Thursday, May 31


i wouldn't call them open-face sandwiches.
because that's not exactly right, is it?
hey guys, i'm just thinking about last night's dinnertime hottness.
it had all the elements of excellence that i required after a long busy day.
there was bread and lots of vegetables, plenty of garlic,
and even a little baby bit of crushed red peppery sprankles.
all the things i wanted, i had on hand, and used with precision.
lucky me.
..and like i'm sayin', it was toast with stuff on it,
or as they call that around some parts: CROSTONE!
crusty jauns for full-frontal facial flavorification!
check the teleport:
allll the things.
homemade pan-toasted sprouted wheat sourdough bread on the bottom,
with exxxtra-virgin olive oil, on a bed of arugula.
good bread makes better people
and bitter greens make life sweeter.
that's real.
there's wilted baby spinach by the blopful-
green bunches of earthy goodness, heated up to maxxximize the nutrient accessibility.
...that's real.
seared sauteed baby bella mushrooms?
F* yes. thick, meaty mycos, with a little pink salt, 
and just a touch of Garlic Powder and Onion Powder to activate more big mama umami.
fried garlic sliver spranks keep it crunchy, crisp, and molto tasty,
and keep the vampires out of the equation, too.
that's one full clove per slice of bread, kids.
caramelized shallots?!?!
too much is the right amount, and that's no joke.
LOOK closer, please:
F*ing right.
blackened tomatoes are always better than bullsh!t raw ones.
for realsies.
and that's why i char 'em every time.
who wants worse tomatoes?
only an A*-hole would entertain that idea,
and that ain't me.
a little teeny baby coupla craxxx of fresh black pepper,
and these bad boys were ready to devour.
well, yeah, of course i drizzled the garlic oil on top.
i'm not some amateur hour idiot, neighbors.
take it easy.
simple? kinda.
awesome? definitely.
gone in a flash? shark-gluttonously.
that's kind of the thing about your infinite nature-
you are who you are,
and you do what you do.
you get a choice, naturally, but really, the choice is shaped by your bias,
which is in place from experience.
dominoes, bro.
one in front of another, a sequential series of overlapping interlocking events
that form the basis of your behavior.
you don't think that's real?
that's cool.
good luck with that line of thinking.
a month ago,
alcoholism took my girlfriend right out of my life.
she didn't die or anything, but she's still gone af.
three and a half weeks ago, my ol' man actually kicked the bucket,
and his life was truncated by drugs and alcohol, too.
may was NOT the merry month it was made out to be at the onset,
it all really happened,
and i learned a bunch about myself, my affection and my attachments,
and my obligations,
and my capacity to both love and hate.
that's a lot to look at within yourself,
and it took a bit for that to stop kicking my A*.
as june looms on the horizon, 
and the imminent arrival of summertime's big, hot, deluxxxe dopeness hangs out
within a hand's breadth of reach-
i'm wondering what the new NEW hottness is gonna be made out of
while i doo-doo all the freaky sh!t that summertime's busy business brings to the area.
opportunity is all around me,
and encumberances are precious few at the moment.
i've got crabtree, of course, but he's my downtown walkaround homeboy,
even if the walking and homeboy parts are negotiable minute to minute.
unlike these splay-toed fried-toad turds around here,
i've got the ✖straight edge✖,
and i've still got that P.M.A.
i'm keeping my composure,
i'm keeping busy at AMPERSAND TATTOO,
and i'm keeping it really real in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress test kitchen, as well.
there's always so much to do,
so there's nothing for it, but to do it.
this is What Is at this moment,
and i'm pretty grateful for this path i'm traveling;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, May 30


i know, man-
y'all're tired of taco tuesday already.
i mean, we're almost six months into the year,
and tacos still keep poppin' off every week....
well, i dunno what to tell you, besides:
rules is rules,
and too much is the right amount.
so if you're looking for less tacos, you've come to the wrong place.
that's no joke.
i loooove taco tuesday;
y'feel me?
no, no, NO- you aren't getting it.
on the ones i, like, love-love it.
it's the most effective way to get full af that i can think of.
i don't even have to think that hard, after a day of tattblasting.
i just come home to those soft flour flaps,
and fill 'em with fuego for my fat F*ing face.
that's real.
check the teleport:

do you get as psyched for good food as i do ?
i'm sayin'-
on the ones, do you even know what the eff i'm talking about?
do you sing while you cook?
do you swear and talk to yourself about how filthy
you're about to get on a plate of all that hottness?
because i doo-doo that every tuesday.
i get turbo-PSYCHED to sit down and terrorize a plate of sexxxy-lookin' sustenance.
i might even do a little dancey-dance while i fold and tuck those tortillas
as fast as i can bite and swallow 'em into my head, neighbors.
i love that they're their own foldable plates that you can eat.
that's tight.
and i love that i didn't even pretend to give a sh!t about process this time.
not even one tiny little bit.
i had two pans out-
one with olive oil, smoked hot paprika, and tofu getting crispy, spicy, and smoky.
the other had a handful of black beans,
jalapeno, poblano, red onion, and spices-
which spices?
chipotle pepper, GPOP, black pepper, coriander, cumin, and oregano-
plus ho'sauce and a drop of liquid smoke to freak it off some more.
how easy is that?!?
i still had some of that custom boomfuego habanero fire-roasted tomato salsa, too,
which activated even hotter, bigger, better flavor.
i couldn't have been happier to eat these little jam-packed jauns.
and there's lettuce, crawnchy purple carrot, radish, red onion, scallion,
and cilantro sprankles.
that's what's good.
but then, to guarantee a level eleven supercharge of the local taco scene,
there's lime and AVO-F*ING-CADO, too, bro.
if your tacos aren't soft flour, you're wrong.
if they aren't so full that the stuffing is overflowing, you're wrong.
if they don't have crunch and squish and spice, you're wrong.
rules is rules,
and at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
taco tuesday issues edicts and decrees on the regular.
shoutouts to my dudes!
no, f'real.
i'm very lucky to have the kinds of clients and friends and client/friends who come around
and span time at AMPERSAND TATTOO.
i'm not kidding around-
sharing space with people who can keep up and come around
and engage in competent capable conversation is my favorite part of every day.
(besides the food, of course)
spanning time with folks i like to talk to,
who get the jokes,
who keep pace,
and keep coming back is the most encouraging and positively reinforcing interactive
participation that recharges my warrior poetry in motion the most.
i'm grateful for these folks.
i'm serious.
every single day is an important experience,
and very little time is wasted,
and none of it is frivolously thrown away getting wasted.
it's intentional inventiveness,
introspective intuitiveness,
and appreciative activation.
it's all really happening,
but i'm just one little bitty bit of it.
it doesn't work without everybody else-
i still do what i do, but doing it all alone isn't gonna get it done better.
...and better is better, buddy.
i've got thanks on top of thanks for my people.
without 'em, the whole thing would be way lamer;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, May 29


i might be a little bit gross...
we ordered a pizza, but delivery was gonna take FORever-
so while we waited, we picked up a whole other 'nother pizza,
from a clearly superior pizza place down the street.
that's a pizza appetizer before the pizza arrived.
that's a lot of pizza in an hour.
but then,
because memorial day is synonymous with grilled meats and big drinkies,
and that's 100% NOT my thing,
i went hard on mexican monday while still keeping it really real with
some savage stormswept raging gypsy berserker pizza party hottness.
no brewskis, no grills, just me, my homie dylan,
some homemade semi-semolina dough,
and a full-force push to consume MORE pizza.
too much is the right amount,
and once the pizza gates are flung wide open,
it's pretty flippin' hard not to turn it up to eleven.
check the teleport:

the third pizza was the charm, neighbors.
far and away the best of the bunch,
and with all that nacho-taco-mexico-exxxplosivo on top,
we had ourselves a F*ing feast.
like, do you see how much good stuff is on that big mutha??
c'mon, man- anybody can make a regular pizza,
but to make a magnificent masterpiece like this, after two other pizzas,
with fullness doing it's damnedest to derail my appetite's creative surges?
that's where being expert at shark-gluttony really has a chance to shine through.
if i wasn't an elite vegan overindulgence operator, i might not have pulled it off.
lucky for us, i'm not ever trying to bring the weak volume to the party.
only loud, fresh, hardness for your F*ing FACE!
the dough was fast and dirty-

turn your oven up to 480℉
in your upright stand-up stand mixer, combine:
1 cup semolina flour;
1 cup a.p. flour;
3 T olive oil;
1 1/2 tsp salt;
1 pkg fast-actin' yeast;
2/3 cup warm water, w/ 1 tsp bread-machine yeast stirred in;
2 tsp sugar.
knead it for ten minutes, until it's smooth and shiny and tight.
let it rise while the oven preheats-
they should be ready at about the same time.
i made some ho'sauce and nootch-boosted refried beans.
that was our foundation layer.
15 oz of fat free pinto mash,
and a little onion, GPOP, a fistful of nootch, and a few glugs of ho'sauce.
it's SO easy to make turbo-dope refritas, i dunno why anybody would leave 'em as-is.
that's lazy, and that's not invited.
there's poblano, jalapeno, and sweet lil baby jauns on there-
plus tomatoes,
and black beans,
and red onions,
and fried garlic sprankles, obvi.
(rules is rules)
and that's just all that went on BEFORE baking.
there were also scoops of habanero fire-roasted tomato salsa, too.
from scratch, naturally.
after that, the real MVPs showed up to claim the title-
scallions, and cilantro,
and AVO-F*ING-CADO, bro.
that's IT.
real mo-fo's do real sh!t,
and nothing is realer than triple threat pizza party time.
believe it.
THREE PIZZAS  in three hours.
that's how we doo-doo that freaky-dikiness around here.
the wolf moon magic is here, man.
i feel it.
today should be some kind of amazing.
after all,
the wild animal magnetism is at an all-time high,
and the summer is sorta underway, too.
i've got tattoos and tacos and terrier-time to instigate,
and ideas to investigate,
and punk-A* drunks to castigate,
and it's all really happening,
so i guess i'll just wrap this up and get to it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, May 28


once again,
i can feel the pull of the full moon in my heartbeat.
the ultramagnetized iron-filled hydraulic blood-pressure cooker,
pulsing and pumping the lava-spit-piss-and-vinegary vitriol
from the hot and fiery furnace deep in my body,
being whorled in a maelstrom of devious dervish spins and turns,
at breakneck velocity, to the surface of my skin,
so that today is going to be some kind of experience for myself and those around me.
i mean, yeah, man-
some folks believe that the fullest moons have a lunatic lure,
drawing out the battle-beastly werewolfen mercurial mien in snarls and sneers
and red-tinged rictus
for those few days a month when the blue light is bounced back
from the solid circle in the sky.
maybe that's a thing. it could be a thing. for sure feels like a thing.
wild wolfman warrior poetry,
written during this doused, drenched, and draggled holiday weekend,
where the whole spot is packed and stacked with people from away,
clogging the arteries of the entire town
with cars and carriages and rudimentary manners at best-
it's ALL really happening.
today is the day, though.
anybody who hasn't left yet will be out and off and on their way this morning.
and we'll have our town back again until next weekend-
i'm only marginally affected by the influx of F*s over the summer.
after all, i don't go anywhere.
the slight inconvenience of longer lines at the grocery store and at the coffee shop
isn't enough to bring me down that much, since my social interactions are limited
by design in all spaces save AMPERSAND TATTOO.
...and really,
that's my place, so if werewolfing is what i'm dong when i'm there?
then that must be part of the charter, bro.
rules is rules.
we are what we do, right?
far more than what we think, our actions define us.
thinking good thoughts but still being destructive, even self-destructive,
is going to paint a truer picture than any words could.
good intentions and wrong actions cancel out.
y'wanna be a wild, roaming wolf-skin berserker?
but you'd better be aiming yourself in a positive direction,
and battling against something sh!ttier than just your own demons, y'feel me?
we ALL get a choice, neighbors.
it's not as if the full moon is a surprise- it's a timeline that follows a pattern,
and patterns can be predicted and anticipated and acted upon accordingly.
if i'm going to shed my skin, it'll be to renew myself,
not to diminish myself.
real talk.
i'll be at work today, just like every day,
doing SOMEthing worthwhile, and counting down to the bright bright bright nighttiime
where the firmament is illuminated and i can see clearly where i'm headed.
did i lose you up there?
i made some breakfast muffins.
nothing crazy.
just your classic yumum morning magic for my face.
blueberry lemon jauns, actually.
because lemons are for sourpusses,
and a set of ferocious bloobs seems to be the standing order these days.
no? oh, c'mon.

here's all the steps, in order:
preheat the oven to 361℉ (sike. 350 is fine)
in a medium mixing bowl, cream together:
3/4 cup brown sugar;
1 tsp vanilla;
1/2 tsp salt;
3/4 tsp lemon extract;
1 stick (8T) vegan butts.
mix well,
and sift in:
2 1/4 cups flour;
1/4 cup tapioca flour;
zest of 1 lemon;
1 1/4 cups frozen maine-style wild bloobs;
1 tsp ea. bakin' powpow and soda;
stir in 2/3 cup non-dairy yogurt,
and 2/3 cup non-dairy milk,
AND 3 T lemon juice.
mix well,
and add to greased muffin tins,
i had small-small and small-medium sizes, and this made 48 total.
baked for about half an hour, you'll have spongy, soft, sweet, tart,
tangy little bitty bites of miniature supersexxxy morning glory,
and you will NOT regret it...
i could stay home today.
hold on- i'm the boss.
i could stay home a lot of days-
but i won't.
the studio is gonna get a HARD once-over,
and i'll be taking walk-ins as they walk in.
staying home sucks balls, y'all-
i don't get nearly enough of a return on yard work
to climb into the overgrown shrubbery and start snipping.
this house is haunted,
but by the spirit and memory of it's current owner.
if it LOOKS the part, it'll serve to keep away the curious,
and leave my bullheaded bull terrier and i to ourselves.
we've got howling to do,
we've got prowling to do,
we've got befouling to do.
it's happening, and by tomorrow, when the moon is ALL the way full,
we'll be gnashing, smashing, and slashing our way from dusk til dawn,
and we'll arrive at daybreak as a couple of new and improved dudes.
this is it, and that's all there is to it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, May 27


one time,
my dearly departed uncle ed roasted this enraged party-pooper
who'd been tirading around in full-blown tell-off-mode,
and shut 'er down like he was a F*ing crown prince dropping a decree...
nobody likes a ruiner,
and the soiree was decidedly uncomfortable with one loud bummer spouting their sh!t.
so, after bearing with the increasing swell of bluster and blather,
(alcohol-enhanced outrage is really not a good look)
when the hurricane force lambaste finally reached his section of the yard,
he calmly replied:
'alright, dear, you have received much too much attention,
and you will receive NO more'....
boom. mic drop.
and then he turned around and resumed his previous conversation,
ignoring the stunned silence behind him-
and the poopy-partypants stood there for a second, mouth open,
and then LEFT the event.
it remains one of the coolest things i have ever had the pleasure of witnessing.
sure, the response was impressive,
but it was the actual languid heavy-lidded look of indifferent condescension that
the line was delivered with that blew my mind off of it's hinges.
he said it, and what's way better is, he meant it.
' will receive NO more.'
that's expert AF, bro.
admittedly, he was kind of a pompous A*-hole,
but in that moment, he was exactly the perfect pompous A*-hole.
i'm glad i remembered that.
it's a life lesson, man...and i'm learning something.
i haven't exactly been sleeping much.
and when i'm up early, and there's nothing going on, i do what i do.
and what i do is bake some treats.
dudes, check it:

gold glitter sparkle sugar sprankles?!
F* yeah!!!
i'm celebrating, neighbors.
my dudes michael and kim just got hitched.
my old friend anna's berfday is today.
it's memorial day weekend.
those are things are all good reasons for cupcakes,
but, then again,
any reason, or even no reason, still calls for cupcakes.
they're a great idea all by themselves.
and here's what i did to make them a reality:
preheat your oven to 350℉
in your upstanding upright mixer,
moosh up:
8 T vegan butts;
1 1/4 cups raw sugar;
2 tsp coffee extract;
4 T instant coffee;
2 tsp vanilla;
2/3 cup non-dairy yogurt;
1/2 tsp salt.
whip it well, and whisk in:
1 cup non-dairy milk....
next, add the dry stuff:
3 cups flour;
2 tsp bakey powder;
1 tsp baking soda;
4 T tapioca flour;
1 T ground coffee beans.
mix that on high speed until it's fluffy like clouds,
and dispense it into little cups in little pans,
and bake them for 30ish minutes, or until they look done-
you should have two dozen, if you'e done it right.
then, when they're cool (and by that i mean, to the touch, because they're cool already)
y'gotta frost 'em-
1 stick vegan butter;
3 cups powdered sugar;
1/3 cup non-dairy milk;
1 tsp coffee extract;
3 T cocoa;
2 T instant coffee;
1 tsp vanilla;
whip whip whip whip whip it up, and squeeze it out, and make them awesome.
and if you HAVE spranks,
don't be dumb, and don't get cheap, and make the magic happen.
rules is rules, and glittery sparkle magic is on the do-do list.
attention, attention, and attention-
i'll gladly pay it, but only to worthy causes.
like uncle ed said:
you will receive NO more;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, May 26


my relationship with crabtree is tough, but it's also predictable.
crabtree is my totally terrible bull terrier shark-bullet-
appetite and velocity are his primary attributes,
but recalcitrance and hindrance are what he minored in at doggy daycare-
now, i've always considered myself a dog person-
A dog person.
one person; and just one dog.
and while there are lots and lots of dogs in this world,
honestly, i don't give a single sh!t about most of them-
crabby is my dude.
and he is also a wriggling, unwrangleable handful of hot fire and greased lightning.
here's the thing-
all he wants is simple- all my attention all the time;
if we could just go around smelling and urinating on things,
in-between walking to, and sitting down in, dirty, smelly places
that look like they could use a good splash of pee, then he'd be the best dog ever.
i have other ambitions that interfere with aimless effluvial evacuation.
that's where the difficulties arise.
it's awfully had to convince this battle-beast that where i want us to walk is superior
and a priority, relative to the something-gross-that-might-kill-me he'd prefer to investigate.
it makes our walks more like running streetfights,
and it makes our bachelor-style home life more like a boxing gym.
lucky me, right?
weirdly, though- as much as he doesn't give a single eff about what i care about,
he still wants all my focus to be on acknowledging him.
i think i've got a deafer, more physically-impressive canine version of myself.
it's conflict and affection,
resistance and stubborness and general inflexibility,
coupled with weird looks and insistent contact.......
i may be learning a lesson here-
i just hope it's not my initial takeaway, which is:
we are both terrible, and we deserve each other.
i've had plenty of time to think about this over the last few weeks,
as he and i span time almost exclusively with one another.
he's much improved for the lack of company, save the strangers who accost us on the streets.
we walk, we drive, we sleep, we eat together.
he and i.
i'm excited for my closest people, as they have partners, practices, parties, or whatever
to occupy their time-
and while i'm not disappointed that what i've got instead if this damned dumb dog,
it does get tedious exclusively attending to a non-reciprocating companion.
that's basically what i was doing before, with my human partners.
only, the dog is far, far less hesitant to display his genitalia.
still, that's concerning, no?
and it means that i probably i gotta do something different.
otherwise, what's gonna change, right?
that's what's up.
me and my milky boi (that's crab) had better interject some new hottness into
our world, ourselves, our tag-team title run,
and the interactive interface between us and you.
it starts today.
right now.
or, as soon as he wakes back up, anyway.
so keep an eye out for us-
and keep your toes on their tips,
because we just might both pee on you to claim you as ours;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, May 25


thai thursday.
that's good stuff.
of course, if y'all ain't sayin' it: tie terzday, i'm gonna suggest you start asap.
i used squiggly noods.
almost rameny ones.
maybe they're uber-ramen, or proto-ramen, or somethin' like that.
i threw away the package before i cooked 'em, so i'm at a loss.
here's the thing:
spicy noods are what you want, and need, and crave-
but as long as there are noodles involved, you're pretty much all set.
that is, if you like variety in your asian pasta game.
for me, personally, it's all about the sauce, and the add-ons.
and i'll keep saying that until you believe me.
without the proper exxxtras, all you've got is bummeroni and ho'sauce.
that's real.
look at the example i'm setting for superior noodity:

get it?
oh, c'mon, man.
you're into it, aren't you?
those squigglers are underneath in force,
and then there's the tofu-
dry-fried thin sliced exxxtra-firmness, strong and hot and golden,
and finished with a short sizzle in raw coconut oil for a flavor/crunch-upgrade.
then, there's the veggie medley, neighbors-
sweet and hot chili peppers, celery, green and red onions, multicolored carrot,
minced broccoli stems, tomatoes, cilantro...
and on top, steaming away, half a head of broccoli florets,
activated with a powerfully spicy sweet sauce!
without a savage sauce to steep in, all those crawnchy veggies are just salady bullsh!t.
2 T tamari;
3 T sriracha;
1 T sesame oil;
2 T rice wine;
2 T lime juice;
1 1/2" skin-on organic nub of ginger, slivered;
4 cloves sliced garlic;
1/4 tsp black pepper;
1 T regular-A* ho'sauce;
1/2 tsp ea. GPOP.
and then, when all that is all set,
you drop the freshie-fresh jauns on TOP.
too much is the right amount.
that's real.
we got sossamon sesame two-tone seeds.
we got cilantro sprankles.
we got scallion bits.
we got coolwater cuke slabs.
we even got that mint, for cryin' out loud.
radicchio ribbons? sssshhhhhhhh. tha'sright, kid.
and to make certain i took my solo bowl-o of noods for the dudes to eleven?
i don't want ordinary.
i want exceptional.
and not just on my supper table, either.
active participation and intentional effort and attention are the order of the day.
this weekend had better be expert AF.
i need it.
there's been enough grief, grievance, and god-awful garish grogginess
to last me through the whole summer, and it's still technically spring for another month.
i'm doing my damnedest to be ready for what's next,
but i've still gotta fully let go of what's recently gone first-
i'll be diving deep into the murk of my mixed feelings,
letting this memorial day be the site-specific final farewell for those i've lost-
some of 'em aren't even dead, yet-
but, i s'pose their previous-level personas kind of are, though...
so, this is it.
i'm counting on close connections to interject some light-hearted hottness
in the wake of some cold-hearted cruelty.
my hands are open, waving bye-bye and hello at the same time.
the thing is, they're not holding on, but they're ready to grab onto something new.
where's the future?
it's right here.
it's all really happening,
and that's still the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, May 24


cookies, bro.
simple as that.
cookies in full effect, in total vegan rich, righteous resplendence,
and in a large and in charge quantity for my F*ing face.
when you need to overindulge in a big, fat, shark-gluttonous gorge,
why wouldn't you want gorgeous grains and chocolate chips?
i whipped up a from-scratch batch in just two quick ticks and a tock,
and then took down a dozen like i wanted to get diabetes right NOW.
they were SO friggin' good i had to help myself to another,
and then another 'nother,
and then another 'nother other, and so on and on...
look at 'em:

neighbors, that's some chunky rock block activation right there!
that's just what i wanted, but maybe not exxxactly what i needed.
too much IS the right amount,
but overly-blarpity body-shame isn't where i'm trying to be this summer.
perhaps i'll be able to abstain today,
although i know they're at the studio waiting for my attention,
just being all kinds of delicious and available right in front of me-
and that'll be difficult to refrain from diving into.
on the real, they're F*ing expert,
and that's my weakness.
if you want to bulk up along with me, but you aren't nearby,
here's the recipe, so we can fatten up in solidarity if not in person:
preheat the oven to 375℉
in a medium mixing bowl, cream up:
1 cup brown sugar;
1/2 tsp salt;
9-10 T vegan butts;
2 tsp vanilla.
mix well, and stir in:
1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce;
2 T agave.
next, add:
1 1/2 cups flour;
1 cup fresh-ground crushed oat flour (like, oats in a spice grinder, bro);
1 cup rolled oats;
1/2 cup coconut;
1 tsp ea bakey ka-powder and soda;
2/3 bag of mini-baby dark chocolate vegan chips.
knead it all up,
and hand-form little half-flattened discs, arranged evenly on some baking sheets,
and baked for 13 minutes in a row.
that's it.
that's all there is.
you're now in possession of a valuable asset,
and in addition,
you're now capable of a cookie binge that'll drop you into hyperglycemic overload.
you're welcome.
i saw my dear friend anna yesterday,
and i also met her friend/my new friend, syd,
where i was already spanning time with the homies, nate and andra,
and we spent the afternoon laughing and catching up.
man, i'll be honest- i appreciated the heck out of it.
a couple talented photographers in town for just a bit,
and my merry band of fresh-to-death dudes, all together enjoying a moment.
there's going to be a show, gallery-style, at the grossest local,
of anna's work on saturday and sunday,
and if you like good photographic stories of color and light,
women, flowers, and butts,
then you might wanna be there to experience it in person.
...and after i get finished working, you'd best believe i'm gonna.
baking bread,
writing words,
walking the dog-
my life is NOT an exxxplosion of exxxcitement,
but it's pretty good.
so are the hot crusty fresh loaves,
so is the deaf, dumb, dirty dog,
so is the luxury of telling my truths,
and recording the recipes that compose the day.
it's all really happening,
and that's a lot;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Wednesday, May 23


taco tuesday.
you'd almost think i'd get kinda tired of always eating F*ing tacos every week.
every time it's tuesday, i rep a whole new expert vegan soft flour fantasy, bro.
so don't get it twisted-
  taco tuesday is an ongoing exercise in adaptive menu planning.
i know,
i could do a lot of other things.
i could make a lot worse decisions,
and opt for far-less productive choices,
but i'm not that guy, guys.
i'm a devoted and dedicated warrior poet,
a creature of routine and repetition,
with infinite extrapolations on recurrent themes-
an intimate explorer of the possibilities presented within a specific field of focus.
so what do i do on tuesdays at dinnertime?
i get busy getting busy,
and i get motivated to make moves that make my routine more rewarding.
it sounds pretend, i realize- getting so psyched to make MORE tacos.
the thing is- i'm not kidding.
and really, when all is said and done,
i've also got these sexxxy tacos.
check it out:

so simple, so tasty, so fulfilling, so filling, so dope!
radishes and carrots and red onion and sweet pepper for crunch.
juicy tomatoes to lube 'em up a bit.
cilantro, because i am NOT a jerk.
scallion sprankles.
grilled leeks and charred cabbage for hearty hottness, and huge flavor.
seriously, a little beautiful blackness does wonders for my dinnertime enjoyment.
i love it.
and a hot pan, a little oil, and time are all you need to make it a reality.
that's pretty tight.
and then there's that tempeh.
cubes and cubes and cubes of chili-spicy sweetness for your face.
honestly, this is so easy.
3/4 block of tempeh;
1 T olive oil;
1 cup water;
1 T agave;
1 tsp ea. GPOP.
salt, black pepper, cumin, coriander, oregano,. smoked hot paprika to taste.
bubbled in a medium-phot pan until the water is absorbed,
and the agave caramelizes,
and they whole thing looks red and sticky and awesome.
that's for real all there is to it.
NOT doing that is actually more effort.
a little lime, and some texas-style ho'sauce and these go to eleven from the jump.
i like that.
i have some news:
in a local popularity contest sponsored by our free five-days-a-week newspaper,
my baby, my brainchild, my joint-custodial super-exxxtra avocado-hued
fancypants chill-spot, the fruit of my efforts,
and home to myself and my ace duder, tron,
was voted the 'best new business' in this great white mountainous northern valley.
that's kinda neat, huh?
i think that means that some of you voted,
(while most of you don't get tattooed or even live around here)
and while i don't endorse or condone that behavior,
i am grateful that you think we've done something worth a sh!t,
and put your checkmark in the appropriate box.
thank you.
i don't know who else was in the running, but i'm told there were many-
i'm flattered and honored and sort of humbled that my weird green,
vegan, drug-free, cookies and skulls tattoo studio was the popular choice.
i just said it, but i'll repeat myself, as usual:
thank you.
i promise to keep working every frikkin' day until this place
is a pillar of positivity in the area,
and a space where everybody feels included and welcome,
unless, of course, they're a F*ing A*-hole.
they can wait outside.
it's all really happening.
that's something, for sure.
i'll admit,
my pleasure at being the subjective best was tempered a bit.
celebrating alone, with just crabby, in the rain, wasn't really my ideal choice.
i'd already made and eaten the tacos, so there wasn't much to get amped on afterwards.
and of course, in an age-inappropriate act of social media investigation,
i saw the real-life documentarianism of alcoholic self-sabotage
on readily-available display from my most recent lost-interest-love-interest.
i'd love to be able to say that it doesn't affect me,
and in most ways, self-destruction disguised as freewheeling fun doesn't affect me-
i don't do that, never have, and don't see how anyone does.
for real.
like, my vices aren't really even vices;
going wild with too many tacos isn't going to get me in any real trouble.
but while those choices don't intrude on my active participation with the outside world,
on the INside, where the feels are,
and where the genuine hope that i'll leave some lasting positive impression holes up;
well, when that's obliterated in totality,
and the time invested is washed away in spirits,
leaving only a haunting behind,
and any and all discussion is non-existent,
so that all there is anymore is a near-total stranger who just looks really familiar?
it's absolutely rotten to witness.
oh. no. don't worry, dudes.
nobody i've ever kissed reads this.
well, maybe my momma, but that's different, and you know it.
i looked, and i got what i eyes are open, and they see what's up-
and while the truth is what i want,
it's ugly as sin, and disappointing as hell.
i'll be damned if that's the road i ever choose-
no thanks.
i'm all set.
i've got that ✖straight edge✖.
i've got that P.M.A.
i've got the best new business.
and i've got work to do;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, May 22


when the pizza place next door is closed,
and the other other pizza place is closed,
but your good buddy and fellow contemporary pizza enthusiast
is in the building, AND he's ready to go out and get a pie for your eye,
you send him there, and then you have pizza together.
i mean,
no-brainer, right?
dylan came through on the pizza scene, and that was a great addition to the day.
guys, a nicey-nice slice after a pretty freakin' good morning of tattooing,
and a warm, sunny afternoon, with gentle breezes only sorta ruining it-
(wind is wind, even when it's non-committal, and i don't like wind)
that's pretty sweet.
and then, just because too much is the right amount,
we headed to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress and made something
even MORE expert-
quickly, handily, effectively, efficiently, and turbo-muh-fuh-delicioso dudes-
i wasn't sure about what was on the dinner menu-
he suggested i make pancakes for dinner-
i said: they're too heavy after all that pizza;
and he saiiiiid: light pancakes.
neighbors, what the eff is a light pancake?
i dunno,
but to me, the closest we're gonna get is a crepe.
i'm sayin'.
and anyway, that's what happened, and it was a pretty F*ing good move.
check the teleport:

you gotta get right and get righteous with crepes.
and then, you gotta decide if you're going sweet or not.
i'm more of a food crepe than a dessert crepe kind of guy, but that's just me.
you wanna know more?
good, because i'm for sure gonna tell you more.
the cauliflower was FUEGO, bro.
that's 2 T coconut oil, in a high walled pan, on high heat-
3 cups of chopped cauliflower;
1" of skin-on organic ginger nubbin, slivered;
1 tsp cumin;
2 tsp turmeric;
1 tsp ground coriander seed;
1 tsp ea. GPOP-
heated up, activated and toasted and otherwise aromatically enhanced,
then turned up to eleven with:
1 T lime juice;
2 T sriracha;
2 T soy sauce;
2 tsp chili-garlic paste;
1/4 cup water.
lidded and steamed until the liquid is evaporated,
and those fat florets are soft and yellow and dope.
the sauce on top?
that's that dirty-sexxxy thickfreakness, and that's no joke:
1/4 cup coconut yogurt, whisked with smoked hot paprika, cumin, ground coriander seed,
ground mustard seed, turmeric, black pepper, ground ginger, and a squeeze of lime juice,
just to make sure you've got the whole profile filled out in full effect.
how good is it?
you'd probably chug it straight from the spout if you could.
and maybe you should, who knows?
it turned that cauliflower into a superpower, though.
word up.
and what goes better on some sloppy sauce than sprankles?
coconut flakies for the F*ing WIN, kids.
how perfectly-paired were the toppings?
we had ourselves a rapid-fire vegetable exxxplosion, man.
red onion!
shredded red cabbage!
quartered sweet baby grape tomatoes!
slivered purple and orange carrots!
and a sh!t-ton of cilantro, buddy.
that's mandatory for these bad babies, no doubt about it.
and then there's those crepes...
y'can't have weak crepes.
that's a no-no.
lucky for us, my crepes are TILTY af, and that's a damned good thing, too.
we wouldn't wanna ruin the hottness with sloppy floppy jauns, would we?
no way.
the fresh ones are here, and here's how they arrived:
1 cup of flour;
1/2 tsp salt;
1 tsp sugar;
2 tsp chia/flaxmeal;
1 1/2 cup almond milk.
whip it up, let it sit ten minutes-
then stir in +/- 1/2 cup water,
and pour a spoonful onto a lightly greased very hot pan-
swirl it out exxxtra-thinly, and give it a minute or two on each side-
and just like that, you're a flippin' wizard now, holmes.
just be dope, or F* right off.
that's all there is to it.
it's a great thought, and it's a worthy theory,
but it's a helluva hard style in practice.
mostly because it's such a simple straightforward overarching absolutist statement,
but desire and despair affect it so so SO much.
what we want is sometimes NOT dope.
and that's the thing, y'know?
because that's not what we need, so that's gotta F* right off.
rules is rules.
wishes should be regarded with suspicion.
because wishes are the opposite of motivation.
no, i mean it-
'i wish' is the antithesis to 'i will'.
one is idle the other is active, and y'all already know which one i'm subscribing to.
to me,
being dope and staying that way means moving forward towards the future
in a steady state of ambitious evolution.
i cook, i read, i write, i walk, i work, i draw, i make, etc.
it's all the same, but it's never the same.
every day is practice for the next one-
to be better, all the time, and keep it going.
i hope that it's working, but i will keep working on it.
i've got no plans or intentions of F*ing off,
so we'll have to see how long i can keep it up;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, May 21


smaller, flakier, butterier, more expert scones.
that's right, neighbors.
i went off-book and scripted some new new jauns,
just because i needed to know that i still could.
not for nothin', but they were flippin' great, too-
and that's good news,
because i'd have ruined my whole day had they turned out otherwise.
y'wanna see how high they rose? ...ok.

tight, right?
here's what went down:
preheat the oven to 375℉
in a medium mixing bowl, sift together:
2 1/2 cups flour;
1/4 cup sugar;
1/4 cup coconut;
1/4 cup oat bran;
1/2 tsp salt;
2 tsp baking powpow;
1 tsp baking soda.
then, using a pastry cutter, chop in:
8 T vegan butter;
3 T vegan creamchee';
1/3 cup cacao nibs;
2/3 cup chopped dried sweetened cranberries;
3 T vegan sour cream;
3/4 cup non-dairy milk.
knead, fold, turn, fold, turn, etc etc,
until the whole thing is one uniform, soft, slightly sticky, stacked damascus dough, bro.
i made a 1" thick rectangle, and cut two lengthwise rows of triangles out. see em up there, you know my style.
and i even put the last few cacao crOmbles on top, for a little exxxtra crunch.
22 minutes in the oven, and you'll be ready to show off your new scone zone.
too much is the right amount, after all.
and to prove it, i ate an acre's worth of those stacked layers of flakiness,
and i appreciated every crunchy nib of gentle chocolate flavor,
and i cherished each gummy little sweet berry bit, too.
...and then i had a sicilian square with just sauce and fresh basil!
elvio's has been dominating the square scene daily.
i'm all about it, actually.
like, one a day to keep me healthy.
like, for real,though.
i think it's cute when people say they love pizza.
because it's easy to say it, but not really mean it,
and as such, as much as i'd like to, i don't believe 'em.
(sorta like when somebody tells me they love me.)
as for me?
i'm a truth teller, and i LOVE pizza.
i say what i mean, because i know what i mean,
so take it to heart when i say that those sicilian squares are what's good in the woods, man.
no jokes.
just sauce and basil and crust?
that's a testament to true hottness.
get one, and see for yourself-
then maybe you'll have more faith in what i say henceforth.
three weeks i've been walking crabby through the village.
three in a row.
it's our thing.
once the weather is nice, and the light lasts long, and the workday is over,
we walk around a second time and see what's up.
so far,
it's too early in the season for tourists to be out in force-
or maybe, we're just getting there too late.
either way, it's pretty much only he and i,
with the occasional weirdie walkin' along nearby.
mostly, though, we're the weirdies,
plodding and pooping on deserted streets.
that's our routine.
there's no important business, nor any important people waiting for us.
it's just us.
and while that's not terrible, the conversation isn't exactly wow-ing me.
i meet all sorts of people at AMPERSAND TATTOO.
and for the most part they want something i've got.
that's NOT the environment to get to know somebody.
i mean, yes, we all share information about each other,
but that little tidbit of time isn't going to be nearly enough to explain
and describe and detail the person beyond the confines of the studio.
i'd be insulted if somebody thought i was that limited.
heck, i'm usually insulted, as i'm usually only seen through that lens.
it's not like i'm approachable in other places,
but only in so far as i'm not ever AT other places.
instead, i'm responsibly devoted to the damned dumb dog,
and we span our time away from potential connections,
exercising our bodies and exorcising our demons and exerting our will
on the wild ways of the woodsly goodness.
what if i'm just that weird dog walking guy?
i'm sayin'-
without context,
i just might be.
i do what needs doing, but it's not really reaping any companionship upgrades.
there's me and crabtree, and that's pretty much it.
we'll be walking.
if you see us, be cool like our buddy dylan was yesterday
and stop and chat for a bit.
the dog really likes that.
i mostly like that.
heck, maybe you'll even like it a little.
only one way to know for sure;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, May 20


i made a cake.
i know, i do that pretty regularly.
but that's just it-
when you're makin' cakes all the time,
y'gotta get creative, so you're not just making the same cake all the time.
i don't want to munch up on an identical one to the last one.
no way.
if i'm going to keep myself motivated,
i'm going to have to keep moving forward.
and forward isn't defined by the same cake, man.
i don't know if that's actually true,
but i made a whole other 'nother cake all the same.
check it out:

that's tempered melted dark chocolate, non-dairy milk,
and a little powdered sugar to help it firm up again,
whisked around while hot, and spread thick and rich and fully
over the surface of a pretty expert, very texturally satisfying crumb.
i'd already baked bread, so the oven was very hot.
that's a plus- not waiting for preheat.
i slept about ten seconds all night, so my brain was both on high alert and deep in the mud,
but i still managed to make this heavy-duty baked greatness with no complications.
although, i did run fairly short on TIME.
but that's what happens every day, anyway.
we got ourselves a F*ing tasty treat,
and i'll wager one of you may wanna make on of your own.
here's how:
preheat your oven to 360℉
grease a 9"springform pan.
(single layers, neighbors. more cakes more often...that's what's on the schedule here)
in your stand mixer, with the cake paddle in place, combine:
1 stick (8T) vegan butter;
1 cup dark brown sugar;
2 tsp vanilla bean paste;
1/2 tsp salt;
1/2 cup unsweetened  applesauce.
whisk well, then add:
2 1/2 cups flour;
2 tsp bakin' powder;
1 tsp bakin' soda;
1/3 cup unsweetened unsulphured small flake coconut;
1 cup non-dairy milk.
whip it into a frenzy, and aerate the heck out of that wet batter-
spread it evenly in the pregreased pan, and bake it for 35ish minutes in the preheated oven.
just like that, you've got cake.
let it cool, unsprung, before ganaching the top.
that's a LOT of chocolate on there, but it works like a magic spell
to conjure new hottness and large-and-in-charge lusciousness for your face.
and sprankles?!
of course there are some crunchy candy niblets on there.
i'm not tryin' to make a lame cake, kids.
i had some frosting, and i used some frosting.
too much is the right amount, right?
and besides, exxxtra frosting is good for you.
that's real.
we laugh a lot at AMPERSAND TATTOO.
we really do.
i mean, day after day, interweaving our lives and our careers together,
and intersecting and overlapping all that information,
interpreted through an obstacle course of linguistic acrobatics,
has got us thoroughly invested in conversations that have an almost
darwinian galapagos isolated evolution, only occurring at breakneck speeds
limited only by how fast we can deliver the next sentence...
..and it's always interesting to me to see just how long it takes for newcomers
to learn the nuances and intricacies of our partially-encoded thieves' cant.
we essentially have our own lexicon.
and it's not a secret language, exactly-
it's simple, really-
the patterns that form from repeated familiar interaction,
based in english, with assorted multicultural slang inclusions,
convoluted metamorphoses of pun and wordplay,
and a shorthand that evolves for maxxximum efficiency right in front of
our own ears and mouths, man.
we have that.
we doo-doo that.
it's kind of our thing.
and usually it only takes a little minute,
with context clues letting y'all in on the gist of things,
before the conversation becomes an even bigger, better, more inclusive evolution,
with your help.
talk to us.
we encourage it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, May 19


i eat all the pizza,
and i eat a lot of pizza,
and i often eat pizza.
that's how favorite foods work-
when things are good, you celebrate with pizza.
when things aren't so good, you get comforted by pizza.
when things are too wild,
the familiarity of pizza is there to hold you down,
and when things are too mundane,
a pizza with unconventional toppings really weirds it up.
for real-
pizza is what's up;
and here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
experience has taught me that i may not ever be able to rely on others,
but i can always count on pizza to carry the day.
word up.
here's another 'nother day saver, dudes:

white pizza with potatoes?
you already know i'm no sucka-A* chumpy punk when it comes to apizza-pie,
but you might not have known just how expert y'boi gets on the no-sauce jauns.
oven roasted potato wedges, baked on parchment while the oven preheated,
olive oiled and tossed with smoky hot paprika and salt and pepper-
that's exxxactly what sort of hottness these days demand.
lucky for me, that's also exxxactly the kind of hottness i've got.
cashew-garlic chee' AND daiya mozzarella?
obvi- too much is the right amount.
this version of cashew chee' is especially awesome, btw-
1 cup soaked and drained cashews;
1 block of firm tofu;
salt and pepper;
1/4 cup olive oil;
3 cloves roasted garlic;
3 T nootch;
1 tsp ea GPOP;
blended until uniformly smooth-
then, (and this is the key to good pizza activation)
withhold 1/4 cup of the chee', and add 3 T non-dairy milk and 2 T nootch,
stir, and soften and let sit to thicken a bit-
spoonfuls of THAT will blow your effing mind, neighbors.
i'm serious.
little off-the-cuff ninja upgrades make my day, and you may consider another day made.
add on some fresh springtime asparagus,
and red onion wedges,
a few thinly sliced grape tomatoes,
red pepper flakes,
fire roasted tomato sprankles,
fried garlic sprankles,
and parsley sprankles,
and you've got yourself a championship pizza.
the other thing of note is that i went straight up on the dough-
flour, water, yeast, salt.
just to be sure i still had the right touch without all the fancy-pants specialties.
...and it was awesome.
very happy to report that i'm still ON it.
i like a hot oven, 480℉ convection circulation is what does it for me.
on a stone, of course, for maxxximum crust activation.
it seems to be the right call for this kitchen, and i call upon it often.
thank goodness for pizza.
without it, i think i would personally be a much much sadder person.
lucky for me, i've got the tools and the skills and the resources
to stay steadily stocked with epic edible excellence for some time to come...
in other, fouler-smelling and more concerning news-
my dog is still effed up.
and that's not good.
his attitude is identical to always-
enthusiastic and energetic and indifferent to human preferences-
but his digestive system is in turmoil,
and that means that on bust days, like yesterday, his stupid crinkly b-hole
can't contain the muddy waters that're breaching the dam.
and damn, damn, DAMN, there's not enough detergent on hand
to handle the hot fire he's spitting out the back.
this dog is NOT an easy one.
not one bit.
in fact,
he's a challenge, every day, and as often as he's a comfort, he's a major inconvenience.
he needs more attention and more careful supervision, even after years of instruction,
to keep him from killing himself.
he's truly a berserker battering-ram juggernaut-
and that wouldn't be so bad....
even though half my cupboard doors are blasted off the hinges thanks to him-
even though he's literally pushed every woman out of the picture, or at least off the bed-
even though his penchant for eating suicide shrapnel at least once a season is expensive-
all of that wouldn't be so terrible,
but the sh!t, bro-
the sh!tstorm of diarrheally filthy lava and tar that he spouts out during these episodes,
for unfathomable spans of time,
in quantities far larger than the amount of nutrition he's consuming,
all over himself, and his surroundings, and all of my possessions-
that's the part that truly ruins my days, even when there's plenty of pizza.
i came home to him with sh!t on his head.
on his head!
and he didn't even seem to care, at all.
an actual sh!t-head dog, smiling at me!!!!
oh, yes, there was plenty of it everywhere else, too.
and before we all say ' awwwww, the poor poor little thing-
this is a trap of his own design he's caught in.
i don't know what he's eating on the sly,
since i'm constantly staring at his untrustworthy self to stave off these episodes,
but he is determined to get some sort of gutwrench in the works,
and consequences are NOT something he can comprehend.
the immediate satisfaction of dooing something self-destructive
is far greater a reward than the unavoidable fallout of that poor choice.
he cannot understand, so he'll forever make the same terrible choice.
it's instinct, but not an instinct to survive and thrive, just to indulge.
how's that for an in-print epiphany, huh?
that's discouraging,
but, there's no time to dwell on failure,
i've still got the equivalent life-lesson, on twice the legs,
ready to literally sh!t all over me.
(i think i preferred the figurative gesture from a far fairer face) 
it's all really happening,
and it all F*ing stinks;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, May 18


pan-asian noodle-bowliosis!
that's the diagnosis, dudes.
and i've got an acute case of it, flaring up in my F*ing face.
spicy noods are what's poppin',
and spicy noods are what i'm makin',
and spicy noods are what i need.
that's real talk.
food is for sure the only outlet i invest my feelings into.
i mean, it always reciprocates,
and nourishes, and sustains, and fills you right back up with nutrients and energy.
how many people can we honestly say the same about?
and really, every time i eat food, i'm synthesizing vitamins and sh!t-
whereas half the time i span with people,
i'm pretty frustrated at the missed opportunities to connect at more than superficial face-value.
so food wins.
and spicy noods?
well, honestly, neighbors, who likes bland noods?
nobody who is any good, i'll wager.
i like 'em HOT and FAT.
wait- is that nudes or noods?
BOTH, b.
however, right now,
i'm specifically referring to the thai thursday sesame sriracha garlic jauns
that rocked me from my nose to my toes.
check the teleport:

the sauce was the superstar here.
it kinda always is.
there are thick udons,
grilled cabbage in sesame oil;
a small head of broccoli;
and then a medley of: sweet baby bell pepper spears, chili pepper, red onion,
garlic, purple carrot, celery, and double sossamon sesame sprankles-
which all got tossed into a hot pan, covered in sauce,
lidded, steamed, and served at lava-hot temperature.
plus, there's cukes, tomatoes, and radishes, on top of a bed of baby spinach-
plus a few cilantro stalks to turn up that freshie-fresh taste.
how about that?
salad, noodles, stir-fry, the works-
sweet heat and crazy crunch, char and sauce and everything expert.
the sauce is the driving force.
here's what i had in the mix:
2 tsp sesame oil;
2 T sriracha;
2 T agave;
3 T rice wine vinegar;
2 T lime juice;
1 T tamari;
1/2 tsp ea Garlic Powder Onion Powder;
1 tsp coriander;
1/4 tsp ground mustard seed;
1 large clove crushed garlic;
2 tsp chili-garlic paste;
1 T green dragon ho'sauce.
stir it up, whisk it well, and let it hang out while you're chopping veggies.
a little marinating never hurt a sauce.
broccoli color is a good indcator of doneness-
the cabbage gets charred first, before the brox get added,
but, after a quick saute, the sauce and the veg get added,
and then, you just shake the sh!t outta the lidded pan until the florets get almost-olive.
too earth-toned of a broccoli stalk, and you've mushed the whole thing.
that's the big NO-NO.
so pay attention, and you'll be a hero to your tongue and palate.
i dunno if i was even feeling like making dinner.
the next thing i knew, i was photographing a tight, TILTY, tasty bowl of hottness.
i s'pose it's a component of my infinite nature.
i make things that are designed to disappear.
well, yeah, i also make things that are designed to last as long as you do.
tattoos aren't forever, but they're for as long as you're around, at least.
dinner doesn't ever even last long enough to be left over.
both require my attention and my affection and my effort,
but one is a lot more rewarding, while the other one pays pretty good...
root beer floats with two crazy straws.
secret love letters tucked away to be found, at random, later on.
flowers for no special reason.
y'know- cute romantic stuff.
THAT'S what i like-
letters and sodas, man.
i don't have ANY of that,
and i'm getting increasingly suspicious that wanting it is the surest way NOT to get it.
s'kinda weird how that works.
there's no forcing it, and there's no attracting it-
especially if you work as often as i do,
or span as much time at home otherwise.
i don't imagine that clients are interested in gettin' flirked and flirted on,
and i know for a fact that the tasty lady delivery service does NOT have
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress on it's current route.
also, if there is such a thing as that,
tell me how to get my street address on GPS, because it currently doesn't exist.
there's no smoochie-cuties in my immediate vicinity.
and that's not great news.
however, it gets a little worse-
what i've got instead is a damned dumb dirty dog.
and i don't know what the eff his problem is,
but i do know that it's somehow also always my problem, too.
there's a smooshy, spongy, poop-butt battle-beast A*-blasting the countryside
with exxxplosive apocalypse anus,
and he's all mine to deal with.
i know, it's not sharing dessert, or back rubs, or bubble baths, or whatever-
but it is all really happening.
i'll just go ahead and assume that this'll only make the sweetness so much sweeter
by comparison, if it happens to cross my path-
let's hope the sour stench of a slightly slimy nopale-paddle poop-butt
isn't steaming next to me when that sugar happens to pass on by;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, May 17


breakfast time is the right time to start getting expert.
i mean it.
you're up.
you're hungry.
you're deciding the course of the day.
why wouldn't you choose being expert over everything else?
me? i can't help myself- the pursuit of competent creativity,
of productive processes,
of  effective, efficient exploration of expertism,
is basically why i get up in the morning.
and if anything is true at all, then the fact that the best i've got on offer
is a batch of cakey treats is pretty disappointing....
but, they're reallllly good cakey treats, anyway.
check the teleport:

which happen to be the only bars i give any sort of a F* about being around.
i'm forgetting about hip hop. i can hang out with those bars, too.
but, no pubs, taverns, wine bars, nightclubs, or whatever else.
in fact,
if they don't have streusel, they can absolutely F* right off.
word up.
THESE bars are incredible .
the bottom is cakey,
the rapsberry part is sweet and sticky,
the crOmbles are buttery and oaty and awesome.
everything expert, like i said before, first thing in the morning.
y'want some for yourself?
here's the plan, and if you stick to it, you're all set:
preheat the oven to 360℉
grease a 9 x 11 inch baking pan
in a medium mixing bowl, cream together:
1/2 tsp salt;
1 cup sugar;
1 stick (8 T) vegan butter;
2 tsp vanilla;
1/2 tsp lemon extract.
next, stir in, and mix well:
2/3 cup non-dairy yogurt.
2 1/2 cups flour;
2 tsp baking powder;
1 tsp baking soda;
3 T tapioca flour.
1 cup non-dairy milk.
spread that evenly across the greasy pan,
and keep the bowl handy for the streusel.
...but first, the compote:
in a small saucepot, simmer down:
2 cups frozen raspberries;
1/4 cup powdered sugar;
1 tsp vanilla;
2 T organic non-GMO cornstarch;
zest of one lemon.
let it defrost, then thicken slightly, and add:
one handful of quick oats and allow that to set it up.
spread that in spoonfuls across the surface of the batter,
being careful not to overload any one area (it'll prevent rising if you do it wrong)
in the bowl with the batter remnants,
smash together:
1/4 cup powdered sugar;
1 cup oats;
1/4 cup flour;
1 tsp vanilla;
3 T vegan butter.
you GOT it now, neighbors!
drop those blops on top,
and bake that bad boy for 35 minutes.
now you're a breakfast commander, and that's a great start to any day, for sure.
way to go.
i've got challenging cover-ups and year-later add-ons for appointments today.
that's cool.
it's an opportunity to activate some creative problem solving,
and reciprocate appreciation for these repeat patrons.
that's the good news.
the bad news?
that's a pretty packed schedule,
and crabtree still has suicidal A*-sludge spouting out loud.
i don't even have a clue what he ate, or HOW he ate it,
since it's been exclusively he and i staring a each other for weeks now-
but, he managed a magic trick, and his wrinkledot is paying the price-
i may be co-signed on this debt;
because if he's home too long without escape,
i'm sure he'll blast a batch of butt-butter all over himself and his surroundings.
ah, the joy of having a canine companion.
it's better than being alone?
is it better than being alone?
it's better than being at a bar.
but, it's way worse than not eating more of those bars.
that's the truth.
i think i need to build something.
i do.
no. not like construction.
i don't do well with hammers and saws-
more like crafty creation,
because i am a wizard with a glue stick.
the cure for self-preservative destruction is competent creation.
i just need to harness some of that for later in the evening;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, May 16


may is half over?
seriously, the days have blurred together,
the nights have passed in a flash,
with little sleep, less rest, and no comfort...
and now, just like *that*-
we're here.
the second half of the very merry month.
it's too soon to be this late in the year.
i s'pose that's the thing about working every day:
the days all start too look more and more alike-
although, the greenery in the scenery has exploded exponentially,
and there's less to see for all the leaves that're showing off on branches, b.
that's pretty neat.
all this woodsly goodsly life moving on and up is cheerful,
even if every flippin' day feels the same at first.
i'll take it,
and i'll smell the flowers as the blossom and bloom in sequence outside my windows;
i'll watch these peewees remake their annual nests above my entryway;
i'll walk the long way home from the hilltops with crabtree,
and we'll make the most of doing our best with the increased light,
no matter how heavy it feels.
and there will be tacos on tuesdays, neighbors.
that's a thing.
and you'd best believe it won't be some bummer-A* box-mix bullsh!t, either.
only that new hottness, with exxxtra deliciousness is what i have to offer.
the days may feel similar,
but the meals are as unique as thumbprints, bro.
check the teleport:

soft flour, as always, because those are the good kind.
shredded cabbage, radishes, sweet peppers, red onions, jalapenos, scallions, and cilantro.
that's the crawnchy portion of the program.
quick-fast fire-roasted tomato salsa?
that's part two, but it's numero uno in tastiness.
for realsies, a good salsa will make or break the meal, man.
this one definitely hit me with the upgrade.
15 oz fire roasted tomatoes, juice drained;
3 cloves garlic;
1/2 tsp ea GPOP;
1 jalapeno, seeds in;
1/3 red onion;
1/4 cup sweet baby red peppers;
1/2 bunch cilantro;
2 T scallion greens;
pink salt, black pepper, and the juice of a lime.
food processed until it's all uniformly chunky,
and allowed to marinate, or more likely, get devoured,
while the other stuff gets ready.
... and dammmmmmmmmmmn, it's expert.
you're gonna wanna put it on everything.
...and nobody can stop you, either.
then there's roasty chili potatoes, b!!!!!!!!!!!tches!
...and potatoes, on tacos, is now super-officially a great idea.
no joke.
these chippers were the F*ing TRUTH.
two potatoes, halved and sliced thick,
olive oiled, and tossed in smoked hot paprika, salt, pepper, and cumin,
arranged evenly-spaced on parchment,
and baked in a preheating oven as it approached 450℉.
when it's hot, they're ready.
crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, smoky and spicy and elite to eleven.
not everybody has to be all about chili potatoes,
but anybody who isn't has just outed themselves as a total A*-hole.
wordimus prime.
last up, we got ourselves some spring onions, chick peas, and pumpkin seeds,
with olive oil, cayenne, black pepper,
and the previously-reserved fire-roasted tomato juice.
sauteed until the liquid is gone,
then activated with a glug of agave to make it sexxxy.
tacos on a tuesday.
imagine that.
and then sunshine and sweetness
and all of that sort of stuff followed us immediately afterwards.
no foolin',
the whole day was a bummer of rainy downpours,
until the tacos showed up.
then, it was just right for a little bit of dog-walkin' in the village.
crabtree really likes going into town for a walk.
i mean,
he really gets psyched to pee on all that other stuff.
and when the rain makes some of those smells disappear?
it's like it's all suddenly brand-new stuff to pee on!
we find our joy where we can.
if he gets taken care of correctly, and his dumb little brain is occupied,
and he gets to span time outside, being social, and publicly urinating on private property,
then somehow, that implies that i've done my job.
it's easy, really.
y'just do the things that make sense.
it's impossibly more difficult with people.
i can't for the life of me figure out what makes sense with 'em-
so, they're not invited for a while...
it's me and my little milky boi making sense,
and the rest will git it in where it fits in;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Tuesday, May 15


my grandma would always say:
they say; they say; but watch their feet.
it is a reference to talk being cheap, and actions speaking more clearly.
everybody's gonna, gonna, gonna,
but, if you watch closely what they DO-
the answers are in front of you and they are rarely what's being said.
i love that good ol' italian grandma wisdom.
and my eyes see all too clearly the soles and the piggies
as they march themselves right out of my world.
i have good news, though.
i also love good ol' italian grandma food, too;
and that's not going anywhere but into my bellyhole, bro.
i left work early.
i did.
and i didn't even feel the least bit badly about it.
y'know why i was so content to head back to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress?
because i had a plan in place to produce some epic expert edible excellence.
and i love to work a plan, neighbors.
y'ever have BIG tortellini?
well, then you actually had tortellOni, kiddo.
that's right.
and last night, so did i.
check the teleport:

so many notes in a symphony am i right?
and this bowl blew my mind out the front and sides of my head!
homemade pasta, homemade filling, homemade soup-
a furious from-scratch frenzy of flavorful fresh-to-deathness.
and i ate two bowls of it.
the dough was easy:
in your stand mixer, with the dough hook attached,
knead together, for 10 flippin' minutes:
1 cup semolina flour;
1/2 cup+ a.p. flour;
3 T olive oil;
dash of salt;
1/2-2/3 cup hot water.
wrap and rest that shiny smooth ball for twenty-thirty minutes
while you're getting everything else ready,
roll it out thin on a well-floured surface,
and cut out as many 3" circles as you think you'll need.
i had twenty four? and there's enough dough to do it again tonight.
(easy, it's tuesday, and i'm going taco, okay)
put a spoonful of filling in the center of each circle, fold it in half,
tuck and crimp the ends in a little pasta hug,
and let 'em rest for a few minutes before dropping them in a pot of very salty boiling water,
just until they float.
and that filling?
combine a cup of shredded baby spinach,
a bunch of shredded basil, a clove of crushed garlic,
and a tablespoon of minced shallot in olive oil, and saute it all up nicey-nice,
until the spinach is wilted down, and the shallot and garlic are softened.
add a spoonful of nutritional yeast,
and half a cup of homemade cashew-garlic (th)underchee',
mixing well as hell, for a perfectly balanced blend of interior goodsliness.
so, so, SO good.
and that's torties, all set and ready.
the sopa was hella tight, too.
that's one minced shallot, two fat cloves of crushed garlic, GPOP,
and black pepper,
sauteed in oil until lightly browned,
with two cups vegetable broth and half a cup of crushed tomato,
simmered until all the little brown bits are semi-see-through.
the tomato and the shalot work unison to create maximum viscosity,
and that gently-gelled consistency is gonna coat those little pasta pockets and
turn the whole thing right up to the maxxx.
real talk-
the soup and the torties are a tag team, and solo,
they'd only be awesome, not epic.
it didn't stop there.
no way.
too much is the right amount.

ALL THE sprankles!!!
charred shallot rings!
fried garlic slices!
blackened tomatoes!!
fresh parsley!
fried chick peas!
y'start with shallot, prepared and removed;
y'add oil and garlic, fry and remove;
y'blacken up the tomatoes, pull 'em off,
and toss in the chick peas.
it's a sequence of smart moves,
and all of them impart MORE flavor to each ingredient.
and then they all go on top to take it to eleven.
WORD! MY feet, guys.
i'm steppin' correct, one in front of the other,
marching in time to a bass-boosted heartbeat drumbeat
that sounds off in exxxplosive percussive thunderclaps,
with reproach and repercussions for all the ne'er-dids and ne'er-wills.
there's only these moments,
and i won't waste them watching-
i'll celebrate them with DOING.
pee emm ayy.
that P.M.A.
a Positive Mental Attitude.
intentional optimism in the face of a harsh, unforgiving, ugly reality.
is that foolish?
...i don't think so.
and why not?
because there's always something to do.
and if something can be done,
and it is beneficial to forward progress and growth
as a competent, capable, communicative, considerate catalyst
for fortune's good favor?
y'gotta do it, don'tcha?
well, i think so.
so i'm doing what i can to focus all the fury at circumstances i can't direct,
and to slingshot all the forlorn faltering into surgical-striking viking lightning,
to lash out with controlled chaos, and set the trajectory upwards, onwards,
and off the charts,
to new heights,
and bigger pictures,
with clearer goals,
and live-and-direct-activated active participation.
it's all really happening, friends.
there's no time to waste on lost causes, lost souls, and lost minutes-
we've got moves to make,
and expanding spaces to occupy with our hands, and our hearts.
i mean,
we don't get these moments back,
so there's no use standing still.
onward we go, worthy warrior poets one and all-
surefooted as F*;
never quiet, never soft.....