Friday, October 7


i took a bunch of stuff,
and i made a thing.
i do that.
it is delicious.
i do that, too.
wanna see what it is?
you do??
take a look, via teleport:

chocolate and pumpkin and chee'cake an' that,
just for you.
and me.
and them.
and us.
it's a little somethin' different, and it's a whole lot of something expert.
how'd it happen?
like this:
2 tubs of vegan creamchee',
1 T flour
1 T tapioca
1 T arrowroot
1/3 cup powdered sugar
1 cup pumpkin
cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, cloves
2 tsp vanilla
^^^^food processed until smooth,
and cooked over medium heat until it thickens up a little.
i fired 2/3rds of that into a two-tone mix of graham crackery crackles,
a package of chox and a package of standards,
stacked and packed, pulsed in the processor,
and paired with a handful of sugar, melted vegan butterish, and vanilla,
into a half-chocolate/half-regular graham marble mixture,
in a tall tart tin.
i baked that at 350F for eleven minutes.
that's where the stuff went.
i also melted a third of a bag of chocolate chips into the remaining mix,
and made a thicker chocolate jaun to set it off with.
blops on top,
knife-slicin' marble swirls,
and some time to cool of and let it set up,
while the remaining graham grit dropped down like sprankles on it.
....because wasting the exxxtra-would've been bullsh!t.
i'm just sayin'-
it was a pretty straightforward process,
and the results are really good.
chocolate doesn't get diminished by those spices.
if anything, it gets elevated.
i hooked it up with some creamchee' frosting too,
because MORE is what we want.
and MORE is the only way to make a treat even better.
that's the way it goes.
and that's the way it went.
it's waiting for you at the tattoo studio.
don't feel obligated to get a tattoo while you're there.
after all, nobody else does either.
i'm swirling clockwise as the clock ticks along to keep time with the funneling
spiral of concentric spiral circles that flow straight and directly downwards these days.
the juice is spoiled,
the mojo is spent,
the magic is gone,
and all that's lingering in their place is an echo of reflexive learned-memory motions.
you may as well come for the baked greats,
because the other other goods are all but gone.
the band played on, they say,
and i s'pose there's something like that happening over here.
i'm blowing on the F*ing tuba,
a burly blast of swansong foghorn,
as the sinking ship i'm sailing off the edge of the world on
tries to sink to the bottom before it goes over the side.
it's kinda like we're aiming for icebergs, full steam ahead,
trying to behave like a trireme,
instead of an unwieldy half-rusted ancient oil tanker
i swear to god the crew are drilling new holes in the hull instead of filling them,
and i've taken up the big brass blowhardiness
because bailing the bilge with both hands
was pointless in the face of onrushing ice water.
do you understand me?
i hope so.
because that's a pretty F*ing good metaphor.
i'm still doing what i do, dudes.
all of it.
to the maxxximum level i'm capable of at all times.
my shoulders are getting pretty broad, figuratively,
even as the rest of me shrinks under the burden, literally.
except my guts.
those are full of falafel.
at least there's three more days of THAT.
this is it, kids.
the well-defined, clearly-telegraphed doom,
the impending ending,
impeding and upending a decade and half of hard work.
it's all really happening.
that doesn't mean it's any good;
never quiet, never soft.....

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

When I take stuff and put it together, it never looks that nice! Yummy!