pecans, chopped.
walnuts, crushed.
bananas, mashed.
yup.
that's what's up.
i made banana nut bread blocks,
and i think they're fan-flipping-tastic.
for serious.
check the teleport:
there are almost as many nuts as there is flour!they're chunky,
they're lightly spiced, with cinnamon, and nutmeg, and ginger,
and they're insanely soft in all the spots that aren't a nut.
ha.
i food processed the vegan butters and the brown sugar and the vanilla paste
and the bananarama nanner nanners.
actually,
that was pretty gross.
the whole thing kind of turned into sad sludge.
the banana disintegrated into a sugar-dissolving, butter obliterating batch of blops.
that turned out great, however.
yeah!
that wet mess,
and the cup of vanilla soy yogurt i added afterwards,
were all the liquid i needed to make 'em oven ready.
pretty cool, right?
i know!
there's tapioca in there, to mitigate the moisture, too......
that makes 'em billowy pillows of lofty cake-ish bread.
i'm just saying, neighbors-
i gambled on banana smoosh,
and it paid off big.
that might've been enough, if i was an A*-hole.
but i'm not,
and that meant they needed a little somethin' MORE.
which is why there's cinnamaple better-than-best-ever-creme frosting on top,
with those pecan halves as extra crawnchy accents,
and cinnamon sprankles too.
y'know,
for individual breakfast blocks, with all the nuts, exxxtra sugar,
and a little hint of nicey-nicey and spice,
these browned-up baby b!tches go to eleven, for sure.
*
having almost no friends means more banana bread for me.
that's the thing, kids.
i'm repping a pendulum of neg's and posi's,
back and forth,
plus and minus, the ugly truth and the consequences thereof.
it's not that i'm not outgoing,
it's that i don't go out.
between high noon and suppertime,
the albie rock show is all the way on,
superbattlebeast blasts of all out, full-bore berserker bard business,
with raging stormswept savage firespit pluming from my pursed lips,
in the form of revelatory conversational danger-close dialogue-
loud fresh hardness is non-stop poppin' live and direct at your face.
but,
at six-oh-one post meridiem,
the curtain falls, the house lights rise,
and there's no encore waiting in the wings.
yeah.
that's a hard style.
i just can't hang out,
and fortunately, in a half-full sort of way,
i'm not invited to, anyway.
therefore,
i come back here,
to the hollow, hallowed halls and fallow fields of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and make, bake, and break things until i slowly fall fast asleep.
(oh, c'mon)
there is no make or break in the wolds and wrinkles of worthy warrior poetry.
they are one and the same.
i do what i do,
alone,
or with my one exxtra-special otherwise unencumbered close-by close friend,
and times get spanned in the professional appreciation and active participation
of producing things with our own hands.
i don't just hang out.
i don't know if i even could.
i've got things to do, and i've got no time for wasting.
if you think about it in other terms,
i get paid to be friendly, funny, and flamboyant,
although i assume my clients think they're just buying a tattoo.
(and why wouldn't they?)
but,
when i'm spending my own dimes,
and spending my own time,
i don't have much in the way of pro-bono charitable donations
to the doo-doo buttery niceties of tolerating regular-person sh!t.
you get it, don't you?
no?
yes?
maybe?
c'mon, folks-
i don't want to hear about your dog, or your baby,
i definitely don't want to know about your stoopid cat,
or your terrible night manager,
or your car troubles, or whatever meme you think is hilarious.
i want to know what kind of man you are,
what your principles and standards are,
you understand me, y'all?
i wanna know what you DO, not what you do for a paycheck,
and i want to invest my minutes in interactive words and deeds
with duders who are being dope, and not just F*ing off.
THAT'S what i'm talking about.
i'm not even saying i'm any fun to be around,
but i am saying that fun is a subjective term...
all i've got is biscuits and cookies;
tippity-tap typed-out first-person-professional confessionally-infested manifestos;
and pretty pictures, both drawn and photographed.....
it isn't a lot,
but it's handmade from nothing,
and it's real,
and it's all really happening.
that's always been the whole point.
it sometimes sucks to do it all without the close-knit communion
of like-minded peers and compatible co-conspirators,
but i'll bet it sucks even bigger, even harder balls to do it alongside everyone else.
being uninvited, and choosing non-attendance, aren't all that different, in the end,
but they really say a lot about value in the beginning;
never quiet, never soft.....
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