Friday, July 31

goodbye july.

what a sh!t-hot mess of unholy flippin' full moon activation!!
spores and stuff,
sprouting in the hot, wet summertime,
basking in the nutrients of a wolf-moon all night long.
hey, neighbors,
it's the end.
...of the month, i mean.
there will be no more july after today,
and we'll be leaving this last square on the calendar with a big blue mooning,
bright, tight, partially hidden from sight,
and alight with cold fiery ferocity on a hot, humid summery friday.
it's the second one this month, (which is what a blue moon is, dummy)
which means MORE berserker barbarian battle-beastliness,
this time with added tourist traffic jamming.
nature wins,
and she's taking it into exxxtra overtime  with some last-minute
werewolfen second-set encore tumescent lunar magic conjuration.
the question is-
is discomfort and a short-temper ever really out of style?
i hope not,
because there's a side-game running concurrently here-
a mini-mission, even,
where infinite nature takes on rational thought,
predictably to the detriment of both...
and the overreactive animal antics of a skin-shedding scrappy-spat spitting
sh!tty storyteller are all i've got to gamble with.
and i'm letting the odds get even with my mathematical side,
while the probability of impossible abilities are overruling the rest.
i'm just sayin',
there's an awful lot of awfulness that comes with feeling the iron-filled effects
of a giant satellite pulling all of your bad blood to the surface,
and other than rolling the dice on just how poorly the day unfolds,
there's very little else to proactively participate in...
when the nights and says overlap with that circle of reflected false-sun,
there's an overabundance of all-wrong temperatures,
and overly illuminated evenings;
with a shortage of good time to span well, with good intentions,
within the howling hairy heartbeats that flush out all our vermin-churning ill-will
like hunting drums pumping lightning-strikes along the static-charged high-humidity
exclamations and exhalations surrounding the rhythm of each ventricular contraction
like a permanent stormcloud directly over my head......
everything is over before you know it,
the month, the moon, the day, the summer......
and even the bad parts could stand to be just a little baby bit longer,
if that means the end of all of this is farther away.
well, too much is the right amount,
and that's just the sort of thing we always enact and exact from every moment-
so when it's over,
it always seems like less than you'd like.
i'm staring at the space where my kids would be this morning,
if they weren't gone already,
and i'm i'm feeling pretty confident in my assessment of the situation.
there's never enough of any of it,
and although it's all still really happening;
here, there, and almost any-and-everywhere else,
it's be nice to get just another 'nother pinch of just a little more;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, July 30

family togetherness.

me and mine,
at the same time.
that's us.
so is this:
and also,
we like to see stuff:
pictures tell a story,
our story?
once upon a time, we loved turning our backs on you.
that's not it.
if amber was taking candid shots,
i s'pose we couldn't know they were being snapped.
we'd just ruin them if we knew about it.
that's our style.
don't think so?
oh. okay.
but, maybe first you should check the told-you-so-type teleport:
we're A*-holes when we're all together.
i mean,
that much Hamden DNA can never be a good thing.
it's like mixing werewolves and assorted other battle-beasts
with b!tchy and belligerent barbarian bards,
with a side of snide skalds,
and snarky stormswept savage gypsies.
we're jerks as a whole,
but individually,
we DO have our merits.
i guess that's something to be appreciative of?
we are the way we are,
on a mission to be the best versions of ourselves-
which seems to be when we're unaware of or headed away from the camera.
are we a whole family of overacting scenery-chewing emoters?
you know it.
nature wins, neighbors,
and the blood always runs true;
never quiet, never soft.....

bye bye.

once again,
i'm up early.
i mean,
it's about a billion degrees outside,
and that's the only time that the Folk life & Liberty Fortress gets warm.
this big old house is so well sheltered from the elements that light and heat remain without
whenever the temperature and humidity are less than 90 degrees and 90 percent.
....which they are right now, giving us our thankfully all-too-rare sweatbox oven-style
sauna of woodsly soup air and dense wet close atmospheric activation.
it's gross, for sure.
it's our last few moments as a family for a while, again.
harvest and maple head back to the weasely weak-sauce of their home state,
and this fresh forest realm will be decidedly diminished by their absence.
that's no joke.
family togetherness is good for you,
especially when it's the thermonuclear family you choose to span time with.
we had ne heck of a last day, duders-
school clothes shopping;
overeating at our favorite portland, maine vegan spot- the green elephant;
watching murder mysteries on netflix;
and starting the whole day off correctly with a burly batch of griddlers.
we LOVE to eat pancakes,
and we LOVE when they're lovely.
check the fat-stacks-of-heart-attacks-type teleport:
word up.
nutrients are important for days spent spending money.
and we wouldn't want to collapse early,
before every last dime and quarter gets given no quarter,
and we buy up all the best school clothes in sight.
i mean,
i've become the outfit-picker-outer extraordinaire these past few years.
i am very flattered,
since i'm just some weird old guy from the mountains.
since when does your dad help you look good?
...since he's a shallow and vain viking striking lightning-struck poses
in all the clothes he can carry off from wherever the new hottness is being sold.
i think that's real.
i'm in an image-conscious image-dependent industry,
and it's part of my job to know what looks good.
(and with my dear darling daughters,
i can actually offer an opinion based on that knowledge
which will serve to improve our relations...
...unlike at the tattzap studio where what's really good is shunned like an amish slut)
so that's where we're at.
headed away from here this morning,
so i ca be all the way back up here,
and back at work, this afternoon.
it's a hard style, and a terrible goodbye, every single time.
i miss 'em already,
and they're still asleep upstairs.
i know i'm lucky that these kids WANT to see me.
and, honestly, i'm grateful  for the opportunity to impart what i believe on them.
it's the minority opinion that they're exposed to, without question.
i have that core value, steeped in choice, black and white and absolute,
that i keep reinforcing whenever we're together.
it's important that they keep it close at all time-
just be dope, or F* right off.
i mean,
anything less is just not expert.
they're going away, and i'm coming back empty handed,
but i'm grateful for all the time we did share.
am i a mushy diaper baby?
these girls are important to me,
and that gets me emotional.
then again,
it might just be the pre-full moon pumping wolfpack werewolf genes to the surface,
and i'm just doing what my infinite nature requires.
either way,
it's all really happening,
and i know just how lucky i am;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, July 28

pizza pie for your eye.

pizza is expert.
that's the only answer i'll accept.
the only thing better than pizza?
MORE pizza.
and when it comes to pizza,
me and my peoples all know what's up.
four pizzas, for four people?
that means everybody gets one big slice of every pie,
and that equates to one of pizza per person.
what's the serving size for pizza?
that's right.
the amount of pizza to eat is all the pizza.
one of pizza for one of people.
sound weird?
shuuuuuuuut up.
it's the rules.
and those aren't for breaking, neighbors.
pizza, though!
that's what i'm on about right now.
after a day of busily doo-dooing my tatty-tattzappy worky workings;
whilst amber, harvest, & maple were out and about on the town
doing some other other sh!t elsewhere....
(with a brief interlude of bringing lunch to my fat face)
i came home to an oven that was already ready,
and my mise en place was perfectly prepared.
y'know how dope that is?
it's awesome, and helpful, and considerate,
and it also means eating pizzas much much much faster....
and we did.
the light failed before our appetites,
so the last picture isn't the same brightness as the first,
and i'll spare you the excruciating descriptions of what's what,
and how much better than whatever pizza YOU had these were.
never say i never did you a solid, b!tches.
in rapid succession,
check all the teleports:
ka-BOOMfire for your face!!!!
and then:
more badaBOOM for that bellyhole, too.
and also:
and there's one more:
pee eye zee zee ayyyyyyyy!
i mean,
pizza night is tight.
our dinnertime activation is heavy on the family togetherness,
and the active participation,
and the professional appreciation that mark down and make up the essence
of worthy warrior poetry in motion.
it's always a production,
it's always a big deal,
and we always acknowledge how much all of it really does matter.
i know how lucky i am to be able to share the things i care about with my kids.
and i'm grateful for the time i have been given....
to span it alongside these folks, here in among the mountains and trees,
in the so-much-fuller-feeling Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
is really one heck of a good time.
me and mine,
eating, talking, singing, dancing, acting, interacting, overreacting,
and taking all of it to eleven, always.
this is What Is,
maybe it's just for a limited time,
but it's OUR time;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, July 27

that sweet treatsy activation.

i love 'em,
you love 'em,
we all love 'em....
and if you happen to be someone who doesn't?
you're probably an A*-hole.
and that's all there is to it.
treats, though, neighbors.
i mean, c'mon.
sugary yumyums for your mutha-flippin' FACE.
that's what i'm pretty much all about all the time.
there's no such thing as too many treats,
and no treats have ever made me bummed out by being too complicated, either.
i want you to check the so-many-expert-flavors-type teleport real quick:

chocolate peanut butter chee'cake!!
coconut cookie crumbs and graham crackery crumbles for the crust....
a heavy dense dope cocoa-loco layer of peanut-buttery creamchee' batter,
topped with mysterious secret chocolate chip hottness,
for a surprise chunky crawnch in the middlezone,
and then a second set-up of whipped peanut butter creamchee' mousse on top.
that's some serious sh!t.
smooth as heck, airy, light, and almost spellbinding in it's sugary perfection....
but, that's not it.
how could it be?
there's MORE, of course.
dark chocolate ganache drizzled in a diagonal crosshatch lattice
of luxuriously rich delicious dopeness,
...and then a whole mess of crushed and toasted peanut sprankles.
layers and layers of flavor,
all working towards one common goal-
to take our tasty treats situation to eleven.
we doo-doo that ultimate activated big action around here.
if you aren't about a treat this rad,
you're definitely an A*-hole.
that's a thing.
we're here.
eating treats.
that's the best we can do sometimes,
so we do it as hard as we can.
dessert after breakfast?
that's something we're doing these days.
i think we deserve it.
i mean,
we are the architects of our own edible edifices,
and there's always room on the blueprint for a pastry patio.
more is better,
superfancy is mandatory,
and real life is up to us to embellish with excellence.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

bread & puppet.

oh MAN,
it felt so good to take a family trip.
i mean,
for really real, neighbors, it hasn't been a thing for a little minute,
and the past-time well-nigh necessity of tradition being resumed
was right there for the taking...
and we took it.
bread & puppet theater,
and the overtakelessness circus,
in F*ing full effect,
affecting us on practical and provocative levels,
all day.
the thing is, nature always wins,
but once in a while, she also shows a little class and benevolence....
i mean,
it was a rainy sh!t-salad smearface of a day over here in northern new hampshire,
but westwards, up in the grassy reaches of the northeast kingdom of vermont?
they had the hot hot hot weather,
and the bright bright bright sunshine,
and the stinky stinkpits of a hundred hippies prancing and singing
like a troupe of aquarian-age advocates.
what is overtakelessness?
high-concept hippie jauns from the past, i guess.
beats us.
we were way too busy enjoying ourselves to overthink anything.
when there's this much expert sh!t to experience?
there's no time to sit and ponder like a ponce.
word up.
there ARE some people who think that thinking IS doing something,
and they're not 100% wrong.
yet, for all their the marginal accuracy,
it's just not doing something all that productive.
me and mine went over and out,
and had a heck of a good time.
i needed it.
that reminder that there is so much more going on, everywhere,
than the small and sour shoplife i've been living all summer.
there is value elsewhere;
there is good happening in places i can be;
there's even room for MORE fun around here.
(not today, it's still a rainy crapslap on OUR side of the mountains)
the thing is, friends-
i want more time.....but not so i can keep wasting it.
that hippie crap is top-secretly ingrained in my DNA.
if i think about it too much,
it'll be like doing nothing about it.
nature wins,
and nature creates losers,
but somewhere in between all of that,
it's all unfolding according to plan.
never quiet, never soft.....

truth telling.

you don't have to be a brementown musician to appreciate it,
but it helps-
real talk from the great northern woods,
brought to you by the cheap art craftspeople of glover, vt.
that's all;
never quiet, never soft.....

toast upgrade.

vegan french toast.
..i know, right?
you thought that wasn't even a thing,
but it is SO a thing.
and we did it, we had it, we ate it all up,
and felt fat and heavy and satisfied by those thick and luscious slabs
of english toasting bread.
i'm for real, english toasting bread french toast.
that's how i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
we went all out.
check the teleport:
if standard french toast is like toast being taken to eleven?
we took THAT to eleven, without question.
i sawed off several exxxtra-wide slices of bread,
let 'em sit out and stale up for a spell,
and made some wizardly breakfast alchemy in a mixing bowl on the side-
i got my almond flour, and ground coconut flakes,
crushed-up flaxseeds and a punch of nootch,
all stirred into a salt-pinched pour of vanilla-laced vanilla soymilk,
with cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger juicing it up.....
and we buttery pitter-patted down a piping hot pan,
and sizzled that drizzle into all kinds of brown.....
and then really got busy activating some savage stormswept gypsy hottness!!
sliced fresh bananas,
real new hampshire woodsly goodsly maple syrup,
and toasted black walnut sprankles!?!
so expert.
but, wait, there's a whole other 'nother other one,
and that one has some real real sauce-
mostly blueberry (with a few raspberries, too) compote,
with lemon zest and vanilla for fully-functional depth of flavor,
and a scoople of vanilla almond milk ice cream!!!!
because too much is the right amount,
and alllllll the nutrients need to get inside my mouth asap.
i don't know about what you guys were into yesterday,
but we had ourselves a super-elite morning munch-up.
an abiding and deeply-ingrained love of shark-gluttonous bite-and-swallow
food indulgence, founded by a powerful love of flavor...
we have a thing we do over here,
and a huge part of it is making ourselves something to eat.
the second half is savoring every morsel as it gets mashed into oblivion
by our enameled masticators while we talk with our mouths full,
in order to fill our hearts and minds at the same time.
this is how we bond, b!tches.
if you can't hang out, don't hang out.
we're here to eat all the treats, and talk all the sh!t-
it's all really happening, and i wouldn't change a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, July 25

too literal a translation.

from the first to the last of it,
this friday was a real A*-hole.
grocery shopping before work?
dumb idea.
every vacation mom on earth was in the supermarket,
stocking up on hot dogs and sodas,
because the forecast is demanding a rainy weekend interrupt
the week's worthy woodsly goodsly sunshiny days.
 ...which means the studio will be mobbed with individuals
demanding we provide them with spur-of-the-moment satisfaction-
we're all booked solid, and that's no joke, so they're beat,
and so are we, in more ways than one.
rainy, crowded, busy business, with no time, less inclination.
and less desire to light a fire under my tattzappin' machines than ever before...
and now here's old and busted me, hurried, harried, haggard,
and with a whole house full of daughterly dopeness
that needs attention and attending to?
guys, yesterday is bleeding over into today,
and that's not so cool.
i tattooed my buddy thatcher yesterday.
a good idea, on a good dude, in a terrible spot, for hours and hours-
and while i was working on something and someone i enjoy,
some of my regular clients were jumping ship,
and getting zipped up on by my competitive, semi-competent coworkers.
three people, in one day, making some changes in 'artistry'?
that's almost a referendum, huh?
seems i'd better start saving my movie checks,
lest this become a trend.
work isn't supposed to be fun, i s'pose, and every good time comes with a pricetag,
namely, a week or two of hard styles, tough times, bad blood, and'or hurt feelings.
that's not even the worst part.....
the thing is,
a sh!tty day of work isn't even sort of a new experience.
i mean,
that's not gonna spoil family dinner, is it?
i'm just sayin'-
it was feel awful falafel friday,
and that's a highly anticipated super-yummy big deal over here.
both of my girls each got an exemplary edition of my famously fresh-to-death
falafel ball-out friday flatbread with each and every available fixin'.
after all,
you know i've gotta instill a healthy sense of awe in these impressionable teens.
the frying oil made some last-minute unscripted changes,
and after my kids got their eleven-style hottness,
the viscous venom got vindictive,
and dissolved every ensuing ball of chicky pea-pea into garbanzo goo.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
check the teleport:
F* me, am i right?
one fresh falafel sandwich.......hold the falafel.
the one bright spot i anticipated after a discouraging day became another 'nother
deep dark pit of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
womp womp.
oh, don't worry.....
i burned through all the remaining mix trying to salvage the situation.
(i ate a verrrrry fancy hummus sandwich, in the end)
after the discouraging day of wholecloth large-scale doo-doo buttery
starting-at-sun-upand-submerging-into-overcast-crappiness that preceded this repast?
i already felt awful.
and then i just felt even worse.
don't think i'm a quitter.
we went outside for a fire!
hot fire fixes a whole lot of sh!t-salad.....
.............or is it?
that's a combustible cardboard smorgasbord,
because i guess nature was taking umbrage at the idea of us tying the score,
it rained on us.
looks like nature wins yet again.
one order of cold, wet, buggy butthole-ish eventide for dessert
to finish off whatever was left of our collective optimism.
at that point,
we watched the newest hercules movie,
just to really wallow in the weak sauce of sucktarded cinema.
what a day, what a day.
there will be more of all of that, in one form or another,
all dang day today, too.
it's all really happening,
and lots of it is really NOT actually all that good.
now there's a true story to tell your kids, huh?
no gloss, and no great tragedy,
but no great success either.
it's just real life,
and that's all there ever is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, July 24


when you make nachos,
it's likely that all your sh!t is molto weak.
when WE make nachos?
get ready-
because from the tortilla chips to the topmost toppings' toppity-tips,
our berserker barbarian burliness is molto STRONG.
that's no joke.
we start with the big action, a.k.a. the exxxpensive fancy chips,
one whole $5 bag of 'em, spread heavy on the tray...
and then there's the custom refried beans,
poppin' with onions and cilantro and g.p.o.p. and nootch.
dropped in brown blops all over the place.
that's mandatory for fresh nacho hottness.
we grilled up some leeks with shredded house-made seasoned seitan strips,
drizzled with fire-roasted chile juice.....
which we drained from the fire-roasted chiles
that were mixed in with the black beans and scallions for the 'chos.
wooooooooord up.
that's two-part chile utilization,
and that's super-elite symbiosis,
and that is also expert.
in fact,
take a quick peek at the way we bring the thunder and lightning,
via the activated-nacho-libre-type teleport:
with daiya(rrhea) chee' allllll over it, in two tiers...
plus black olive sprankles,
and salsa verde, for just that little bit extra of those juicy jauns,
furiously baked in fuego,
for molto magic at dinnertime, in F*ing full effect.
so, basically, what i'm saying is-
what y'all'd probably call super-nachos,
we just call everyday nachos....
because rules is rules,
and too much is the right amount.
yeah, you do.
our way of doing things goes to eleven.
it has to.
or else how would we know we're indulging in luxury?
yeah. ...that's what's up.
family dinner is important.
especially when all-day work is ruining our otherwise awesome
big fun summer vacation times together....
there's more of that today, too.
there WILL be falafel tonight.
i mean,
it IS friday after all.
we pursue our own small joys,
day after day after day,
until our time is up,
and we're forced to once again span new minutes in old places,
without each others' company to fill in the blanks.
that means every moment matters more when we're here,
in the fresh mountain air, and summery breeze of the woodsly goodness...
it's all really happening,
and that's the best we can hope for;
never quiet, never soft.....


rice and oats.
sounds like dinner and breakfast, to me.
in this instance,
i'm talking about treats.
gluten-free cookies, round two, this week...
there's something about a crisp-edged soft-centered little roundie
that make me want to devour it and all it's friends all at once in a feeding
frenzy of cookie monstrous size, strength, ad savagery.
i can't help it.
i keep making lots of cookies,
because i keep eating LOTS  and LOTS of cookies.
that's for serious, neighbors.
it's almost as if when they're also gluten-free, they're not really cookies;
they're more like 2/3rds cookie, and 1/3 pretend.
that means 33% more cookies are allowed, y'feel me?
we're representing the mighty toasted walnut, with authority.
that's right.
chunks of toasted walnuts, all burly and brainy and slightly bitter,
bashed apart, and strewn throughout the dough,
for a chawnky, crawnchy bite, in amidst the squish of that wheat-deficient disc.
they're good.
don't be a baby.
check the teleport:
with lemon extract, and so much lemon zest,
and a walnut halved on top, for flair.
our treats are tremendously expert.
because if we're gonna eat 'em,
we better be able to enjoy 'em.
that's smart.
i like my sugary snacks to be fancy.
i like my fancy-pantsed baking times to be productive.
i like when it all comes together.
i like you.
most of that is true, anyway.
tonight's the night.
friday night.
me and the girls are gonna have to get rad,
maybe with some fire?
maybe with a moose hunt?
maybe with a bb gun and this damned baby bear,
who is back on the prowl, btw.......
nature wins,
and even when we're temporarily tied,
she seeks out sneaky, subtle, and unfair advantages.
it's ALL really happening,
tonight, tomorrow, forever.
with or without us.
we're part of it, for now, and that's something, for sure;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, July 23

spice fear.

maaaaaaaaaan oh MAN!
i had falafel on my brain yesterday.
i mean,
it's pretty much the sandwich that stacks up all the hottness
in every single tahini-slathered bite.
that's a thing.
my daughter harvest is missing something essential in her DNA,
and it's clearly not from my genes....
she offered suggestions by the mouthful,
for anything BUT. falafel.
well, i don't get it either.
however, i can cook other stuff,
and the rest of us will eat anything, as long as it's expert....
just this once, we let the kid pick what we made.
don't worry-
falafel can wait a day, duders.
instead of fried bean balls and pickles and flatbread,
we went molto italian,
and freaked off a fresh pot of pasta y fagioli.
check the beany-dream-type teleport:
shells of semolina, al dente and excelente,
with a sauuuuuuuuuuuce that rocks the party so hard.
it wasn't what i originally wanted,
but damn if it wasn't just what i needed.
slow simmered sweet onions,
quartered orange and red grape tomatoes,
four cloves of fresh chopped garlic,
and two more crushed ones added in at the end,
for even more super-powered nutrients from the earth!
we poured in a cup of vegetable broth, cracked black pepper,
g.p.o.p., nootch, and fresh picked oregano and rosemary,
a bay leaf or two, and a big ol' bunch of basil.
that's the stuff.
...for serious.
i used roman beans. (whatever those are)
for a serious, medium-skinned meaty protein punch.
i'm tellin' y'all-
i didn't want italian awesome sauce when i started cooking,
but by the time i garnished each rustic bowl with sprigs of oregano flowers?
i was right where i wanted to be.
and i'll give my daughter credit....she had a good idea-
despite her only stirring for about sixteen seconds in total;
she's convinced she actually helped.
ahhhh, kids...they're so adorable.
we're probably having falafel tonight...
nobody escapes all the way from the call of the chick pea.
you can postpone the inevitable,
but i mean,
it's inevitable.
so, it's coming our way.
maybe nachos tonight,
and a fury-fueled feel awful falafel friday tomorrow?
no matter what, however,
we're eating well,
and we're eating together.
family dinner is good for you.
that's real;
never quiet, never soft.....

gluten-free, but not weak.

i'm not a little wheat-wimp.
i love bread the most, even.
i want all the baked greats to be in my mouth all the time.
i'm not mean-spirited, even when i'm being mean.
that's really just more or less a by-product of a direct line of action
between my thoughts, words, and deeds.
it's like being a jerk by proxy, based entirely on theoretical principles,
put into practice as a matter of applied philosophical science.
oh, never mind.
here it is, in laymans' terms-
i make wheatless, meatless, dairy-free treats,
because i can,
because i don't really think most glu'tards know about what's expert,
and because super-fancy unnecessariness shouldn't be exclusively
the province of wheat and rye.
check the teleport:
i mean, right?
they've got a little bit of an earthy vibe rolling off of 'em,
but not so much that we'd imagine they taste like crap.
that's word....
i'm making the hottness to be enjoyed by sophisticated palates,
and also by my daughters and i,
the thing is,
i'm using rices, and seed hulls or whatever, to do it.
white and brown rice flours, held together with applesauce, and vegan butters,
and vanilla, and brown sugar,
with xantham gum and oatmeal combined to bind and bond all the bits into
one cohesive fighting force for full-flavored freshness in every dang bite.
and then we take it up a click,
with chopped coconut flakes, and crushed cacao nibs!!
all of that, all at once, is what makes soft cookies, completely non-gritty,
well, except for the mix-ins, obviously.
we treat ourselves with tight bite, sweet crumb,
and pulverized cacao niblet sprankles on top, too.
c'mon, y'all.
i'm making that hippie crap into crucial activation, totally devoid of patchouli fools,
and patchwork pants.....
one hand-rolled and flattened ball of dough at a time.
that bastard baby bear is back.
the little jerk.
i guess his love of scattered seeds
has overpowered his fear of fast-moving ball bearings,
for now.
although, a loud shout sent him racing away this time,
and no air-powered rifles were brought to bear on the bear.
lucky him.
a day off with the kids is anything but.
we got pots and plants;
groceries and niceties and amenities;
we made seitan from scratch (well, they slept, and i cooked),
and falafel mix, too!!!
all of it, all day,
repotting new leafy greenery;
driving through the mountainous new hampshire scenery;
eating treats and loaves and waffles and whatever else;
chugging bottle after bottle of fancily-flavored elite seltzer water;
burning cardboard,
watching movies......
i'm just sayin'-
we ran around and hung about and raced back and forth,
from the moment they awoke (hours after me)
to the moment we all retired to the beds that wondered what took us so long.
it all really happens,
in better ways, and bigger amounts,
when family togetherness is the foundational big action;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, July 22

more ivy, less poison.

all my orchids al simultaneously took a nose-dive into the depths
of despair, disrepair, and dystrophic entropy.
they F*ing all died overnight, duders.
do i want new ones?
i want the favorite flora of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
in abundance, and i want it now.
good news, neighbors....
i can doo-doo that sort of repotting action with not much in the way of difficulty.
that's a thing.
new dark soil,
old bark bits from those dumb dead orchids,
and a fresh batch of ready and willing new varietal vines.........
it's happening, already, and they're growing up and out before my very eyes.
check the teleport:
reaching, clinging, climbing tendrils of ambition are always invited
to the woodsly goodsly warrior poetic world of oxygen-rich righteous real life.
i mean, i'm pretty psyched about it all:
and my kitchen, home to several cuttings and clippings that've been rebooted
and rerouted AND rerooted,
has a new hanging jar of juicy leafy hottness looking axxxtra fresh, too:
we love it,
and it loves us,
and it's official the patron plant of warrior poetry.
we're our own ivy league up here,
with brick and cedar,
birch, mahogany, and bamboo, too.
this is where we thrive,
and it's where we let our grasp extend into the ether of our infinite natures.
more ivy,
more pots, more mulch, more of all of it, until every available window sill
is stuffed with cascades of spade-shaped leaves,
and the house becomes one collective living breathing entity.
that's expert,
and that's the sh!t that's going on around here these days.
we're growing, guys,
and getting bigger and better and increasing all the angles in every direction.
too much is the right amount,
and we're not just talking about it,
we're being about it;
never quiet, never soft.....

crushing the waffle scene.

i may be a C+ parent,
but i am an A+ waffle enthusiast.
that's at least halfway accurate.
after a tiresome exchange of liquids-
ink, blood, coffee, water, urine, sweat, etc.....
-i journeyed to the realm of the weak and lackluster lameness,
and deep in the heart of a sh!t-salad shopping plaza,
retrieved my darling daughters for a week of fresh family togetherness.
running late, weaving through traffic at marginally safe speeds,
texting while driving and while spitting hot fiery cigar-ash from my tongue,
after interacting overlong, and underbudget, with awful and entitled clients
is NOTHING compared to the seven minute wait for some chipotle.
real talk.
i mean,
harvest and maple are great kids,
and i rushed and raced to see them, for sure....
they don't have four different salsas for my face, do they?
that's what's up.
we got in late,
stayed up way later,
and while i was up at the same sort of early-shirley squirrely dawn's-first-light,
they slept in,
and got up just in time for waffles.
check the deluxe-luxury-type teleport:
wu-TANG waffle wednesday?
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
oatmeal coconut brown sugar waffles,
with vanilla and vanilla soy milk and vanilla vegan yogurt,
lookin' all sorts of extra-sugary-crispy and heavy.
i know what's good for us.
lemon zest, and a fresh-squeezed lemon, mixed in with vanilla beans,
and blueberries, and raspberries, and strawberries,
for a flavorful, citrus-activated tart and sweet compote?
a scoople of that OVER some real maple syrup is the TRUTH.
no question.
and just to take it to eleven,
we're reppin' toasted pecans sprankles,
melted butter and vanilla extract drenched,
rolled in confectioners sugar, cinnamon, and a pinch of nutmeg.
because too much is the right amount,
and we're mutha-flippin' expert,
from our first meal to our last.
family togetherness is sort of my favorite part.
everything else is just busywork in-between.
we've got a full house full stomachs, and full hearts.
it's all really happening, again,
and not a moment too soon.
this is it, and that's that;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, July 21

more is better...

i still work too much.
that's nothing new.
when i get home,
i just simply look forward to not getting sh!t on
while i'm in the rustic righteous really-real embrace
of my special spaces, better known as the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's not really an unreasonable expectation, is it?
a man's home is his castle,
a better man's home is his fortress,
but in both instances,
there's an implied idea of refuge from literal and metaphorical feces.
word up.
the nest above my door,
the baby birds of which abandoned ship a month ago,
has now got a whole new other other 'nother clutch of crapping critters occupying it.
...and the crapping part is definitely aimed at my head.
they didn't get me, yet,
but while i was repotting ivy plants,
and running in and out and back and forth between the front dooryard,
and the back sunroom,
the little chirpy chicklettes were dropping curdled custard glops down
en masse, in an attempt to leave a skidmark or two on my person.
look at 'em:
what a bunch of jerks.
i do have to say that even with them dumping on my doorstep,
the idea that this woodsly goodsly redoubt is a safe place
for flora and fauna to flourish on the fringes of the forest feels pretty good.
in the interest of real, good, and continued life, my casa is theirs...
until they get some beter than fledgling feathers,
in which case, they'll flip the script, get dope, and F* off.
the thing is neighbors-
nature wins,
but the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress leads the league in assists.
i've got birds, bees, flowers, trees
and a big ol' batch of mutha-lickin' cookies in the oven.....
it's ALL really happening over here,
and there's no better place to stage the whole big dramabombing action;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, July 19


so, neighbors,
about thirty years ago, give or take,
cabbage patch kids dolls were the new hottness over here.
that's real.
my sisters had 'em,
so did every girl in the whole town.
it was as is, overnight, if your daughter didn't have one,
you were a sh!t parent, and that child would grow up a failure
due to your doll-related inattention.
that's a hard style.
y'know what else is a hard style?
i had the biggest batch of cabbage patch envy a little boy could ever grow.
i dunno what it was about 'em,
but i wanted my own little baby cabbagey doll,
with the name tattoo on it's butt.
thing is,
i couldn't bring myself to ask for one.
i mean,
i was embarrassed, and inexplicably genuinely afraid
of what would happen if i spoke up about wanting a baby doll.
i even used to 'babysit' the girls in my fourth grade class's c.p.k's,
which was really just holding them while they went and got
their gross hot lunch tray of reddish blops and runny pudding...
damn, duders.
even now, i can clearly remember worrying about what my folks might say.
like, i thought they'd be mad or something.
in retrospect, i suppose i was projecting my own fear forward onto them.
the true story is- i would've LOVED to have one,
but i let my own wearying worries prevent even the request from escaping my lips.
eventually, something new took over as the must have childhood treat,
but i didn't forget that feeling i had, of missing out, and not deserving,
and of something maybe being wrong with me.
i'm sure there's something wrong with me,
but it's absolutely not a confusion about gender-roles or parental inaccessibility.
i sincerely hope my own kids will find me a person
they can talk to about what's up in their world,
and that they don't have to be embarrassed about the things they like.
secrets just seem dumb when you're a truth-teller.
after all, if you have to keep something a secret,
and it isn't a surprise party or an XI-mas present,
then maybe don't do that thing?
loud fresh hardness is an out-in-the-open sort of way of doo-dooing that freaky sh!t.
and THAT'S no joke.
i told my kids that story.
trying to relay that it isn't always easy being honest,
and i know the feeling from firsthand experience....
i dunno, friends.
embarrassment due to envy may be my least favorite feeling.
there's a happy ending, here, though, folks.
yesterday, at the post office,
i got this:
amber heard me telling the girls about how, back then,
my friend ben fisher's parents got him a newborn premie baldy baby patch kid,
and how he was subsequently the only boy who could hang
out at recess with the whole crew of doll-carrying girls,
and i was the most jealous i'd ever been up until that point.
she reallllllly listened, y'all.
and i guess it plucked at a heartstring to hear about the battle-beastliest bronad
barbarian being cutesy and sad about a stuffed toy...
i'll bet that anything that makes me seem like less of an A*-hole
must be something to hold onto when i'm being an A*-hole, maybe?.
the thing is,
she acted with genuine intent,
which is the even-better step that follows true paying attention-
and now, three decades later, i've got my very own.
to say i'm touched would be underselling it a whole lot.
i'm lucky,
and i'm grateful,
and i've got the exact opposite feeling from the first draft of this story.
i'm fortunate for the people who truly participate in my life,
and i know it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, July 17


yes, please, and thank you.
y'know, neighbors-
i sometimes wonder if i'm actually a total A*-hole.
it's not for any particular reason that i muse and amuse myself with this question,
but just as a generalized question to the universe at large, i think about it now and then.
i don't want to be a complete and utter effing ayyy-hole,
yet i also feel compelled to allow my true self free reign
across the expressions of my words and deeds.
there's a lot to think on in that line of inquiry.
and thinking makes a worthy warrior poet work up a wild appetite for answers...
then again,
instead of waiting for a cogent response from the secret unseen blueprints
of the architecture of infinity,
i usually just make some sexy dinnertime magic activation,
and let my face get filled with flavors.
i'll tell you what, kids-
if that makes me an A*-hole,
wipe my face with toilet tissue, and call it a napkin,
because i've got mutha-'ucking TACOS to terrorize.
who knows?
maybe the answers i seek are folded in a flour tortilla.
check the taco-type teleport:
five furious fuego-filled fancies in full effect.
they're so heavy.
sopping, sloppy, laden luscious lumps and bloppity glops of big action,
ready to fill up the tanks and fuel a foray into the future.
i'm so ready for that.
what's in 'em?
being expert.
that's what's inside each one.
homemade guacamole, in the style i've perfected,
with diced green bell, pblano, and jalapeno peppers;
cilantro and scallions;
crushed fresh raw garlic;
minced red onion;
lemon AND lime juice,
and a little special g.p.o.p. and black pepper spritz, too.
on the other side,
there is a healthy blarpity blahhhp of refried beans:
why does that have to look so busted?
it tastes elite, but it looks like crap.
fully activated with spices, and ho' sauce,
and tri-colored peppers, and onions.
i mean,
guac and beans are essential to taco time.
there needs to be glue on both sides to hold it all together.
that's a thing.
then we got ourselves some pea tendrils,
scallions for garnish,
and a whole bunch of spicy homestyle secret-recipe seitan strips,
with peppers and onions and hot heat and smokiness an' that:
oh yeah!!!!
tacos, duders.
because other answers can wait while we stuff these folded flaps of destiny
directly into our munchie maws and jerky jaws.
i need this sort of clarity of purpose on my plate more often.
tacos know what the deal is-
just be dope, or F* right off.
nothing else will do.
five tacos.
one long loooong looooooooong night,
and a darned cold early morning.
there's not a whole heckuva lot else going on.
a little work,
less time,
and hard styles on either side.
it's all really happening,
and the rest of the questions are going to have to wait;
never quiet, never soft.....


what the F* is the forties?
not the war years of the greatest generation.
not my approximate age, either.
i mean the forties.
like, the temperature, in fahrenheit, in the woodsly goodness,
for the past few nights and mornings.
it's july.
i know, i know, i KNOW....
nature wins.
but this?
this is just poor sportsmanship.
it's colder than it should be.
unseasonably, even, and unwelcome, without a doubt.
in fact,
it almost ruins the sun-ripened hottness that's glowing all yellow-pink
on my fancy sunroom tree branches.
but only just almost.
the thing is, guys- i get excited to pick the summery succulence that sprouts
up here and there and everywhere on the grounds of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
and today,
the big action, besides how chilled my bare feet are,
is the peach situation on my indoor tree.
check the no-fuzz-type teleport:
and again:
boom boom!!!
i mean, c'mon, duders.
i've got a tree in my house,
and it's growing me treats.
i think you know what that is, don'tcha?
it's expert.
there aren't a whole lot of 'em,
but i'm still going to share.
after all,
a magic mini peach could be my ticket out of here.
i'm sayin',
james had a giant one,
but maybe i'll get a tiny peach pit in my throat,
and take a whole other 'nother kind of trip.
like to the emergency room, or the morgue.
oh, stop.
you're getting that one, ...obvi.
mine will be juicy and non-murderous.
just to recap-
fruit, freezing, and Folk Life, all at once.
right now, where i'm living, how i'm living, and what i'm feeling,
that's what's really happening.
got it?
me too.
working too much is presumably the right amount.
rules is rules, after all.
it's been a year and a half of overdoing it,
and the parts are wearing out.
i'm not just talking about my tattoo equipment, either.
i need a break, for goodness' sake,
and i doubt i'll reach out for one on my own.
i'd sooner reach for another 'nother movie check-making opportunity
than a root beer on the beach.
i work.
i've become one of those absentee people.
the ones who only go to work and home,
over and over and over and back and forth and again and again.
greed plays a factor.
i mean,
i feel poor, if not poorly, and i haaaaaaaaaaaate that.
nobody likes poor people, except other poor people,
and none of them are ever getting a permission slip signed by me.
word up.
obsessiveness adds it's own focus to the fracas, too.
i can't relax if i know there's more to do,
and i doo-do that mucho mas molto molto-still style sh!t.
pride gets me all worked up to work my way up and down a day.
i mean,
loud fresh hatrdness for your face is what i advertise,
but the fine print really says
loud(ER), fresh(ER) and hard(ER) than these jive turkeys next to me.
i don't want to get paid to lose.
but i also don't just satisfy myself with a win.
i've got to dominate, decimate, denigrate, demean, deride, decry, destroy,
damn, condemn, and crush the crew i'm cohabitating with.
that probably makes me kind of a jerk?
i said it, i meant it, and i'll live with it.
i just want tpo be the most.
the most of all.
because i also want to outpace my purposes by about a week,
so i can do something else for a little minute.
i'm ready for a saga that discards the zips and zaps,
and maybe doesn't even allow a pencil or pen,
just for a few.
a tactical regrouping, as it were, for a return to the grist mill,
and for the grindstone to whet my fanged fingers,
and then wear away at whatever's left.
that IS a flippin' bummer.
what can i say?
half-empty is what i do best;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, July 16


it's the weight of banana bread, neighbors.
it's heavy.
and dense.
and just plain ol' thick in the slice department.
that's what makes it so great, probably.
all that burly banana moisture,
and the (soy) yogurt instead of milky juice,
and the cinnamon.
actually, cinnamon is pretty dang light.
it's practically brown fairy air.
the thing is,
y'gotta put it in the nannerbread,
or else it's not really nana-na-na-na.
i think that's real.
i got too many bananas,
i got just the right number of bananas,
depending on what manner of nanner you'd rather eat.
i doubt i've ever just been psyched to munch up a banana as is.
i prefer to transform it's overpowering flavor into the essence of a baked treat.
and while i'm at it,
i want chocolate chips up in there, as well.
that's a thing, for sure.
chocolate is good for you,
chocolate chip banana bread?
check the teleport:
with ground chocolate rubbed on top, baked right into a glazed craziness
that accentuates the crucial crumb of that crafty loaf of luxury.
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t, kids.
and with that,
i've used my overripe fruit and i've activated another 'nother expert delight
to fuel my morning's race against time to pack in all the stuff that needs doing,
before the doo-doo buttery business of tattzapping takes over and tries
to undo all the gains i make before midday.
there's always a lot that needs doing here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's the truth.
for yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
there are six closets upstairs that need organizing;
and there's also a seventh that i'm just planning on neglecting entirely.
y'know how much fun organizing closet is?
but, that's what's become of my responsible adult life.
rearranging all the stuffs i've stuffed into the dark corners,
amassed and disused, but not discarded.
i think that's a metaphor for something.......
there are recesses that are meant to remain messy,
and there are doors that i'd prefer stay shut.....
i gotta make room for more, better, fancier, fresher new hottness-
and these extraneous old busted jauns,
stacked and stagnant in the sidebars and side rooms of this expansive estate,
are just occupying mindspace, and physical space, that could be better spent
on improving the bigger picture by having less in it.
i think that's what moving on feels like,
even if moving out would almost be easier.
it's all really happening,
and that, i'm sure, is the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, July 13


farewell cupcakes!
not goodbye to cupcakes.
goodbye WITH cupcakes.
you've never heard of that?
it's a thing, and i guess you're welcome for the update
and the insight into how things are done around here.
what did my daughters want to take home from new hampshire,
back to the suck-sauce of sh!t-salad connecticut?
it was radical expert vegan baked greats from their dear old dad.
don't be dumb, neighbors...
so we made some, for the road.
we couldn't decide what flavor,
so we went with a crucial clincher,
and tripled our chances of getting the correct answer.
we represented on a neapolitan threesome,
and the finished product was totally correct in all the best ways.
check the chocolate-vanilla-and-strawberry-type teleport:
you feel that?
that's the rush of new hottness blasting past your face as one of these
tasty treats fires itself into your big dumb mouth.
brown sugary vanilla bean cake,
with the moistest moisture and the springiest crumbs
is the only way to activate a single-serving portion of pure awesome.
and deep within each dense and delicious crumb cylinder,
there's strawberry magic waiting to introduce itself to a tastebud or twenty.
we whipped up a pastry creme, made more elite with strawberry jam,
powdered freeze-dried strawberries, lemon juice, and a pinch of vanilla.
that's riiiiiiiiiiight.
and, of course,
when that neapolitan jauns is the plan,
and vanilla and strawberry are already present and accounted for,
it's time for chocolate.
the frosting, kids.
the deeeeeeeeep dark cocoa and ground-chocolate goodness,
is so thick, and so creamy, and so so SOOO dang chocolaty,
it really elevates the overall level of dopeness by an order of magnitude.
that's no joke.
they almost didn't even need the tri-color sprankles.
i mean,
too much IS the right amount,
and doing less would've been incorrect.
can't hang with that, folks.
not today, and not when it's the summery legacy of a successful visit with my peoples.
rules is rules,
and family togetherness takes top priority in the treats-creating hierarchy.
my girlies want cakes, they get the big deluxe ones.
i'm not about to start short-changing 'em any time soon.
we bond over baking,
we deepen that bond in-between the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
and the meeting places where we find ourselves exchanging goodbyes.
making the most of our togetherness means enjoying whatever we're doing,
the most we can imagine ourselves capable of.
forcing it, faking it, or fretting about any of it isn't going to improve anything.
it's always all of what's really happening that we appreciate the most.
our overlaps and interweaves are all that we've got to go on,
and we're all growing in to the best versions of ourselves
whenever we're together as a family.
small increments of incredible gains,
and larger impacts from smaller pictures are the way we're looking at our summer.
there's not enough of it.
i miss the sound of grumpy morning teenagers already.
so until next time,
they'll have to savor the sensation of a melt-in-their-mouth treat,
and i'll have to make due with whatever else is left behind.
this is it,
and there's more where that came from;
never quiet, never soft.....


fire is good for you.
that's real.
check the teleport:
and we lit it up with sparklers.
matches are fine, usually.
i mean, they work, and that's more than adequate-
a little molten magnesium torch jauns is way more expert.
i mean it.
we burned through box after box of sparkle magic,
running, and sparking, and swirling our arms through complicated patterns,
illuminating the night with the glowing glitter of metal sticks on fire.
i love that short of sh!t.
a lot.
check the naruto-running-garden-type teleport:
kids running and laughing?
we got that.
delicate and sophisticated flowers of flame?
we got that too.
old and busted doo-doo buttery dads?
womp womp.
every F*ing day,
i'm living that dream at a ferociously savage pace.
then again,
i'm eating well, living hard, and keeping it molto molto real.
true story.
i stay ugly, and i stay dope.
what else would i even do?
that's all there ever is.
we run around like jerks.
we stand by the fire and spin ourselves into perfectly heated kebabs.
we do what we came to do,
which is span time and enjoy ourselves.
the time we've got is good time,
and we make the most of meager moments whenever they present themselves.
i'm grateful for what i've got,
and for those i've got next to me when it all really happens;
never quiet, never soft.....

last nights...

we have a stuffed bread thing we do around here.
that's right.
a loaf of bread with food IN it.
homemade semolina-rich dough,
with a splash of extra gluten,
and a dose of extra yeast,
rolled out,
and filled up with stuff.
in the case of my darling daughters' last night in town,
we stuffed it with broccoli and onions-
because broccoli bread is DOPE...
but then we freaked it off with caramelized leeks,
and slivered brussels sprouts,
i think we had to kick it up a little.
old reliable recipes are great,
and there's something comforting about family traditions,
there something even more comforting about overdoing it,
and getting ourselves an upgrade.
so i s'pose taking it to eleven is reallywhat we're actually all about up here.
and that means more stuff stuffed in those tasty dinner loaves.
harvest and maple are the reason i make this specific thing.
it's OUR thing.
and what a thing it is, guys.
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
...and with a side of simple dippin' sauce?
i made three loaves,
loaded up with veggies,
and layered with so much gooey nootchie-chee'.
we even laid down a foundation of daiya notzerella style jauns,
for added gooey chew, because we keep the rules sacred,
and the rules tell us that too much is the right amount.
we love our time together,
and even though it seems to revolve around food,
i'm always just so glad to make our own fun wherever we can,
whenever it's possible,
in humongous amounts,
together as a team of worthy warrior poets.
word up.
teamwork is important when group activities are underway.
the girls' official position in this dinnertime situation
is to wonder why it isn't ready faster,
with a little bit of stealing broccoli florets while they cook,
and a supplemental spate of getting underfoot while rolling dough.
oh, for sure.
they're awesome at it.
the thing is-
i am a better-expressed presentation of my true self when i'm spanning time
and taking care of those two teen terrors.
for real.
taking care and taking the time to talk to them,
to laugh and joke and basically store up a charge of family togetherness
in order to make it through the lean times when i'm home alone
without the pitter patter ( or lazy hammock lounging) of smallish feet.
and also,
deluxe broccoli bread brings us closer.

it's OUR thing, man.
everybody has their thing.
ours revolves around us filling our bodies.
breaking bread,
and building ourselves into better barbarians bards,
with camaraderie, comedy, conversation and closeness.
i'll tell you something-
i wouldn't want it otherwise.
the things we do define us,
and we are, therefore, definitively and definitely finite sources
of all-natural infinite nature,
fueled by fancy foodstuffs,
stuffed with flavor,
and full of ferocious fire and fresh forces.
it's all right here,
even when they aren't;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, July 10


life doesn't even hand me lemons.
that's word.
in fact,
life's hands seem to be greedy grabbers,
and they're holding onto the giveaway citrus pretty damned tight.
they aren't handing out even one damned pithy piece of zest....
so i've gotta buy those bitter b!tches myself,
and bend them to my will.
there's no time for optimism,
there's too much work to do.
that's no joke.
when it's lemons we've got,
and the backhanded mack-hand of real life
is looming large and in charge like a stern disciplinarian,
we forgo the forgettable 'ade,
and activate the memorable-for-all-time-immemorial chee'.
lemon chee'cake is in F*ing full effect at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and harvest and maple and i are enjoying a whole new level
of cakey density, with that lemon curdish bite that comes from being expert.
check the teleport:
am i right, or what?
that chee'-chee' jauns is molto fresh.
crumbly cookie crumb crust, with the babiest bit of loco-coconut flake shredded in,
and two types of lemon cakiness,
just to be sure that we're really getting our money's worth out of life's lemons.
custardy curds for lemony turds is the way we doo-doo that freaky sh!t, kids.
but, honestly,
it's the abundance of zest, oil, extract, and juice all together in one big ol' mixture
that really give it it's fully-developed and clearly-defined character.
too much is the right amount.
and that's the only way we want it.
straight up chee' cake with the zest,
and exxxtra-yellow full bodies high-juice-content custard business are great,
but without the lemon frosting,
it wouldn't be anywhere near the perfect eleven we're enjoying.
family togetherness.
when it's happening,
it's definitely the best.
and right now,
it's happening at a breakneck velocity.
the kids have plans during the day today,
and i've got a whole buttload of tattblasting business to perform as well.
tonight, however,
it's 'puppy culture' behavior-shaping videos,
and popcorn,
and blanket parties,
and great times with my favorite people.
this is what i've been waiting months for;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, July 9


brown sugar.
maple syrup.
maple extract.
vanilla bean paste.
and expert activation from the first to the last of it.
that's right.
we're eating the loftiest, loveliest, spiced and special,
moist and magnificent slices of the best ever sorta-carrot-style cake
that ever skipped the vegetables,
and instead went straight ahead, and extra heavy, on the treats.
check the brown-sugar-type teleport:
soft and fluffy and super tasty,
with the subtlest cinnamony mouth magic melting throughout every morsel.
and you know we goobieblopped the whole top
with cinnamaple better-than-ever-creme frosting swirls.
real maple syrup is essential to new englandy treat magic.
for serious.
cake is great.
sweet, soft cake, with rich and righteous frosting is better,
and sharing it with my family is the best.
it doesn't even really taste like fall,
although it's only fifiy degrees outside, and it sure feels like it.
we love treats,
and the whole crew is all about enjoying diverse and copious quantities
of carefully-crafted oven-fresh baked hottness.
we make 'e,
and we share 'em,
and there's nothing much better than that.
treats and treats and treats.
that's that fun-time vacation family jauns,
and it's what's poppin' off this july in the woodsly goodness;
never quiet, never soft.....


this is the best!
i mean it.
my dear darling daughters, harvest and maple,
are right here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
with me,
enjoying all the expert activation that composes, constitutes, and comprises
the promises and surprises of this worthy warrior poetic life
in this mountain valley full of woodsly goodness.
that's great news.
i shot a bear yesterday.
shuuuut up, and also, take it easy.
i pegged him with a bb, straight out of an air rifle,
and only after attempts to chase him off were met with absolute indifference
by the seed-seeeking little sh!thead.
he needs to know that human homes aren't his buffet table,
or he'll get into a LOT of trouble later on.
a sharp ball-bearing battle-blasted baby bullet stung him enough
to send him barrel-butt into the forest and away from the homes of the northern
necktards in the adjacent neighborhood.
i'm a jerk, i guess,
but i had to help a dude out with a sharp check
and a decent wariness-instilling sting.
the girls got to witness some old-timey bear-fighting nature jauns in full effect.
real life,
and the overlaps of wild and tame,
rad and lame,
and hungry beasts indoors and out.
it's all really happening, and that's the whole point.
here's the thing, kids....
we do what we do,
days fade to weeks fade to months fade to years,
and there's nothing much more....
it's just work and work and eat and work.
but, yesterday, it was outdoor nature enjoyment,
and hammock swinging,
and treats and eats and climbing on the roof,
and checking out baby birds,
and baby bears,
and domestic errands,
and a long cruise through the woodsly out-of-the-ways......
we had one heck of a good day,
and i'll tell you what-
i am grateful for these people, and this place,
and for the time we've been given together.
it takes a whole lot of effort, over weeks of work,
to earn a day like yesterday.
and y'know something, friends?
it's worth it.
i took extra time to get expert from the moment i woke up, even.
that's real.
we have our routine up here, when family togetherness is underway,
and one of the things we do is have some fancy breakfast action
when there's time to doo-doo that sort of big brekkie business.
this time,
we had hearts.
because we looooove each other so much.
check the teleport:
vegan buttermilk bombers,
with oat flour and coconut and soy yogurt,
real maple syrup (because we AREN'T A*-holes)
and a little powerful pow-pow-powdered sugar, too.
we have a healthy, and maybe just slightly overdeveloped appreciation for food.
pancakes that take forever to make, in shapes,
with thick walls of well-browned battery buttery crispness?
we're kind of all about that.
it doesn't stop there.
how could it?
we want all the awesomeness, all the time, everywhere.
did you just ask if we stopped at chipotle on the way back up to new hampshire?\
OBviously, we did.
check this teleport really quickly:
so enormous,
they had to have the whole crew stop working,
just to try and attempt rolling it up.
THAT'S how a man orders a flippin' burrito,
word up.
everything is better with my kids around.
i mean it.
why do i work all the time at a place i'm not welcome nor appreciated?
oh, right.
for those movie checks.
don't be dumb.
i want to give these two girls all the good stuff.
and a grand don't come for free.
a sh!t-salad situation seems easier to swallow,
especially when i'm eating dinner with my daughters afterwards,
and we're talking and laughing and sharing our thoughts on the day.
and why do i still live in an old busted manly mansion in the mountains,
that sits not-so prettily, and also mostly empty, and fairly dang cold all year long?
ah, yes.
because there's something grand about a haunted home in the north,
surrounded by trees and mountains.
it's a destination, and it's an imposing structure,
all sorts of big, and fancy, and unnecessary, but also super freaking dope....
we live in a fortress.
that's important-
especially when my daughters have been buried in suburbia their whole lives.
i just want the best for both of them.
that's not a pandering paean to parenthood.
it's my job.
and i do work.
and i work hard.
everything is better when they're here,
and it makes the work worth a sh!t,
more than anything else ever could.
this is it,
and that is all;
never quiet, never soft.....