traditions.

broccoli bread.
every visit with my kids includes a loaf of this tasty business.
so good, for you face, for you eye!!!!

mmmmmmmmmmmm.


heres more proof of my permanent malfunction.
who thinks this look is a good idea? party like its 1999.
y2k bugs were in abundance. ointment might clear that up....


not that i was in any better shape in london, a year earlier, bangers and mash style.
...i smelled the way i looked. for real.


soooo, ive had one week off, so far, and another happening right now.
holler if you miss dollars, yo.

change. the winds of change, and the winds of war must come from the same direction.
i think its the same wind that always blows the smell of hot dumpster toward you as well.
wind happens when conflict happens. high pressure vs. low pressure. warm air vs. cooler air. beans vs. digestive tract. word.
every difference that isnt immediately resolved makes wind. and thats great if youre a kite, but if youre a viking, the only thing wind brings is full sails to Iceland. which is very pretty, but not very useful to me at all...
thats probably why they also rocked out with oars. (and illmatic dragon head masts.)
proactivity. thats the key.
so what happens when being proactive is being patient?
being patient.
BEING is the operative word, here.
the act of being patient is harder than the act of making it worse.
choosing the wrench in this case is NOT freaking out. im confused by this, but i am doing it.
the universe is taking its time, or im just to dumb to see the bigger picture,
but i am cultivating coincidences at breakneck speed these days, 100% pure vanilla sky extract.
synchronicity, the hippies call it.  
in any event, the extra time spent storytelling and artmaking, cooking, and movie watching with my young replacements is appreciated.
as always, i am grateful for the time i have been given.
and to show it, im being patient.

last night we created our own monsters. and looked at d&d monster manuals for 'clues'.
then we watched a little 'Return of The King', and some of the old-time BBC, made for t.v. style 'Chronicles of Narnia'. there a LOT of sharp teeth being drawn.

wind. inner conflict type. being patient, with a gut full of tofu. hot sauce vs. the hot fire furnace, ya'll.
im not one to blow my own horn (off my body), but on the real, there is some wind a-blowin'.
the wind of war, not quiet, and not soft.

live free. then die. repeat.

profound truth, or painfully obvious lucky guess?
a suckie consolation cookie takes a shot in the dark.......


i got this patch from the collection of an old guy named leon.
throwback nostalgia hilarity. berserker battle beast with a disco touch.
moustache crimes, too, yo. i'm sayin'...


this book is a real face melter. prepare for smoother skin, and no nose on a melted,
featureless face. youve been warned. lose limbs if necessary, but obtain this book.
now.


i took this picture in Conwy, Wales.
it says a lot.
mostly about how hard times look pretty cool.
Wales is pretty much one of my favorite places in the world.
i mean, c'mon. castles! walled cities! oceans, forests, mountains,
and the longest named city on the planet.
plus a nearly unpronounceable language! and its british.
plus i love crusty old haggard fishermen, and sheep, too.
wool, yo. i got a special place in my heart.......i'm sayin'.

the cucch and i blazed up some big black sausages. metaphorically.
we actually enjoyed some kauai cigars, a hawaiian souvenier from his adventures
in lava land, and then we watched 'Nacho Libre' with my special favorites,
my daughters, Harvest and Maple, and after they hit the hay,
we watched a little bit of Tenacious D's 'Pick of Destiny'.
at least until i fell fast asleep. and paul's visit is over. he's alaska bound. 
bon voyage, my ninja.
so now, i get to deal with another 'nother 5 miserably best-buddy-less months.
lameness, to be sure.
i guess both of those movies made a great send off backdrop,
as they both tell the story
of  a loud a-hole and his homeboy,
rocking all the socks and masks off the universe.
eagles eggs, yo. mystical eagles eggs powers. and the power of rock.
plus, that little fat kid from 'Nacho Libre', with his sweatpants
and his mom's lucky machete, is so fresh.
his name, little chancho, or 'chanchito', means
my little darlin', but is also a chilean three-legged lucky fat piglet.
how fresh to death is that?
jess got me one, and it rides with me in my car. nice.


we've got the week off with the smallish ones. can you say barbarian bonfires?

The Difference

more vikings, more often.
and below, proof ive always been an a-hole (circa '99)




the Symbol of Endurance, Defiance against difficulties, Hardiness, Perseverance, independence, and Resourcefulness. 

oomingmak. thats the native alaskan way to say: bearded one. 
its what they call musk ox. its what i call dooooopeness. barbarian fury in the arctic.
i will be visiting alaska this summer. i will embody oomingmak. hard. harder than you, even.

i watched 'the life aquatic' last night. its one of my all time favorite movies. every part, start to finish makes me feel. good, bad, sad, happy, the whole shootin' match. if it doesnt make you think of me, i dont know what you think of me........ i watch it every time im faced with a choice that seems to have no better options. 
only bad ones. or bad, badder, and worse. its a pretty good reminder that its not just what you do, or even who you are, but HOW you are that makes it make sense.
you gotta just be like that. however that is, and the rest of your actions will follow the directions. and of course, if two alternative not completely horrible choices present themselves, the harder, less instantly gratifying one has GOT to be the one you pick.
the wrench, yo. im sayin'.
 
today, the cucch leaves for connecticut, and in a week, he'll be in alaska. it sucks my a-hole right off my body. its hard remembering how much you like having someone around right as they leave so hard. epic hard times. 5 months. 
but, at least thats a reason to get one of these for my visit!

time always fills half an hourglass when it runs out. im not sure what to make of that.
word.

hard times, long nights.

folk life.
lino block prints are on the menu. if you want 'em, get at me, through here. 

   the universe has a plan. damned if i have any idea what it is, but its there,
secret and safe, not to be known, but just to be. the kind of thing that exists
as energy converted from matter. matter of fact, matter of opinion, matterhorns,
all of 'em.
   so when life drops a hot 'last-nights indian food with undigested greyish peas' metaphoric metaphysical diarrheal deuce on me,
i can only assume its just fertilizing those greener pastures im headed for.
and thats not so bad. its all part of the plan. like hannibal from the A-team, 
i love it when a plan comes together.
and like b.a. baracus, i pity the fool, yo.

   theres a lot of change coming. i can feel it. my personal sixth sense, my ever-lovin'
black-operational inner compass tells me so. look up 'heron symbolism'. i saw seven of them on the way to 
pick up my kids.
thats some spirit guide type business. seven, yo, my lucky number, well, besides the other more obvious one. or, should i say one one, or is it won one? either way its louder than ten.
   sleep hasnt been an option these nights, if its not restlessness preventing sleep, its restless sleep preventing restedness.  tt? thats a recurring theme in my dreams these nights. TT.
i'll figure it out, i guess. dudes who know me know about what kind of battle of carthage im facing. time will tell if im just the novelty of elephants at war (which would at least get honorable mention in lord of the rings), or the continent cleansing farmers who plowed europe in to the illest empire that ever was, (at least until the fiery arrival of spice-craving barbarians, my ninjas!!!!) sorry, ya'll, i mentioned hannibal earlier, and ran with it.
know your history. then write your own. learn about that jammie here.

and like the real hannibal (not the A-team one, dummy) says:
FIND A WAY, OR MAKE ONE.

Never Quiet, Never Soft. i swear.

more battle, less beast? or vice versa?

berserker!!!!!!

word up, ya'll.
i am having an excellent time, making art, eating so much good food, watching movies, road-tripping, and generally taking it easy.
the universe is starting to reward the keep-it-realness of its denizens, i guess.
of course, i still havent heard a single peep from the airline about my luggage, but otherwise,
its been a really elite type of week.

we got some bangin bread from the most amazing bakery. all naturally-leavened, all brick oven crusty. vermont has some hippie-ass mo-fos, but they make some mean mutha-uckin treats.
and we ate a fattie-boombattie pantload of vegan goodness at a buffet of epic proportions. across the board, the day will be remembered in barbarian terms as doooooooooooope. i needed that. hard. good times, good food, and good people. goodness, i am lucky.

whats next up for albie rock project night?
heraldry for never quiet, never soft, so keep those peepers peeled for some new hottness.
and lets not forget the purpose for moving to new hampshire in the first place:
folk art, folk music, folk lore,
FOLK LIFE, the realest of realness.
i will have prints for sale of all the new lino cuts next week.

today is another 'nother day for creating the true life chronicles of realtime warrior poets, and livers of lives worth singing about. battle beasts making battle beats with their hearts by
pounding on their chests like hammers on anvils, forging molten metal into living lightning. 
today is another day worth showing your gratitude by fighting with all your might for what you love.
do that.

I GETS IT IN.

if the key fits, you're home.

ghostface killah.
so hard for your face.
listen to some right now, and know it.

the hardest part about keeping it real, is keeping it really real.
not keeping it stupid, loud and violent, although loud isnt so bad.
but more like keeping it about what youre about.
and doing what you do, for real.
thats also when it usually goes wrong. for me at least.
because, being so fully about something usually kinda bites my a-hole off my body,
and it implies a responsibilty to actions and beliefs that is really disinclined
to compromise.
more of the 'just be dope' principle.
being dope doesnt mean changing up the flavor, just because its bitter.
i mean, c'mon, without the bitter, the sweets just not as sweet........word.
if valhalla is real, a barbarian bonfire is waiting for me there.

i got a week off, yo.
i picked the wrench so hard, i have no other moves to make.
so i am just waiting for ragnarok, my ninjas.
the fenris wolf, yo.
the midgard serpent.
you need that.
listen to ghostface while you get on that business.
word.

lava is still rock. so am i.

choosing it so hard.

all the time, i have terrible throat issues. my voice hasnt been right in a while.
ive tried to remedy the situation in a number of different ways, but it just doesnt seem to want to get better.
i have a pit in my throat. not like a peach pit; not a stone fruit seed. not hard and ridged on the outside, but still secretly full of life.

i have the other kind of pit. a hole. the kind where souls go to be punished in the inferno. the kind thats always half empty, making room for more burning. that might be it. that might be why i  spit so much hot fire. im digesting and regurgitating energy all day. punishing it. melting down all my unspoken thoughts, until, 
as soon as im half full,  every word is practically vomited out, like lava. superheated solids made fluid through fiery fury.

but hell, most island were at one time volcanoes, right? hot firey pits spraying out all that digested energy to make new places worth visiting someday. time always proves destruction is actually pretty constructive.
i can live with that...
because then, im really creating, just spitting out my hot fire, a lozenge working in reverse for my sore throat. 
i speak my truth, 
letting it lay waste to everything in its path, 
fiery fury fluids flowing flawlessly.
but lava is still rock, and time always proves that, too.
those molten ideas harden, set up, 
ripen into stone fruit seeds.
hard and ridged on the outside but secretly full of life.

so i'll keep talking, ya'll. with or without a voice.
ill keep the forges stoked, and the furnaces on full,
yelling, singing, shouting and storytelling
until i burn clean through my neck,
and i'll do it the only way a viking volcano knows how:
NEVER QUIET, NEVER SOFT

neither quiet nor soft

a berserk barbarian weekend awaits, if i can stay awake later than 9:30p.m.

an unkindness of crows.
thats the term for a gathering smaller than a murder.
i mean, c'mon. is that not some ill business?? doooooope.

barbarian originally meant 'bearded'. (nice)
then, it meant all non-greeks, or greeks who talked all retarded.
then, it meant all non-romans, which is to say all non-civilized regions, societies,
or tribes. right up until the barbarians sacked rome and burnt that mamma-jamma down.
then it mostly just meant bad mo-fo of hottness.

so me and my beard are gonna make our own fun this weekend.
i have some ideas for a series of arts that i should make.
dolls, paints, words, and pictures.
somebody needs a portrait taken, yo. give up? its me.

go rent auntie mame.
its a mad old movie, but its so so def.
the tag line?
'life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death'
word.

berserker barbarian battle beast

get free, yo.
thats the new hottness.
thats my move.
gettin free.
but gettin free doesnt come for free at all. in fact its really kinda hard.
every day, in every way, you gotta get on that junk. you gotta be mindful,
or else regular life creeps up and gets you. right up the a. so yeah, get free. do that.
as a matter of fact, doo doo that.

i got freezing snow and rain happening. awesome.
is someone keeping score? im pretty sure im losing. get free, indeed.

13 days without luggage. psyched. you know it. i get to buy machines today.
at least, knowing my luck, that will be the final push to find my stuff. once ive already replaced most of it. nice. thanks nwa.

the hardest part about being a modern-day berserk barbarian is keeping your perspective.
that whole viking idea about fate and life is so fresh i cant even stand it, but regular people
just dont feel it like i do.
i mean, c'mon:
if my minutes here are already timed out, and nothing i do will let me represent
for one second longer than my allowance, and then conversely nothing i do will
shorten it either. so it must be better to be a mean mutha-uckin' battle beast of
flavorful fury than a shrimpy soda pants of cookie cuttin nancy-ness, right???
just be DOPE,  yo.  i'm sayin.... just be dope. it determines how worthy you are of the
life you've been allowed.
i, for one, am grateful for the time i have been given.

and yeah, my sweet honey is dope. that grasshopper is off the hinges, yo.

many returns, happy and otherwise.

yes yes ya'll.
my buddy the cucch (as in paul cucchiarelli) is back in full effect on the real part of america.
hawaii may be the sparkle magic perfect weather sunshiny rainbow state, but i ask you this:
is it freezing and windy with feet of snow on the ground? thats what i thought.   take that,
pineapple capitol.
and steve who lives in mass now is stopping by to say hello to my other returning friend, the mazz. people are popping up and out of the long gone woodwork 

these days.

and very proud of all of them we are. everything is changing. there is a season, turn turn and all that.

so my week is now accounted for, with dinners and catching up, storytelling and art making. i am practically pooping my pants with anticipation.

in other news, i have been concerning myself with arranging words that dont suck:

sing out loud, a battlecry, like every day is a war and you're outnumbered behind enemy lines,
spit that hard hot fire, like a drumbeat, like an earthquake, like a berserker 
barbarian battle-beast.
thats the stuff, kids.
thats what i'm talking about.
sing, spit, wage a scorched earth war on life,
a better fate than death awaits us anywhere...

NEVER QUIET, NEVER SOFT.  

every decision, every time

i choose the wrench... i know, i know... but seriously, i choose the wrench.

decision making time is my favorite time.
the right thing to do is almost never the easier, more convenient thing. it never shows up clearly as a bright beacon of righteousness. its a burden. a chore. a challenge. a trial. a labor. and that my friends is what i call 'the wrench.' because you always need the right tool for the job.

today is day 11 without my luggage. and without any help from northwest airlines. hate is in my heart, ya'll. hard, hot, hate. those f-tards can definitely jog on.

i'm sending out a silent prayer, solemn and sorrowful, for all the 
severed sacks of seeds in the 
whole wide world:

dear balls,
sorry about all the swelling,
love,
albie.
p.s. enjoy the frozen peas. 

by the way, thats bread and puppet magic on top,
and my sweet sweet honey's super hot watercolor below........
word.