Albie Rock

even more of all of this.

2012-02-20T18:59:00.000-05:00

we gave it another 'nother go,
and the results of the second chance are in:
disney still sucks balls, y'all,
but,
the animal kingdom is some seriously
super dope wildlife magic sh!t.
it's like a deluxe zoo,
with marginally ethnically accurate rides
and pretend cultural iconography.
and rhinos.
everybody knows rhinoceroses are what's up.
and they've got two dfferent kinds
of my most favorite nearsighted berserker battle-beasts
lurking along the safari tour of pretend africa.
i'll give it some propers, neighbors-
it was the best of the bunch thus far.
what's that?
what about hollywood studios?
stop it.
anything with an american idol ride
is clearly for giant american A*-holes.
i mean, yeah,
sure i love star wars,
just not enough to stand in line for two hours
behind a batch of b!tchbags who would've been
experiencing it with us.
c'mon.
it's never the actual thing that bites it, duders,
it's the other people who want to participate
that start the weak sauce flowing downhill.
it's pretty much like they always do it so wrong.
F*ing ruiners, y'know?
yeah.
we've got a few hours left tonight,
so i think we're closing out the evening
with a return to the happiest crap for fat dummies,
but at the nerd park this time.
yuuuuuuuuuup.
epcot fireworks for our faces.
the giant golf ball is calling us,
and we're listening, and answering.
this is they way it is.
marathons of fun,
iditarods of family togetherness,
century tours of realish life...
it's still happening,
with sore feet and suburns and empty wallets;
never quiet, never soft.....

gatorland!!!!!

2012-02-19T19:10:00.000-05:00

alligators?
yup.
crocodiles?
you betcha.
molto tortugas?
si.
snakes?
of course.
weird fish?
yeah.
is gatorland the most expert sh!t
you have ever even heard about?
probably,
unless you're clearly a butthole.
how can you top vegan brunch?
watching half chickens get tossed to
hungry crocodilian dinomonsters, obviously!!!
gatorland!!
duders,
that place is the hot fire for my face!!
tank after tank of brutally lazy giant reptiles,
a whole bunch of whom are missing body parts.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup!
nature wins,
because it does what it does even in captivity.
these mutha-uckers have bitten the bejeezus
out of a whole holy messload of 'necktard wrasslers.
c'mon.
that's what's up.
take a teleportational peek at what i'm speakin' on:

like i already told you, neighbors-
EXPERT.
how about this guy?

nooooope.
he's NOT an albino, sucka.
he's got leucism.
that's some blue-eyed aryan business, i think.
awwwwwww, man.
that's racist, and during B.H.M. at that.
bummer.
but he did have his own tank.
then again,
so did this dog-eating, man-biting battle beast:

yeah!!!
death-dealing dino-dopeness, duders.
they GOT they.
we got our socks rocked right the F* off, kids.
sunday in the south,
to eleven;
never quiet, never soft.....

vegan brunch, my ninjas!!

2012-02-19T18:54:00.000-05:00

what-whaaaaaat?!
mike holmes always knows how to activate
all the important information, my ninjas...
he's a positive planner,
and an asset to any vacation itinerary
and all of it's included mealtimes.
that credit being givenwhere it is due,
he hit us off with a hot tip,
and this morning we followed up on it.
ethos vegan kitchen, y'all.
word the F* up.
you already know that when it comes to
vacation time shark-gluttonous overeating
on those earth-nest-type jauns,
the woodsly goodfellows and goodwives
are all about bringing the bellyache to eleven.
we doo-doo that witout hesitation,
and without regard for the aftermath.
you had better believe we showed these
warm-weather waterbabyish floridians
why the north stays on top,
and the south won't ever rise again.
check the teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.

c'mon.
breakfast burritos,
french-style toast,
fruity cups, fake breakfast carcass slabs,
cinnamon buns,
biscuits and gravy,
tofu scrambles,
mountains of homeboy fries,
panniecakes that were both vegan and fluffy,
and sweet tea,
which is just about the only kudos i'll grant
as a credit to the deep and dirty.
duders,
we left nary an ort on the plates, neighbors.
vegan brunch is what's up.
i don't think miss betty was ready to bear witness,
but she must have a newfound respect
for the vast caverns and body cavities of
professional vegan eaters.
***********
how much did we swim today?
a lot.
why?
because it was a billionty-five degrees in the shade,
and the pool is heated, b!tchbags.
bathwater magic on vacation?
of course.
after all,
what are we?
A*-holes?
no way, jose.
taking it easy,
taking it to the limits,
taking it to gatorland.
all of it, y'all,
really happening, really dope;
never quiet, never soft.....

two bucks.

2012-02-18T22:40:00.000-05:00

y'know what my favorite thing in the
whole wide world is?
yeah, that, of course.
but y'know what my other other
favoritest most bestest thing is?
uh-huh.
being right.
duders,
i got to experience the righteous rightness
of my half-empty predictions.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
disney world is a b!tchbag explosion
from the butthole of the devil.
a sh!t-salad sauce splatter of the weakest variety.
how could that be?
what makes the happiest place on earth
less likely to turn frowns upside down,
but rather facilitates just the opposite effect?
well,
you know i loooove crowds, right.
today was a banner day at the park.
like,
record attendance an' that.
lucky mutha-F*ing us, y'all.
what did that entail exactly?
how about lines longer than a shakespearian soliloquy,
rude fat families ponderously clogging the thoroughfares,
starvation-preferable food option attacks,
and crowded causeways of spanish-language screamers
gibbering their way across the whole kingdom.
...magical is one word we could use,
but it would have to refer to a hex or a curse,
and it would definitely have made those sensitive
potterpants waterbabies cry even harder.
hot days,
hard styles,
horrible people,
and a huge tab to overcome...
we took going nowhere to eleven.
neighbors,
just so we're clear:
i'm not ever EVER ever waiting two hours to
ride anything that doesn't have boobs.
oh, MAN!!
that's inappropriate, for sure.
and even less likely on this particular journey
to the realms of recreation, relaxation, and reciprocation.
-
day four, duders,
and the styles just got harder.
*
tomorrow holds a poolside sabbath-type jauns
in store for our ease and enjoyment,
and maybe even a midday 'gator wrasslin' show.
there's more than one way to make a memory,
and not all of those ways are good for you.
if there's a choice,
i'll choose the wrench every time;
never quiet, never soft.....

triple threatening treats!!!

2012-02-17T19:10:00.001-05:00

so much hottness,
in the mutha-flippin' sem-rainy insanity,
i busted two cameras in a row.
yeah!
that's how we doo-doo that
dangerously big-type family funtime.
islands of adventure knows how to get it poppin'.
we experienced multiple levels
of myriad genres of multiered amusement
that re-blew our minds.
those thousands of supernerds who
flip the F* out over butterbeer and boogerbeans
or whatever else you wander your wand around
sure do look like a hot batch of virgins-for-life.
i mean,
crying?
for serious??
i mean,
it's not like you're meeting the beatles.
c'mon.
man the F* up, nimbus riders, and carry on...
that's a brutally hard style, neighbors.
but i'll tell all you gryffindorks straight up-
the wizarding world looks pretty dang good.
if it wasn't filled with warty hogs,
it'd have been perfect.
still,
we dominated yet another 'nother day of dopeness
all over the homogenous terrain of central florida.
and even without picture perfect proof,
i'll assure every one of y'all,
it's definitely drizzling a dose of all-really happening
happenstance all up and over all of this vacation.
breakfasts, lunches, and dinners,
with hours of powerfully active participation
crammed in the creases of in-between.
early to bed,
early to rise,
too early to call today done,
but too soon to be sure when it'll end.
vacation, duders...
nonstop explosions of What Is;
never quiet, never soft.....

holy blue man group!!!

2012-02-16T23:02:00.000-05:00

twelve consecutive hours, duders.
in a row, in the sun, experiencing
the super-duper sparkle magic explosion
of universal studios' big flippin' action.
disasterpiece theater,
twisted tornado alleyways,
sarah connor crushing it on those terminators,
the simpsons' simulator,
shrek's 4-d squirt squad,
e.t.'s bicycle b!tchbaggery,
M.I.B. gunfight space alien laser attack,
the mummy's weirdminicoaster,
and a whole buttload of blue men, in a group.
and that was the hottness,
to eleven,
that brought the house down tonight...

paint, pipes, and huge freakin' balls.
now that's my kind of party.
neighbors,
we did it ALL.
and we did it hard.
day two,
over and out,
an expert success story from the future.
***********
tomorrow?
islands of adventure.
that's that harry pottery jauns,
and that jurassic park sh!t,
and some other other nutrients.
real life is melting into vacation life.
melting pot brundlefly metamorphosis,
today, tomorrow, and the rest of the whole dang week.
it's happening,
off the charts,
and even further off the clock;
never quiet, never soft.....

day one of blisteringly big vacation fun.

2012-02-15T15:42:00.000-05:00

huh?
we just got here,
and our minds are already blown.
you got that, kids?
blown.
like,
the contents from inside of my dashing, graying,
glad dad-dome are on the outside now.
neighbors,
we are putting the great big fat F U in fun!
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
today is actually the day, duders.
since waking up before the dawn's early A*crack
hit the tarmac with it's first bright and shiny reveal,
me and harvest and maple,
and my incredibly fresh, hot wifey
have been getting one hundred and eleven percent expert.
...and that's a fact.
vacation translated into real talk means not giving
even one half of a sh!t,
and flipping out so hard all over the place.
basically,
it's just like being a berserker barbarian battle-beast bard,
but with more rides.
there's not much woodsly,
but there's plenty of grandparental goodness,
and we can all hang out with some of THAT
super dope family togetherness.
my in-laws scoopled up an elite get-rad pad.
for real,
check the teleport:

c'mon.
that's what's up.
*
hot, sweaty florida flatness,
and impending themed amusements
in site-specific douchebrain-washing.
we're on it.
lounging around,
leisurely strolling,
and generally relaxing,
but with all our might.
even our taking it easy becomes a savage,
raging, stormswept affair.
day one, duders.
underway.
it's all really happening.
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
and to the active participatory patrons
who've made this jaunty little jig possible.
-
no kissing, no books,
and a valentine's day of doo-doo buttery dreadfulness
make today so much better, too.
actually,
there is a book,
but the only kissing in it has been with a ghost so far.
swamplandia!,y'all.
and get this-
it's set in florida.
site-specific for your lavarle-cerebro blowin' brains.
word up.
oh,
and the kids are seriously crapping their pants
watching anoles get rad on big ugly bugs.
lizards eating insects their own size?
nature wins, mother-F*ers;
never quiet, never soft.....

i love you.

2012-02-14T10:06:00.003-05:00

happy valentine's day.

i heart you minky, mincey, mealy
meat-mouthed mutha-'uckers.
it's true.
lacy hearts and fancy chocolates
and dozens of thorny red flowers,
that's what's supposed to get poppin'
on this delightful day dedicated to the
undying hot fires of enflamed romantic love.
you could say i'm on a voyage of discovery, neighbors.
i mean,
it's blog post 1492, after all.
i may be onto some whole new/
brave new/
it's a small world-type jauns.
word up, duders-
so many levels of travel and exploration,
to places that already exist,
and levels of realness that heretofore did not.
we're transcending space and time, my ninjas,
and with nary a sparkle-magic minute
of true romance to speak of in the forseeable future.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man!!
hard-styles are what awaits a vacation dad.
fact.
dumb-dumb heads will tell you otherwise,
but they are lying.
check it:
it's all about the children.
what?!
how many times in the last month has some A*-hole
tried to ply that ploy on my face?
too many.
and i'm just not buying it, y'all.
on the ones,
i'm just too narcissistic to accept that it's not
at least a little bit about the grown-ups
who make it all possible.
y'know?
if it's all about the children,
then why are the adults the ones getting plundered
for pictures and payments and packing and everything else?
just sayin',
you know what's really for the children?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
wu-TANG is for the children.
that old dirty killa bee, russell jones told me so.
***********
be mine.
now that's a sentiment, huh?
talk about possessive.
but that's how it goes.
be mine,
and mine alone,
to have and hold
and do with as i determine.
that's that lightning-striking viking plunder thunder
and that's how we get busy getting busy on valentine's day.
yeah!!
berserker barbarians do feel emotions, after all-
as chest-pit pit fights for your favor and flavor.
*
we're off.
on our way to the bitter,
en route to the sweet.
some of it is offspring related,
some of it is spousal,
all of it is really happening.
spanning time,
clockwise,
by choosing the wrench.
happy day, duders;
never quiet, never soft.....

the weekend is plenty long....

2012-02-13T20:28:00.000-05:00

...when it starts tonight,
and then keeps on keepin' on until next thursday.
you've got that information correct, kids-
that's not the sixteenth, but the 23rd.
what?
that's right, duders.
our floridian holiday in the sun gets
it's tailgates opened right up this very evening.
it's the last day of grinding on that daily sh!t for some time,
and the first night of many spent 'relaxing'
without that omnipresent sense of impending
movie-check-wrecking purpose.
uh-huh.
taking it easy, neighbors, is what's being proposed.
...we'll just have to see about that.
but,
whatever ends up happening while we're off doo-dooing
whatever it is we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves with,
we WON'T be working in the bitter cold.
word up.
we're saving all our bitterness for the sweet citrus-type jauns
we're sure to be encountering down in the dirty dirtiness
of the alligator-laden lairs of sunshinyness.
that's a thing.
and us worthy warriors can sure use the rest.
it's been a belligerently brutal non-stop tattbomb assault
on our whole entire everythings for a
whole mess of consecutive days.
my spindly spider-leggish presto-digits are due
for a teensy-weentsy little tiny bit of rest.
tomorrow is the big heart day.
but instead of chocolates and roses, my ninjas,
we're getting mired down in a preliminary dose
of bummer-type hard-style pre-airplane activation.
huh?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
connecticut is our destination for the first leg of the trip.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
looks like romance is gonna have to wait a while.
nothing ruins the hottness like a dousing of weak sauce.
vacation nutrient enjoyment wouldn't seem as expert
if we started in the turbo-dope demesne of
the rural really-real Folk Life & Liberty.
smart, huh?
a little compare-and-contrast blast is what's needed.
the south isn't so suckie
when you've just been in the suckiest.
don't hate on my perfect logic, friends...
***********
florida, mutha-uckers.
the woodsly goodness it ain't.
flat, hot, and wet is where we're headed,
and we're ready.
packed, stacked, and on the attack.
big fun,
for our faces;
never quiet, never soft.....

the brrrr in febrrrruary

2012-02-12T08:53:00.000-05:00

what's going on?
it's super sunny.
and holy flippin' cold.
witches' teats are practically boiling by comparison.
that's dang cold, y'all.
that's the big psyche out-
it looks nice,
but it feels awful.
...and it's windy.
son of a b!tch, but that extra bite of knife-edged
bitterness blasting into bones beneath bodies beneath
sweaters beneath coats is a real bummer.
*
(this next part isn't for half-full folks)
y'know what happens before an unwarranted vacation?
work!
y'know why?
because disney world F*s you up the A*,
under the pretense of making memories.
and up until we head south to the sunny climes of
the wiener-shaped state of orange juiciness,
i'm grateful for the opportunity to generate revenue.
for serious.
hard work is it's own reward,
but hard styles?
for those, i need to get paid, son.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
it's yet another day jammed full of rough action.
i'm telling you-
pain-in-the-doodiehole-type tattoo jauns are all that
there seems to be scheduled for my A* these days.
more soul-destroying, physically taxing, artistically ruinous
raging stormswept income-tax return spending fury
than you can empty a whole trailer park into, kids.
that's real.
now,
don't assume i can't extol the virtues of preying on 'people'
who can't see the sense in any investment in their own
continued well-being.
i mean,
free will is a hell of a thing.
and if doo-doo buttery waterbabies want to get
hard pounded into unemployability?
that's their own dang prerogative,
and i'm ON it, neighbors.
some people know about just being dope,
or alternately, failing the former,
F*ing right off into weak sauce obscurity.
but,
other other ninjas want to spend those remunerative
government movie checks like straight-up ninja-rich ballers
at the tattbomb factory getting 'hood-tarded and uglier.
we all know a grand doesn't come for free, right?
so i've got to get whilst the getting is at it's peak.
striking while the iron is hot, an' that.
the time is now,
it's all really happening,
and when it comes to sticking ninjas for their papers,
via corporeal cruelty and a healthy dose
of loud, fresh, hardness from the future??
yep.
i GOT that sh!t.
it's like a salmon spawning,
or a lemming mass-suicide,
or a massive mayfly melee.
y'know,
an annual mad-dash scramble to do
something sort of fun or whatever,
but that ultimately culminates in a
big stinking heap of rotten bodies.
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
...holy crap!
i'm totally using that out loud today.
(EXPERTe)
sorry, y'all.
the legendary, imaginary, good idea counsellors aren't
working pro bono up here in the woodsly goodness,
y'heard?
word up.
it's what's happening.
really.
documented for your digestion, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....

half as much, twice as good.

2012-02-11T20:51:00.000-05:00

yeah!
haircuts and beard trims, neighbors.
that's how we go to eleven,
on the eleventh, even.
at super early o'clock this morning,
me and the wifey activated some sheer shorn
super-nutrient scissorfighting,
and got our ears lowered an' everything, at that.
...yes, that's a thing.
why buff up on that craggy crapball i call a head?
well,
i figured that our impending warm weather
magical sub-tropic vacation-times
warranted an early spring cleaning on my
dusty, busted, derelict dome.
duders,
i got rid of more than half of my beard,
and it's still a great big bushy burly barbarian one.
yeah!
and then i tatblasted a holy sh!tload of zipzaps
all flippin' day long.
now,
i'm freshly shaved and polished and snipped
and all kinds of trimmed up,
but still broken,
still broke,
still ugly,
and still dope.
my fingers are falling off,
my skin is so dry it might catch afire,
and my eyelids are drooping into slumberland.
saturday night?
fever.
it's all really happening,
better looking on the outside,
and that's sure not saying very much.
it's all just lipstick on a pig, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft.....

blockage.

2012-02-10T21:18:00.000-05:00

hey, y'all-
what do you duders know about new block prints?
not much, huh?
well,
would you like to know more?
okay.
i started off my day getting busy with that sh!t,
and i used some tasty-looking paper to get activated.
thick, sloppy black blops of inky dreadfulness tried
to thwart my plans for all this arthur-making,
but little did it know i had some diluting agents on hand.
as in: water, neighbors.
if it works good for making more soup out of whatever's left,
it's practically magical,
so i tried it out on the ink.
and then what do you suppose happened?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
this:

expertism, kids.
that's what's poppin' in the woodsly goodness.
what's that?
you want details?
oh, alright:

fresh.
dig it, ninjas.
some bearded weirdies are just plain psyched.
what about sophisticated root vegetables?
we got that, too, mutha-uckers.
check the teleport:

c'mon.
if you aren't 'bout it,
you may be an A*-hole.
fact.
***********
otherwise,
it's been yet another 'nother doo-doo buttery day
of wasting and whiling and whittling and whistling
away the whole dang time.
i mean, sure, there was some tattblasting.
and some delicious dinnertimes.
and all kinds of conversation.
but besides all that noise,
it's been a long flippin' day of enduring.
real life doesn't give extra points for style;
never quiet, never soft.....

cramped fingers, wrecked hands....

2012-02-09T20:06:00.000-05:00

...and a calamitously cricked-up neckbone.
cork scoopling and tattbomb zipzapping as hard
as the loud freshness permits me to,
and all of a sudden,
my old age has caught up with me!
i've got bonsai roots for digits, duders.
i've got gnarled knuckles (what's up silent letters?)
i've got a stiff one,
but it's holding up my actual head.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
neighbors.
i'm too old for this sh!t,
but i'm waaaaaaay too young to be all old and busted.
it's a conundrum, my ninjas;
one that has no ostensibly accessible solution.
but,
what i do have is a whole bunch of new hottness.
and that's a good thing.
tomorrow morning i'm inking up these blocks of rock:

yep.
sorry (sorta) about the super-seventies soft-focus blur,
but sometimes,
that's how life looks to some people.
those little baby beauties are due
to get slathered and pressed on some super-sexy
thick-stock earth-toned paper.
arthur-making hand-crushing neck-snapping action.
it's happening.
*
i'm on my own tonight.
it's true.
all by my lonely,
left to languish in anguish over my hurtie parts
and sore bits and broken, ugly, haggard head.
awwwwwwwwwwwww, man. (again)
it's nothing but long, cold nights
and hardy hard styles.
this is the leftover lamentation of a post-full moon
monsterpiece masterwork of hard work and sh!t.
i'm grateful for the time,
but i'm not that amped on the consequences;
never quiet, never soft.....

gentleman acorn.

2012-02-08T07:57:00.000-05:00

uh-huh.
duders,
i love it when my man vido comes to visit.
he means business,
as in- he's here for business.
like, it's business time all the time.
he scoopled up one of my favorite original paintings
and a couple other other o.g. artworks from
the capable collection of my wifey.
that's right.
baller-A* doodie twankle art collector jauns, y'all.
they do it molto big in texas i guess.
and then,
after an afternoon together doo-dooing some
woodsly lunch and sh!t,
that crazy ninja got back on the table
for some more hard pounding.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
the object is always more, innit?
you betcha.
he wanted some raw and real Folk Life imagery,
and we activated that hottness as hard as we could.
check out this teleported big action:

a pipe smoking acorn?
yeah!
c'mon, neighbors.
that's what's up.
the duders abide,
the woodsly goodness provides,
the warrior poets reside,
the eleventh level never subsides;
never quiet, never soft.....

wolfenwere.

2012-02-07T22:14:00.000-05:00

have you looked outside and upwards yet?
just peep your wolf-eyes at that shimmy-shimmy
ya-ya of a shimmering shiny circle, son.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.

the moon is as full as it can be,
and it's beaming down it's blue light, tonight,
as bright as any cracking crack of dawn ever could.
heck yes it is.
so i know y'all are wondering about just
what goes on in the woodsly goodness
on a windy tuesday of rural really realness?
did i take it deep on car repairs?
so deep, in fact, that i can taste it.
and did i tattzap my ninja vido another 'nother time?
you bet your A* i did, duders.
and did i take a snappy shot of what i zapped up?
uh-huh.
i actually did, neighbors.
what?
can you see it?
sure.
...but not until tomorrow.
hahahahaha.
stay tuned,
and in the meantime,
check that heavenly orb orbiting the firmament, F*er.
it's got that expert-type wolfen jauns on lock;
never quiet, never soft.....

blocked up.

2012-02-07T08:46:00.000-05:00

before i got busy tattbombing yesterday,
i got a little bit expert on some old timey sh!t.
uh-huh.
that's right-
early morning woodsly goodness folk art action,
for everybody's face.
the limited edition first printing of my newest picture.
linoleum-style cork-poppin' block business,
complete with activated nutrients and moustachio madness.
teleport to the past via the future, neighbors:

Folk Life & Liberty.
we doo-doo that kind of really rural rustic art jauns.
18" x 10.5" of an old balding ninja talking noise,
and talking in picturesque speech, i suppose,
in a garden,
wearing a too-small or maybe just right, bowler hat.
c'mon.
who wants one?
well,
that's cool.
i might give one away,
just one,
if somebody asked reaaaally nicely.
just sayin'.
***********
i've got a couple more blocks to finish.
i've also got a bunch of drawings to do.
i've also got an out-of-town guest who needs
seeing to and sightseeing and all that, too.
busy busy busy, b!tchbags.
that's how it goes.
a whole lot of nothing gives way to
all of it really happening all at once.
that's what it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

hard pounding.

2012-02-06T21:33:00.000-05:00

my duder vido took his lumps,
and he took those lumps like a trooper.
hours of execution,
piles of poked holes,
and one swollen turtled-up neck.
oh,
and the result?
a werewolfen gentleman on the side of his head-stem.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
check the teleport, my ninjas:

ouch.
howlin' and prowlin'.....
now that's some full-moon appropriate action.
neighbors,
once in a while,
i still doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
i blame it on our regional sports team
totally sh!tting the bed last night.
the collective misery of the meathead meat-tards
who hoped for buffalo-wing-fueled victory,
but instead sucked a bowlful of super sh!t salad,
stimulated some secret universal hottness,
for mine and vido's faces.
that's a thing.
their loss was our gain.
***********
i may actually get a day off tomorrow.
then again, we'll have to wait and see-
i mean,
my homeboy came up all the way from
the lone star skyline for some albie rock jauns....
the lunar berserker battle-beast barbarian brutality
is taking over my whole scene.
and my hands hurt almost as much as that dudes neck.
for real.
we're repping that full moon, son;
never quiet, never soft.....

soup? or bowl?

2012-02-05T18:42:00.000-05:00

oh MAN!!
the pull of those magnetic forces
is messing up my nights,
and stressing out the days,
and activating the werewolf nutrients
circulating throughout the woodsly goodness.
have you seen that big silver skyball, neighbors?
it's big, it's almost fully round,
and it is making moves on my brain and sh!t.
wolf moon magic, mutha-uckas.
i'm on that futuristic evolution jauns,
convergent hybrid human canine lycanthrope action,
but that's just how warrior poets get fresh, y'heard?
the rest of america is taking gaytardation off the charts.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
the big game is kicking off,
and bringing the fat, the stupid, and the lame
all the way to eleven.
now, some ninjas know what's up,
and aren't checking scores and eating buffalo wings-
but everybody else is getting excited about commercials,
and otherwise gorging on consumer culture and bleu cheese.
no celery for those duders, right?
vegetables are like being literate-
y'know, super gaysplosive.
weak sauce is the boss tonight,
and that's cool.
more hottness for the really real ones.
that's a thing.
*
my out-of-state graffiti guerilla, vido,
is back on the attack,
looking to attach some more neckzapping
to his messed-with texan tattoo situation...
yeah!
one half of his throat is already done,
and the other other side is due for some tattbomb abuse.
lucky for both of us,
i GOT they!
that trumps sports every single time.
***********
did i mention we're going on vacation next week?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
what better way to demolish valentine's than by
going to connecticut?
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
that's not romantic at all.
at all at all.
we're not staying there though, yo.
c'mon.
what are we?
A*holes?
probably.
because we're going to an even darker place.
yes.
that's right.
the magic flippin' kingdom.
disney sunovab!tchin' world.
me, the wifey, her dad, his wife, our kids.
brutality for february's face,
and ruination for all of my whole entire everything.
i'll be putting that boastful braggadocio about the
'happiest place on earth' to the test, friends.
believe it.
real life,
not televised sporting events.
both are really happening,
but only one is dope;
never quiet, never soft.....

weekendering F*-bags.

2012-02-04T21:50:00.000-05:00

what sucks the fullest hardest balls
in the whole entire world?
genocide, probably.
c'mon.
but,
what sucks the second biggest batch of
swollen balls in the whole wide world?
vacationers waiting for seats at restaurants
in the mount washington valley.
word up.
each and every weekend gaytard is up here
waiting for the big dumb super-stupid game.
and in the meantime?
uh-huh they're getting ripsh!t piss-up drunk
and taking up a whole lot of space at all the
local eating establishments and watering holes
whilst watching other other big dumb games-.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i've got some hate all up in my heart
on a shivering saturday night in the woods, neighbors.
and i had to eat twice as much three times as fast,
just to rinse away the hard-style angst and indigestion
that the hot fiery acid-reflux-spitting reality
of doo-doo buttery sports jersey A*bags brought out
of my 'hood-type ninja bag, y'all.
that's a thing.
***********
my homeboy matt riordan came up and got activated
on some tattzaps and hang-out time today.
that's always expert, duders.
i mean, yeah,
he is from out of state, and he was out to dinner with us,
but it's cool, friends...
he was with us.
and that's nothing to scoff at when it comes to
judgementalism and considerations.
a free pass was freely given.
and that's even after accepting that
only worthy warriors and/or berserker barbarians
can qualify for an exemption on our List.
yeah.
if we weren't picky,
the List wouldn't matter, right?
you know it.
good times.
*
tomorrow,
it's early morning pre-game block printing.
inking up that sh!t,
stamping up the whole joint,
and then tattbombing until kickoff.
the rest of the mountains are pulling a
Ph balanced tim leary tomorrow
(that means no acid, dummies, but extra dropping out)
-
leonard cohen is on the stereo,
deep, dark, and depressing.
the perfect lullaby to send us into the good night;
never quiet, never soft.....

sneaky peeking...

2012-02-03T21:26:00.000-05:00

what's poppin' tonight, y'all?
linoleum.
uh-huh.
linoleum,
supports my head-
gives me something to believe....
that's me, duders.
it's friday night,
it's been a hectic week,
and i still haven't finished my newest block print.
but,
so far so good.
check the teleport:

yeah!
neighbors,
those little scrapey shovel-jauns take forever
to carve away and create the negativity that
becomes a picture for your face.
believe it.
it's not so much what you remove that matters,
but what you leave behind.
and i'm leaving a lot behind,
and even more to be desired.
february is kicking last month's A* right off,
and after the twenty pounds of bloppity glops
and globules we just ingested at the indian restaurant,
i'm making like february on my own A*.
ouch.
fun times, my ninjas,
to a steady rockin' soundtrack of DMX.
that's earl simmons to you, b!tches.
WHAT?!
what?;
never quiet, never soft.....

el dia de la marmota.

2012-02-02T09:11:00.000-05:00

shhhhh.
hold on a minute.
do you smell something?
what is it?
pulled pork?
noooooooooooooope.
it's ground hog.
oh, c'mon, duders.
today is the da is the day is the day is the day.
get it?
groundhog day, mutha-b!tches.
el cerdo del suelo, son.
the same sh!t, on a temporal loop, forever and ever,
being commemorated more by a film than a marmot,
and prettty much deadeye representing the way it
feels to be a responsible adult in the modern world.
lather, rinse. repeat.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
maybe it'll be spring soon?
it's as cloudy as a fogbank all around us,
a Fortress in shadow, if you feel me...
but who knows what's poppin' in punxsutawney?
six more weak weeks of winter is what, ninja.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
*
y'know what today also is?
yeah.
nine years of dwelling on my dwelling
up here in the goodsly embrace of all things
woodsly, rural, and really real.
nine years.
holy F*ing sh!t, neighbors.
to think i woke up all those years ago
in the ancestral home of my forebears,
and got a ride to new beginnings in
new hampshire from my best buddy the cucchie,
(because i didn't own a vehicle).
that old house i ventured out of connecticut from
after a year's worth of regrouping and recouping
was sold off, when it's owner shed his mortal coil-
but i replaced it with the Folk Life & Liberty Fortess.
and,
i filled the position of eccentric, opinionated uncle
left vacant by my former landlord's passing....
sorry, duders.
i'm seeing shadows,
and i'm reliving the same day over again.
c'mon.
anyway,
i'm celebrating IX years of taking it to XI
in the northerly climes and cultural cul-de-sac
of the top half of the bottom of the barrel.
that's that new hampshire jauns!!!!
***********
what-whaaaaaat?
the albie rock day-off gut-bustin' glut-explosion scenario
has once again found a garderobe garden
for gastric gendarmerie.
huh?
a great big bunch of closets full of barbarian groceries.
no, for real.
i scoured the cabinets, consulted the cabinet,
and crafted a crucial crippling cabbagey cube
of brutal, raging, stormswept vegan A*blast activation.
what does that mean?
it means i made a pie the likes of which
the lion and the witch couldn't hold a spoon to.
try to follow along, kids,
it's complicated but i think you can do it-
shepherd's pie?
i think not.
groundhogger's glutton-bucket, more like.
check the teleport on this big burly pile of fattitude:

boo-YA!
that's what expert looks like, y'all.
believe that.
and when i rep my mashed up tubers,
i always keep the skins on.
because i hit skins like i was a drummer, b!!!!!!tch.
word up.
peas and carrots and cabbage and onions and garlic
and brown blops of pro-fessional-tein,
and homemade gravy, baby.
because i doo-doo that greasy globule-type sh!t.
that's 300 cubic inches of edible vegetables.
-
nine years of all of this.
no way in heck is that an enormous disappointment.
woodsly goodness,
Folk Life,
really realness,
hot fire, lightning, and warrior poetry.
it's all really happening,
today especially,
over and over again;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, rabbit.

2012-02-01T08:52:00.000-05:00

word up, duders,
it's full blown february, SON!
you know what i did?
i pulled a rabbit rabbit out of my mouth
like a magically tricky treaty on good fortune
first flippin' thing as the clock spun and the calendar flipped.
heck yeah, i did.
it's the first of the mutha-ucking month, my ninjas.
i said my charming chant about bunnies,
and now it's time to tune up some Tea aNd Toast
before we begin some next level futuristic hottness.
what?
oh, y'know....
bass-boosted battle-beats and demonic drum thumping,
and taking it to eleven like pipers piping an' sh!t.
rowdy ruddy rudimentary hot rod ones, probably even.
yeah,
you're right-
it would've been marginally more appropriate to
redline at 10 like those lords a-leaping,
just like the year, y'heard?
...but only because we get to enjoy a twenty-ninth day
of this cold, bleak, stormswept savage gypsy wasteland.
awww, c'mon.
at least there's probably gonna be vegan chocolates
for our so-F*ing-in-love faces and hearts and parts,
and that's only a few weeks worth of spanning away.
yep. for those romance-type jauns an' that.
and just to let my rose-colored necktards know
what's up with B.H.M.,
we've got a nonstop loop of loud, fresh hardness
being pumped up at volume throughout the hills
and the dales and the dwellings of the
woodsly goodsly white mountainous northern extremes.
we doo-doo that 'hood soundtrack attack, kids.
***********
it's breakfast, neighbors.
no,
i already told y'all what we ate this morning...
i'm talking about the end of my abstinence.
remember?
yeah.
the material fast is over.
no more responsible expenditure-restraining.
that sh!t is over and done with, duders.
which means it's time to burn through
a few of those movie checks i made yesterday.
woooooooooooooooooord.
i might get a fancy toaster oven.
huh?
oh, F* you.
it's my money, and i'll do with it what i please.
that's right.
early starts and late nights
and only one day off to get rad on
all the big action i want to activate.
quick like a bunny,
and jacked like a rabbit-
it's all really happening,
it's all really february;
never quiet, never soft.....

a prurient protagonist.

2012-01-31T19:07:00.000-05:00

salacious subjectivity?
yep.
lascivious locution?
sure.
competent communication takes a backseat
to backdoor banter.
yeah.
i know,
i said backdoor...
it's all about that peepee wiener talk, my ninjas.
sometimes,
and by that i mean always,
it's the most bestest way to span an un-day off.
if i've got to get busy on some extra work
tattbombing and accomodating duders who
need to get some of what i've got,
then i'll be gosh-danged if we're going to talk about
anything of any semblance of serious substance.
word up.
inane interjections and asinine assertions are all there is.
you want the sagacious salubricity?
come see me during normal business hours, kids.
wisdom is not for days away from the grind.
believe that.
we save the nsfw work for days at work when we're
supposed to be elsewhere.
doo-dooing the don'ts, i think they call that.
whatever the label,
it's how this whole day got spanned.
hard.
five hours without pauses,
marathon motormouth mania about orifices, even.
it's a hard style,
but if not one for worthy warrior wordsmiths,
then who?
exactly.
***********
january is on it's last gasp.
and it's F*ing snowing.
all day.
no sun.
only white crystals of cold,
coating the entirety of the woodsly goodness.
that's fine, neighbors.
ma nature can activate all the white blanketry
she wants to rain down upon us,
tomorrow is still black history month.
boo-ya, b!tches.
it's time to get really real;
never quiet, never soft.....

putting up the numbers.

2012-01-30T19:07:00.000-05:00

hey-O!
arthur is in the building, y'all.
for real,
that full-length namesake is what the deal is.
art making hottness is what time it is, too.
there's drawing going on.
and while it's way too soon to reveal what,
it should come as no surprise that
all the usual thematic action is activated,
and all the enameled dentin destruction,
and manipulated mandible appendages
are all getting represented in full effect.
yeah.
and lino block cuts are getting carved up, too.
huh?
what's the occasion for this sensational flurry
of futuristic primitive nutrient-rich expertism?
well,
for starters, the jump-off is past it's prime,
and the next step is on our doorstep-
y'know,
january is practically over and out,
and B.H.M. is on it's way in.....
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
february has got all the good sh!t, kids.
vacations, presidents, valentines,
and most importantly,
a temporal teleport-distort reality,
or.
as you neighbors would likely know it:
leap day.
a 29th magic invisible wizard rotation,
for all our F*ing faces.
c'mon.
that's something, innit?
yeah.
***********
duders,
january is set to take it's final bow.
and none too soon, thank heavens.
but before it says goodbye until next year,
and before the worthy weekend of woodsly goodness
can commence it's big burly barbarian sauce,
i've got a whole family's worth of tattzapping to blast
all dang day on a bereaved group of guys and gals.
movie checks, my ninjas,
are what makes all the arthur times possible.
believe it.
one more day.
a leap weekend, y'know?
memorials and goodbyes.
i am grateful for all the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

abandon ship.

2012-01-29T19:03:00.000-05:00

oh MAN!!!
all is lost,
and i might be too.
there's not a compass on earth that can magnetize the magic
and give us aimless warriors what we need.
what do we need?
we need some direction...
or at least one other extra direction besides downwards.
ouch.
long days and longer nights
and the hardest styles of pounding i've ever had the pleasure
of feeling pummel the pucker of my downstairs businessplace.
huh?
c'mon.
you know.
january is fading fast,
and as far as new beginnings go,
this one gets in the record books for
doo-doo butteriest of the new millenium.
i'd really like to petition somebody for a do-over.
word up.
the year of the dragon is sh!t-hot spitting
some kind of immolating immodium-eating
hard-hearted 'rrhea on the woodsly goodness,
and i'm NOT referring to the weather, neighbors.
and as much as i enjoy creating new and interesting ways
to mysteriously allude to the catastrophic cornholing
that constitutes our financial and emotional states of being,
i'd just as soon have something good to write at your faces.
.........
.........
.........
or not.
okay, then,
moving right along,
do you duders like pillows?
we do.
and knowing that about us,
our buddy amanda made some treats
to accentuate the Folk Lifey flavor of our Fortress.
for real, check the teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
and by the way,
they're dwelling in the newly completed
something room.
yeah.
it is pretty nice.
i'll miss it when the bottom as likely as not
falls right out of our whole entire situation.
what?!
without the bitter, the sweet's not as sweet, kids.
and those pillow owls are pretty flippin' sweet.
.....
real life documentation, y'all.
it only knows about what's really happening.
and it all is.
the future is a sunken ship, b!tches;
never quiet, never soft.....

no juice.

2012-01-28T20:45:00.000-05:00

duders,
it's after eight o'clock at night,
completing yet another underrewardinglybrutal day
tattzap blasting on some ninjas who needed what i had.
yeah.
like hand drawing about a billionteen teensy tiny scales
on another 'nother dragon-style tattbomb,
and as a result,
i've got no juice left.
y'know?
like,
no sauce.
except maybe some weak sauce.
and that's not so good, now is it?
no.
it isn't.
cramped quarters,
and tight lines,
and hours and hours of outlining the defining
strokes and contours an' that,
and now my right hand is twice the size of my left one-
swollen like a magnum mitt,
with super-sized sausages where my spindly spider
fingers were previously prestidigitating.
sore?
only when i type.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
c'mon.
sometimes,
life is pain.
you know it, neighbors.
anyone who tells you otherwise?
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
they're selling something.
and unless it's a little juice?
i'm not buying.
huh?
early bedtime?
fine,
you won't have to twist my arm;
never quiet, never soft.....

failing background checks.

2012-01-27T21:26:00.000-05:00

oh don't worry, neighbors.
the background i'm always lacking is
only in tattoos i bombzap on folks.
i activated one today, in fact-

uh-huh.
year of the F*ing dragon, y'all.
and not one speck of background noise.
teleport some more?
okay, then;
here you go:

yuuuuuuup.
a whole bunch of blue bodytube beastly business.
half healed, half new, all fresh,
if you feel me.
another one more?
you're awfully needy all of a sudden,
but i'll indulge you this once:

c'mon.
that faded old busted gas cloud fart-shooting
out of the tail/butthole of the new sh!t
is actually a bonsai treetop.
...and no,
i didn't do that one, thank you very much for wondering.
an actual zipzap on the day it's finished,
(exempting the background i'll probably have to add in later)
i figured you ninjas could use a picture or three
instead of more lamenting about the lost elasticity
of my metaphoric doodiehole.
...or maybe not,
but that's all that's happening on this really windy
friday night in the woodsly goodness,
under piles of fresh new snow,
and streams of melted ice.
sometimes, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....

my butthole...

2012-01-26T19:48:00.002-05:00

duders,
my butthole started out this morning looking like this: *
yup.
tight, bright, and alright-
but after today's doings,
it looks a whole lot more like this: O
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
that's quite a stretch, huh?
you bet your intact A* it is.
ahhh, it's not offically 'sploded,
but it sure does feel like it...
no.
i don't have food poisoning.
no.
i haven't decided to take up seatless unicycling.
no.
it's not any sort of tangible tearing of tissues.
c'mon.
it's more of an esoteric terror,
like conceptual art, but with much more butthole.
awwww, man.
-
anyway,
have you ninjas ever met my better half?
she's pretty flipping endearing,
not to mention turbo hot.
as such,
she's got plenty of better options available to her
than having to hang out over here with me
on a turgid, torpid thursday night.
you can figure out what that means, yeah?
that's exactly right, neighbors-
i'm on my own tonight,
master and sole proprietor of
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
and that's probably a good thing, kids,
after the heroic expansion of my whole wide world
directly and indirectly as the result of a metaphoric
metaphysical meteoric monstrous F*ing of my A*
right off of my body and into the realm
of the marginally obscene
i'd kind of prefer to be alone with what's left of it.
***********
ice packs and snow storms and cold, empty beds.
something is going on,
and someone is obviously kidding me.
until i discover the culprit,
it's sore seats and hot seats and A*kicking
and whatever else could possibly happen.
it all really is.
home alone, mutha-funkers;
never quiet, never soft.....

sunspots.

2012-01-25T18:41:00.000-05:00

solar flares,
northern lights,
cloud rainbows...
we GOT those tasty sky signs, kids.
that's for real.
all dang day long,
the firmament was illuminated with epic action.
i was busy driving all over the flippin' place,
but i still saw it above the woodsly goodness,
and the rustic maine-ness,
and even the dingy land of atlantic seaport maritime magic.
yeah.
even portland was under the rainbow bridge to valhalla.
and you ca believe we needed some of that
viking varangian viciousness as we sharkbit our way
through yet another gluttonous afternoon of stuffing too much
food into our cavernous calamitous craws.
and we've got some sore, stuck craws up here in any event-
i thought maybe a day off and a digestive demolition derby
would shake loose some of our harbored resentments,
or maybe the actual harbor would excise some sourness,
but alas, neighbors,
it's now full dark outside,
the sunshow is well over,
and the hardest of styles are yet to even reach maturity.
back to work,
back to the grind,
back to the deep dirty hard-style pounding.
it was rather windy all day...
maybe some change is inevitable.
northern lights like green ribbons of midgard serpentine
insinuation and fenris werewolfen wrath.....
white mountain ragnarok,
white mountain albie rock.,
white mountain tattoo.
all one thing,
and if it isn't one thing, it's another.
it's what's happening.
and there's a sundering spirit spitting it's spurious fury
directly at my face.
what am i saying?
concentrated concentric cryptic craptology, kids-
maybe less-than-none of you ninjas even have half an idea,
and maybe even that's a stretch;
never quiet, never soft.....

material fast, time slow.

2012-01-24T18:37:00.000-05:00

duders,
i thought the idea was to save a little movie check action?
c'mon.
a material fast, right?
right.
here we are, three weeks and then some,
deep into january,
and i'm maybe somehow even more broken and busted
and broke,
than i was before i started behaving all adult-like,
in a fastidiously responsible, miserly manner.
i'm just sayin', neighbors-
saving money is one thing,
and not spending money is another,
but not having money to spend,
whilst not saving one sad thin red cent
is a whole other 'nother other thing entirely.
so how does warrior poetry get composed without loot?
i mean,
how can those true stories get activated on the cheap?
y'heard?
let me just let all y'all in on what kind of a tuesday it was-
thank goodness for the fully stocked humidor in my mudroom.
for real, y'all.
me and olive the dog resorted to our usual pastime
until it was well past time to head home and rinse away
the fumes from our fresh foray out amongst the mountains.
uh-huh.
we traversed the whole northern highway-style loop
of the white mountains national forest jauns today.
smoking stumps,
staying warm (46 degrees Farenheit, son!)
and slingshotting ourselves through the past,
back to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
right here where we belong,
safely sulking in the future.
...and then wasting the afternoon shoveling away
the thick festy busted brown ice that's made our driveway
an impossibly impassably perilous path.
from franconia to asphalt in one round-trip loop.
awwww.
if not for hard styles, i'd have none at all, yeah?
word.
***********
ninjas,
the expert hermit nutrients are running out.
yup.
like, dangerously low, maybe even.
i'm still here, of course;
and still staying the course, of course;
which, of course, really just means staying still.
oh stop it.
you know i've never been one to shirk shifts sleeping in
a hard-style bed of my own devising.
but for real,
i've got deep-woods roots burrowing down
to the core of the flippin' earth,
from the tippity top of a remote mountain, even,
and the rest of my peoples
are reppin' that tumbleweed activation....
rollin' and blowin' and ramblin',
to far flung corners,
and far off places,
with ambitions,
and destinations,
and all that noise-
time zones, area codes, hemispheres,
whole wide worlds apart.
kids,
what good is being a know-it-all, guru-type,
grizzled, wizened wizard of woodsly goodness
if nobody makes the trip to the acme?
...........
partially thawed,
permanently combusting;
never quiet, never soft.....

a double- dose of dope.

2012-01-23T18:41:00.000-05:00

today is the day, kids.
chinese new year,
right now for your fire-breathing spit hot face!!
enter the dragon, mutha-b!tches.
yeah!
i always thought that i was born in the year of the
flamethrowing free-flowing serpentine magic monster,
for real, and for lots and lots of years.
right up until i paid a little teeny tiny bit more attention
to when the actual novo anno hits in china,
versus when us wild westerners ring in the big action.
and now,
being thirty-six, and having wrapped-up the full
restaurant menu zodiac wheel three times in a row,
i know a bit more, and none of it makes me feel any better.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
it's not until late january that the ramen noodoo duders
flip the page and change the sign.
so what?
so that means no dragon activation for this guy, y'all.
i'm a bunny, neighbors.
a hippity-hopping fuzzy cottontailed bunny.
not a demonic hybrid of divine might
and sorcerous mythology,
but a buck-toothed, twitchy-nosed lagomorph.
it totally figures i'd even catch
the 'buttery end of the calendar, huh?
word up.
anyway,
happy year 4710, or something like that, i guess.
i'm not celebrating,
but sort of appropriately,
i am eating carrots.
***********
john moses browning.
today's his berfday.
not that his draconic heinie will be celebrating much,
since he's been well dead for 86 years now.
still,
he's the best thing to ever come out of utah,
and that's a fact.
do you know him?
maybe not, but you should-
he invented all kinds of hottness.
lead-pumping battle-blasters from what was previously
the future, and could be considered by some to be the past,
but is inevitably still being used in the present.
now that's some sh!t, kids.
and i am celebrating that.
no.
the carrots aren't invited,
but i may wear a brace of 1911 pistols to bed.
i'm like that.
hot fire spit,
and cold, icy sh!t.
that's what's going on;
never quiet, never soft.....

100% chances.

2012-01-23T09:38:00.000-05:00

duders,
all of today,
as a matter of meteorological fact,
is assuredly going to suck ALL the balls.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
a 100% chance of brutally windy,
freezing rainy, powerline-snapping,
road-closing, late january-activated ice storm action
is headed across the mountains,
over the rivers, and directly through the woods,
to properly F* our collective A*s all dang day long.
now that's some certainty.
i can already see the first few tendrils of low-lying clouds
cresting the cliffs across the way.
it's coming, neighbors.
the titular testicular vacuum of a hostile climate.
there won't actually be any literal suckle-magic,
but in every other way,
a black hole of inescapable gravity and depravity
is descending on the woodsly goodness with one mission:
to drop it's liquid payload of sh!t-salad dressing
on each and every available surface in sight.
yuuuuup.
it's just a little pre-weekend final-workday doo-doo butter,
drizzling down upon the hottness
like a carbonite-encased hibernation attack.
....only wetter.
yeah,
i'm talking about the weather.
if there's something you'd rather read about,
i'm open to suggestions,
in theory, at least.
***********
so,
it's the weekend again.
after another 'nother barbaric stint at the studio,
taking it deep,
and stretching to the limits of physical endurance,
it's time to unwind and let it all loose into the winds an' that.
sure.
y'know,
catch-and-release berserker battle set free into the ether-
ninjas,
heated arguments have been the only source of warmth
up in that drastically bombastic, spastic mastic-plastered
sh!t-hot mess of a work situation.
and that's on the rare occasion that there's even anything to do.
hard styles and weak-sauce mondays, yo.
that's where we're at,
and precisely where we're headed.
all roads lead to that perilous pounding, son.
what comes next?
a new mutha-flippin' era of icy frost-rimed coldhearted cruelty.
awwwwwwww, man!
oh, c'mon.
if you've read this many photoless posts,
there's a 100% chance y'all aren't into it for the optimism.
word up;
never quiet, never soft.....

fingers.

2012-01-22T20:17:00.001-05:00

i broke my hands off tattbombing today, duders.
for real.
i mean,
i'm a hard worker, when there's work to do...
but even though i put in work as a working person,
i rarely really work all that hard.
today was a certain kind of exception that
makes other exceptional times seem average.
that's a thing.
i went in early,
and stayed well past my designated dinner time.
i put in those extra hours on my friend daniel,
who drove a billionteen hours up from
the substantially warmer climes of virginia,
to celebrate his birthday with the really real ninjas
of the woodsly goodness.
how'd it go?
swimmingly.
i talked at him about all the terrible things
that swarm around inside my mind,
and he regaled me with the saga of a scandalous divorce.
then,
we got extra busy crushing an undersea-themed
hawaiian tropical fish forearm sleeve.
portraits of fish with too many lines,
and too many blops of color,
and too many patterns an' sh!t,
all against a black and grey coral reef background.
i know, friends.
yes.
i said background.
i told you earlier about the exceptional exceptions
i couldn't exempt myself from.
heroic quantities of stylistic anomalies,
doo-dooing that 'that's not what i do' doo-doo.
i kept it real by not snapping a photo when i finished.
small victories, y'all. ...i'm like that.
and now, neighbors,
since i missed dinnertime and my wifey couldn't wait,
so she ate some treats without me,
i'm having cookies for dinner.
storebought ones, at that...
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
sometimes,
a sunday night is destined to be an early one.
sometimes,
a hard style is the only one available.
sometimes,
new england sports teams do well,
and act as portents of uber-lameness to come.
sometimes,
it's so cold my swollen fingers might actually snap off.
and all the other times,
all the other things are always really happening.
real life isn't always exciting,
but it always really is;
never quiet, never soft.....

creative destruction.

2012-01-21T17:27:00.000-05:00

i can't believe it, y'all.
a sh!tsmear weather anomaly.
a deader than dead day at the studio.
a busted and disgusted turd-crusted saturday.
i should've stayed home and driven thumbtacks into my face.
that might've been more productive.
awwwwwwwww, man.
i do the dumbest stuff when i've got no direction:

yep.
*
have you duders ever met one of those
smarmy, smug, condescending, self-assured
A*-holes who is so flippin' comfortable taking
the lead in a contest of combative conversation
that they always get you to concede the point
by making you so flustered, frustrated, and furious
that you explode about off-topic incidents
and totally forget how to communicate
like a normal thinking human being discussing
resolution to a point of disagreement?
y'know,
like, then you get all berserker,
while they make that thin-lipped pompous grin,
like they so knew you were gonna lose your cool
in front of everybody and act the fool?
word up, neighbors-
what?
who?
really?
yeah.
i guess you're right, my ninjas,
i kind of really sort of am like that.
i don't want to win arguments on substance,
but rather by undermining your face value
as loud and hard as possible.
yeah.
i doo-doo that sh!tty sh!t.
being unbearable,
and withstanding the unendurable.
more of this, kids.
eleven kinds of awful,
in a ten-awful capacity container.
over-F*ing-flowing,
while it's snowing;
never quiet, never soft.....

sweet and bitter.

2012-01-20T09:17:00.000-05:00

what makes Tea 'N' Toast taste better?
well, i'd say raspberry jam, usually.
but not today, neighbors.
in fact, it's not a spreadable sweetness,
or the power-packed protein of peanut butter,
or the fatty-boombattie blops of butterish beigeness.
uh-uh,
when it comes down to why today's breakfast
has got a more than usual amount of super-deliciousness,
it's got to be the flavor enhancing hottness
of a gorgeous morning view of the dawn's early an' that,
peaks piqued in pink at the edge of the mountains,
in plain sight out the windows of the Fortress-.
check the victorious natural teleport:

yeah!
peachy-pink cliffs, y'all,
illuminated by the rising sun,
and framed by thick drifts of freshly driven snow.
woodsly goodness in flipping full effect, yeah?
sure thing.
***********
there's only so much hard-style pounding
right up your A*-hole that you
can reasonably be expected to take, right?
no,
not literally.
i'm pretty sure there's no upper limit on that, yo.
i mean,
we cannot be expected to act
as happily queued-up agents of our own undoing,
...can we?
it depends on who you ask, i guess.
i, for one, am surely not very excited about the prospect
of choosing, from a list of wholly unacceptable choices,
which form of destruction will be the one
that ruins my well-being and all that good sh!t.
what?
actually, no,
i'm not talking about the american
presidential election this year.
wow.
good guess though.
kudos.
i'm more concerned, in a rationally self-interested way
in the future of my continued capitalist existence
in the fiscally faltering, physically failing white mountainous region.
what?
i'm serious.
after nearly nine years of doing the exact same thing,
putting down roots so deep they somehow seem to
fall down from the sky like prison bars.
ouch.
roots as the roots of all evil?
dang.
yet another bright and sunny observation by
the warriors of poetic justice-type jauns.
it's finally high time i put some thought into what happens next.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
y'know,
when you think ahead,
you're always living in the future.
but the one problem with being from the future?
i can see everything but my own timeline.
and that's the hardest style of all, y'all.
a fugue state of being,
blurry-edged and disassociated from the
Folk Life lifelines, present but unaccounted for,
whilst still accountable for whatever the plans unfold...
so,
the question remains-
how much F*ing is too much F*ing when it's
the kind of doo-doo buttery partnerless porkblasting
that humps beehives and wallets yet leaves neither
swollen up enough to justify the gesture?
endure, persevere, overcome, or overthrow.
long nights and hard times, kids.
movie checks and bodychecks.
working and living.
and not nearly enough of either;
never quiet, never soft.....

zero again.

2012-01-19T20:40:00.000-05:00

skunked!
a dirty bust-out no-show no good
sh!t-hot mess of a workday, duders.
nothing going on,
nothing at all.
what a suck salad smearface across the whole place.
hours and hours and hours of hanging about
getting to know my coworkers a little teeny tiny bit better.
we're trying.
that's real.
being a little more honest,
a lot more open,
and even attempting some understanding
of the critical conditions by which we activate
all of our respective nutrients.
uh-huh.
after another other 'nother whole day of zeroism,
i can tell you that nobody's happy around these parts.
the woodsly goodness may be taking something out on us.
a secret universal signal from the omnipresent planagram.
maybe making moves is on the menu.
maybe a push towards productivity in a different place.
maybe, maybe not.
what is definitely a decidedly true story
is that even sunshine and sparkle magic
can't cover up the hard styles of a broke-A* busted
and disgusted group of warrior poets with writer's block
and wrenched guts of artistic absence.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
neighbors,
sometimes,
nothings really happening even when it all always is.
i don't get it either.
i'd love to report more,
but that's all there is.
*
well,
that and the curry flavored carnage i've inflicted
on my internal pipeworks and boilers.
yeah.
i can actually feel something that has broken off
deep within my chest cavity rolling around all loose,
slowly dissolving in it's own brutal sauce.
you know it-
indian food feasts once a week are good for you
....kinda.
weird peas and 'tatoes and soft, wet blops
of pure spicy fury and dietary destruction.
sometimes,
you've got to bring the thunder,
other times you've got to ride the lightning,
and once in a great while,
we've all got to take a turn at destroying ourselves,
one forkful of flavor at a time.
stormswept savage berserker after dinner action, y'all.
my face hurts only half as much as everything else;
never quiet, never soft.....

wind breaking windbreaks.

2012-01-18T16:13:00.000-05:00

hit the brakes, wind.
that's what i'd tell these blustery gusts
if they could comprehend competent communication.
we've got whipping, whirling, walloping action
and it is enough to shake the whole forest
and possibly even move the mountains.
it's loud, it's fresh, it's hard,
and it's really happening.
howling and wailing like an old blues singer,
smashing and crashing like a demolition derby driver,
driving and crying like a forgotten 90's rock band.
(scratch that, interwebs tell me that somehow they're still around)
what i mean is-
there are forces forcing the whole thing to activate.
for real.
what happens when the windbreak gets broken by the wind?
closed-loop justice, i think.
on the ones, neighbors,
the answers are coming at us in gale force bursts.
wind is like nature's big do-over eraser.
clearing out whatever's about,
and barrel-A*ing a whole new set of circumstances
from beyond the mountains, over the river,
and directly through the woods.
spare change, y'all.
i mean it,
spare me from these changes.
fluctuation and readjustment and chill factors an' that.
i can't hang out,
and yet,
the whole pattern is reweaving itself around me.
like they say-
you're part of it.
maybe there's some hottness in there somewhere,
but it's more likely than not that searching will only
get me windburnt.
oh, c'mon.
***********
vegan shepherd's pie, kids.
that's the hearty comfort i'm applying
to my fractured faith in digestion.
stick-to-itive ribbly mass for my A*, y'all.
yeah.
'tatoes and veggies and substance for
our mutual sustenance,
with providence for a sleeping-shark's
inactivity following the swallowing.
i'm also feeling a bit frisky,
so there's sure to be nontraditional
vegetable additions to my nutrition-
y'know,
to freak it off a little bit.
the stove top is a-poppin'
with propane powered barbarian boiling
and savage stormswept sautee action.
sometimes,
the only option is to withstand the fire
in the kitchen,
especially when the alternative is to get the F* out.
and i already told you ninjas,
it's waaaay too flippin' windy.
from forge to forgery.
wordsmithing to imitation meats.
fraudulent sentences aren't invited,
but the rest of you are;
never quiet, never soft.....

iced over and slipping away.

2012-01-17T19:33:00.001-05:00

oh, man!
duders,
it got a baby bit warmer outside.
just warm enough to activate an ice storm an' sh!t.
awwwwwwwwwwwww.
it's that early evening shimmery sheen type jauns,
with underfoot crust busting apart with every step
and tiny little nuggets of frozen fury pelting the pittery-pat
rat-a-tat-too on the rooftops and treetops
of the woodsly goodness.
it's a terrible tuesday up here.
a brutal blend of crap weather
and no motivation towards integrating and activating.
they're stuffs happening.
it all really is, almost always, albeit barely-
like what?
well,
how about smoking pipes?
yeah. that's right.
fumigating the forests
and nauseating my dog
and repelling my wifey.
(to be fair, it's only partly the pipe's fault, really)
what washes down the dirty doo-doo buttery
residue off of a dottle of dublin's finest university flake?
o.j. and cranberry ginger ale and raspberry juice
with a wedge of lime!
c'mon.
that's liquid sherbet soda bombs for my face, neighbors.
non-alcoholic fluid expertism from the future-
and believe me, they help.
but how can we soak up some of that
deliciously insidious acid attacking on my intestines?
don't even begin to think it's not with
peanut butter rock blocks!
uh-huh.
and am i putting this day down for the count with
a couple healthy heaping hand's worth of candy beans?
you bet your b!tch-A* i am.
wait, what?
F* you.
...don't judge me.
today is dedicated to poor dietary choices
and empty calories inundating my insides.
in that respect,
i rate this day a full-blown success.
word up.
***********
boobs and murder and vengeance and tattbombs?
okay.
so,
we also went and saw the girl with the dragon tattoo.
and it was dope.
for a long A* movie,
it sure went by fast.
and the nasty little bum-out denouement?
...expert.
that's almost as busted as really real life.
oh, stop.
shove your spoilers where the weak sauce flows like wine.
*
do i have a bellyache?
yes i do.
do i blame it on the pre-movie supermarket sushi?
yes i do.
gutwrenching and butthole clenching
and pants drenching, my ninjas.
icebound and underway,
it's all on the schedule for a slippery night
of hazards and power outages in the
rural reality of Folk Life frontiersmanship;
never quiet, never soft.....

we shall overcome...

2012-01-16T19:27:00.000-05:00

...subzeroism.
it's too cold to dream,
it's too cold to march,
it's just too flippin' cold to give a sh!t about
anything other than hot fire and warm blankets.
that's what's a-poppin' up here, duders.
it's stupid cold.
..and i hate it a little teeny tiny bit.
who had the day off today?
nope.
not us, y'all.
do you really think MLKJ day gets represented on
up north in the big bad back woods, my ninjas?
uh-uh-
the culturally homogeneous whiteness
of these white mountains forbids
acknowledging the contributions
of any one individual if said individual
does not accurately represent the populace
of this most reddened necktarded state.
that's a thing, neighbors.
however,
the state did 'celebrate' civil rights day, instead.
live free or die,
but don't expect any big commendations
from these barely-capitulating hick mutha-uckers.
dang.
i sometimes forget about the hard style
that new hampshire gets busy with.
sometimes,
when it's all really happening,
it probably shouldn't be.
***********
so,
we've been attempting next-level
futuristic social interaction.
more specifically,
my expertly social wifey has been including me
in her forays out of the Fortress to
hang out and communicate with other 'nother ninjas
from beyond the battlements of my well-insulated
concentric circles of influence.
for real.
maybe you minky muthas don't believe it,
but i promise it's the whole truth.
people, yo.
different people.
with their own quaint and erroneous views
of the wider world at large.
open-minded optimists an' that.
i know.
slowly,
but surely,
i'm winning over hearts to the ways of hardness,
the excoriating amplification of loudness,
and the everflowing fount of freshness
that is the signature wavelength
of the worthy warrior poets' way.
stormswept savagery insinuates,
berserker barbarism pervades,
and soon,
that half-empty activation will spread it's
really realness to the far flung corners of
everywhere that's less dope than here.
which is to say: everywhere else.
you get together,
we get it together.
assimilate that eleventh-level expertism, duders.
we'll hag out under the auspices of the
single most important conditional provision:
just be dope,
or F* right off.
you know it;
never quiet, never soft.....

haints.

2012-01-15T19:43:00.000-05:00

strange doings and ill omens, y'all.
uh-huh.
seems that maybe the foot being unearthed
and disinterred has stirred up some
spooky little schisms inside of the
Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
duders,
we had alarms and sh!t going off all over the place,
in our unalarmed house late last night.
more than one, neighbors...
in sequence, even.
like,
from inside of drawers outside the main house
deep in the cold and lonely sunroom
during the deepest darkest dead of night.
uh-huh.
what.
the.
F*.
if it happens again tonight,
well,
let me be the first to inform all y'all ninjas
about the temple of doom excavation sensation
we'll be embarking on in the creepy crawlspaces
underneath the brand new super sexy oak floor
in the newly renamed 'something room'.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i'll dig up as many bones as i can,
i'll drive down to lake whitney in connecticut
and consecrate those earthly remains in
hamden holy water if i have to.
that's a thing.
strange doings, kids.
woodsly warriors won't let the wendigo wights
F* with our sh!t.
the spirits and the memories will be re-laid to rest,
and the woodsly goodness can get back into the
busy business of freezing it's flippin' A* right off.
that's what's up.
***********
it's been a heck of a sunday.
regional sports talk is at a high point,
tattbombing busywork is at a nadir,
and in between,
the cold snap attack of white mountain
subzero activation is shattering the stillness
of the forests and the hills an' that.
i am grateful for all of it,
but i won't cop to being delighted by it.
it's happening,
and we're enduring,
and amid it all,
the hottness is being pumped out
swallowed whole,
from woodstove to windstorm,
live and in person,
right here;
never quiet, never soft.....

my clients are better.

2012-01-14T19:21:00.000-05:00

duders,
i know you think your peoples are dope.
and just maybe that's even a true story.
however,
really-real woodsly goodfellows inspire devotion from
even their merest of acquaintances.
that's a thing, neighbors.
it's not just my peoples that activate the nutrients.
check the flippin' teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
a ZERO HEAVY serf-type medieval hand-knit skullcap,
with ear protecting futuristic dipline, too-
and it's for my F*ing face,
or at least my head.
like i said a second ago-
it isn't just peoples, y'all.
even my clients know how to get EXPERT, too.
pre-tattbomb activation, to eleven.
my new homegirl krystal had an appointment today.
she came bearing gifts of hottness.
lucky me.
and don't act like that big mouthful of sharky gluttony,
and that heroic chin-shrubbery don't deserve special
attention, either.
word up.
i need all the added warmth i can get ahold of.
it's numbingly, achingly, painfully cold out,
and we're huddled by the cast-iron flamethrower,
building up our bodyheat
for a long, lonely, cold, hard night.
***********
long weekend waterbabies are all up in force.
one hundred percent A*hole explosive 'tardation,
omnidirectional, live and direct from points unknown
funneled unfiltered to the epicenter of excellence
with only one known purpose-
...to totally mutha-b!tchin' ruin the goodness
with their weak-sauce suckhole ski vacation 'holery.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
clogged up and bogged down and fully packed.
that's how it is,
that's what's going on.
everyone who is not us sucks,
and that's all the news from the Fortress;
never quiet, never soft.....

voorhees?

2012-01-13T08:52:00.000-05:00

misfortune follows misdeeds,
and misdeeds follow misfortune.
duders,
it's friday the thirteenth,
and 13 may be an unlucky number-
i'm not saying it is,
i'm just not saying it isn't.
coincidentally,
bad luck abounds in the creases and the crannies
of the woodsly goodness today.
that's real.
all along the iced-over snow-hazardous roadways,
motorists are finding out firsthand.
just sayin', my ninjas,
there are a bunch of out-of-towners rolling north,
trying to get here and get on the slopes
like a big bunch of crackery ski-lodge avalanchess,
and their cars are getting F*ed up all over these mountains.
awwwww, man.
friday.
the thirteenth.
right out of the box, month one, new year.
that's a hard style for the calendar, kids.
a black cat and broken mirror, under-ladder-treading,
indoor umbrella opening, crack-steppin' calamity, even.
y'all had better huck that pinch of salt
and knock on that wood an' that.
put your best eforts into warding away
the abominable snowstorm sh!t, y'heard?
oh, yeah,
we're getting more of what's due us today, y'all.
wintry mixing and slick, icy, life-spicing weather.
i guess nature has decided to participate in winter after all.
and nature wins, kids.
-
me?
i'm making my own luck.
i've got my fortunate foot, after all.
then again,
i've got nothing going on at job today.
alas, you minky mutha-uckers,
there's just no predicting the fickle fingers of fortune.
now,
if they were temeritous toes of temptation, maybe.
regardless,
it's not what you've got,
it's what you make of it.
right?
we've got to play the hand we're dealt,
even when it's a foot.
oh, c'mon.
don't get me wrong, neighbors-
it's not reacting i believe in,
it's overreacting.
every anthill is akin to the alps,
every inconvenience is a cataclysm,
and every day is the best and worst one ever.
word up.
friday the thirteenth?
unluckiest day ever.
stubbed toe?
figures.
got fired?
figures.
overdrawn account.
totally figures.
friday the thirteenth?
best horrible road conditions ever.
most expert pitiful plow-guy
snow-clearing poor performance yet.
friday the thirteenth?
most victorious day of triumph over misfortune in history.
friday the thirteenth?
today.
it's the big day, just like every day,
and it's all really happening.
fortune still favors the bold, duders.
remember that.
***********
somehow,
we're all already creeping up on the ides.
time keeps slipping into the future,
but i think we remain equidistant
from right now, regardless.
looking backwards to what's next,
and reminiscing about what's to come.
nostalgia for tomorrow, folks;
never quiet, never soft.....

snowblind and shortsighted.

2012-01-12T08:57:00.000-05:00

oh, yeah.
it actually IS wintertime isn't it?.
i mean,
it hardly seemed much like it,
but now, all of a sudden,
we're on that hexed and vexed sexy hexagonal
falling-crystal lofty ice jauns.
yeah.
and that's cool, duders-
we needed a fresh topcoat of noise-deadening
whitewash waterblankets to reactivate
the pure and freshly driven dopeness an' that.
expert woodsly goodfellow visualization requires a healthy
layer of frozen woodsly goodness.
a whiteout winter explosion of nature and victory
is exactly the kind of energizing force that charges
up the lightning-striking viking stormswept berserker sixth-sense.
just sayin', y'all-
it doesn't operate correctly when you can
see anything in front of your face, neighbors.
you not supposed to use your eyes,
you're supposed to use your nutrient-detectors.
those secret universal planagram-attuned tuning forks
all up inside your worthy warrior brains an' that-
don't think, just feel,
and then flip out and axe chop sh!t all over the F*ing place.
oh, c'mon.
that's a thing,
and you know it.
today is one hell of a day for flipping the F* out.
it's a perfect winter's day, duders.
cold and busted and dangerous and really happening
as hard as it's cold little tendrils can force their way
into the cracks and crevices of What Is.
it's thor's day.
it's a stormy day.
it's no random chance that hugin and munin,
and some third raven,
are all hanging out in my backyard.
thought, memory, and spirit, kids.
we GOT they.
***********
bundled up and trundled about,
it's the way things have to be up here in the mountains.
we're wrapped in extra layers,
and we're on our way to work.
bad weather brings out the worst of the belligerent
redneck trucktards and their awesome ideas.
i can be sure to have plenty of work,
and little reward beyond those movie checks, yo.
social interaction in a snowstorm?
sorry about your F*ing faces, folks-
berserker raging savage snowstormswept fury
if the only thing on the docket as an action item for
today's grit-grimy dirty doo-dooings.
i've got a scarf, and i've got a hatchet.
whatever's coming down the line,
i'm ready, and waiting...
...in ambuscade;
never quiet, never soft.....

a grind date...

2012-01-12T07:09:00.000-05:00

you know it my ninjas.
i'm on my grind.
uh-huh.
expert pepper-grinder activation, y'all!
victorian bronze gear works,
fancy-pantsy cranks, springs, and slots,
all seated and screwed on top of
some kind of indigenous hippie heartwood
from the wowie-zowie vibe-heavy hills
of magma-heated maui.
it's like the best and the worst parts mixed together
to make something better looking than either.
yeah.
utilitarian dopeness, for my dinner, via my face!!
my peoples know about what's up...
***********
oh, man!
y'ever do nothing so hard that before you get around to
remembering what you're supposed to be doing,
it's already tomorrow?
yeah...
that just happened.
our buddy eric came over for dinner,
and for an unscheduled debate regarding the merits
of optimism versus pragmatism,
and the next time i looked at the clock,
it was today instead of yesterday.
i don't think i swayed anyone round to my
way of perceiving things,
but then again,
that logic loop is a little bit infectious.
maybe the hard-hearted furnaces will
fire up a few new hottnesses,
tempered by the full moon aftermath.
gibbuosity, neighbors,
will hopefull aid the process.
*
long nights,
hard times,
and new floors, kids.
that's whats up.
our very valuably useless nothing room
has almost become something.
we've got natural oak planks to walk,
and the floor is so cold,
all the timbers are shivering.
wasted wednesdays,
and mid-januarian doldroms, duders-
thunder needs bringing and i think
that this snowstorming thursday is the cure for
what ails us;
never quiet, never soft.....

all it's cracked up to be...

2012-01-10T18:13:00.000-05:00

i've gone to ground,
of coarse.

c'mon.
puns are good for you.
and so is pepper.
who gets hawaiian grinders for their berfday?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
me, neighbors.
what?
every day has to be some epic composition?
i beg to differ;
never quiet, never soft.....

old moon, new hottness.

2012-01-09T10:27:00.000-05:00

hello.
it's a moody monday in the mountains.
i'm making moves,
and i'm making moues.
and i'm doo-dooin' all that freaky sh!t, besides.
dessert for breakfast?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i'm eating chocolate-frosted yellow cuppiecakes,
with hidden nuggets of chipper chocolate within.
that's the key to full-figured freshness,
from my face to my A* (pronounced ace).
what's that?
yeah.
the wind is blowin' in some answers, for sure.
for example:

uh-huh.
reindeer antlers are the answer.
especially if the question was
'what would completely compliment
a severed human foot, as a conversation piece,
on a mantlepiece'?
and yes, duders,
that IS a naval artillery shell, wrapped in ribbon,
with a tree in it.
and that glass thingy is a sexy old lantern.
you know it, friends-
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a
curiosum cabinet of righteous dimensions,
amassed from the past and the future,
simultaneously.
*
anyway, it's my weekend,
there's a fully-formed howlin'-mad lunatic moon,
and i got a whole new batch of super rad treats
from my ace homies, casey and cyle.
that's correct, my ninjas-
treats.
huh?
good question, kid.
as a matter of fact,
i'd love some pie:

apple, neighbors.
a.k.a. the best one.
uh-huh.
that's a flaky buttery pastry heart,
just like mine.
awwwwwwwww.
*
when the earth's largest satellite lights up
bright and big and the man in it is out to
activate all the luscious canis lupus lycaon
blood red nutrient expertism,
really real berserker barbarian battle beasts
get pretty well amped up.
but the realest stormswept gypsy know
how to keep their sh!t tighter and brighter.
that's a thing.
when faced with myriad options for interacting
with obvious dangers from stranger days,
you choose the hardest style possible.
what the F* am i talking about?
c'mon.
y'all know what type of tool is to the liking
of the lightning-striking vikings, right?
wrenches.
but what about their response to the honey-suckling
suckers who try to sting up on their meady minds?
that's right!
you see a beehive,
you hump a beehive.
the same applies to wasps' nests, yo.
...and we GOT they.
check the cyle-supplied buzzbomb teleport:

wu-TANG!
that's that killa bees-type jauns.
berfday hottness in mutha-forking full effect.
like i said, a curiosum cabinet, kids.
***********
full moon frenzy,
sleepless and therefore dreamless,
honed-in, but aimless,
and ready for everything without
doing anything.
it's all really happening.
inside, outside, upside, and down;
never quiet, never soft.....

a return to business as usual.

2012-01-08T08:56:00.000-05:00

thanks go out to all my peoples-
i got a lot of phone calls yesterday.
and a couple well-wishing first-classy envelopes.
i opened the cards right away,
but i'll admit i let the phone ring.
to be fair, i was out of doors,
far and away from the Fortress,
surveying the realm and it's elements for much of the day.
me and my sh!tty four-legged companion
did a great many miles of mountainous meandering.
taking in the sights of the woodsly goodness in winter:
snow-capped, misty peaks on winding icy roads-
cruising along listening to miserable music,
like the raspy laments of tom waits,
and making each other nauseous with
festive festy fumigation from a few
big, black, tobacco-packing, stinky, stumpy cigars.
( i did say sights not smells, my ninjas)
touring through hours of reflection on the past,
as decoded through the sh!t-colored glasses
and honey-colored see-balls of the future.
did i see my horoscope?
nope.
not even the 'today's birthday' one.
bummer.
my wifey more tha made up for the lack
of fortune-telling stormswept gypsy predictions
with reservations for fancy b-day dinner at
the inn at thorn hill.
for really real, duders,
it was some excellent everything.
and it was just the two of us,
being romantic and sh!t near the fireplace,
shoveling vegan dopeness down our necks,
and letting the luxury infuse us with all the nutrients.
i swear i could almost taste eagles' eggs.
so,
it was a day of drudgery and begrudgery
with hopes of a bit of buggery,
capped off with a casual fine dining experience.
huh?
oh, man...
was there cake?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
it's not a birthday if there's no cake-
of course there was cake:

a carroty bundted butthole-shaped cake, even!!
that's a deep depression dented in the center,
and jam-packed full with delicious creamy frosting.
prescient?
a worthy warrior poet never tells.....
oh, stop it.
-
anyway,
my ma-in-law, claudia baked me up a berfday cake,
and you can bet your sweet-cheeked bottom-biscuits
that i got EXPERT on a slice of it.
yeah.
real life documentarian depictions, you ask?
...sure.
first,
i huffed:

then,
i puffed:

and then,
i let the moonbeams brutalize my brain.
neighbors,
january's full moon is called the old moon.
awwwwwww, man.
how did they know?
it's no-sleep no-joke werewolf time, my ninjas.
i've got a full flippin' day of tattblasting.
that's what happens when you opt
to take time for yourself on credit.
the interest rate is steep.
so,
i'm paying for yesterday with a doo-doo buttery
overdose of zips and zaps and crap today.
everything costs something,
and i'll be sure to use the massed movie checks
for something special in february.
february?
yeah.
my non-consumptive material fast is still underway.
day eight, already, and i don't get the shakes anymore
when i see a 'buy-it-now' or 'add to cart' icon
as i browse the robotronic gridiron.
it was one heck of a first week of january, y'all.
that there will be more of all this,
you may rely upon,
and more's the pity,
for the quality will not improve,
only the amount;
never quiet, never soft.....

cranky, crotchety, curmudgeonly.

2012-01-07T10:44:00.000-05:00

happy berfday to me!
yeah.
today is the day, duders.
thirty-mutha-flippin'-six years old.
36!!
three dozen doo-doo buttery orbits
spanned around the sun, son.
thirty six berfdays, which is to say-
the worst days,
in a row,
with no breaks or gaps in between 'em.
long days, long years, hard times and harder styles.
wrinkled, crinkled, sprinkled and tickled pink.
what's that you're asking for?
a portrait of the artist as an older man?
okay,
facefirst time travel activation via teleport:

awwwwwwwwww, man.
an old man of the mountains, indeed.
craggy, haggard, weathered, and worn.
exempting any swan songs,
some ugly ducklings just become ugly ducks.
we've got to accept that reality.
i'm not even really that bummed out about
my high-interest age-accrual activation.
i mean,
my glass is half full....
...of vomit, with a stubbed-out cigarette in it.
seems like the empty half isn't so bad now, huh?
perspective, neighbors.
old age brings an unhealthy amount of it
into semi-soft focus and peripheral relevance.
huh?
c'mon.
experience and information,
interpreted and extrapolated and distilled
through the striated strata of age.
wisdom is wasted on the wise.
treats, however,
are never wasted on professional appreciators
of gratitude and generosity.
and you ninjas know i got some treats
from my unparalleled partner:

yeah.
nothing ameliorates a deteriorated sense of esteem
like a pile of presents for my face!
***********
it's a semi-sunny saturday in the woodsly goodness.
and i'm not working.
tattbombing is in no way on the menu for today's specials,
because that weak sauce is a recipe for ennervated ennui,
and you dirty duders know i can't hang out with
that noise on my F*ing berfday.
uh-huh.
don't get ahead of yourselves-
i'm not celebrating my life.
i'm rejoicing at my lack of demise.
my nature is infinite,
my flesh is finite,
and after all these long, long years,
the volume and intensity stay out at eleven.
i'm your man up north, y'all.
loud, fresh, hard really real warrior poetry.
i remain a true-storytelling chronicler of What Is,
and i remain, in, this as in all things happily birthed.
today is the day.
i am grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

lasting.

2012-01-06T08:34:00.000-05:00

you sentient mentalists can keep a firm grip
on your fondness for firsts.
i'm more of a semi-sentimental holdout
for the ends of things.
for instance,
currently,
i'm lamenting the dearth of bread in my breadbox.
(that's what she said?)
because that means yesterday was the last
Tea aNd Toast breakfast of my thirty-fifth year.
awwwwwwww, man.
don't worry,
it's not as if we're not gonna still break our fast,
we're just shark-swallowing a big buttery potful
of luxury-style gourmet oatmeal instead,
with luscious deep dark maple syrup on top, neighbors.
but still......
you can probably see what i mean.
right now,
i'm dreading our slippery sloping driveway,
as i go out in the last snowstorm
to get the last batch of firewood
to keep warm on the last lonely night
of being thirty-five.
naturally
there will still be more of all of this.
but,
it'll all also be subtly different.
i'm just sayin'-
i'll be older,
and not much better,
but possibly wiser.
then again,
if i don't go to the grocer one last time,
and i don't doo-doo that home heating
hearth-heaping heartwood haul,
then it'll be the last hungry, cold evening instead.
which also means that thirty six might seem better
by comparison.
now,
who says i can't fill a glass halfway?
woooooooord.
***********
holy flippin' sh!t, my ninjas.
this is it.
today is the day.
the last day.
and tomorrow is the first one, again.
it's all kind of a thing.
i've got one last batch of trying tattzapping bombs to burst
and then it's a kamikaze divebomb into
another 'nother happy birthday to me.
and whilst it will be neither the biggest,
nor the most beautifullest,
that noise was never the object.
the object, my minky mutha-F*ing mates,
is, was, and will always be more.
old and busted?
make way for the new hottness.
pretty soon, friends,
instead of teeth,
my hands will be rocking dentures;
never quiet, never soft.....

bull terriers.

2012-01-05T20:30:00.001-05:00

y'all probably didn't know about this-
bull terriers.
yep.
sausage headed hamhock meat-monsters.
armadillo sharkdogs.
burly babe in the city, spuds mckenzie canines.
i tattbombed a duder today who brought
his four-legged bestie with him,
and got a non-specific representation of his last four
pet-caliber canine companions,
who all happened to be,
uh-huh,
bull terriers.
they're so dope.
mostly because they have piggish ears
and torpedo thunderhead pistons for jaws.
word up.
my resolution seems to be applicable to
more than just my dog, i guess.
but it could also be the brutal winds buffeting
my heretofore more-than-a-little-aloof nature
regarding any and all animals in my kingdom.
that's erosion,
and an unhealthy dose of wind chillout
cooling off my hot-headed hard-hearted
anti-fauna oppositional situation.
or is it?
well, if it gets warmer,
and i get sh!ttier all over again,
then i suppose we'll have our answer
right alongside this wind blowing my way.
***********
we're five days into it, neighbors.
so,
how's it going?
the weather is miserable,
but the really real reality of
this year has only just begun to uplift spirits
and activate memories here in the hallowed
hollows of the woodsly goodness.
a chappy crappy crap-slapping capricorn
cause-and-effect session is in full effect,
and winters grey gaytardation
is doing exactly what it does best.
the brunt of it's blunt force barbarism
is being felt,
and appreciated, professionally,
by the worthiest of wintertime's
warrior poets.
it's What Is,
and it's here in heroic quantities and calibers.
the fire is hot,
the iron is cast,
the whole thing is happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

brownies.

2012-01-04T17:49:00.000-05:00

what the mother-F*, my ninjas,
it's somehow already wednesday night?!
how and when and where and what kind
of elapsed-time distortion doo-doo butter
has allowed the last few days to disappear?
i though time only gained altitude when
we were having fun?
instead of activating any sort of distilled
deeds of derring-do,
i think the whole thing is trying to F* with my sh!t.
what whole thing?
c'mon.
the secret universal plan, obviously.
don't be dumb.
i'm visualizing berserker barbarian battle-business
with beastly feasting and garrulous gypsy interaction,
with a little tiny bit of futuristic introspection,
and raging savage stormswept warrior poetry.
i suppose it's all really happening,
but the minutes are so fleet-footed i might be missing out.
with any luck,
the rest of y'all are reaping the results
of my will-powered manifestations of freshness.
i'll dream it, you be it.
everything costs something, neighbors.
that's a real thing.
i can assume that somewhere nearby,
the cultivated coincidences of my casual concentration
are waiting for me to harvest 'em.
that's what tomorrow is for;
y'know-
when today being the day just isn't quite doing it.
***********
and by the way-
it's hellaciously flippin' cold in here.
gelid and hoar-frosted and ice-aged.
i'm pretty sure i saw a wooly mammoth
a few seconds ago.
then again,
it could've been my reflection.
awwwwww.
on the ones, kids,
it's embittered and embattled and i mean it.
i ran the oven today for a little bit,
and not just because i needed an elite dose
of delicious dopeness in the form of
barbarian brownies with two kinds
of chocolate chips.
i did need that.
and i'm glad it happened.
but really,
i just wanted the oven to emanate
a little extra warmth like a propane-powered hearth
in the heart of my otherwise least-heated wing of the house.
i'm curling up by the fireplace.
and i'm dangerously dessicated for my trouble.
practically preserved by dehydration, duders.
that's the new plan.
a modern mummy,
pickled and tickled by tongues of cast-iron hot fire,
and designed to keep that festy foot company forever.
i love it when a plan comes together;
never quiet, never soft.....

shivering.

2012-01-03T18:23:00.000-05:00

ugh.
it's so flippin' cold
my hands are shaking like seismographs
during a massive tectonic incursion.
sh-sh-sh-shivering and sh!t...
...and that's indoors.
no good.
despite the frightful absence of most literal hotness,
i found time to get expert on some hottness,
as in a hiff and a puff for a while
on an especially burly,
intensely delicious-ish stinky stogie.
uh-huh.
frostbiting on my ears,
acrid acidic smoke on my tongue,
and my dirty little dog to keep me company.
for real.
did i mention my other other resolution?
yeah, neighbors.
i'm going to show a little more affection to
my barbarian battle-beast.
sure,
she doesn't listen worth F*-all,
she pushes her luck with our affections,
she consistently overreacts to new situations,
she rips tremendous, thunderous farts at regular intervals,
and displays outward hostility towards most living things.
c'mon.
who else does that sound like?
i'm sayin'.
therefore,
hating her is like hating myself.
and that's an alien concept.
so as part of the self-imporovement program i'm activating,
it's kindness to dumb animals and appreciation
for their company.
after all,
she actually likes hanging out.
there's a lot to be said for that these days.
word up.
***********
three days into it, my ninjas.
there's been a pretty intense push
towards reinstating some old action.
like,
from the olden times or something.
2011 kicked my A* right off my body,
but i rediscovered my strengths,
disregarded and discarded the frailty of yesteryear,
and there's been a whole lot of going to eleven
already in 2012,
after less than 72 hours, even.
the original albie rock is here,
ugly, broke, broken, and dope,
and from now on,
it's ALL really happening.
now get yourselves into the spirit,
or get the F* out of the woodsly goodness, y'all.
viking fury is here,
and flipping the heck out is all i'm concerned with;
never quiet, never soft.....

one two one two

2012-01-02T20:10:00.000-05:00

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
it's a hot deuce sandwich, my ninjas.
a rollicking roundtrip to the A*-crack of
the diluted doo-doo butter we all
know and resent as the 'chussetts this morning,
then,
i got all over a tatblasted voyage into all-too familiar
territory this afternoon.
and finally,
a fateful journey into uncharted realms this evening.
stacked up, smacked up, and not all it's cracked up to be.
my dearest daughters have disembarked in the
shallow narrows of weak sauce and far away.
i raced back to the woodsly goodness to get poppin'
on some hard work and some hard styles,
and i successfully executed both,
with the help of some new vacationary clients-
huh?
yep.
i am resolute about being a more commanding
competent communicator.
nicely observed, duders.
it's true.
i'm representing a new era of brutal truths,
coarse and base and rough concepts,
and aggressively active participation in
one-sided group discussions.
that's a thing, son.
***********
home alone, again,
without my two best creations to
cavort and caterwaul with.
harvest and maple are being missed
by the warrior poets and berserker barbarians
of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
neighbors,
it is just not the same without 'em.
but,
on the bright side,
when it's adults-only along the ramparts,
it's a pants optional scenario once again.
you don't want to horrify your children
by showing them just where the wild things are.
i'm serious.
without clothes,
i could pass for the one with human feet,
as long as you allow my grey hair to symbolize
those horns.
yeah.
*
i'm panning for gold like an introspective prospector.
grievous grievances picked over
and rinsed a ways away through a sieve of
expert assessment.
it's only day two of the new year, y'all.
so far,
no luck;
never quiet, never soft.....

reciprocity.

2012-01-01T17:28:00.000-05:00

i get an eleven-type tattbomb from adam,
adam gets a 12th level zipzap from me.
cycles and circles, neighbors.
we doo-doo that even-steven sh!t like that.
a modified daniel higgs design circa 1990.
straight to the future like a blast from the past.
check the teleport:

one loose nine round.
that's all there is.
am i starting the year off dope?
maybe.
i am starting the year off nice;
never quiet, never soft.....

low resolution.

2012-01-01T17:20:00.000-05:00

duders,
i blew it.
i wished the whole damn family a happy new year,
and forwent my usual magic mantra.
i'm serious.
rabbit, rabbit?
sure,
i said it out of habit when i cracked open my eyes
at the A*-crack of dawn,
but it sure as sh!t wasn't the first thing erupting
from inside my face as the clock hands
pointed skyward in tandem towards the future.
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
who's ringing in the new year on the wrong foot?
nope...it's not me, sucka muthas-
i've got the right foot stashed in a glass box.
oh, c'mon.
word up, neighbors,
it's 2012.
the first day.
the first shot.
the big resolution solution,
or as we refer to that sort of thing up here
in the willpowered powerful woodsly goodness:
decree day.
uh-huh.
unless you're the pinnacle of perfection,
or the predictable poor-performer,
you know you could probably be a little teeny tiny bit
more EXPERT.
y'know,
louder, harder, fresher,
more stormswept, more savage,
berserkerer, even,
and participating more actively.
i know i'm ready to take 12 to eleven.
it's all about positive progress, i guess.
like what?
how about like a material fast for the month of january?!
that's right.
spending freeze in F*ing full effect.
food and fuel are the only acceptable expenses.
ninjas,
i'm on that responsible adulthood action,
and that fiscal fortitude and financial ferocity.
not for nothing, kids,
but i'm staring 36 grizzled years in a row
right in the crow-footed laugh-lined careworn face.
the future is right now,
and i need those mutha-b!tchin' movie checks to activate.
recognize.
decreed.
*
i wish i could tell y'all about the big action.
y'know,
some kind of intimate inuendo about the really realness.
instead,
i'll just hit you dirty duders off a little hard-hearted hottness:

chocolate coconut creme pie, with whipped blops on top.
that's all there is.
shark-gluttonous dessert and sleeping an extra two minutes.
no fireworks,
no explosions.
just this worthy Folk Life.
a new year,
the same old routines.
it's always happening,
it's never not.
it's the last night of vacation with harvest and maple,
it's the first day of the next time.
concentric circles,
concentrated cycles,
hard flippin' styles;
never quiet, never soft.....

adios once.

2011-12-31T23:06:00.001-05:00

uh-huh.
once is eleven in spanish-talk.
i like that.
but,
it's all over with now,
isn't it?
it sure is.
my homie wayne had me zippity-zap up a
goodbye-and-farewell good riddance-style
last-minute afterwork tattbomb on his leg.
i took a crooked busted bent knee picture to prove it:

eleven, neighbors.
then,
in the spirit and memory of present times
becoming bygone ones,
and with an effort of affected camaraderie,
adam inflicted another other 'nother one on me.
on my side-knee, even:

ouch.
a dirty green melted hot mess, mutha-'uckas.
just like this sh!tpile of a year.
guess what?
yep.
it turns out i still hate getting tattooed.
hard.
but this is it-
we'll see you around, eleven.
it's time for the dirty dozen to activate it's
very own special brand of expert events.
*
we spent the evening until now with friends.
but now we're back at the bastions and battlements
of the fortress.
we're fortified, all the way live,
and ready to live free or die.
after all,
death is not the worst of evils.
T-minus one hour until the future.
impending, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft.....

the last before the first.

2011-12-31T09:55:00.000-05:00

hey duders.
this is it.
the last Tea 'N' Toast breakfast of the year.
i mean, sure,
we're having T'N'T breakfast tomorrow, too...
but that's a whole different dietary calendar situation,
y'know?
i know you do.
everything today is the last thing.
until the the next thing.
next time, next year-
and that's the truth-
just sayin', mutha-uckers,
there's always one more thing.
but it's not getting activated until later,
and later is definitely not scheduled until tomorrow.
yet,
i'll wager i've probably got another 'nother blog in me
before the clock strikes twelve,
and twelve becomes one,
and eleven becomes twelve.
...oh, c'mon.
-
the final few terrible tattbombs of the year
are today's specials on the menu, too.
yuuuuuuuuup.
i'm closing out the old and beginning the new
with some molto-busted barbarian
body-etched 'buttery business.
meaningful cavemanliness, engraved with metal spikes
and infused with stormswept norse occult symbology.
really?
really.
i'm also getting EXPERT with a reissue of
the missing ol' manly man of the mountain magic.
uh-huh.
hard styles and sh!tty soundtracks,
fancy coffee drinks and a lot of wiener jokes.
why should the last be any different from the first.
yeah.
like those star trek next generation jauns, an' that.
a whole day of doo-doo butter and bad weather
and work and weak sauce snowstorm sorcery...
you should probably all already know how it ends-
i mean, nobody retires with the title belt, kids.
*
like it or not,
it's all really happening.
i'm fighting the good fight tonight,
against the grain of the masses of A*-holes
and tourists and opportunists
and inebraited amateur celebrants waiting for fireworks
and last-minute searches for first-minute kisses.
you know i can't hang out with that kind of sh!t-salad sap.
but,
we've got friends and family togetherness to consider.
some things can't be resolved by remaining resolute.
only an adjustable auld lang syne-sized wrench can
accurately loosen up the taught-twisted tension
of trying to participate amidst and amongst the rest of them.
long nights.
hard times.
new years.
*
neighbors!
it's ending.
2011, y'all.
over and out.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is buttoned-up,
snug and roasty-toasty warm.
the pyre of passing years is being constructed.
the rabbity rabbitude of our
impending post-year-ending good luck
is caged behind clenched teeth,
ready to pass, parsed, through parched lips
like fluid fiery hottness,
determined and destined to bestow
the bountiful berserker blessings
down on all us worthy warrior poets.
professional professorship, y'all.
obvious, inaccessible, deductive wisdom.
spirits and memories of really-real woodsly goodness,
infused and activated with participation and pontification
and whole lot of loud fresh hardness.
we never look forward.
there's no need.
we're already living in the future;
never quiet, never soft.....

beige food...

2011-12-30T20:37:00.000-05:00

when the fortress gets cookin',
the fortress' inhabitants get cookin'too.
yeah!
family kitchen activation,
from the past.
huh?
that's right.
never mind the future, neighbors-
it's a super-70's explosion,
across the universe,
for our tastebuds and your faces!!!
check the teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuup
we're on that new seitan recipe sh!t.
breaded, battered, braised, boiled, mashed, steamed.....
how many techniques is too many?
you'll know when it feels like the right amount.
word.
and just to take the faux-butter-fried freshness
all the way to eleven and back again,
me and my little ladies ladled gravy
all over all of it.
we make dinner like dwarven winter tundra lords, duders...
you want an action shot?
okay,
proof and/or pudding, b!tches:

blurred vision is a sign of participation overload,
and/or young hands operating the camera.
*
the second to last night of 2011.
it's snowy,
it's harsh,
it's all really happening.
i'm resolving my impending resolutions,
performing my daily ablutions,
and getting nostalgic for my cyclic revolutions.
smoke ring dissipating and disappearing, kids.
i'm here in the woodsly goodness,
cooking and cuddling and making magic
out of each molten minute.
i'm grateful for this time,
even as the last grains run out of the glass;
never quiet, never soft.....

1441.

2011-12-29T19:26:00.000-05:00

i'm not an author,
i just write a lot.
yuuuuuuup.
and i don't just write,
i get totally blogtarded.
like a documentarian of really realness
with no regard for content, contentment, or personal safety.
one thousand four hundred and forty-one posts.
dang neighbors,
that's a whole holy sh!t-ton of words
for your mutha-F*ing faces!!!
now imagine if i actually ever had something to say!
*
duders,
it's been a crazy day.
i had molto muchachos apparating and evaporating
from the past and the present directly to the future.
that's a thing.
my peoples from away have gone back again,
my clients from before were around today,
and i've even got some once-in-awhiles
slowly converting into all-the-times.
the natural order of the secret universal plan
slowly dissolves and resolidifies as it approaches
the end of the calendar year.
endings, beginnings, middles, denouemonts,
cliffhangers, and a unhealthy overdose of lex parsimoniae,
and you've got the year end clearinghouse
for everything old and busted.
that's right, my ninjas.
we've got to make room here,
at year's end,
for the new hottness of world's end.
2012 is creepy-crawling it's slowpoke seditiousness
all up on our ambient oblivion action.
it's not uplifting,
it's not lighthearted,
it's not very nice.
it's just What Is,
and that's what's really happening.
*
frostbitten, dour, sour, and bitter.
homies,
it's a hard-style lifestyle here in the woods.
for serious.
the wind kept us up,
creaking trees kept us wary,
and cyclone cycles of ghost-circle expansion
kept us ready for any and everything.
time is ticking,
grips are slipping,
and stakes are high.
real life is no joke;
never quiet, never soft.....

impromptu reunions.

2011-12-28T22:09:00.000-05:00

dan and mike are here.
word up.
my ace ninja from back in the ol' days,
dan dealy,
active participant and full-time just-be-dopeist,
and his younger brother mike,
are repping a sleepover party in the woodsly goodness.
two more menfolk to balance out the power an' that.
six sucka-free souls holed up away from the biting winds
in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that makes for a full house, neighbors.
we're rockin' tattbombs, burritos, and woodstove warmth
on a cold, blustery, below-freezing evening.
taking solace from our interactive dialogues
in our so-fresh sanctuary well apart from
the jam-packed masses of massholes who're
taking up space, invading the area, and ruining the scene.
but those waterbabies aren't ruining our scene, y'all.
because we're doo-dooing that holiday season hottness.
and we're activating it together.
it's been awhile since i've had a chance to hang out with my homies.
i'm grateful for being able to do so tonight.
the wind is howling.
roaring, really.
loud, fresh, and hard,
a stormswept savage raging gypsy gusting gale,
in full regalia, regaling us with a tale of arctic tundra,
blistering blight, and wintry woe.
the answers are blowin' in on it,
the scent of change and the reek of war are wafting from it,
and it's all really happening as i type.
windsweeping warcries from the skies, kids.
listen to that whistling wail of nature's winning way;
never quiet, never soft.....

real recognizes real.

2011-12-27T17:19:00.000-05:00

hamden warriors never die,
they just move away.
awwwwwww.
but in the spirit of ultimate war and sh!t,
check out the mutha-lickin' teleport:

boo-YA!
the ultimate warrior....SON!!!
the cucch keeps it real,
even in the oceanic tropical weak-sauce of hawaii,
he still knows how to show some love
to his bitter, cold, ice-hearted homies in new hampshire.
wordimus prime.
ultimate, my ninjas.
you know it.
did you look closely?
uh-huh.
i know.
it's a two-fer, huh?
macho man undies and knee pad activation,
a la wrestlemania 7.
and for the record,
if you can't hang out with this kind of hottness,
you are definitely an A*-hole.
and that's a fact.
XI-mas treats that go to eleven.
just what we needed, neighbors,
at just the right time;
never quiet, never soft.....

ailing and failing and mailing.

2011-12-27T17:01:00.002-05:00

man, oh man.
it's a seriously sh!tty tuesday in the mountains, y'all.
icy droplets of doo-doo butter dripping down,
sunless plummeting thermometer temps,
with a side-order of fever-hot foreheads,
and whole lot of F*ed up headcold ruination.
yep.
i'm infested with congestion-type jauns-
i've got a hurricane in my skull,
and a porcupine in my throat.
the good news is that i'm using the stormswept shed quills
to author new frontiers in fury and ferocious fire.
that's the truth.
acute connecticitis notwithstanding,
i'm always happier when times are tough,
nights are long,
and styles are hard.
otherwise,
i'm complaining for no good reason, yeah?
yeah.
today is that day.
me and harvest and maple have been defying the
doom diagnosed to us via this dearth of welcoming weather,
and the absence of available awesome activities.
that's correct, yo.
we began the day with a tried-and-true ragnarok repast:

panniecakes!
double-thick fluffy manly manhole covers, duders.
did we sneak a little maple cream in between the stacks?
you bet your sweet butt we did.
i mean, c'mon.
what am i?
an A*-hole?
nope.
take it easy,
maple cream is vegan, dummy.
oh,
now we're bringing the good back to baked goods.
you ninjas all know we get rad in the kitchen,
and when the going gets grimy,
the pans get greased and preheat gets brought to bear.
stand back and sniff, suckas.
smell that?
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
this kinder-rockgarten has been consistently activating
the epic expert experience of Folk Life culinary hottness.
we've got banana bread in there now,
and a chocolate coconut pie in the queue, too.
real life is happening.
drippy faucet faces, dirty skies,
and traffic-jammin out-of-towned-up massholes
can't put a stop to it, either.
they're trying though, and i'll give 'em points for the effort.
our nearly-never here neighbors next door
have got every light on in their whole entire house,
indoors and out.
nothing says woodsly goodness
quite like a billionteen lumens of light pollution
pointed directly at my driveway.
ahhhhhhh.
i think i'll light a candle near the foot,
and let it take care of my problem for me.
*
hey-O!
i got some treats from hawaii today, too.
word up.
check the teleport:

weirdie plant ornament bulb magic globe action.
who knew we needed it?
cucchie knew, that's who.
***********
the december embers are dying out.
the stoked-up fuego of a new year
is waiting to light up our lives.
it's winter vacation.
it's Folk Life living.
and it's a snow day.
what-what, say-what, say-what?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
anything can happen;
never quiet, never soft.....

treats.

2011-12-26T19:26:00.001-05:00

duders,
you all already know that i get busy with
the eleventh-level EXPERT gift giving, right?
...right.
so check the teleport on this hottness:

hung by the chimney with care an' sh!t, suckas.
you know it.
yeah,
even olive the dog got a ration of fresh treats.
what am i?
a monster?
stop it,
it's XI-mas, neighbors.
good will and cheer an' that,
even for big dumb dogs.
*
of course,
if four-legged disasters are getting my good will,
you'd better believe that my human companions
and coconspirators of cohabitated compatibility
are gonna reap the rewards of their presence
with a whole A*-F*-ton of presents.
c'mon...
wordimus prime, kids-
harvest and maple got hooked up proper.
on the ones,
their color-coordinated bows and jauns
made for a well-presented parcel of pure freshness:

yeah!
we activate that 'more-beautifully-than-you' action.
by the fireplace an everything, friends.
if it isn't picture-perfect,
it isn't XI-mas.
i mean, otherwise,
what's the point?
the wifey's haul wasn't slouchin' either:

c'mon.
solid gold, mutha-lickers.
we GOT that sleek streamlined tight and brightness.
amongst all the well-reasoned, researched,
wrapped and righteously received regalia
what was her most favoritest thang?
four on the floor, making each foot her best foot forward-
she's rollin', you're hatin':

yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
when it comes to showing affection,
i express myself best with items.
you want feelings?
you're asking the impossible.
tangibles, y'all.
that atlas shrugged-style of emotionalism.
recognize.
huh?
what about me?
awwwww.
how kind of you to ask.
don't worry, my ninjas-
i wasn't left out of the generous goodness.
in fact,
i got proper activated,
and i'm livin' with some serious gratitude for what's up.
for serious,
we were fed and lodged and interacted-with
the whole time we were away,
and that wasn't the half of it.
check it out-
my father-in-law, tom, hit me off this double bundle of
super-deluxe cedar-lined stink-stick stogie stock:

wow.
that's a hot batch of flammable carcinogens for my face!!!
but that's not even close to the limit, either.
i'm referring to the lovely mrs. rock.
we knew she was super hot.
we knew she was disproportionately dope.
we even suspected she had an extra-share of skill and talent.
but who could've known about the casual considerate
confidence with which she executed this XI-mas's
big deal deluxe special delivery for yours truly.
DAS IT!!!
the wifey pretty much brought the ultimate hot fire
down on my gifty-giving head and shoulders.
like an expert of active participation, even.
what time is it, y'all?

wellllll,
according to my new mutha-F*ing wristwatch,
it is precisely 'baller-A* doodie-twankle' o'clock.
...yes it is.
ninjas,
i've never been more grateful for the time i've been given.
mostly,
because i've never been given time like that hunk of
superior genrosity up there...
-that is some seriously futuristic chronographic 'ness.
vintage infantry werewolfen titanium depleted-uranium
unobtanium wolverine berserker-fury from the swiss alps.
it actually checks the checks that check the teleport.
we do it better, kids.
sorry.
it's just how we get it together.
***********
life is unfolding, kids.
real life.
real real.
i've got my three most important ladies,
i've got a blazing fire heating up our home,
i've got a preposterously nice watch.
real life keeps happening,
but we keep it realer, y'all;
never quiet, never soft.....

Perfect.

2011-12-26T18:14:00.001-05:00

what's one better than X-mas?
uh-huh!
XI-mas, neighbors.
us worthy warrior poets know how to doo-doo
that gratitude and that generosity
and that active participation
and that professional appreciation.
but,
we can only activate that level of expert business
from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
up here in the happy hills and magnificent mountains
of the heroic and stoic woodsly goodness.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
we're home, duders.
there's no place like it.
it's where the heart is, even.
(and the foot)
after a trip to the less-than,
we're nestled back in the barbarian bosom
of our very own idyllic paradise.
why am i sniffling?
no,
i'm not having an appropriate emotional sentiment
about being back where i belong.
c'mon,
don't be dumb.
i've got a clogged-up cratacular attack
of super-severe connecticitis.
ugh.
it's bad, y'all.
i'm a drippy, coughing contagion waiting to infest
and digest the dopeness of the northern hottness.
gross.
i'm tellin' you ninjas-
it never fails.
bring me to the toxic turdblasted terrain of
the land of my birth,
and the heat-seeking hatebombs of hellacious
helix-harranguing heckfire assault my system
and my sensibilities.
or maybe it was the falafel?
check the teleport, buddy:

did it come from a dirt-dirty grit-grimy kitchen?
yes.
was it proportionately delicious?
you bet your sweet A*, son!
the dirtier the spot,
the more expert the falafel.
this one was off the charts on both counts.
the wifey said it was the best she'd ever had.
believe it.
*
so i'm laid up, beaten down, broken and broke,
but it's a next-level futuristic holiday.
and it definitely goes to eleven.
wooooooord.
*
we spanned so much time,
across such vast expanses,
at such epic expense,
and with such savage stormswept gypsy expertism,
that it almost seems unfair to brag about it.
not that i'd ever let that briefest of unconsciou-style
involuntary conscience-type pang occupy
too much space in my ferocious furnaces.
instead,
i'll just say that everything was perfect.
my darling double-digit daughters,
the distended and extended branches
of our network of relatives,
the food, the funtimes,
the peoples and mini-peoples,
and all of the flippin' time we took.
real life really well lived.
that's what's up.
***********
the paper is all torn and taken away.
the bows are bowed and the ribbons are wilted.
the storm and the glory of our very own day-after
dopeness and delight are all done for now...
but there are still molto days of winter vacation ahead of us,
and a whole new year to get jumpin' off.
where we are is all there is.
everything and everywhere else is just not What Is-
today was the day again,
tomorrow will be too;
never quiet, never soft.....

o' holy night, o' holy sh!t...

2011-12-25T20:51:00.000-05:00

O' happy F*ing christmas day, mutha-uckers.
never mind those 12 days of weak sauce, duders...
the eleven days of really realness
are what's actually a-poppin' during
this merry jolly happy holiday season.
it's all a sequence of escalating avalanched attacks.
that's real.
anyway,
i hope all you stuffed-up stocking-footed festive
fal-la-la-la-lollygaggers are having a good one.
first comes X-mas, my ninjas,
and then that's followed by the real holiday.
yeah.
XI-mas doesn't storm the shores all the way
until tomorrow.
or as the canucks call it:
'boxing day'.
but that's not today, neighbors.
today is for the children, son.
just like that WU-TANG jauns.
uh-huh.
the woodsly goodness is callin' us home again.
and in the in-betweening time,
there's a whole lot of family time,
deep in the heart of connecticut
we've been wallowing in relatives,
from the elderly to the infants,
and all the bloodfeuding bloodlines
that flesh out the bark and leaves
of the trees an' that.
yes.
***********
it's been a heck of a time, y'all.
it's all happened.
it all keeps happening.
i am grateful for the opportunity,
i am grateful for the time..
merry christmas to all,
and to all a good night;
never quiet, never soft.....

overnights and living daylights.

2011-12-24T10:07:00.000-05:00

never mind denmark, duders...
there's something rotten in connecticut!
what?
wow,
good call, y'all.
it's not just something,
it's most minky, mincey, nancypantsy things.
...and that's no joke.
we've been wandering and roaming and
practically foaming like a frappe of rabid rage
at the raw, butt-nasty, dirt-dirty situation down here.
the smells!
oh, the smells!!!
the least populated spots have got more packed-in
sardine-type duders than the most inhabited corners
of the far-superior woodsly goodness.
my wifey needs her space, neighbors.
the close-quarters combat of a hard-style holiday
in this crammed up clog called connecticut is not spacious.
i mean,
you guys get it-
connecticut is NOT dope.
that's real.
but we're here, and it's really happening,
so i guess we're documenting the whole shooting match
until the final throes are done twitching.
word up.

***********

yuuuuuuup.
it's on, kids.
you'd do well to get in bed extra-early.
visions of sugarplums, an' that.
you ninjas know the drill, dontcha?
if you've somehow managed to be nice,
and not get taken Off The List,
then our jolly ol' buddy santa comes tonight.
yay!
-
but if you've been naughty?
uh-huh.
the berserker barbarians raid your gates,
throwing burning chunks and lumps of anthracite,
setting fires,
smashing sh!t and chopping heads,
and you'll probably have a better time for their efforts.
silent and holy can suckle those snowballs, b!tches.
we're on that criss-crossed countryside
back-and-forthrightness
forward moving time spanning family togetherness jauns.
big flippin' deal.
tonight is the night,
today is the day,
tomorrow is even moreso,
and monday is the most.
we're geting so much closer to christmas,
which in turn brings us within heartbeats
of XI-mas.
and that's the big action.
happy holiday times to all you worthy warriors,
you seasoned veterans get season's greetings.
and you nancy novices get noel nuances.
that's equanimity on the eve, yo.
happy happy, merry merry, and all that.
be good to each other;
never quiet, never soft.....

eve's eve reprieve.

2011-12-23T08:37:00.000-05:00

connecticut, u.s.a.
awwwwwwww, man.
congested and infested and molested.
a sh!t-salad stankin' skank-filled steaming smog bowl.
that's what's up, and where we're at.
a train wreck in full effect,
overlapping and pumpkin-slapping the front and sides
of my whole entire travel plans.
yuuuuup.
neighbors,
every year i come back,
and every year i recognize less and less of where i'm from.
it's not the land of the Hamden Warriors anymore,
it's a war-torn wasteland of waterbabies and b!tchbags.
and yet here i am...
***********
duders,
it's the day before the day of the night before XI-mas.
the eve of the eve.
what does this solid-waste state of the union have to offer?
how about hours and hours of sour traffic?
oh hell yes.
heinously long distances spanned
across this third-smallest state?
naturally.
terrible air, horrible people, and awful areas?
with a few exceptions, and we're visiting all of them;
spread out along the breadth and width of this place.
yep.
it's all really happening.
ready or not-
here we come.
*
and do i miss the foot?
...a little.
saint elevenus may be the
chimney sweepin' chief of the holy smokin'
festy festive holiday season.
i'm makin' offerings,
lighting candles,
and swearing mighty solemn oaths
of worthy warrior really-realness.
y'know,
trying to invoke the stormswept ghosts
of all this raging ragnarok-rockin' righteousness.
that's a thing.
prepare all your jingle-jangled
mistletoe kissing balls, y'all.
you can practice suckin' on them,
then move on to the real ones;
never quiet, never soft.....

winter.

2011-12-22T07:54:00.001-05:00

brrrrrrrrrrr.
the winter solstice has arrived,
and the bitter cold and grey season
is now reinstated, activated, and fully operational.
happy mutha-F*ing winter, neighbors.
three months of official brutal buffeting barbarian tundra.
and when we add in last month's full-fledged pre-season,
and the first two or three technically springtime months....
yep.
the woodsly goodness experiences roughly half a year
of savage stormswept raging gypsy weather.
it's just that today is the darkest day of that whole span.
uh-huh.
i think the sun may peek out from behind these rainy clouds
and then immediately set behind the mountains,.
it's a high-speed horizon-to-horizon arc,
and it's happening right this moment.
winter's bone?
yeah.
it's probably a lower extremity.
huh?
that's right.....
a foot.
c'mon.
beatus est pes, my ninjas.
y'all need to make the pilgrimage to the mountaintop
and pay homage at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
to the earthly remains, ghost-circular spirit,
and semi-corporeal memory
of saint elevenus of the immaculate immolation.
that's the patron saint of hot fire and really-realness.
you know it.
he's kickin' it up here,
or at least his foot is, b!tches.
oh, stop it.
winter times, duders.
cold and lonely and busted.
it's also the first day of crap-ricorn too.
that's a double cosmic check and change.
the world is in flux, y'all.
circumspect sacrosanct circumstances an' sh!t.
we GOT they.
today is most especially the day-
in fact, friends,
it's the very lovely and talented miss maple star's berfday!
yeah!!
a decade of daughterly dopeness.
ten revolutions around the sun, son!
in a row, even.
both my little bitty baby girlie-girls
are reppin' those double digits now.
holy crapola, kids.
time.
just like always.
flyin' when i'm havin' fun,
and slippin' away during the rest of the moments,
we'll be delivering rock blocks
and vegan cuppiecakes and family togetherness
from us to them,
from here to there,
and to eleven the whole time.
that's what's up.
the XI-mas battle royale connecticut 'itis extravaganza.
it begins right now;
never quiet, never soft.....

the foot.

2011-12-21T10:05:00.001-05:00

ugh.
check out this mummified, mammalian,
and extremely festy extremity.
teleport to the future:

c'mon.

this dirty dollop of deceased beast rested in pieces
right under our house until late last week, neighbors.
for real.
i'm pretty sure it's my new good luck charm.
as a matter of fact,
i'm even thinking of getting one of those mirror-bottomed
gilded glass cases to enshrine it in.
yeah.
a first class reliquary for a third-rate foot.
y'know,
with some long-taped candles and an offering box an' that.
i mean,
we need to do something with all this brand-new
extra space in the previously-named nothing room, right?
why not rep a battle-beast chapel,
dedicated to the dessicated spirits and memories
of the woodsly goodness.
don't even try to act like that's not dope.
...because it SO is, duders.
what i really want to know is-
what kind of foot IS it?
who can tell me?
i'll name the shrine after you if you fill in the blanks.
yes i will.
*
false idols and animal spirits and sh!t.
we rep the old ways, y'all.
the nordic lightning-striking viking ways.
werewolf shapeshifter ghost circle jauns, even.
it's what's up,
it's what's happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

the fall.

2011-12-21T08:47:00.000-05:00

so after sword-swallowing an entire pizza pie
in a newspaper roll-up dinner reality,
i trembled away the evening in the tooth shattering cold.
tooth shattering?
i think so.
i mean,
that's kind of a real thing...
in fact,
i also has a missing piece of molar reactivated earlier in the day.
now,
it's possible i was grinding my teeth with holiday cheer,
and the enamel in my head couldn't handle it,
or, as is more likely,
the crown of my dented dental surface
emulated my hopes and dreams,
and just plain ol' gave the F* up.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
either way,
i had to visit the dentist and repair my head.
mission accomplished, duders.
all the better to demolish that 'zza with, y'heard?!
yeah.
***********
today's the last day, duders.
of fall.
of my having single-digit-aged children.
of pre-holiday woodsly goodness participation.
yeah.
from here on out,
it's hard times and hard styles in hard-headed hard-hearted
weak sauce central.
uh-huh.
...connecticut.
the heavy-handed XI-mas family tolerance experiment.
who will throw me out first?
i'm taking bets,
and giving pretty respectable odds.
since our yearly dutiful pilgrimage to the land of doo-doo butter
began all those years ago,
it's been less and less like where i'm from, friends.
i hardly recognize the place, even.
and the densely populated,
heavily trafficked,
inconveniently congested and infested,
urban sprawling desolation of devastated constitution stateliness
is playing host to the berserker barbarian homecoming
road warrior poetry slam competition.
and i'm seein' everybody, too.
criss-crossing the state in an effort to maximize
the watering and pruning and fertilizing
roots and limbs to a whole flippin' grove of family trees.
everybody, neighbors.
big and small, tall and short, old and young,
every-single-mutha-F*ing-body.
if we don't hang out,
it's probably because you aren't somebody.
OH SH!T!!
i'm not serious,
except kinda.
hard. loud. fresh. happening.
happy last day of autumn, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft.....

fat flat rollin'.

2011-12-20T18:08:00.000-05:00

HEY-O!
me and my too-long-absent ace active answerer,
beau,
just powered down a double barrelled turbo-tube,
each,
of a couple of whole entire large and in charge jumbo-sized
furious, ferocious shark gluttonous flatbread pizza pies.
...for our F*ing faces, mutha-b!tches.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
one uncircumcised entire flattieboombattiebread per face,
to be precise, SON!
that's right.
uncut,
and rolled up like a barbarian burrito.
right down the hatch?
uh-huh.
we doo-doo that overachieving eating action.
manly men do manly masticated mayhem,
whenever they get together to get it together.
solid.
***********
XI-mas shopping?
over and out, neighbors.
donez-o.
there are no piles that resemble sheistiness,
in any form.
more importantly,
the stockings are fully flippin' stuffed.
and that's really the mark of a worthy warrior of
gratitude and generosity.
anybody can drop a cache of cash
on a great big somethin'-somethin'.
it's the pure genious of an accurately accented stocking
that separates the experts from the waterbabies.
spoiled rotten over the top treats in a big sock
are what's up.
recognize.
tune in tomorrow,
and i'll finally unveil the mummified monster mitt
we unearthed during the archaeological excavation
underneath the nothing room.
i've waited long enough to debut this thing.
once there's photogenial lightsources to illuminate
the horrific appendage,
i'll gladly share it with all y'all.
crime scene sh!t, duders,
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

the big change-up.

2011-12-19T09:20:00.000-05:00

winter seems like it's already here,
but it really doesn't start until later on this week.
and i'm tellin' all y'all:
i don't like early birds in any circumstances.
from worm-grabbing, to tag sales,
to out-in-front first-in-line queue queers hoping for
pre-admission to whatever isn't going to happen until
the actual designated start time,
all the way (especially) to the onset of so many months
of shivering and extra blankets.
word up.
i mean,
do you duders take solace
in the solstice's soulless desolation?
awwwwww.
c'mon.
who can hang out with the blackout attack cycle
of rhythmless circadian dirge-type jammie-jams?
what's up, my ninjas;
we're creeping up on the official wintry jump-off
of a barren, bleak, windy, brutal season.
oh, stop it.
and it's so cold outside the heat keeps turning on,
even with the woodstove roaring it's combusted
ferocious fuego activation.
for serious, neighbors.
the dedicated firmament location planagram constellation
amalgamation sensation is less than 72 hours away.
huh?
what am i talking about??
i'm talking about this thursday,
i'm talking about the first day of winter,
i'm talking about the one year countdown-mark
to the megadeth-style extinction brink breakdown.
up here in the mountains,
dawn gives way to dusk with only the briefest
glimpses into daylight's early shine an' that.
it's dark after lunch,
but it isn't that bright between the crack of morningtime
and breakfast, either.
the plummeting mercury is to be expected,
just not very appreciated.
30 degrees Farenheit is plenty cold, right?
yeah.
NO degrees just seems like showing off.
if there has to be a ZERO somewhere,
i'd prefer it be one of our fresh-to-death
zombie destruction rifles.
that's the truth.
***********
capricorn is almost upon us.
coinciding with the soul-crushing solstice,
the half-goat half-fish frankenstein's barnyard monster
is occupying the skies until late january.
i'm reppin' that mountain goat/brook trout action,
a woodsly goodness adaptive hybrid horrorshow.
and my darling daughter maple is doo-dooing the same.
listen up, friends-
i'm about to have double daughters in double digits.
i can feel the lightning-strike shock-straight fright-whitened
follicles falling off the top of my dome as i type.
old and busted is what i look like,
the new hottness is what i act like.
broke as a bad joke,
uglier than a bad accident,
but dope as F*,
from deep down bottom-dollar bets
to high-falutin' fire and fury.
a grey, gay fishgoat freakshow keeping it on full blast,
savage, berserker barbarian warrior poetry,
all the way to eleven,
all the mutha-flippin' time.
and that time is right now, just like always.
hard times, short days, long nights, all of that;
never quiet, never soft.....

stuffed stockings.

2011-12-18T19:54:00.000-05:00

XI-mas mayhem, my ninjas!!
it's pretty much in F*ing full effect.
and it's affecting my whole wide realm
of woodsly goodsly gratitude and generosity.
uh-huh.
those sheisty piles worm their way into my brain.
now i'm waking up in the deepest darkest
dregs of december nighttime on that
blitzkrieg brainstorming last-minute gift explosion.
word up, neighbors.
if you think it's easy,
you should probably think again.
i mean,
it's about doing it better than y'all, after all.
y'know?
and if the futuristic festival of hot fire and fresh flavor
doesn't go to eleven?
c'mon.
i can't even allow myself to wonder, duders...
*
have you been to the FOLKLOFT yet?
no?
jeeeez,
why not?
you need to get some super sexy mountain magic
expert activation for your faces, don't ya?
yes.
yes, you do.
***********
the countdown to waterbaby-town is underway.
connecticut, y'all.
the nutmeg spiciness for your constitution, an' that.
family togetherness.
berfday funtimes.
lefthand highway exits.
all that.
time is running out,
time is flowing in.
it's all really happening,
all the time;
never quiet, never soft.....

tight stacks.

2011-12-17T18:59:00.000-05:00

duders,
the presentation of gifts is a b!tch.
i mean,
the presentation in terms of amounts,
and not my impeccable wrapping style.
...obviously.
you already know i rep on a crisp cornered
metallic foil foolproof concealment situation.
i'm talking about sheisty piles, yo.
i get those parental pangs of bad dadhood
when the over-the-top activation isn't
taking off into uncharted levels of spoiled bratitude an' that.
i'm serious.
i deal in quantifiable amounts.
and a short stack attack is equivalent to less loving feelings.
huh?
yeah, well,
you can shove your reasons for the season right up your A*.
i keep it darkman in my Xmas.
y'know:
that 'hood flavorful DMXmas-type sh!t.
whaaaaaaaaaaat?
i keep it avaricious like it's delicious.
what can i say, my ninjas?
i don't buy my friends,
but i do rent those loving feelings from my family.
yep.
i doo-doo that festive sh!t.
***********
it's a saturday night,
and it's all the way live for sure.
home alone, again,
eating too much,
drinking that rootin' tootin' beer,
and being oh-so-merry.
believe it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Folk Loft.

2011-12-16T18:43:00.000-05:00

that's right, kids.
FolkLoft.com.
that's where the cool kids go to get the good stuff.
my digital duder,
my busy business partner,
my homeboy mr. steve rovetti,
made the computer robobotronic magic activate!
now you've got a spot to get what we've got.
you want woodsly goodness?
we GOT woodsly goodness.
electronic hottness that goes to eleven?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
FolkLoft.com, neighbors.
get on it;
never quiet, never soft.....

n.g.f.l.

2011-12-16T09:18:00.000-05:00

barbarian battle beast?
yeah.
berserking?

maybe.
it's a sunny friday morning in
our ideal idyllic setting.
the woodsly goodness gets more awesome
after a sh!tskid sunless rainy day is done.
you know,
without the bitter, an' that.
*
our nothing room is fast becoming a something room.
okay, okay,
i'll explain it...
for all you ninjas who haven't had the pleasure
of touring the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
we have a nothing room.
that's right.
it has six doorways in a narrow space.
what can you do with a room like that?
c'mon.
nothing.
but NOW, neighbors,
our heroic handymen have activated some epic expertism
and one of those doorways has disappeared
into more room where there was a mudroom.
mostly,
because two mudrooms is too many,
and although that's normally the right amount
of everything,
we want to make something out of nothing.
and that's a thing.
it's still happening,
but the holes in our house are being healed,
and the future of spatial spanning is here.
it's all really underway,
under construction,
and under the radar of our actual neighbors.
we're like that.
***********
XI-mas shopping, suckas.
i'm almost done.
as usual,
i've captured the real spirit of the holiday season.
yuuuuup.
big ol' heaped bunches of boxes filled with treats!!
yessir.
i gave in and i started wrapping.
and what i saw made me pretty psyched.
plentiful piles.
copious quantities.
teeming trails of mutha-F*ing treats, son!
what i lack in mudrooms,
i've made up for in metallic foil paper and bows.
that's what's up.
the stockings aren't as stuffed as they could be,
however,
and my competitive complex compels me
to pack 'em up right tight with stuffs.
i know, y'all.
but my inner nature is infinite,
and nature always wins.
here's to victory;
never quiet, never soft.....

wintry mixing.

2011-12-15T08:36:00.000-05:00

neighbors,
what's up with the spirits and memories
of the woodsly goodness getting comfy-cozy
in cahoots with the coconspiring holiday spirit?
i'm serious, y'all.
a severe surge in appropriate actions
for active participation is well underway up here.
huh?
i'm not dressing up as an abominable snowman.
what's that?
uh-uh.
i'm not riding in a one-horse open sleigh.
no.
c'mon.
i want you to just wait and i'll explain...
wrapped gifts wreak havoc on my sense
of accurate accountable amounts
and my inherent, pathological necessity for more.
y'know?
it's XI-mas after all;
it should go to eleven.
just sayin'.
a weak-sauce pile is not a masterful mountain.
not once, not never.
and a worthy warrior of shopping until dropping
is honor-bound to overwhelm his foes,
and his fellow recipients of noeltime cheer,
with expertly-selected luxuries, trinkets, and gewgaws.
yeah.
that happens.
and you merry mutha-yuleloggers know it-
XI-mas is a demanding little b!tch.
guys,
being a consumate gift-giving viking appreciation
magnate for gratitude and generosity
takes a whole bunch of effort and forethought.
all that really means is a lot of second list peoples
are gonna be beat for treats this time around.
awwwwwwwww, man.
you ninjas know about the second list?
it's like flying standby.
it's like a 'weather-permitting' notice.
and for the record-
the second list is still only for mutha-lickers who're
ON the real list,
and not OFF THE LIST.
it's just that the honor roll call
is divided into two columns-
family,
and friends.
and this year,
half the family doesn't rank treats either.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
we rep a hard-style.
fact.
and we don't worry too much about being naughty.
don't be bummed out if you don't get a package.
i still like you maybe,
just in a negligible dollar amount.
***********
that ol' thor's day thunder is here.
uh-huh.
in the form of premeditated precipitation.
as in- nature thought about how to F*
with the A* of the woodsly goodness,
and decided on puking slurpees down on
all the windswept stormblown business
in these cold and dismally depressing mountains.
ugh.
that soulless solstice sh!t sucks all the balls, y'all.
except for the part about it being my kid's birthday.
that part is okay.
otherwise?
yep.
a deep darkness is in effect.
i know, yo,
it'll start brightening in a week or so,
but until that day?
doo-doo buttery shadowland suckiness
is what's a-poppin' in the realm.
we'll see what happens.
today is most probably the day.
it usually is, isn't it?
yeah;
never quiet, never soft.....

criminal minded?

2011-12-14T12:21:00.000-05:00

considered armed (obviously)
and dangerous, muth-'uckas.
verbally abusive, as well.

officer fiona rovetti was kind enough to
bring this poster to my attention.
neighbors,
what do you know about aiding and abetting?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup;
never quiet, never soft.....

F* the po-lice

2011-12-13T21:29:00.000-05:00

guess who got a bullsh!t speeding ticket today?
yuuuuuuuup.
it's a long story,
but suffice to say my ninja bag was wide F*ing open,
and that 'hood goodness came a-poppin' right out.
i'll be taking that battle royale business to court.
yep.
barbarian brutality by the roadside, neighbors.
i don't like b!tches playin' with the truth.
on the ones, y'all,
it's all really happening,
and i don't need some flexibly dutiful duders
doo-dooing some impromptu fundraising at my expense.
not cool.
***********
okay.
so i spent the whole day being furious about injustice,
but i also spent the day shooting guns!
and spanning a little afterhours time at the gun shop.
yes, i did.
firing off some hot lead headshots right in the faces
of our very own ZERO targets,
and doing some semi-heavy lifting at the build site
for the rifles we know and love for their excellent
zombie defense capabilities.
uh-huh.
it's been a day, duders.
and i've had about all i can fit into it.
the law tried to F* my A* today,
but i clenched it shut,
and the story is due to be continued;
never quiet, never soft.....

12-12.

2011-12-12T16:59:00.000-05:00

double up on that 12 gauge goodness, guys.
what?
the date, duders.
it's a good one.
...for a monday.
i'm staggering around,
stunned, stunted, and bummed out
by the aftermath of the full moon.
i mean,
it was barely any less bright last night, neighbors.
and i got barely any more sleep.
nighttime is the right time to enjoy that wolfen sh!t,
but the veritable virtues of werewolfen wide-awakefulness
are few and meager compared to the victorious
vitality, vim, and elan of a well-rested warrior poet.
i'm serious.
a sleepy wolfman is a far-less berserk wolfman.
heavy lids and sluggish feet make for a hardly hard-style situation.
awwwwwwww, man!
hardily, heartily howling for a double dose of dopeness?
i feel like the sandman put silvered sleepy-seeds in my eyes
or some sh!t, mutha-uckas.
that's a hot pile of weak sauce for my face.
aaaaaaaand,
it's flippin' freezing like the arctic an' that.
yeah.
and the construction-created cavity in my house
is leaking heat like a suppurating wound.
ouch.
that's gross,
but so is 12 x 12,
and that's today, innit?
fitting?
uh-huh.
oooohhhh!
c'mon.
you like it.
*
it's the woodsly goodsly weekend again already.
one last day of dominating some 'splosive tatt-a-rrhea,
and a couple of sun-ups and sun-down showdowns
all to ourselves.
it's darker than dark,
even earlier than ever,
and time is running out, kids.
XI-mas is creepin' up,
connecticut is callin' us,
(taunting and jeering, really)
and all the rest of it is heaped on extra heavy.
it's all still happening...really;
never quiet, never soft.....

c'mon!

2011-12-11T09:15:00.000-05:00

full circle.
i'm talking about the mirrorball sphere in the sky.
yep.
the moon was magnificently majestic last night.
even some haunted hottness-type clouds
were hanging out to reflect and refract that heavenly glory.
it was almost alien-abduction intensity, neighbors.
those wolfen jauns in my brains and veins
were feeling a little floodlit and exposed,
and that sort of revealing battle-beastliness just so happens
to mix well with late-night active participation business.
hangin' out at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
appreciating the subtle nuances of nature,
and the not-so-subtle displays of victory.
nature wins is all i'm sayin', y'all.
just look at this striking viking view:

uh-huh.
tight and bright, b!tches.
a blinding beacon of guiding light in the night.
unearthly auras and sh!t were emanating all over the flippin' place,
and the bitter cold was injected deep into the bones of the
mountains and the roots of the woodsly goodness.
so the spirits and memories were swirling in the woodsmoke,
and illuminating the secrets and mysteries of the moonbeams;
but,
for all the raging gypsy mysticism,
the berserker barbarianism was a little lacking....
so we did what duders since forever have done.
that's right, my ninjas...
...we activated the hot fire!
teleport:

fuego a-go-go.
home improvements always leave lots of
timber, lumber, tinder, and extra-special cedar shakes
for that eleventh-level incensed incandescence.
word up.
my coat and my scarf smell like that winter woodland magic.
which is to say: dope!
***********
it's a sunny sunday in the north, my friends.
there're tattbombs to explode,
there're XI-mas gifts to wrap,
there is real life leaking out all over the place.
i've even got a candle called 'mistletoe kisses'
putting that holiday stank all up on my workspace, son.
that's a thing.
it smells exactly like comfort an' that.
you should come over and take a sniff, suckas.
i would.
*
today is the day, same as always, same as it ever was.
the moon is on the leeward side of savagery,
but there's still a little wolfen sorcery inside of it.
i can feel the nutrients.
no joke.
it's all really happening, buddy.
that's the whole point.
pay attention;
never quiet, never soft.....

fullest.

2011-12-10T09:23:00.001-05:00

eclipse action?
i guess so.
it's the full hard swollen circle sh!t
that i'm more concerned with.
and temporary blackout conditions aren't
going to prevent the super-duper-natural
transformation sensation jauns that this
great big fat blazing beacon of blue light
brings about for all the barbarian battle-beasts.
yuuuuuuup.
b!tches,
the berserker fury is raging,
like a burst balloon filled with the four winds an' that.
yeah!
the conditions for hot and fiery fury are optimal-
outside,
it's so cold that the air feels sharp,
and inside,
it's so hot and dry that the air feels sharp.
duders,
it's an atmospheric razor's edge...
tooth and claw and breathing,
in and out,
and full-moon nutrients seeping into all
the day's doings and goings on.
uh-oh.
werewolfen activation bodes poorly for
all the waterbabies and b!tchsappy slap-happy
saucy weak ones out in the woodsly goodness.
that's a thing.
hard styles, and bleak predictions,
and a whole lot of fomenting discontent,
fermenting the blood of monsters,
and forming fomorian firmaments.
huh?
bright, blighted, angry skies,
and spirits of savage stormswept curdled causticity,
with a burly batch of brutal business in between.
that's what's up, y'all.
our full moon saturday over here in the mountainous north.
***********
neighbors,
that lycanthropic mischief is flowing along
the lifeline leylines of my palmistrical mystical
pannieman-caked right hand.
that's real.
i picked up my blue pencil,
and this ungentle-man-beast oozed out.
check the teleport:

a wolfman.
indeed.
you like that background?
hahaha.
c'mon.
moon AND clouds and a ground shadow?!
this lunar magnetism must be doing something
because that's waaay more non-foreground subject matter
than i'm normally comfortable with, kids.
i don't know.
but,
i'll bet he's smoking some pretty powerful pipe tobacco.
a barbarian blend of perique and latakia, my ninjas.
too heavy-duty for regular duders,
but just right in it's tight wrenchiness for a briar bowlful
of burning smoke ring spirits that go to eleven.
y'heard?
*
the sun isn't out,
but it's still too bright to see the moon.
today looks to be chock full of expectation,
and possibly expectorants as well.
i spit up hot fire?
maybe;
never quiet, never soft.....

werewolf.

2011-12-09T08:16:00.000-05:00

that moon up there is bright, kids.
uh-huh.
it's a nearly daylight caliber shiner
keeping me up, and keeping me salty.
what unsavory salt cellar-dweller could have that effect
on a warrior poet of heroically insensitive propensities?
how about skin-rip american flagmeat eagle tatt-'sploso-bombs?
yuuuuuuuuuup.
i did that so hard first thing yesterday.
....or how about maybe some black spikes of triiiiiiiiibal?
wordimus prime, b!tches-
my broke-A* stayed late to activate those jauns.
full moons and empty pockets make for hard styles.
and while on the subject of hard styles,
neighbors,
check the teleport:

werewolf!
i don't know, y'all.
it's not a goat.
i'm not sorry, either.
there might be little ogre-type sh!t mixed in with the nutrients.
that underbite action an' that, y'heard?
yep.
full moon fever,
in full effect.
***********
huh?
c'mon.
and what about the laundry robobots?
they're dope.
it doesn't take a whole holy helluva lot
to get the experts excited up in the woodsly goodness.
obviously,
if washers and dryers doo-doo it,
then we're easily impressed by the futuristic technology
of space magic soapy superwet hottness and cherry-red
noise-makin' high efficiency.
y'know what that means, ninjas?
uh-huh-
cleanest undies ever, mutha-'uckas.
my butt is currently clad in luxurious laundered lavishness.
that's a thing.
*
the moonbeams and space rays are intense.
the long nights and late hours are intense.
the XI-mas activation consumer frenzy?
yeah...intense.
the gaping hole in my house is intense.
the wolfen wild hunt barbarian business is intense.
that's it, buddy.
intensity is the order of the day.
every single thing in the woodsly realm
is currently maxed out,
y'know, red-lined at eleven.
life is hard.
and loud and fresh, too.
and it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

moon.

2011-12-08T20:28:00.000-05:00

wolfen?

yep.
one thousand words worth,
succinctly summed up.
...and that's all you get today, neighbors;
never quiet, never soft.....

boys' night in.

2011-12-07T09:42:00.001-05:00

me and my ace participator Ro-Ro
got activated last night.
yeah!
italian-style dinnertime gluttony;
technological interface interaction,
and overreaction;
stinky stumps in the pouring rain;
a hot coupla cuppas of that cinnamon vanilla blackness;
and pie, muth-F*ers.
check the teleport:

c'mon.
german chocolate and toasted coco-loco-nut?!?
wordimus prime, neighbors.
steve confirmed my baking prowess,
and very possibly forever altered his culinary
and digestive realities.
a thick, moist slice of that sweet black pie, ninjas.
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t.....SON!
and not for nothin',
lookin' at that photo makes me realize
i'm a man of many different flavors-
homemaker baker,
tattbombed barbarian,
flashy timekeepin' watch-wearer.
every day in every way.
in fact-
y'ever wonder what i would look like
if i was in a grimy 'hood-A* hip-hop video?
well,
you need wonder no longer, duders-
just check this teleportational future projection:

ghost circle spirit rings of ephermal flavor.
yes.
i do look a little like an extra from planet of the apes.
F* you.
stormswept raging rainy evenings,
in fifty degree farenheit warmth?
hell yes, kids.
we GOT they.
*
did somebody just say infinite kung fu?
how very prescient of you.
wu-TANG teleport action, for your face:

we got you all in check, b!tches.
four corner ninja footpunches.
protect yo' G-darn neck.
***********
spanning time with my homie.
getting expert.
staying rad.
it's all really happening,
right here in the woodsly goodness.
thanks go out to steve for documenting real life
with his professional photographic skills.
long nights,
hard times,
everything that makes me feel tired.
i am grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

infamy. living it, all day long.

2011-12-07T09:15:00.000-05:00

the most surpise-attackish duder i know
celebrates his amillionety-second berfday today.
uh-huh.
the legendary guru of supreme intelligence,
the hardest-style 'garious get-right activist,
the meat-worshipping maestro of the marchigianos,
the one and only (thank heavens) Big Albert.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
my dad, mutha-F*ers.
happy flippin' berfday to him an' that.
another year older,
and deeper in debt, just like the song, y'all.
really real ninjas know what's up.
pearl harbor day kamikaze fatherly activation,
that's that eleventh-level paternal expertism jauns.
just remember, b!tches,
without him,
there'd be no me.
and we wouldn't want to miss out on that big action,
now would we?
the fruit doesn't fall far, friends,
unless it rolls downhill,
y'know,
the same direction the sh!t flows.
uh-huh.
this also means i'm precisely one month away
from another turn of the existential earth-orbits myself.
daaaaaaaamn, we got those old A* mutha-uckas up in here!
wisdom, y'heard.
age + information + experience.
we got they, at least.
mostly in my butthole i think.
c'mon,
wise-A*?
you like it.
***********
you like labels?
a duder i know referred to this blog style
as 'stream-of-consciencelessness'.
now,
i don't know about all of YOU,
but i'm 'bout it.
that's that What Is jauns,
in the freshest nutrients,
and loudest hardness.
truth tellers doo-doo that brutal sh!t.
*
i'm reppin' that slippery road trip ship today.
and the fastlane highroads are headed downeast,
to portland, maine,
to fully activate the operational holiday hottness.
it's not easy, neighbors,
but when is it ever?
shark-gluttony all by my lonesome?
mmm-hmmmm.
it doesn't always have to be a feeding frenzy, yo.
i mean,
it still will be,
but the option to go easy is there.
fortunately,
even when nobody is there to be disgusted,
i'm still holding it down for my peoples.
i got you,
we got they,
it's ALL really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

nature, you got me again.

2011-12-06T10:23:00.000-05:00

rain!
yep.
grey clouds are emptying their guts out.
raindrops keep falling, y'all,
right on my F*ing head.
hahahaha.
that's weekend day off busy business
difficulty-level upgrade elemental challenge-type sh!t.
we doo-doo that, y'know?
dark and stormy morning jauns,
and bark bark barking overreactivated dog noise,
and semi-sleepless empty nesting,
and other other ingredients are combining, kids-
i'm making swamp soup.
that's a thing.
***********
yes indeed, duders.
finally,
clean clothes are back on the schedule!
check the teleport:

stacked launderizing cherry-red futurism.
double decker expertism,
like an ac/dc amplified space robobotron.
big deal,
on the big deal.
simple pleasures or some sh!t.
*
neighbors,
i think i might need to make XI-mas cookies.
uh-huh.
you slinky minky mutha-lickers know i get busy
with that futuristic oven lovin',
but i'm thinking about going backwards,
and making some pre-woodsly goodness-era
italian-type guinea goodies.
it's true.
i'm feeling like a genetic heretic most days,
living that Folk Life in the yankee hills an' that,
so maybe a little confection reconnection is in order.
those jauns are italic.
c'mon.
vegan new england italian heritage sweets and treats?
won't that be hard?
sure.
i prefer to stir my batter with a wrench.
*
i'm on that solo loco lobo situation jam.
a lone wolf lunatic lycanthrope,
coping without his pack.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
don't worry about me, my ninjas-
there's a coconut cocoa creme pie on the cooling rack,
with that german-style chocolatey
toasted coconut streusel on top.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
it's a pie party......
...for one;
never quiet, never soft.....

pleading the fifth.

2011-12-05T10:39:00.000-05:00

uh-huh.
it's another monday morning,
presented in all it's fullest flippin' glory.
big deal?
no.
not really.
it does mean ther's only one sh!tty day
of doo-doo buttery tattbombing,
and then the woodsly goodsly worthy weekend is here.
mondays are pretty fresh, in that respect.
in fact,
we rarely get a case of the blue mondays.
up here in the white mountainous vale of Folk Life
it's far more likely to expect a blistering outbreak of thursdays
to cause a severe flare-up of thunderous fury.
but let's not dwell on that weak sauce.
there's seventy-two hours before that becomes an issue.
in the interim,
it's monday.
and it's happening.
i hope y'all weren't lookin' for any goats today.
because i'm fresh out.
*
neighbors,
sh!t is underway.
the mikes are here,
measuring dimensions,
and activating their expert construction skills.
we're closing in sections of homestead,
and reinforcing the Fortressy facing of our castle.
that's work, ninjas.
hard work.
i'm glad i'm not the one doing it, that's for sure.
mostly because i want it to turn out dope.
and that's their job, y'all.
*
the Fortress of solitude is what's happening.
well,
actually,
the Fortress of i-wish-my-dog-would-choke-to-death
is more to the truthful point of fact.
barking?
yep.
non-stop.
that's a side benefit of my wifey's absence.
a brutal case of canine anxious nervous awfulness.
it's the worst, kids.
it's like the sound of raw november reinstated.
no me gusta.
i'm here,
the story is developing,
the characters are fully-fleshed,
and the plot is thickening;
never quiet, never soft.....

and again.

2011-12-04T09:18:00.000-05:00

over and over and over,
until it's all over and done with.
duders,
december days and nights are blasting past us.
yeah.
the spanning is expeditious,
and the timely elapsing is both fleet and sure of foot.
these days know exactly where they're headed,
and precisely how to get there.
that's real.
normally,
i don't sweat it, my ninjas,
but this particular XI-mas season is F*ing with my A*.
that's no joke.
i've got builders erecting structures,
appliance deliverymen installing sh!t,
holiday destinations to arrive at in obscure and distant places,
and a big fat dumb dog who needs tending to,
and prevention from issuing bodily harm to
the aforementioned worker-type mutha-'uckas
who would otherwise serve as chew toys for her face!
oh, yeah,
and the wifely hottness has decided to activate a
long-weekended impromptu out-of-town vacationary liason,
so i'm doing all my dirt all by my lonely, homies.
uh-huh.
solo-type hard-style manliness and homestead management,
with the added challenge of round-trip round-ups
for all my hard-to-find giftly givings and misgivings.
ooooh.
these are the things that happen to really be really happening.
responsible adulthood continues to disappoint me.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
i'm just sayin', neighbors.
dinner for one,
monitoring the comings, goings, and doo-dooings
of all the improvement-heavy 'mos,
and babysitting the sh!t-salad suckiness of my canine companion,
all while my entire holiday agenda is hampered by the
absence of a second set of eyes and hands.....
infringing on my move-making,
and undermining my decrees?
oh, MAN!
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress kinda feels a little stuffy
if you get me, y'all.
maybe there's magic to be made,
and maybe there's not enough time.
a whole fleet of fleet feet seem positively motivated
to carry off whatever time frees itself up for me.
quicksand hourglass A*-blasting, y'all.
-
what's up december?
how about you keep an eye or two out for us
worthy warriors of woodsly goodness.
yeah.
***********
y'know what might help?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
one more big-headed wrestler goat man.
teleport:

arms for grappling,
hands for wringing,
head-butting horny nubbins,
and a crotchal puff that'd make an earth-nest jealous.
that's how it goes.
anyway,
that's probably the last goat for a minute,
tattbombin' zaps are back,
and those year-end movie checks are essential.
plus,
the next few days promise to be packed up fully
with have-to's and probably-shoulds.
so the goats aren't invited, kids.
hahahahah.
c'mon.
*
i've got tatty-o blastin' on the books,
i've got cold and lonely nights on the house.
and somewhere, sometime soon,
that XI-mas mission activation needs doing too.
full days, y'all.
time is slippery,
and even my hands' teeth can't bite off enough of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

wild go(at)

2011-12-03T09:55:00.000-05:00

what should we do about december third?
a sunny saturday in the woodsly goodness
calls for some sort of supplication to
the secret universal plans an' that, y'all.
for serious.
we need some big action up in here,
and we really need some brisk busy business
to bankroll our buying habits for the XI-mas
celebratory gift-giving explosion sh!t.
uh-huh.
that's a tall order for an early morning, for sure.
i think it calls for some battle-beasts.
yeah. it definitely does.
how about three wooly woodwose warriors?
that might doo-doo the trick, y'think?
i guess we'll just have to ask the teleport,
and check for answers on it's windy activations:

a sort-of longhaired goat man,
complete with woodhouse thorn branch bludgeon,
and smoking a pipe!
yeah.
the pipe is essential for heroic relaxation-type jauns.
that's no joke.
more?
okay:

hot fire b!tchslaps for your face!
demonic? devilish?
kalahari red-style hard horned horniness,
with definitive stormswept unholy-possession flavor.
you want another 'nother one?
okay,
but just this once, duders:

who the heck is this chappy champion?
it could very well be rubezahl.
that's real.
he's an expert woodsly wild monster-man nature spirit.
like i've said before, y'all-
berserker barbarian battle-beasts are what's up.
*
i don't know, neighbors.
i'm just gonna rep these goats until i run out.
what else can i do?
oh, crap!
check this mutha-licker out:

pure blackmetal hard-pounding underworld nutrients?
maybe.
all i know is, it's real dope.
and that's a fact.
***********
maybe it's just a placebo effect,
but this last page of the calendar
has got the whole warrior poets' circle
re-activated and energized with non-vember
eagles' egg nutrient jobs.
uh-huh.
it's totally expert.
three days into it,
and it already has november beaten.
no contest.
loud fresh hardness, my ninjas.
for all the faces;
never quiet, never soft.....

a decent december deuce?

2011-12-02T10:18:00.000-05:00

goats.
i'm serious, duders.
i'm reppin' on those trip-trappin' bridge-burnin'
billy the kid-type jauns, y'all.
that's because goats are molto expert.
and you know how it is when i like somethin', right?
yep.
it's happening-
super-intensive goat-based reading and learning
and arthur-making and all of that.
it's non-stop full-on immersion in the big action.
c'mon.
december activation is hard at work elevating
my inspiration levels and creative juice quotient
to eleven.
that's right, neighbors.
abracadabra a la capra.
(that's that goat magic sh!t, son)
i even drew a few more scribbley butt-heading boys
to bring that head-crackin' noise to you ninjas.
uh-huh.
i guess that's what's up?
check the teleport, and let me know:

bleating hearts.
get it?
deviltry, on four legs, with wings.

half goat half fish.
all crap-ricorn.

who is this guy?
i dunno, duders.
a faun?
an inverted satyr?
somethin', that's for sure.
yeah.
so.....
i've been layin' down a little tiny bit of lead
making goat heads materialize an' that.
i needed to doo-doo that chevre-type sh!t,
or so it seems-

goat heads!
it helps get the brain a-workin'.
i mean,
it's just some stimulation of my perceptions,
so that my XI-mas gift-giving generosity and gratitude
are fully-functioning and 111% operational.
that's no joke.
nobody likes getting an 'obligation' gift.
so i need to be on it like a worthy wizard of wrapping
and yule-logging lumberjackery,
so that the peoples i appreciate know what's up.
and to get it going,
it's all about goats.
uh-huh.
***********
december, my ninjas.
approaching winter
with encroaching increases in frostiness.
that's a cold deuce on the calendar,
full of holiday hottness.
it's happening, homies.
tundra-style yeti confetti action, yo.
you know-
abominable.
from my butthole to my abdominals.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
i'm bellyaching and decorum-breaking
and earth-shaking my whole body rockin' torso
like a bigfooted sasquatch from the north.
making moves,
making pictures,
and making those movie-checks.
well,
maybe.
it's a fresh and frenzied fa-la-la-la-friday,
the shoppers and weekenders and tourists
are all up in force,
and the woodsly goodness is ready and waiting.
so am i;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit........rabbit!

2011-12-01T09:28:00.001-05:00

DEEeeeeeeEeeCEMBER!!!
wu-TANG!, mutha-lickers.
it's here.
the end of the year,
the XI-mas season,
the whole shootin' match.
december, in flippin' full effect, my ninjas.
did i wake up, bright eyed and cognizant
of the subtle changes incurred by
the secret universal planagram being forced
by the passage of time to flip a b!tch and turn a page
on the calendar, all the way to the very last one?
you'd better believe it, broski.
december!
the best thing about december?
november is done, duders.
that's a thing, and a welcome one at that.
the very first word out of my massive manly mouth?
RABBIT!, twice in a row.
a good luck infusion activation recitation, y'all.
those nutrients need replenishing,
and the only way to get it going on
is to shazam-a-bam-a-lama the magic mantra.
c'mon.
in any case, i'm not quite sure it's working,
by my super-duper-stitions tell me i have to keep keepin' on.
so i spit that hot fiery bit of hare-bit thin-lipped
directly into the ether,
and it'll either work, or it won't.
then again,
it's not november anymore,
so just maybe the butt-ugly lucky duckiness has already started.
*
yep.
it's definitely time to kick out the XI-mas jammie-jams.
our tree is fully operational,
the gifts are beginning to accumulate,
and the spirits and memories of the
past, present, and future are congregating
in the woodsly goodness.
i can feel it, neighbors.
the holiday hottness,
complete with decked halls and all of that sh!t.
the even better news?
it's warm outside.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
you wintry mixers can keep all those arctic blast-type jauns,
i'll take a subtly sweatery weather reality until
winter officially gets crackin',
and that noise doesn't get busy until the 22nd.
coincidentally,
my littler lovely lady, miss maple star, turns 10 on that very day.
that's right, friends.
both of my baby girls are gonna rep double-digits from now on.
awwwwwww, MAN!
as if the silvery streaks of hair,
and all those crow-footed, raven-toed wrinkles on my face,
which just don't seem funny enough to call laugh lines,
weren't enough to mar my mood with time's poorly-planned
passage towards the ever-lovin' bitter ends of itself.
yep.
hard styles go hand in hand with living that real-style life, yo.
fact.
***********
goats.
i'm kinda on that big busy business right now.
goats are kind of what's up.
it must be that capricorniness in my blood, duders.
i dunno.
all i'm sayin' is-
i think i like goats.
stubborn, recalcitrant, horny, horned, bearded, and adaptable.
heck yes, kids.
they've got all the most important attributes for any and all
worthy barbarian battle-beasts.
you could even say i'm inspired by those chappy cabras.
here's another 'nother doo-doo-doodle of those dudes:

teleported, friends.
like a regular pannie-man, an' that.
oh, c'mon.
goats.
december.
XI-mas.
all good things,
all really happening.
today is the first day of the last month
of the whole year.
time out;
never quiet, never soft.....

adios, november.

2011-11-30T21:09:00.000-05:00

cranberry apple pie?
hell yeah, duders.
i've got graham crumble oatmeal streusel sh!t
all over the flippin' place,
especially in my face!
why is there a deep-dish delight
fresh out of the oven, lovin' itself
all over my bellyhole?
because i'm celebrating, suckas.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
this is it.
november's dregs,
the last legs,
the long kiss goodnight.
and that calls for a second slice, i think.
i can't overstress the hard-hearted style i rep
when it comes to the long nights and rough seas
that this month shoves up my A*-hole.
no me gusta, neighbors.
so here's to december,
and the holy sh!tloads of holy nights an' that.
it's never not happening, y'all.
all of it.
all the time.
it's neverending,
and it's all true;
never quiet, never soft.....

chappy goat.

2011-11-30T09:54:00.000-05:00

i've been getting a little sketchy lately.
for serious:

c'mon.
ham-hand-headed tooth anthro-homo animal.
yeah.
and that's not all.
teleport:

capricornus, kids.
the sea-goat.
the penultimate non-belonger.
i found a sketchbook, neighbors.
and bluish pencil.
and i remembered a little something-
i used to make that arthur happen.
and it turns out,
i even sorta remember how to.
at least,
with a little practice,
it's all coming back to me.
the sun is out,
the temperature is warm,
and i'm wasting it and whiling away
whilst waylaying and laying waste on
some blank white rectangular slices of pages
with blue pencil editorial marky-marking.
sometimes,
you have to doo-doo that sh!t, duders.
for old times' sake or somethin'.
i guess the F*, ninjas.
*
creating,
as a last ditch defiant doodled death threat
to november.
today is the day, kids.
the last day.
november can officially suck my balls,
like a minky, mincey, meek, mutha-lickin' 'uckhole.
that's word.
where you at, december?
i'm waiting;
never quiet, never soft.....

monday?

2011-11-29T08:45:00.000-05:00

i got caught up in some sh!t, duders.
that's right,
it happens sometimes.
nerd book engrossment,
word-eater nutrient enrichment,
and fantasyland dwarven groundling enjoyment.
what's that?
yeah.
revenge of the dwarves.
it commanded my attention
on an otherwise A*-bag day.
it's not exactly short,
and it's english-language-translated from the original german,
and it's the third one in a series,
of which i've already read the others,
and eagerly await new installments,
and it is pretty dope, y'all.
it's not like i didn't have plans, my ninjas.
it's just that november did what it does best-
craptivate the powers of participation.
yep.
only a few more hours of that noise, neighbors,
and us worthy warrior poet-barbarians
can get expert with the holiday gift-giving hottness.
november has no place on the XI-mas agenda.
nor any status with my elite evening festivities.
just sayin',
instead of enjoying my self with a bonfire and a cigar,
the hot fire and sour stink stumps were rained out.
warm temperatures are in effect, too.
it's a clammy calamity of late autumn awfulness.
and the soggy-bottomed snowmelt rainstorm flooded
the woodsly goodness with mud and leaves and grossness,
....and fog, kids.
more of that misty moisture and it's obfustication.
when the elemental forces of ma nature are hollerin',
i listen.
so instead of tippity-typing about anything,
i read about dwarves.
they rep axes an' that, and chop molto heads, too.
i'd say it was a better investment of my energies,
and a greater reward for my expenditure.
nerd book reading night, son.
we GOT they.
***********
it's the weekend,
as far as the white mountains are concerned.
two days of doo-dooing anything but work.
which, lately, is the same as going to work.
or rather, going to job,
since working doesn't happen there.
however you define it, y'all,
it's not happening today.
the mountainous elevation of our realm
is eye-level with the clouds.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
we're still in a holy-smokescreen of foggy funk.
i can't see sh!t, friends.
however,
there are still a few hundred pages of dwarven battles
calling my name from upstairs.
i think i know what's on the menu for today.
sometimes,
it helps to just let november slip away;
never quiet, never soft.....

the fog.

2011-11-27T19:11:00.000-05:00

thick and soupy,
impenetrable,
dense, opaque, and dangerous.
duders,
there's a fog as solid as can be
sitting right on top of us.
i kind of like it, too.
everything that appears does so
as if it's making a bold debut.
emerging visuals like surprise party
solidification from the vapors an' sh!t.
it's pretty dope...
but not as dope as sitting in traffic,
all mutha-b!tch-lickin' day long.
i did that.
homeward bound babies from the realm
of the weakest sauce slowly seeping
down to their diapery demesnes,
and that fog from before?
yuuuuuup.
it saw fit to cause multiple molto minivan pile-ups,
which in turn made even more traffic.
in one of 'em,
eight cars were mangled in a molten metal mass,
but i didn't see any blood or anything, neighbors.
y'know?
if i'm standing still for 45 minutes,
i demand fatalities!
oh well.
the road and it's tempermental elements
sought to stir up some logistical nightmares
for my face, for my plans, and for my well being,
and yet here i am, again.
returned to the worthy woodsly goodness,
but without my perfect pair of progeny.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
my stormswept savage sorcerous scions
have been returned.
that's probably the lamest part of spanning a whole
entire day behind the wheel of a vehicle:
driving away from my two most favoritest
small peoples in the whole entire everywhere.
the hardest styles, guys.
that's what's rockin' in the Fortress right now.
***********
harvest and maple are back home,
and so am i.
distance, y'all.
i can't hang out;
never quiet, never soft.....

panniecakes.

2011-11-26T09:14:00.000-05:00

light and F*ing fluffy.
yes.
a sh!t-salad week of weak sauce,
with intermittent episodes of explosive ingestion.
saturday?
big flippin' deal.
panniecakes?
actual big deal.
teleport?
check it:

c'mon, kids.
reppin' the only acceptable B grade,
and that's only because it's actually more expert
than that extra-fancy nancypantsy A-type syrup.
those're some of the loftiest golden discs of dopeness
this side of the griddles of the gods.
hubris is for waterbabies, b!tches,
we're dealing with facts over here.
panniecakes are what's up.
i need that powerful eagles'-egg-replacer nutrient jauns
to bring the thunder and ride the lightning,
and sit around all day at the studio,
doing my best to berate, belittle, and begrudge
any and all attempts to be endearing.
sorry, ninjas,
but today is not going to be your day.
the pannieman has got a hard-hearted style,
and even that maple-tree-bled expertism won't sweeten it.
***********
neighbors,
the woodsly goodness is pretty crowded.
i guess that's because we live in the ever-pumping heart
of the tax-free holiday shopping outlet experience.
that's a thing, guys.
mutha-holes from all over new england are clogging up
and bogging down the flow of Folk Life,
whilst stimulating the avaricious commerce agenda
of the holiday-spirited seasonal affectations.
that's real.
basically,
about a hundred thousand A*-lickers
are driving like F*tards,
and generally congesting the headspace, airspace,
and open spaces of this most excellent of places.
there is nary an air of holiday festivity to be whiffed.
just marshmallowy coupon-clippin' moms
and shallow, callow, sallow browbeaten b!tchbiscuits
shopping until they begin dropping.
and they're everywhere
...except the tattblasting epicenter of
my daily grinding trench-warfare occupation.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
when it rains, it pours,
but even when the sun is out,
there is still a raincloud directly over my head.
there may be a silver lining,
but then again,
silver is poison to werewolfen warrior poets.
jeeez.
it looks as if somebody is bound and determined
to stay in the half-empty side of the cup, huh?
oh yeah?
suckle, son...
you should see my pockets, too, duders.
those flappy denim pouches are all the way empty.
it's all really happening.,
my women-at-arms, and myself,
participating in what constitutes some semblance of activity.
don't blink, or you might miss it, y'all.
however,
i think there's talk of the XI-mas tree being activated tonight.
so there's that, at least.
brutal days,
long nights,
real times.
november, friends.
just sayin';
never quiet, never soft.....

stay black, friday!

2011-11-25T19:09:00.000-05:00

while you and i were sleeping,
the wifey, harvest, and maple
were getting involved in some things.
4 a.m. friday, duders.
yep.
it's not just for AVAIL anymore, i guess.
the womenfolk of this Fortress
were up, at 'em, and on the road-
working the angles on some black operations, y'all.
XI-mas shopping?
not quite, kids.
but still first in line,
and foremost in spitefulness.
that's a thing, too.
on the ones,
if and when you need a new washing machine,
and a brandy-spankin' new clothes dryer,
because yours have sh!t the bed suddenly and completely,
and somebody is offering the super-hottness
at less than 1/3rd of the normal price,
BUT there's only one available,
and it gets gotten by whomever arrives earliest?
then you don't sleep, suckas.
you wake up and activate,
with aggressive retail purchasing power,
and a side order of contempt
for the 'buy nothing day' weak sauce.
well before the break of dawn, my ninjas,
these triumphant commercial competitors
crept off with some epic black friday deals.
capitalist consumerism is rampant up here.
which is okay with me,
because my early birds won the worm.
in a few days,
my laundry will be cleaner, drier, and better-off
for the efforts made by my victorious valkyries today.
cultivated coincidences, kids.
we need, they have, we get.
blacktivation of all friday-related nutrients, for certain.
*
ohhhh, man!
when was the last time i did a tattbomb?
i'm pretty sure it was last saturday.
huh?
yeah,
that sure does seem like a hard style.
once again: november, neighbors.
those movie checks are catching wreck, in full effect.
ouch.
just when the appliance-related euphoria is at it's acme,
a hot wet mess of What Is kept the elation to a minimum.
november is a dirty b!tch.
if it can't F* you at the drive-through,
it F*s you at the sit-down.
it was buy nothing day for me, y'all,
whether i liked it or not.
yesterday was an epic success.
today was a sh!t-hot mess.
real life, y'heard?
without the bitter,
the sweet's just not as sweet.
it all happens,
in varying degrees,
through various and sundry decrees.
black friday was pretty dark, indeed;
never quiet, never soft.....

thanks, given.

2011-11-25T09:34:00.000-05:00

plentiful, bountiful, copious, capacious,
resplendent and excellent.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
we doo-doo that cornucopian cuisine sh!t.
so much food.
almost too much, even.
which is to say-
the right amount.
after all,
we're showing our gratitude and generosity
like bingeing barbarians with viking values
and lightning-stiking thunder bringing virtues, right?
you know it, my ninjas.
the menu was expert,
the volume was loud,
the food was fresh,
and the style was hard.
all the elements and ingredients aligned
to create a moment of pure activated participation
that went all the way to eleven.
since i usually never post enough pictures,
i'm prepared to overcompensate right now.
shark-glutton explosions from the future?
check the teleport, and loosen your belts,
just seeing the heaping helpings should expand
your minds, and your waistlines:

the wifey sure knows how to set a turbo-sexy table, y'all.
it's because she's the best one.
and that's a fact.
what do you ninjas know about cranberry sauce?
did you say orange zest?
c'mon,
that's amateur action.
and that's not invited to our party...

we rep the northern new england flavors with authority.
maple syrup, apple cider, brown sugar....
that's right.
it's a thing.
how about gravy?

brown and mushroom-type jauns, yo.
rue the day you don't taste my roux, duders.
double gravy is what's up.
and speaking of what's up-
butter-braised baked brussels sprouts know what time it is-

awesome o'clock, son!
baby cabbage nubs need company,
so we activated the nutrients in a big-A* pan.
parsnips, celery, rutabaga, swee' potatoes, onions, carrots,
and sundried cranberries,
plus apple-smoked sea salt and herbs!
too much?
no such thing, baby.
*
neighbors,
we had a tofurkey, too.

slabs of rice-mush-injected beigeness.
whatever, F*ers.
'taters, baby carrots, and onions always accompany the roast.
those round balls of 'furkey remind me of rocky horror every time.
what a guy, makes you cry......
....und i did.
now what do you guys know about
butternut squash/swee' 'tato/tempeh bacon homefries?

well now you do.
with smoked paprika for extra worthiness!
now try to comprehend the level of hottness that gravy adds.
does your brain hurt from trying?

DAS IT!
we're not afraid of starch up here, friends.
put it all together and what do you get?

EXPERT(e)
did i mention the garlic mashed potatoes
and the collard-type green leafies?
we GOT they, guys.
and the soysage/maple cornbread stuffed dressing?!
it goes beyond eleven.
fact.
-
how do i show myself as grateful for the time i've been given?
what do i do to give out some praise and thanks
for my peoples and the places and things and all of that?
which gesture do i display as a symbol of my
full-blown professional appreciation for What Is?
wow.
good guess.
exactly.
i choose the wrench:

awwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
second helpings, mutha-F*ers!!!
warrior poetry in gravy-soaked stanzas
of raging gastric stormswept berserker gluttony.
wu-TANG!!
that's like seven pounds of food in two plates.
*
did somebody say pie?
why, yes,
i'd LOVE some pie.

pumples, perfectly set, insightfully spiced,
and not one little tiny bit runny.
huh?
is that it?
what are you?
an A*-hole?
c'mon.
of course there's a little tiny bit more.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a fully-functional
utilitarian compound for really realness.
-
want to test the mettle of our metal?
it's cast iron, b!tches!

don't even act like that's not dope.
chestnuts roasting on an open flippin' fire.
indoors.
***********
y'know what makes it worth it?
my family and my peoples and our place in the world.
don't think for one second i take any of it for granted.
no way.
fat, ugly, and happy.
sated, for the moment, on real life.
it's all really happening,
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

1400.

2011-11-25T08:51:00.000-05:00

that's a lot of blogging.
fourteen hundred different times?
yeah!
some things are awesome.
like molto blog entries.
like woodsly goodness.
like vegan nachos.
that's right, duders-
when we cook up some dinner,
for ourselves and for our peoples.
we get expert.
recognize,
via the teleport:

they give me the nutrients, neighbors.
i know how to activate some heroic nacho libre sh!t.
we doo-doo that as a matter of fact.
two kinds of chips,
two kinds of faux chee',
three kinds of sauce.....
pounds and pounds of south-of-the-border pounding,
from just south of the northern border, at that.
*
on the route north to the mountains on wednesday
harvest took pictures with her robobotron jauns.
real-life documentarianism is hereditary, son.
that's those barbarian genes for recreating scenes an' sh!t.
what's really real?
winter wonderland highway activation!
we GOT they:

c'mon.
on an angle, lookin' all high speed an' that.
huh?
yeah,
it IS beautiful.

duders,
the scenic sexiness almost made up
for the treacherous trek.
...almost.
*
the snowy valley we're nestled in
is looking pretty flippin' rad these days.
in fact,
we woke up to THIS eleventh-level super hottness.
teleport, from the here and now, via the future:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
Folk Life & Liberty in F*ing full effect, friends.
the secret universal plan is unfolding
and expanding whilst not expounding
on the spirits and memories of all of this.
there's more.
there always is;
never quiet, never soft.....