sort of my thing.
being expert and effective and effulgent in my effluvial enterprises.
i get rad when i doo-doo my freaky sh!t.
i couldn't stand it.
check the teleport:
i left my computer for a bit,
wondering aloud and wandering around,
and before too long,
i found myself back in the kitchen above a bowl of brown sugar and butteryness.
word up.
i got activated, and i got interested,
and then i blasted up a batch of battery barbarian cookie monstrousness.
i mean,
i'm NOT an A*hole in real life,
i just portray one for most of the day.
cookies are happening,
and i feel better about this morning already as a result;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, January 18

carving out a spot in my day.

block prints are cool.
i mean,
i like 'em a lot, anyway.
backwards and opposite is a good way to rearrange your
hand-eyeball-scoop-and-gauge coordination.
everything you do isn't there,
everything positive is negative,
and vice versa.
that's expert,
because it's the reverse of what's normally happening,
and on purpose, which is the important factor to consider.
flippin' out in
making art by removing stuff is a welcome change of pace for me.
in this case,
i'm using old style printmaking business to make an old-timey image
of an even-older-timey fish, swimmin' around doing what it does best.
check the teleport:
can you even see it?
i dunno.
i'm still all about those coelacanths, kids.
once the prints are produced,
this one will be looking back,
and dealing with whatever comes his way....
just like it's always been,
for about the last 65 million years.
that's the good stuff on this sunday morning.
underwater, deep and dark, without anybody looking,
for longer than there've been people to even notice.
that's my favorite sh!t.
just be dope, or F* right off,
even at the bottom of the ocean,
rules is rules.
that's it.
so much cork removal is in my immediate future,
but i like to scrape away that stuff,
and create through destruction.
it's healthy, probably;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Friday, January 16

complicate it.

keep it simple?
i like it when there are more fancy pants flavors than my face can handle.
when i'm up early,
using my tart press barbell to blow out not one batch,
but two,
of the cutest little bitty creamchee' puff pastry cups.
that's right.
a double dose of dopeness,
which, with the frequency that i overdo it all,
should probably be considered a single doe, by now.
forty-eight mini-muffin-sized scoops of dough,
flaky, buttery best-case bases for some new stuff ive been thinkin' on.
yeah, neighbors.
i wanted somthing less cakey, and more pastry,
and i did exactly what i set out to do.
i'm not bragging.
this is real life, y'all
and i'm just relaying what happened when the kitchen got heated.
on the ones,
check the baby-bites-of-titanic-tightness-type teleport:
chocolate cream pie filling,
sorta puddingish, but packed epic density,
and so much richness, not to mention protein.
it's got that nutrient-packed power, kids.
a scoople of that, set up and chilled out, would've been enough.....
....if i was a F*ing A*hole.
and i'm not about to settle for enough.
(there's never enough, is there?)
on top of those completely expert tartlets,
there's espresso frosting, expressly whipped to a firm,
and semi-gummy glossy glaze.
too soft and it wouldn't have the heavyweight credibility to hold it's own
against the richness of the crust and the custard.
balance is key here, kids.
we got ourselves that sweet chocolate mousse mastery;
we got bites of the buttery base, crumbly but not brittle;
we got shots of that heavy-creamin' coffee frosting.....
we  just needed that little something to take it to eleven, didn't we?
i know.
i wonder if you guys understand how much of a F* i actually DO give about treats?
because i do,
SO hard.
that's why i hand-dipped a hundred pretzel sticks in melted dark chocolate.
recognize the effort,
because it makes up what matters in the end results...
salty, crunchy, chocolaty elitism, just to make each bite that much better?
rules is rules.
and the very first rule of treats?
too much is the right amount.
it's not like i'm busy sleeping,
and i DO love a fancy pretzel,
and i'm sure you do too.
overdoing it?
that's really just doing it correctly.
i'm doing it correctly.
and there are plenty of 'em for you to share.
you could come visit,
but you won't.
that's fine with me,
because that means i get your share of the treats;
never quiet, never soft..... 

with lines.

mini penne rigate?
they GOT they!
baby-sized 'ronis, bias-cut,
and etched with sauce-catchin' stripes incised to exercise
maximum flavor retention along their perimeter.
surface area texture increases adhesion of the other other stuff too.
an when you boil 'em up, past the to-the-teeth point, in super-salty water,
and add 'em into a bigger picture puzzle of pasta-style oven-ready hottness?
that's what's up neighbors.
the miniature size means more macaroni by volume,
and it pumps up the volume of all that molto molto italiano machismo
reverberating with rigate raybeams inside my mouth.
well, yeah, man, that is definitely a thing.
baked with all the good stuffs, you get that expert jauns.
check the they-GOT-they-type teleport:
damned right, duders,
i doo-doo that blarpity block of rockin' 'roni style sh!t.
word up.
custom soft chee' blend?
you know it.
silken and superfirm tofu, a punch of daiya(rrheally) for texture,
nootch, g.p.o.p., black pepper, crushed red pepper,
oregano, basil, parsley, scallions, and sauteed garlic by the bulbful,
slathered with olive oil and activated with a sprinkle of sea salt.
and into that, i beat it up properly with sausage-style seitan crumbles,
seasoned with soysauce and smoke,
fennel and sage and thyme,
nootch, garlic, red onions, oregano, and basil, and rosemary,
and coarse black peppery power.
and before i added that magic marinara to meld 'em both to the macaroni?
it's a veg-e-ta-ble.
real talk.
garlic kale for more and more bad breath brutality,
and ethnic siciliano stank on my tongue?
i'm not afraid, friends.
oh, yeah.
those are pan-browned seared mushrooms,
with a basil-garlic-cashew-parsley pesto bringing that spicy hotness to bear.
i'm not trying to be a stoopid little diaperbaby about dinnertime.
i mean, that's just not a cool way tp behave, man.
for serious,
i'm a worthy warrior poet, and i won't stop until the job is done.
(the job is done when you're too full to move,
and your mouth has that foggy fugue like genoa)
italian cooking is in my blood,
and my manipulative prestidigitators
are al dente the way hands having teeth are supposed to be.
therefore, when it's time to get busy, i'm halfway there before we start,
and i'll travel the full distance regardless.
that means i'll go too far,
but we know that that's NOT a real thing,
so it all always works out the way it's supposed to.
more 'ronis than the pan could handle?
for sure.
more 'ronis than two pans could handle?
that'd also be a big fat yes.
too much is the right amount,
and now i'm set for a few days with ALL the mackin' macs.
overdoing it is the best way to do it.
half measures are about as lame as measuring is.
i'm guesstimating at twice the normal numbers,
and then i'm adding eleven to THAT.
there needs to be more.
there always needs to be MORE;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, January 15


coffee cake.
four layers of super-elite deluxe dominant coffee cake.
i mean,
i like it,
you like it,
we all like it.
and when there's four different distinct tastes to enjoy?
that's expert.
check the you-are-my-sunshine-type teleport:
oh, c'mon!
with that spectral spectrum of rainbow sparkle magic?
that's that wu-TANG jauns.
oatmeal cookie bottom base-level powerhouse platform performance.
that's good for you, and it soaks up any excess juice from the next tier
of terrifically tremendous taste and texture.
juicy, tart granny smith apple pie-in-your-eye-style goobieblops,
oozing and activating and bringing more delights to your tastehole.
that's just the set-up for a spike off the charts on new hottness.
vegan sour cream, and plain unsweetened soy yogurt, together,
in an initially dense crumb cakey level of real jewish grannie tang.
that sounds weirder than it is.
trust me.
it's got that flavor component game going to eleven.
that's what i'm talking about.
and streusel, too, neighbors.
brown sugary oatfloury, ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon'd-up,
and melty butterish crumbles of that tippity-topping dopeness.
that's right.
because without streusel,
what the actual F* are you even wasting my time with?
that's no joke.
lucky for us,
i'm about that fourth dimensional sh!t.
the mystic added something extra that brings the noise.
it makes it all happen, louder, fresher, and harder-
for serious.
so my breakfast is more awesome,
and my body is more full of nutrients,
and my whole old dumb face is psyched for as many bites as it takes
to disappear a proper slice of superfancy unnecessariness.
and now,
there's a whole thursday's worth of stuff to do.
it's all really happening,
and i can't imagine how there's ever even anything else;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, January 14

fatness in my facehole.

yesterday, today, tonight, tomorrow,
it's all always about what i can shove into my big fat mouth.
no, not like my foot.
i'm generally unapologetic about THAT sort of thing.
i meant all the foodstuffs i can stuff in there.
y'know what i mean?
i just love to eat food.
i tell myself that it's okay, because it's all vegan,
which means that it's better for me,
and better for everyone else who lives on the planet.
in really real life?
i just want all the treats in my face.
so hard, and so much, and so often.
bite, swallow, repeat.
chewing is a luxury for those who want to enjoy their sustenance.
i don't have leisure time for laising around, nibbling meager morsels.
i'm busy, b!tches,
and i need to put down some serious amounts to power up,
so i can keep making moves throughout the day.
there's never enough,
and it's never about all the healthy planet-conscious
well-being and respect for living things or whatever.
it's about more,
and more,
and MORE.
inside my frail-looking frame,
in spite of the spindly denim-clad deer legstalks
i'm skulking around my kitchen on,
there's a hungry hungry hippopotamus of lust,
coveting and craving, drooling and snarling,
and looking for another bite of what's poppin'.
i love it.
because panniecakes are like antlers.
they're the ANSWER.
my new style is so good,
i'm gonna need to start running to work to burn off the big action.
they are very simply too expert not to overindulge in,
so i let myself have what i deserve.
kilotons of buttery, coconutty, fluffed-out heavy-hittin' griddle cakes.
and real maple syrup because i'm a woodsly mutha-F*ing new englander.
that was this morning
but last night,
i beat up another 'nother blarpity plate of not-meats and greens,
this time with noodood, because i doo-doo that sh!t.
check the what's-left-in-my-fridge-to-become-dinner-type teleport:
food, guys.
all of it.
today's agenda?
for starters,
there's a couple kinds of treats OBviously.
it's wednesday, after all.
and a big ol' barbarian brick of burly baked ziti.
you know it.
if it doesn't weigh at least 8 pounds before it goes into the oven,
you aren't doing it right.
you know it's true.
i mean,
we wouldn't want some sorta diaperbabyish b!tchsap-drippin' serving size?
that's not cool.
i started before the sun, and i'll still be shoveling sauce and stuff
long after the dark drops along with the temperature.
i want it all,
so i'm making it all.
realistic goals reach fruition faster.
that's word;
never quiet, never soft.....


...oh, i know, neighbors.
don't you worry about that.
ok, here's what i'm thinking about-
not doing something for a bit can sometimes make you 
so more interested when you try it again.
making art.
sure, i do that, sort of, at work every dang day,
but not really, though.
y'feel me?
it's so dissimilar to making the pictures that i'm interested in 
as to be an entirely different entity unto itself.
that's just my specific instance and circumstance.
i picked my weird insular isolated life,
and i'm okay with tattooing not being my defining path.
i like to make drawings just because.
not often,
and not too fancy, either.
when there's nothing going on at work, but i'm there anyway,
and it's a frozen wasteland of below-freezing buttholery outside?
sometimes a marker or two, and an alright idea are all you need.
sketching makes lines make more sense, refined and redefined and all that.
that off-the-cuff on the fly one-shot sh!t, 
blown out with blunted and bleeding felt tips can be just as instructive.
y'gotta plan it out in your head first,
so it doesn't overlap and crap itself up.
check the one-take/do-it-live-type teleport:
a coelacanth.
my favorite.
why are they so dope?
because they've got an overabundance of fins.
they know that too much is the right amount.
and also,
that the old ways are the best ways.
that's expert.
the drawing?
that's just a little quick bit of fun for my face.
i had a sharpened pencil, with an eraser, too.
i did.
and i used both ends of it for some astrologically accurate 
mythologically manufactured worst zodiac creature creation.
that's a thing.
half goat, half fish, all crap all the time.
that's no joke.
january makes me want to sleep,
but active participation and an overactive brainful of thoughts won't let me.
there's recipes written,
goats and fish in pen and ink in varying proportions,
treats and words and blood, and sweat,
but no tears, because there's no use crying over spilled fluids.
that's just wasteful,
and we aren't gonna hang out with that, are we?
i'm scrawling and i'm scratching,
i'm typing and i'm tipping,
and it's all really happening, today.
that's the way this wednesday unfolds;
never quiet, never soft.....