late-long-lazy.

i keep working late.
that's a thing.
and i want bigger big action,
and better active participation,
both of which are hindered, hampered and harried
by the hurried harangue of hot mess hard feelings and hard styles
that happen when i'm always at work all the time.
y'know?
nah.... you probably don't,
but i assure you, it's more difficult to be somewhere doing something else
when you're always in the same place doing the same sh!t.
awwwwww.
so, occasionally, when i'm finally home,
and crabtree is fed and walked,
i still want something delicious in my face,
even if it means eating late, but still eating great.
to that end, last evening, i fired up three pans,
and prepared a super simple sloppy slab of seitan,
with a heavy dose of brassicas and onions.
check the teleport:

yup.
brussels sprouts, cabbage, green onions, oil, liquid smoke, and g.p.o.p.,
with the babiest splish of vinegar;
which, in retrospect, i should've skipped.
salt-and-pepper butterish-fried seitan steaks,
and grilled sweet onions.
simple, right?
i know.
the glistening onions on top,
with all those caramelized sugars rising to the occasion,
sat up front and center,
softening up that crisp-skinned wheaten meatlessness,
and together, they really turned up the volume on straightforward flavors.
plus all those farty green jauns, just to activate the nutrients a little bit more.
it worked,
and i ate two helpings,
before my battle-beast commandeered one hundred percent of my attention
for the remainder of the night.
he's like that, and so am i.
*
thematic.
that's what i liked about work yesterday.
what?
oh,
there was a theme yesterday,
and that was that everything was all-black all day at the studio.
yeah.
no colors were used in the making of tattoos
for the entirety of the regularly scheduled day.
which stayed longer, but still sans color, into the rainy wet woodsly darkness.
all blackness usually means i'm tattooing dudes all day,
and that was absolutely the case yesterday,
because rules is rules.
i'm just sayin',
dudes love black and grey stuff.
ha.
sure, girls do too,
but when it comes to getting big black blops in the great north woodsly goodness?
hard high-carbon skidmarks are the province of menfolk.
these days,
i just want to get a whole lot more done,
and make the tattoos look bigge,better, more impressive and way more adult.
long gone are the bubble-cheeked bug-eyed bone-neck beasts i used to blast-
don't get me wrong-
all the melty colors and multidirectional light sources
indicative of my early career's stylistic preferences,
and those bubble-magic blendies are impressive testaments to subtly refined skills,
but damn if they don't time-stamp your imagery into a specific place forever and ever.
i've got no illusions about my own timelessness.
but i'm constantly reaching for something MORE.
all black all day?
yes, please;
never quiet, never soft.....