Saturday, February 28


today is the day, neighbors.
the last one.
a perfect grid of calendar days,
sunday to saturday,
four times,
a self-contained month of lined-up and stacked days and days.
february is finished, finally.
how can the shortest month take forever to wrap up?
that's dumb.
the second half of the month really ate a pile of butts
and i, for one, am not even a little bit sorry to see it go.
tomorrow is sunday,
and it's the first,
and you know what that means, don'tcha????
rules is rules,
and the rule is very clear about what happens when a month starts on sunday:
sandwich week.
....again, already!!
i'm excited, for sure,
i'm not there yet.
there are other other things to consider before we engorge our guts
on bread and stuff until we're stuffed.
winter can eat a pile of turds, kids,
but WE can eat a pile of tarts.
does that sound good?
i know it does!
and when it comes to tarts,
i go re-tart-ed!
but, really, though, in really real life,
i do love to eat tarts,
and i love to eat vegan chee'cake,
when both of them are the same thing?
ohhhhhh SH!T.
i'm in fatbelly shark-glutton heaven.
check the teleport:
vanilla chee'cake in an oatmeal graham-crackery coconut cookie crumb cup?
with a border of lemon creamchee' frosting edging up the perimeter?
with sugared strawberry puree blopped in a sweet red dollop on top???
tarts are so small and cute,
and chee'cake is so dope.
i don't even feel bad eating three of them in a row.
i take my treat styles pretty seriously.
and i also take my breakfast styles just as hard.
i'm still reppin' pancakes.
because panniecakes are the first-meal nutrient activators i crave.
that's a thing.
check the teleport:

a fat stack of mackin' pimp-slaps,
with my preferred blend of oats and coconut and double-butters.
they're exactly what takes breakfast into the future,
via woodsly goodsly yesteryearly portals.
i wouldn't have it any other way, any day.
that's all there is to say about these last few minutes of february.
we had a strong start, though, didn't we?
and one heck of a sandwich week, too.
after valentine's, it got a bit messy, with weather and vacations and that...
but then we had to go and end it with a harried, hurried, slurred and slurried
flurry of fury at the finish.
that figures.
the thing of it is, guys,
i gotta come up with at least eight all-new elite sandwiches,
and i need 'em all to be instant classics,
dinnertime bangers,
and monsters of rock, even,
all before the clock strikes breakfast tomorrow.
it's never the tasks the world sets before me that i worry about-
it's the tasks i set myself that preoccupy my mind.
this is What Is,
and it's all really happening.
today is the last day,
but tomorrow is yet another day;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 27

to grandmother's house.

hey, neighbors!
i'm coming out swinging,
and i'm gonna kick your grandma's butt right off of her body.
listen, man-
i'm on some time-travel future new hottness sh!t,
and i'm not trying to hear about that old busted jauns.
oatmeal cookies.
that's right.
oatmeal cookies.
the province of nanas, and babas, and grammies, and nonis,
and bubbies, and whatever other other old mama noisetalk you got.
i'm about 'em,
and i'm doo-dooin' it better than ever.
i realize that's a bold statement,
but allow me to explain.
chunky snickerdoodle-do doo-doo butterballs are the old guard.
i know, i know, i KNOW you love that cinnamony fresh-baked stuff
you remember.....
this time, this stuff, right here and now?
THIS is truth.
check the teleport, then i'll tell you all about it:
fattie-boombattie knobbly nubs of love!
what's the plan that makes these so 'schuan?
i'll tell you right now, buddy-
crushed vanilla-bean, oats, and vanilla soy yogurt,
steeping together in one bowl, so everything gets soft;
and butterish butts creamed up into a blend of raw sugar, cane sugar,
and brown sugar in another,
with a splash of vanilla, and some whole wheat flour, too?
that's smart.
good eyes on you!
there ARE raisins in there.
that's not enough to dazzle my razzlers, y'all.
so i added chocolate chips, too.
too much is the right amount, every time.
the yogurt, unlike applesauce or some other egg-replacement,
stays moist,
so the cookies stay soft,
and when you've got oatmeal softies on the inside,
and a delicate caramelized sugar crusty crunch on the outside?
yes, indeed, that is some BOOMfire right there.
the thing is, without cinnamon, they ain't sh!t.
that's why i activated a double stripe of drizzly cinnamon-vanilla icing on top.
          dear grammie,
                    your sh!t is obsolete.
                                             love always,
i'm like that.
so what?
i've got my cookies,
and if you've got the appropriate orifice in place,
they are for the eatin'
i'll share 'em, too.
i'm not a jerk,
i'm just a blowhard.
there's a difference;
never quiet, never soft.....

chocolate? CHOCOLATE!

hey guys,
i've been thinking about chocolate.
a lot.
actually, i've been thinking about a lot of chocolate a lot.
how much chocolate, in how many different varieties,
can i blast into one brick of baller-A* barbarian beastmastery?
that's real.
i've been busy, gettin' busy,
and mixin' in ALL the dark brown blasts
of cacao-derivative dopeness directly into the batter.
and that's the truth.
i tried out a new technique,
using less tapioca, for a less fudgy cake,
and i also added in more baking powder and soda, too.
the results were fantastic, neighbors.
the batter was whipped into a frenzy,
but all the cocoa held it firm in place.
the lightest, airiest cakiest new hottness was the result,
and that's no joke...
the thing of it is,
i also added chocolate chips to 'em.
tossed right in there with that superloft fluffiness,
there are turbulent treats breaking up the smoothness
with a little semi-sweet semi-melted hard-style pebbles of deep, dark
melty buried candybar-barian awesomeness.
so expert.
actually, don't just read about it;
go ahead-
check the super-chocolaty-type teleport:
there's just SO much that it's too much,
and that's great news,
because that means they're perfect.
too much is the right amount,
and that's roughly the way i measured out the ingredients.
we've got the chcocolate chocolate chip cake,
and in the middle?
belgian chocolate creme filling.
dripped over the top,
that's dutch chocolate ganache, drizzled in a grid, on lock.
it firmed up, but stayed soft.
no hard chocolate stalemates on my sh!t, y'heard?
and then, on top of that?
cocoa frosting swirlyblops,
really aerated and super soft on the tongue.
that's that melty jauns, and that's good for you.
but, that's not all, y'all.
shavey german chocolate sprankles take it to eleven.
that's how it's done,
and that's what we do.
and by we,
i mean me.
i'm all about this creative bakery treat makin',
and i'm still excited to fire 'em up whenever
i've got two spare minutes next to each other.
it's nice to know that there is always a place for creativity in my day to day life,
even when my career has become a job,
and my hobbies have become the focus of my inspiration over my vocation,
and largely that's due to the site-specific location.
i'm busy,
and i'm doing what i do,
and i haven't once tried to slow down or step off-
being delicious doesn't matter if nobody is hungry,
if you catch my drift......
you're only as expert as your audience knows the difference.
styles stay hard,
and life is pain, princess-
anyone who says otherwise is definitely an A*-hole;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, February 25

in the nood(le)

i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
simmering soy sauce and rice wine vinegar,
and g.p.o.p. and ginger and black pepper and sesame oil
all in one bubbling pan, thinned out to a manageable consistency with H20?
i flash-fried some vegetables,
and by some,
i mean,
a big fat F*ing bucketful.
shishito peppers?
celery, and bok choy, and carrots, radishes,
mushrooms and huge discs of garlic, red onion,
mung bean sprouts, snow peas, and cucumbers?
you'd better believe i seared those mushrooms first,
and i blistered the peppers, too.
a light caramelization on the onions and the garlic,
a quick deglazing splash of broth and the carrots got coated in the remaining oil,
and all of that went into the big pot,
along with the bok choy and the celery already swimming in it.
i love this kitchen,.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is my home,
but it's much more than a free-standing grandstand
for expert woodsly goodness.
for realsies.
it IS really flippin' rad,
and i'm really perpetually propelled by my love of it to work harder,
try harder and do more to make it the best home i can imagine....
it's the place where i make my magic happen.
word up.
there's all sorts of sorcery spellcast across the surfaces of this place.
and when it's wu-TANG wednesday,
there's world cuisine to activate, kids.
and i can't disregard that sort of standing tradition.
rules is rules.
that's a thing.
with no time to spare,
and a hungry bellyhole awaiting me,
i assembled an avenging epic meal of
pan-asian one-pot noodoo bowl-me-over gluttony.
check the deep-deep-dish-type teleport:
what's up with the scallions and the cilantro garnish?
oh, you know-
just being exxxtra expert,
alongside the coolwater crunch of those radishes and cucumbers and sprouts.
(it makes the hotwater heat of that broth even better)
oh, yeah.
there are huge ropy udons underneath all of that.
it wouldn't be a noodoo bowl without 'em, dummy.
too F*ing right, kiddo.
sweet and tart and awesome,
and y'know what else?
with a squeeze of that lime wedge and a bite of radish?
das IT.
that's not all, is it?
i know you saw it.
i know you like it.
and if not,
you might actually be an A*-hole.
veggie dumplings on top???????
a heroic hole filled with awesome needs some pouches of perfection
sittin' all sexy an' that all up on the tippity-top.
if it doesn't go to eleven,
it just doesn't work.
too much is the right amount.
that's all i had got left to say;
never quiet, never soft.....


panniecakes, panniecakes,
eat so much i get a tummy ache!!!
i love 'em.
i'm psyched on pancakes every single time i make them.
and i make them often.
y'know why?
because that's woodsly goodsly griddle grizzlybarbarianism.
i worked all day,
and i hung out with my buddy todd from across the mountains.
he's good people,
and we have good times,
and he gets it.
that's valuable to me.
he got tattzapped with some fun and interesting imagery,
we ate indian food,
he gave me a book (expert)
and we drove around puffin' on cigars and talking sh!t for a good long while.
why was i able to engage in such social activities?
one reason, y'all-
brown sugary slippery ones, at that.
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
before anything else,
i'm starting my days with big burly business,
flapjacked and stacked like i'm serious about getting fat.
y'know what was the best part of THIS morning?
that's riiii-iiight.
are you getting it yet?
pancakes = awesome.
not pancakes = who cares?
too much is the right amount,
and apparently, too often is good, too.
i give no F*s about responsible consumption.
i know that for the time it takes me to terrorize a heap of those batter-beaters,
i am one with the entire energy pattern of an infinite universe.
c'mon, now.
all points converge on pancakes.
that means that yesterday and tomorrow are irrelevant so long as there are
circles of echoing excellence covered in real maple syrup entering my mouth.
i'm ingesting the essence of the unending transformation of energy,
and i'm doing it with my mouth open while i chew.
i'll take what joy i can, where i can.
and these days,
that's the product of active participation and a buttered-up medium-hot pan.
my world is shrinking,
my waist is expanding,
my wasted time is unrelated to the waste produced by overindulging in pancakes.
all of it,
is really happening.
that's how it goes;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Monday, February 23

frozen solid.

ice inside my window?
F* this day so hard.
a low-sloping roofline,
exactly one above-freezing day,
and three feet of snow melting just a little,
and then immediately turning to ice at the ends of the eaves
makes for a really sh!tty morning.
waking up alone in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a cold prospect
on even the sunniest summer day,
but on a blaringly blustery windswept slap across the wintertime
with icicle on my indoor parts?
oh MAN.
that's not cool, at ALL.
at six thirty a.m. i was a-hammerin' my thorlike fury out in battle-beats bursts
on shards of shattering ice fully a foot thick.
i mean,
i smashed,
and i bashed,
and i crashed across the roof like an icebreakin' berserker barbarian.
i like to bash stuff.
and sure, i got stabbed by shrapnel;
i got ice-melt in my mouth
(i'm pretty sure that's poisonous, but in the frozen face of this house collapsing,
i was definitely ok with it being my last meal)
and i froze all my bits and pieces into smaller less useful bits and pieces.
on top of my kids leaving, that was exactly the right amount of lame bullsh!t
to deal with before breakfast.
i love having a good reason to flip out and exorcise my hurt feelings.
beats bottling it up for an undetermined threshold of surprise explosive temper, no?
word up.
i ate too much, again, yesterday.
i always do when i'm feeling the separation sickness
after my girls go back to their 'real' home.
it eats a bag of crap, basically,
and then so do i.
check this out:
and this:
what do they have in common?
they're both ugly, and all wrapped up,
but pretty damned dope on the inside.
get it?
rules is rules,
and you know i love that stuff.
stay ugly, stay dope,
and make sure you overdo it, too,
because too much is the right amount.
i dunno, man.
this last week was faster than i'd have liked.
i'm not in a hurry to pass time,
but i am in a hurry to move on.
it's not easy,
but what ever even really is?
hard styles;
cold nights;
ice dams;
hot damns;
and missing pieces...
it's all really happening,
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 22

i might always hate goodbyes.

i might really truly always actually hate saying goodbye.
it gives me an unfinished feeling in my chest.
and today is another 'nother goodbye day.
i've got about five or so hours of road warrior roundtrippin'
before i go to work and do some tattbombin'...
and at the crux of that unavoidable oval recirculation
of time and money, spirit and memory, bitter and sweetness,
there's a great big fat dumb bye-bye hand-off.
i've got these two girls of mine,
and i think they're pretty rad kids.
the only problem is, there's never enough time together with them.
and this extra-short span of wintry vacationing is no exception whatsoever.
cut short,
and already over.
harvest and maple are getting taken to the heart of the weak-sauce,
and handed over for heading back down to the doo-doo butter of their homeland.
today is the day, and it's a bad-vibin' one, already.
awwwwww, man.
i HATE goodbyes, guys.
oh, sure, on the brightish side,
there are hours and hours of car-ridin' big fun,
good talks, pit stops,
and traffic attacks to get through first,
it's still all gonna be over and out by this afternoon.
and that's pure sh!t.
i'm trying to instill these virtuous viking values in these daughters i've got,
and that requires time.
to that end, i'd like a lot more,
and more often.
i AM grateful for the time i have been given.
fun vacation dad is hardly title i'd have chosen for myself, neighbors.
and i'm guessing it's the last honorific you'd bestow on me, as well...
it's pretty weird, considering how much fun i'm normally not.
i guess it really does depend on how you make it, and with who.
for example-
last night we needed a special send-off fond-farewell suppertime spectacular.
and even though we got some sub-sensational sorta-suck pizza pies for lunch,
we made our own extra-expert Folk Life pizza party deluxe when we got home.
the oven took forever and ever to activate the required level of hottness,
but we took that time, together, to laugh at each other,
laud our individual small awesomes,
lament our uniquely weird F*ing faces,
and laugh some more, at ourselves, our friends, and everything else, too.
and also,
that gave me a walloping wide window of ingredient prep time to activate.
we'll all be sad potatoes later,
but when pizza is on the menu,
we're too busy being dope.
check the teleport:
underchee' on a sourdough crust,
with simple-as-heck-sauce, daiya vegan-chee' melties,
little tofurky dawg discs,
and darlin' cute baby broccolini florets.
and that was just one of three.
two more, for me and mine to devour like wild animals.
there's an eleven minute window between pizzas,
eight to eat it up,
and three to make the next one.
it's a system that works,
and we know what to do when there's a tasty still-steamin' saucy circle
sittin' pretty right before our faces.
you know it, buddy.
we beat up this one in record time-
i had a whole extra minute to make another afterwards, even.
check the teleport:
pee eye zee zee ayyyyy.
trader joe has himself some dang lovely savory baked tofu.
that's what's so prominently featured atop this very red ring of awesome.
no foolin',
it was so smoooooooooooth, we pretty much sucked it right down
in the bare minimum of bites.
that underchee' is the TRUTH, too, btw.
for serious.
and then,
we saved the most beautiful and the biggest for the grand finale.
the object was more,
and this identifiably awesome object filled the role with flair.
too much is the right amount.
brussels sprouts make us scream and shout,
and caramelized onions are good for you, in a sugary slippery snakey kind of way.
if you're gonna have a pizza party,
and it's gonna take a while to get everything ready,
you're gonna need a three-pizza entry fee.
that's a thing.
we do what we do,
and that includes an abiding love of food.
my girls aren't vegans,
but they aren't diaper-baby buttheads, either.
they're vegan-friendly,
and they love to create in this Folk Life & Liberty kitchen.
maybe it's just for my benefit,
but the time we're spanning benefits ALL of us.
it's over already,
too soon, and not enough.
i hate goodbyes more than i love pizza,
and that's saying something;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 21

twenty seven oh one

i love when the weather report offers you some feelings.
y'know what i mean?
yeah, man....feelings.
the forecast says its negative 18 degrees fahrenheit outside,
it feels like negative 35.
so, now we're catchin' feels over here?
catchin' frostbite, maybe.
what do you know about minus thirty five degrees??!!
i'll tell you what i know, neighbors-
that's some irregular A*-hole-flavored bullsh!t.
and that is the fault of the wind.
the wind is the biggest jerk in the group,
and i'm steady stay-hatin' on it, for effing up
my wintertime family-style staycation.
awwwww, MAN.
there's so much 'sgusting, and just in the ambient air around us.
i know.
i know.
february is the worst.
it's just that i don't think anyone was challenging that title,
so i'm not sure why the whole month has been flexin' it's doo-doo buttermakers
as hard, as often, and as consistently terrible as it has.
that's just poor sportsmanship, no?
you're already winning, nature, so don't be a jerk about it.
that's real.
i guess i'll have to console myself with cookies.
gluten-free coconut macaroon snowballs.
what are those?
they're delicious, and they're treats...
what else do they even need to be?
check the impending-snow-day-type teleport:
anything can happen,
and anything includes cookies, kids.
coconut flour, coconut sugar, coconut flakes.
that's that winter-lookin' stuff that snow bunnies
and photographers love the most.
is that icy winter-white icing?
you bet your b-hole it is,
with those macaroon-fine flakes frosting it so soft and sweetly, too.
they melt in your mouth, like snow,
but without all the brain freeze and wet gloves of real snow.
i like little cute treats,
and i like coconut,
and i LOVE having the oven on in the kitchen.
(negative degrees aren't invited, man)
i'm loading up on calories, like a late-to-the-season polar bear.
i mean it.
i've been shivering myself slimmer,
and if the weather stays like this until april,
i'll have worn myself skeletal with shaky behavior under sweat-lodge layers.
the hardest part about letting my kids have a girls'-night?
i missed 'em.
oh sure, that's some sentimental sap oozing out right there-
it's the truth.
knowing that they're becoming their own future selves,
and that they're pursuing relationships with women
outside of my sphere of influence
and under the auspices of throwback family-style togetherness
is a timespan spanking that's tough to temper with good temper.
ummmm, yeah...
these girls of mine have their own views and opinions of the folks
who care about them, and i guess i'm s'posed to swallow a lot of personal opinions
in favor of their good cheer and good will and good times.
to that end,
they hung out with their exed-out stepped-off step-mom,
and i had dumplings at home instead.
that's allowed.
no, not dumplings.
those aren't just allowed, their mandatory...
i'm talking about hangs with my ex-wife.
i mean, not for nothin',
but they hang with their ma allllll the time,
and she and i have even less in common.
that's just it-
telling your kids to feel the way you want them too is a sure-fire way
to guarantee that they won't.
or worse,
they will,
and all that tells you is that they are easily manipulated and possibly dumb.
...that's not cool.
this isn't the weather report, friends,
even when it feels like negative a-million,
i bet it's probably a positive in the long-term prevailing patterns.
there's no point in prohibiting the presence of people who care about these kids.
they had their time,
i had those dumps.....on my face.

it's all really happening.
swallowing dumplings and wallowing in winter's cold clutches.
no big deal.
true stories, told truly,
and too much of all the hard styles, sore spots, cold spells, nasty spills,
and every other other sort of minor misfortune.
it's inconvenience, or it's nothing.
i think that must be a clause in my contract or something;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 20

coffee cup coffee cake

me and my dude,
my ace homeboy,
my ultimo expert hombre,
the cucch, collaborated on some elite treat jauns for our faces.
that's no joke.
when i've got extra hands on deck,
in the test kitchen of this Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
i make good use of 'em.
he creamed the butter and the sugar,
he mixed in the soy yogurt and the sour creamy stuffs,
he sifted the salt and poured the vanilla,
and he stirred in all the flour.
it was fun.
calling out ingredients and quantities on the fly,
and having a competent and capable cook keeping it real alongside me.
that's how taste explosions get poppin', neighbors.
no jokes.
and once we sprayed down some middle-sized muffin tins,
and he portioned the proper plops of battery business in?
we baked it up.
that's how it works, guys.
don't be dumb.
once they were all cooled off from that heavy metal hotbox,
i cinnamon'd and sugared a whole lot of creamchee' and butterish butts.
i did.
and i whipped it up into a super-elite and extra-sexy swirl
on each and every last one of 'em
check the teleport:
little grandma-style coffeecake cupcakes!
i'm tellin' you guys-
they have all that breakfasty taste,
but with enough sweet sugary activation to hold their own all day long.
crisp outer edges, soft, dense, moist crumbs on the inside,
and both-bites'-worth elevated and elucidated
by that cinnamon sugar goobieblop on top.
that's how it's done.
breakfast isn't always cups and cakes, kids.
it's pans and cakes, instead.
this morning,
i experimented with a little double-butter batter,
and a little macaroon coconut.
it traps the air in there, and makes the cakes double fluffed for fuller effect.
i mean it.
go ahead,
check the teleport:
'bout to EXTERMINATE that short stack.
yup, and yum.
i've got explosions of excellence,
flipped off on that griddle jauns,
i measured not one thing, just pinches and punches,
sprinkles and glugs,
and other imprecise portions and proportions.
i doo-doo it like that, just so you know it's really not a joke, jerks.
i use my eyes, and i use my own weird brainmaths, too.
so i use strawberries?
dudes, c'mon with the silly sh!t.
those are clearly straw-style berries up on top.
pow-pow-powdered sugar simple syrupy fruits are expert.
and so is real maple syrup.
and so is breakfast time in the woodsly goodness.
we're into it,
and we appreciate it.
maybe my girls are grateful,
but i'm a bit busy making all the magic happen.
i'll give praise and thanks once i'm finished with the dishes.
real talk.
twenty-seven hundred.
that's how many times i've sat down and typed up one of these.
they say blog is a deceased medium.
i think that might even be a thing.
all my favorite bloggers are now ex-bloggers,
and i seriously contemplate cutting this little ritual out of my daily routine.
i do.
i do what i do, and this is part of it.
the biggest problem with always wanting more?
there's no room for anything less.
i guess 2701 will show up sometime tomorrow, then.
you're welcome, or i'm sorry, or both.
this is it.
too much is right amount,
and the sinking ship of dear-dumb-diary-style social media hasn't hit bottom yet.
i suppose i'm run aground,
and staying on my grind.
there just aren't enough pancakes to placate that kind of faltering ebb and flow.
i'm shoveling shoals, and sh!t,
and the tidal waves of unsuppressible inevitability wash it all back to sea level.
oh, don't worry,
it isn't going to end anytime soon;
never quiet, never soft.....

dumps on your face.

it's been a little minute, neighbors.
i've been sittin' on all that plump dumpy dumplin' science,
and i was letting it fade away.
that's not cool.
dumps are the dopeness.
and the thing of it is,
it was a china-style lunatic new year,
all chappy goats and rammin' rams-
and my daughters are around,
and it's so flippin' cold all day and night that we need extra nutrients
just to keep from fading away into transparent steam ghosts in this
somewhat-windy-on-the-inside Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's a lot going on, all at once-
and when it's all really happening that hard,
and the hardest styles are even harder, because they're frozen solid?
we NEED dumplings.
and, really, when we see a need, we fill it.
that's the Folk Life family togetherness sh!t that really matters.
check the teleport:
on your face.
custom soyfire dippin' sauce,
with ginger and pepper and rice wine vinegar,
a little sugar, and sesame oil?
my fat little purses of activation have got it goin' ON, guys.
that's real.
a bit of radish, a bite of dumpling, a drop of sauce,
and you're having a new year's party before you finish chewing.
that's expert.
the only real drawback to all that pinchy pouchy paunchy pocket party time?
those F*ers take forever to make.
mini minced carrots and celery and mung bean threads, and cabbage,
and smooshed-up tofu, and so much onion and garlic,
before the g.p.o.p. and sesame oil, and the tamari,
and the ginger and mustard, and the rice wine deglaze haze for days.
it's an awful lot of effort,
but it's totally worth it, onve they're sittin' pretty on a plate.
the time involved leading up to the big reward is just such a laggin' drag, though.
and that's considering that i made the fill-in filling mix in the morning!
the simple dough was the result of a quick drip and knead when i got home.
that's the easiest part, really-
water, flour, salt, and a bit of stirring...
then it's roll-roll-roll-your-dough, gently at the seams.
merrily, verily a lot of glass and circles and stacking ensue after that.
i'm just sayin'.
y'make that filling,
then, there's the rolling out of all that well-rested warm-water dough;
then you gotta pack those circles,
and pinch the edges, so it's crimped on top, and flat on the butt,
and then you go right on ahead and rest 'em all over again......
and then heat up your oil and layer those flavor grenades right in there extra close.....
and when they start to sizzle, all pop and crackle and snap?
splash 'em with water, cover 'em, and let the steam absorb into their skins.
then, and only then,
have you finally got all that heavenly hottness by the lack of light of the new moon,.
the things i do to make a moment with my kids.
they just ate them, hungrily, happily, impatiently,
after a lot of laughs in the kitchen while i worked,
and they watched,
and we talked,
and time passed.
we span it, the time-
expansive, expensive, intensive, hypersensitive, all of that.
it's all really happening,
and when we're together,
it's the best part;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 19


happy chinese lunar new year, duders!
rams, goats, and horned fauns and satyrs, too, probably.
it's a new year (sorta),
and just to be safe,
i said what needed sayin'.
rabbit rabbit.
magic words for the chappiest goats and rammiest rams.
so weird, but also so necessary.
and also,
i made treats.
that's the thing that mattered even more.
after all,
treats are what we're all really here for, anyway.
check the teleport:
c'mon, now, neighbors.
you see the depth and strength on those jauns?
i know you do.
you into those stacks on stacks on stacks?
imperial biscuits, in triple decked full effect.
word up.
you 'bout that, or not?
hell yeah!!
that's correct.
you gotta be on that futuristic business, or what is even the point of you?
british empire biscuits are pretty neat,
but these are barbarian empires, y'all.
a whole bar of chocolaty truffle, ground down into shavey slivers,
and folded into the sugary cookie dough, extra gentle, so they stayed solid.
that's careful creation, kids, and it's worth it.
that makes 'em look a little bit banana-y,
but it's F*ing chocolate bar shards, sucker!
i'm trickin' your face, and treating your tastes, because that's what i DO.
the cookie portion is crisp,
but that creamy dream in-between is the TRUTH.
a little cream chee',
a little buttery butts,
a lotta cocoa,
and tons of whippin' whisky whirlwind activation.
that makes it so smooth, and creamy, and soft.
and that little top ghost circle of cookie baby cuteness?
they're new year cookies, man, so they need a baby new year moon.
i'm not reppin' that mincey nancypants sh!t.
no way.
ways and means.
that's what's on my mind this morning.
i got myself a few ways of doing things that work,
but i don't have the means to break away from where and what i'm doing.
tell me about it.
there's a certain amount of efficient proficiency that is appreciated,
but after that,
it's expected, overlooked, and often taken for granted.
that's a very hard style.
for example-
i bring in the treats i make to the studio.
i'm not trying to be a fat F* and eat 'em all myself,
and i know that my clients are all about that confectionary excellence.
my largely undeserving co-workers can have some, too,
as a gesture of conciliatory kindness from me to them.
provided they ask first, though.
i mean, before you assume it's all here just for you.
that's a principle that should be observed anyway.
and then a thank you would be nice.
that's called having manners,
mostly, though,
these one-way-streeters i'm spanning time alongside do the opposite.
helping themselves, or worse,
offering these little masterpieces to their clients and friends,
and claiming gratitude, and exhibiting generosity and viking virture,
by proxy, through false efforts and absent skills.
i am so serious when i say i SO can't hang out with that.
i do get it, in a way.
i'm not dumb, y'know?
nobody else ever makes treats or brings in anything....
because why try at all,
let alone try any harder,
to contribute and actively participate,
when the rewards of spectator wallflowering are so delicious and numerous.
i guess the message hasn't reached them yet.
that message:
just be dope, or F* right off.
i'm ready for the next big effort,
the logical ensuing push of hottness,
the more and bigger and better something else.
y'ever get to that point?
i've been ready to cut loose from the source of much of my anger and anxiety,
the unbalanced ballast that holds me down and holds me back.
where i live is fantastic,
where i work is not.
i have the ways,
i lack the means.
unless of course, you mean, the means, as in the not-nice.
i've got plenty of that these days.
this here is a true story, friends.
they all are.
lunar new year?
same as the old year;
never quiet, never soft.....

famished for fam'wiches.

hey there, neighbors!
it's yet another 'nother snow day up here nestled in among
the blissfully brutal now-you-know-why-they-call-'em white mountains.
that's pretty lame, all things considered.
i mean, sure-
harvest and maple, my still-a'sleepyheaded teen daughters like it....
...but they aren't gonna shovel a flippin' flake, so why wouldn't they?
i'm not being a babycake, here, either, guys.
i'm not opposed to the natural weather pattern for this part of the year, either.
shoveling, shivering, snot-drippin' chapeed-lippin' ice-slippin' is part
of the woodsly goodfellowship of worthy warrior poetry.
they simply don't have that in permamently-pleasant places, and that's no joke.
the thing of it is,
while february is predictably a crap month,
this particular arctic blast cut my super-secret extra-special visit short by a full night.
my very best buddy, now a utard, (or whatever utah folks are called)
is back on the east coast doin' some work for a very limited time-
and he commandeered a vehicle specifically for a jaunt up to these icy peaks,
to visit his peoples in these hills.
the cucch was here...
...and then he wasn't.
all thanks  to the buckets of stoopid snow that effed up the evening.
awwwwwww, man.
me and the girls got to visit with my numero uno hombre for an afternoon,
and make treats,
and eat treats,
and talk sh!t,
and get rad,
and terrorize some hello/goodbye sandwiches.
family dinner was between baguette, b!tches.
and it was expert.
check the fam'wich-type teleport:
don't even act like you're not about that boomfire, bro.
not-so-chickeny beige strips of pea protein,
seasoned and smoked and sweetened a scooch,
a pan-toasted heavy-duty mouth-slicin' demi-baguette,
apples and onions, caramelized, for a blended flavorful bite,
and with a few crawnchy jauns in there, too.
pickle staxxx, for sharpness,
whole grain dijon mustard shmears, to counterbalance those pickles,
and a slaw to activate your whole entire jaw, y'all.
flat leaf parsley, napa cabbage, celery and radishes?
crawnch, spicy bite-back, flavor, coolness, hottness, and everything nice.
i don't know how YOU get down with dinner,
but family togetherness calls for some big action around here.
we doo-doo that sit-down-shut-up-and-eat-style sh!t.
and we do it as hard as we can.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress was abuzz yesterday.
waffles in the morning,
sandwiches in the evening,
treats of all sorts in-between,
and peoples coming together to make it all matter and mean something.
i love that.
and i'm grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Wednesday, February 18

waffle wednesday.

yesterday had allllll the traffic.
that's real.
from late morning until early evening,
driving and driving and driving.
and by that, i mean mostly driving very slowly.
that was some big fun, too,
steady creepin',
and more than making forward progress,
i made myself furious for a few extra hours.
who doesn't love a long drive, made longer by 'fraidy cats
and crap-holes cruising cautiously back to their unholy holes
in the suburbs of boston.
heading south in the icy air,
behind miles and miles of supersized snailcrawlers.
that's what i get, when i gotta get a couple girls for a short visit
to the wonderfully wintry wild-windswept woodsly goodness.
an arctic blastin' berserker brouhaha, beginning with a too-long road trip.
the thing is,
i've got harvest and maple now,
and we're doing some family togetherness sh!t as hard as we can.
we only get a short stay this february,
so we've gotta get all the good stuff stuffed into a small space.
that means starting the day off right.
check the teleport:
it's waffle wednesday.
that's a thing.
coconut, coconut flour, oatmeal, butter, brown sugar,
and expert activation.
we wanted to bring a bit extra to the breakfast party.
...and we did just that.
well, actually,
amber brought the strawberries and bananas.
but we ate the holy heck outta them all.
wordimus prime.
powdered sugar on the berries.
sliced up 'nanas.
and pecans.
that's no joke.
heated up, buttered down, and sugared with vanilla an' that.
real maple syrup?
we aren't a bunch of F*ing A*-holes, man.
take it easy.
the brightest spot in my yesterday?
i mean, the other bright spot,
besides these daughters of mine?
so much food, in one deviously dope diaper.
as usual, i got allllll those vegan jauns.

ew, and yum,
and also, ew.
i'm a fat pig, and i hate myself.
i love food, and i'm learning to live with the loathing.
i actually just want to eat all the food of ever and ever,
FORever and ever.
that's the truth.
it's all mostly still a food story.
but at least it's a true story.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, February 16

blown apart.

stretching that thin crust jauns?
we do what we do, duders.
and i doo-doo that pizza sh!t.
on a blistery blustery busted and disgusting sunday night?
that might be the only thing holding back a tsunami of berserker fury,
railing to no avail against nature's permanently upper hand..
that's right.
i can't hang out with lame pizzas,
and i really can't hang out with the wind.
you know that, already, if you know me at all.
i HATE the wind.
actual hate, all the time.
for really real?
last night, was power-outage chapped-skin iceburn barbaric,
and it sucked alllll the balls in the whole world,
in the colder darker depths of indoor living.
all thanks to the wind whippin' it out and slappin' it around.
by the time i was at home,
removed from the stinkbombs and stoopidheads,
safely ensconced away from all the vacation snowbunnies,
and the wailing banshee b!tchbaggery of the great outdoor windtunnel,
i had an especially hard heart, a worse-than-usual attitude,
and some remarkably unhappy bones,
(the cold chilled right to the marrow of 'em)
so i desperately needed a little latter-day valentiny reactivation,
i know it was twenty four hours behind schedule.
but better late than never ever- no?
in this instance- yes.
and that meant a pizza party for my face.
tossin' that sourdough, neighbors, to suit my sour mood,
and baking it up on that scorching-hot oven stone
saved the remains of an otherwise lost-cause sunday.
thank heavens for that pizza pie.
check the pee-eye-zee-zee-ayy-type teleport:
wordimus prime.
a margherita heart, because that's a cute way to start.
italian flaggotry-
red tomatoes;
white tofu triangles, seasoned-up and fried a baby bit
(mozzarella isn't invited, and the daiya isn't for everything);
and big fresh green basil leaves.
plus that sauce, and obviously, the underchee'.
if your vegan pizza ain't steady reppin' underchee'?
that's dumb,
and you are probably a giant A*-hole
who doesn't know rinotta from terra cotta.
underchee' is the truth, friends.
and it activated one instantly expert super-supper, right down the hatch.
but one small pizza isn't a party.
that's why we fired up another one.
heavy on the everything, please.
a thick level of underchee',
an even thicker plateau of pesto-
and it's had a little minute to marry all of it's flavors together,
so that the basil loves the scallions, and the nootch loves the cashews,
and the garlic and the olive oil are overseeing the whole orgy,
and it is a steamy succulent parts-on-parts-on-parts explosion at that.
it has a hearty punch of that daiya('rrhea) stretchy chee' on top,
just to keep it all under cover....
and nootch-kissed tomatoes, to take it one tastier.
this goes to eleven.
now we're having a pizza party.
that's not enough is it?
it never is.
too much is the right amount.
that means a grand finale banger to close out the batch.
what happens when there's more dough?
double-dough, yo, y'know?
that's it.
check the teleport:
pizza is good for you.
underchee', sauce, daiya...
that's the entry level stack'em-up.
but that's not then end of the story-
once we established the foundation,
we added on a rasher of bacon-style strips,
and caramelized red onions and leeks!!!!!
this big action is better than wind isn't.
that's no joke.
i LOVE pizza like i HATE wind.
there is a lot going on...
valentine's treats (i got alll the stumps)
and food (i'm fat now?)
and wind (F*ing worst)
and pizza (F*ing best)
and work (pretty much the same as wind)
vacation week weakness is a real motherF*er.
this is all there is,
until next monday,
so get ready for more of all of this;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 15

lookin' it, not feelin' it.

i got dressed up.
i didn't get all fancified and gussied,
but i did put on my fresh-to-death colors,
and that, coupled with those cupcakes, kids?
i'm sayin',
i was eleven kinds of ready for a righteous snow day.
that's the truth.
it turned out to be a gelid, gelatinous glob of ungregarious garrulousness.
i said a lot of sh!t,
and none of it was any good.
that's a hard style for heart day.
i blame the doo-doo buttery humbugs who were hatin' on the holiday spirit.
i had my head-to-toe reds and pinks on point,
and i'm pretty sure i looked precise,
the thing of it is- i felt inaccurate.
womp womp.
a beat-up bathroom selfie jauns,
closing out a day filled with disappointment.
i'm talking about a whole day being disappointing in almost every way.
(the cupcakes were preposterously expert)
no, it's cool, really-
i heard yesterday that people who complain live longer and are happier overall.
so get ready, because if you thought i was a real downer before?
i'm preppin' to get my flame-spit flying even hotter and farther...
that's right.
i'm probably gonna live forever.
i suffered through a sh!t-salad saturday of stormswept savages,
driving out for matching tattoos.
i'm serious.
that was my thing.
all damned day.
no jokes.
if you smell like bologna, and you're SOOO F*ing in love
with a similarly-scented cold cut of a human,
you match 'em up, and make my day a smear of skidmarkin' magic.
so gross.
oh, yeah......
i made some valentine art.
check the teleport:
barbarian love.
bald underbitin' orcs and their angry lovin'?
i'm about that life, for sure.
so that's that.
not today.
no thanks.
tattbombin' crap-slaps all day?
that's a foregone conclusion.
cold, old, and busted?
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 14

valentine's day.

happy valentine's day!!!
hey. you.
you're cute.
and i made these for you:
that's right.
i've got that kaBOOMfire, sweetie!
red velvet soft cocoa-fudgy-battered bombs.
all kinds of mauve-y crumb in 'em,
and a lot of buttery, sugary, luscious flavor, too.
that's expert.
white-chocolate-(vegan)-space-egg cream-chee' frosting,
in dual valentine's day color scheme blops?
swirls and swoops and scoops,
three different kinds of sprankles!
candy dots and hearts and sparkles and dashes,
(that sounds like four, but the hearts and dashes were mixed together)
making a text-message morse code sugarshock spell,
cast in cocoa and carnauba wax for your tongue to twist up,
and decipher in four bites or less.
i tippity-topped 'em all with a sugar cookie cutout.
c'mon, duders, that's cute as F*.
a conversation-heart-sized little shortbread treat,
just to take it a little teeny tiny bit over the limits of regular choliday hottness,
and activate an eleven-level rating.
that's correct.
these aren't just cupcakes, neighbors.
they're love letters,
encrypted in pink and white and red,
with light and dark chocolate codebreakers working concurrently
just to let you know i'm displaying affection,
the best way i know how.
go do something romantic, guys.
i mean it.
before i get it poppin' on the hearts and lace jauns,
i'm going to slide down a slippery slope.
not like a gateway to questionable behaviors.
i am literally going to careen down the hill i call home,
and then i'm gonna climb another 'nother other slippery slope
when i get to the worst workplace access/egress in the area.
and once i'm there, if things go the way they're scheduled to?
it's matching crap-tats on crap-hats all day long,
provided the blustery ice of this artfully arctic avalanche
that the clouds have launched doesn't scare away all the clients.
i suppose if nobody shows, that really just means more treats for me.
.....i can live with that.
kisses and hugs,
X's and O's,
all of that.
today is the day.
i'll bring the cupcakes,
you bring the shovel,
and we'll dig in to the piles of treats and the piles of snow,
never quiet, never soft.....

hard hearts.

they're so hard,
these hearts of mine.
they're hard,
and they're sweet.
...and crunchy,
and buttery,
and that's great news.
my own little magical sugary heart attack.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is FULL of warm oveny hottness,
and that's what's up.
today is the day-
valentine's day.
and i've got shortbread sugar cookies to celebrate with.
check the lovely-lovey-dovey-type teleport:
there're red and pink candy crushed crankles up in 'em.
that's how you know they're not F*ing around.
crawnchy candy crank'zzz make it all a little more expert.
believe it.
that's incongruously-colored lemon icing on top,
with color-coordinated site-specific holiday-appropriate sprankles, too.
if you aren't about it,
you might very well be a total A*-hole.
that's a thing.
sugar cookies, in short-order, shortbread-style,
in a couple of different shapes, and a couple of different finishes,
because just one way isn't nearly enough is it?
too much is the right amount.
especially today.
overdoing it means you care.
at least,
that's the way i do it, anyway.
another 'nother abominable winter weather ruiner is in the works.
MORE snow.
at this rate,
unpredictability will become expected.
snow day chaos is underway, again,
and as usual,
anything can happen.
i hope whatever it is that goes down this weekened,
it's in the valentine spirit of smooches and grabs an' that.
i'm sayin',
there's chocolates around here somewhere.
and flowers, too.
they're purple, but they'll do in a pinch, kids.
a savage raging severe snowstorm shut-in shutdown,
and the woodsly goodness on barbaric blizzard blockade business?
dear vacationers,
            your SUVs are literally made for this,
         but thank you for being too afraid to trek around town regardless.
         your weak sauce is appreciated as i navigate the vacant thoroughfares
         of this fine mountain vale i call home.
                                                             your pal,
thank ma nature for revealing the intrinsic cowardice
of your false sense of vehicular security.
nature wins, again.
there's a new blast of winter wreckage every weekend,
and i've gotta tell you,
i don't hate it.
i DO hate the plow guy who sucks balls at activating
a two-car breadth in my driveway-
but i suppose,
since i only have one car, he probably thinks he's doing it right.
it's not good enough.
then again, nothing ever is.
hard to please,
harder to come by,
and hard-hearted, albeit covered in icing.
that's the day,
it's all really happening,
and furthermore,
anything might.
that's the nature of this valentine victory.
one way or the other,
somebody is gonna win;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 13

bad luck.

this is it.
today is the day.
the chance for all of that rabbit rabbit stuff to work it's magic.
friday the thirteenth.
the big bad bad-to-worse-luck timelapse crap-slap of calamity and woe.
it's a thing,
if you're inclined to believe in those sorts of mundane superstition.
but, remember, thirteen isn't all bad.
for example,
thirteen isn't unlucky if you're a bar mitzah, b!tches.
and besides,
i like fridays.
and i like valentines.
and i love to eat treats.
how can it be a bad day when i've got these?
check the big action, via teleport:
heart-shaped scones?!
maple cranberry chocolate chip wedges,
all folded over and up and down and again.
thirteen flips and flops of the dough,
so those layers got all kinds of activated.
and after i cut the triangles,
i dented 'em all in at the short side,
forming little hardy hearty heart love notes to my taste buds with every bite.
plus those red sugar sprankles,
sweethearted sparkle-magical bloody valentine style,
for extra cupidity and slightly less stupidity this morning.
oh, yes, friends,
i should certainly say so.
refrigerating the cut-up buttery, creamchee'd flour helped the fats stay
bunched up in the batter, and made this batch of from-scratch hottness
the best ones yet.
consisitency, inside of them, comes from consistently improving my recipe.
good enough is not enough.
it's even BETTER that i am aiming to achieve, always.
and that's no joke.
vacation wintertime getaway weak-waterbaby asscrackachussetts turds
are en route for a whole week of ruining it.
ruining what, exactly?
i mean it.
all the best parts of the woodsly goodness are about to be invaded with A*tards.
and as much as i love a thriving economic environment,
the predatory pulse of this vulture culture is downright gross.
the frantic scramble to gulp down every last available casually-cast-aside dollar,
like filthy scatophagic buttkissers, feasting on the bloated still-breathing
bleating carcass of every fat family's corpulent cadaverous indulgences?
the whole valley has been abuzz with the promise of an extra buck,
praying for snow to lure the leisure-seeking suckholes up,
so their spare change can be siphoned off into......what?
i'm just sayin',
maybe that's actually considered a cool way to go about your business up here?
i think that might be a real thing.
i can't hang out, though.
real talk.
i'm steady on my grind, every damned day, with or without snow,
or tourists, or friends, or tax returns,
i'm an obvious inaccessible opposite to the composite archetype of mountain people,
but honestly,
the supplicants and the serfs that serve as staff  at most of the shops
up in this mountain valley make me sorta sad.
it's just that desperation isn't attractive,
and perhaps it's just that hard-style hamden, connecticut east coast warrior spirit,
but i appreciate the crappiness dwelling inside my secret inner heart-of-hearts,
and i actually like a little dissonant indifference in my daily indulgences.
don't spit in my food, but don't wipe my butt with your tongue either.
i think that's a pretty fair trade, no?
for serious,
being on vacation doesn't make anyone actually special,
it just makes them somewhere other than where they were.
maybe that's my bad luck, today?
poopheads pooping up my place of business,
and my local haunts with their doo-doo buttery soft styles.
if so,
i guess i'm getting away easy.
there's more of this coming.
all week long.
there's a system in there somewhere,
and i'll decipher it before next sunday;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 12


blondie blocks.
that's right.
brownie-consistency cakey squares,
without chocolate,
but with coconut.
so much yummmmmmm in one cube of deep, dense delight.
i GOT they,
and i got 'em goin' further than that.
there's a system to making valentines treats.
something chocolate,
something red or pink,
and sugar, for ever and ever.
if it isn't sweet,
it isn't invited to the makeout party.
that goes double for bitterness outside of the batter, too.
does that mean i'm missin' out on kisses?
no way, neighbors.
i'm the host, and i make the house rules.
i also make the treats,
so just sit back, and feast your face on the freshness.....
check the neapolitan-coconut-type teleport:
strawberries'n'creme frosting?
yes, indeed.
chocolate fudge frosting, too??
you betcha.
three tiers of good cheer and coconutty well-wishing?
and exxtra frosting goobieblops swirled on top?
i like the way the look,
but i LOVE the way they taste.
there's a whole lot going on in these,
and that's to our benefit, b!tches.
i mean,
you wouldn't want some nancy-A* weak sh!t up in here, would you?
no way.
not even once.
this is it.
heavy ordinance in the Folk Life & Liberty test kitchen arsenal.
all that sweet golden goodness,
all the dark brown decadence of that cocoa fudgy funtime,
and the strawberry fruit flavor and pectin-poppin' frosty fuego,
all in one spot,
with that toasted coconut essence weaving back and forth throughout.
i''m on it.
valentine's treats, all day, every day, up to and including the big day.
don't even act like you can't hang out.
we both know that even an invented holiday can be expert.
hey, now-
think about sandwich week before you naysay
the validity of this decree, duders.
that's more like it.
consider the constituent elements for just a quick second.
word up.
i'm just sayin',
i like chocolate,
i like hearts,
i like fancy dinners,
i like jewels.
i like sweet sweet romance.
i like flowers.
i like candles.
i like cards.
all the ingredients for excellence are right there.
so , then, what's the problem?
the color scheme?
stop it.
get on my level.
pink is good for you.
and so is valentine's day.
that's what's up;
never quiet, never soft....,.

again and again and again.

another 'nother snow day?!
after a whole day of being extra busy doin' so much stuff-
and all of that on my only day away from the tattbombin' studio,
it's time to get back to my official workplace to do what i do best.
good guess.
that IS what i do best-
oh. for those of you who don't know what we're talking about-
it's eatin' treats whilst talkin' noise at everyone who passes by.
it's a niche market, but i've pretty much cornered it
that's my thing.
i've ghot a whole bunch of it stockpiled up from yesterday,
poised the the precipice of my lips, ready to spit out a scalding stream of
rock-steady ragnarok on all the mincey mofos i meet today.
and it's a snow day?
big ol' flakes are fallin' hard, and coating everything in a subtly slippery sheen.
just in time for me and my coworkers,
and the unfortunates who will still show up for tattoo appointments
to slalom up and down the least-convenient,
most-locationally dysfunctional site-specific sh!t-salad slope.
the driveway to the tattoo shop is a total A*-hole.
forty-five degrees of angled inaccesibility,
perpetually unplowed,
and eternally an abysmally dangerous decision to drive on.
i'm probably gonna need a little extra traction,
just to get up there, just to sit around upon arrival...
good thing for me i've got treats by the careless carful
weighing down the wheels with kilotons of valentines-style treats.
that's no joke.
i doo-doo that pink hearts and chocolate sh!t,.
because i love holidays.
i think it's weird that i like something, too.
let alone the fact that holidays are notoriously the territory of crafty moms
and little kids.
maybe that's the secret?
could be.
i've got a cake that'll make the snow melt for days, neighbors.
check the starburst-shaped-ring-of-hot-fire-type teleport:
strawberry cocoa devil's food circles!!!
crushed freeze-dried strawberries,
ground chocolate, and a LOT of cocoa,
plus the usual odds and ends that make the bakeshop up in my homestead
such a wellspring of new hottnesses .
and that exxxtra-thick icing?
crushed strawberry powder made it gummy, and ooey-gooey good, too.
it's like fruit lava,
and it's expert as F*.
no joke.
that's comin' with me to work today,
and although it's riding shotgun,
it isn't the only passenger.
there's more where that came from.
too much is the right amount,
so there's got to be MORE.
it's valentine's season,
and that just screams chocolate, and red and pink and lace and everything.
i'm into ity,
i'm about it,
and it's all really happening.
nothing else will be tolerated;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, February 10

odds and ends.

in-between walk-ins of an epic level of under-rewarding stature,
i frayed away the cheapest of paint brushes in an effort to make something
 more interesting than the weak-sauce and wearisome winter waterbabies
that threatened to ruin my afternoon.
i wasn't having any of that.
i'm still not having any of that.
there is always the chance, on a snow day, especially,
that of the many anythings that can happen, all of the will be bad.
it's the infinite true inner nature of nature,
and the odds will always be in her favor...
nature wins,
and sometimes, she's assisted by nurture,
as an overture to an impossible expenditure of creatures masquerading as people,
hoping to pass the scrutiny of an attention-paying worthy warrior poet like myself.
i'm sayin'-
sometimes, these weirdies that show up, in snowstorms, especially,
are even scarier in my carefully controlled environment,
than they would be in their  normal habitat.
possibly because i avoid doo-doo buttery sh!tshacks,
and trailer hovels as a general rule, so my exposure is normally limited at most.
they were out in force in the freshly driven whiteout wetness yesterday, though.
i didn't let it get me down,
it might've manifested as handlebar moustachios
through the subconscious connection of my thoughts and actions.
i'm steady representin' on these craft paints, kids.
check the seltzer-can-twelve-pack-back-type teleport:
a technologically-inclined extra-fresh redcap gnome!
gnome sayin'?
awwww, c'mon.
a captain of the bobotronic hip-wader invaders!
that's right. neighbors...
no horde of weirdies is gonna keep me off of this garbage-art makery.
i have it in me, and i've got to get it out.
word up.
i also sometimes need some other things in me.
not like that.
i'm talking about breakfast.
and breakfast, in the bitter, brutal cold winter woods means one thing:
i gotta get those nutrients, duders.
it's too cold not to stock up on some extra-heavy-duty fuel.
i'm shivering in my skin, rattling my bones, and crabbing my fingers...
not for long.
a real maple syrupy man-stack of 'cakes in my bellyhole,
and paints awaiting me at the studio?
i've got a day of doin' stuff ahead of me,
and i'm all powered up for it, too.
this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....


hey, neighbors-
y'wanna know what happens when you're officially finished
with the bums' rush crush of eight days of foods between breads?
you blow out one more as an encore.
sandwich week exxxtras, in F*ing full effect.
what else would i eat for dinner once the ruckus had already been brought?

i'm sayin'.
eight days is already a whole lot of sandwiches,
but nine?
that's pure wu-TANG.
real talk.
check the one-for-the-road-type teleport:
a dirty double-decker superburger???
yes, duders,
that IS the new hottness for your face.
a toasted hard roll, with underchee' on the bottom piece.
that ISwhy it's called underchee' not overchee'.
the sandwich hierarchy has a place for ever ingredient.
c'mon, y'all.
get with it.
i got lots going on in this one-
pickles, pickled onions, a straight-up pan-seared seitan steak,
the crisp inner heart of red leaf lettuce,
and a homemade chickpea fatty-boombattie patty.
that's right.
a big big bigger bite of that business.
butter-fried to a medium-well mash of beige beany beauty.
sauteed shallots and garlic, parsley and basil, salt and pepper,
brown rice flour, xantham gum, soybean flour, olive oil,
and lots of hard-styled heavy-handed mashing,
until everything touched everything else.
and it only made two burgers.
that's more'n a hill of beans, kids.
it's twin towers of power!
oh, wait-
they were short and stout, but they still turned it inside out,
and activated all sorts of hearty lead-belly barbarismo!
one last one.
that's what i needed.
and i'm glad i did it too-
because YOU know what we rep up here in the woodsly goodness,
sittin' pretty in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.... like it, because we live it-
too much is the right amount.
good enough isn't enough,
and there's always room for one MORE.
that's the rules;
never quiet, never soft.....