happy returns!

what a full day,
and it's only 4:15!!

i've got hundreds of miles under my wheels today,
two beautiful barbarian daughters up here for the next week,
a gallon of strawberry supreme smoothie in my bellyhole,
pregnant friends,
vanilla sky overlaps that would make a shingled roof envious,
and a boatload of enthusiasm for the rest of the day!

and it turns out that it isn't just me documenting my own real life.
our awesome new friends at corduroy boutique
have decided that my woodsly, woolen, sculpted spirits and memories
are actually blogworthy.
go see 'em,
check out the super-fresh floorplan,
the hot gear,
the good folks runnin' the show,
and then buy some dolls.
now.
go on.
time's a-wastin'.....
never quiet, never soft....

good.

i think the secret universal plan has a miniature mean streak, ya'll.
or at least a cruel-to-be-kind sense of humor.
yesterday,
we looked at what can only be considered our dream house.
big timber-framed rooms,
chimneys,
pantries,
attached barn,
weird little outbuildings,
hardwood everything,
secret underground passageways,
epic scale, eleventh level full-blown 200 year old hottness.
now,
all we need to do is to find a pile of mystery dollars to make it happen.
i'm sayin',
there's that mean streak i mentioned;
where will we find this secret stash of spare loot?
talk about dangling treats in front of the shark tank.
overextend just a pinch,
and you're fish food.
damn, son.
that's such a hard style.

***********

thomas kemper sodas.
have you had 'em?
becaue you definitely need to know about them.
it should be noted that honey-phobic high and mighty holier-than types
are NOT gonna be able to get busy,
because t.k.'s whole jammie jam is to use northwest honey.
in everything.
and yet,
they kind of rock it.
really hard.
smooth and refreshing ginger ale that doesn't taste like pure sugar OR burning?
i was all about it at smooth and refreshing!

***********

i'm just wondering:
did anybody else get full-moon fever last night?
my werewolfen blood was pumpin' it up, my ninjas!
just about every hour,
on the hour,
from 11p.m. to 6 a.m.
i was up and at 'em,
out and about,
and bathed in blue light.
ready to howl and hunt like a hairy, hungry, hard-style housebreaker.
and believe it or not,
i actually like sleeping.
i just don't really do it so much.
as such,
i'm a sleepy seed today.
and what better way to kick start a school vacation week,
than to drive to massachussets,
while really droop-liddedly exhausted?
i can't think of very much.
in any event.
i'll be pinching my cheeks,
more to wake the F* up,
than to see if i'm dreaming,
because with open arms, eyes, and hearts,
my daughters are going to arrive with me this afternoon
in the forested fresh-to-deathliness of up-here new hampshire.
i'm taking time off from work, too,
to span alongside my too-long absent kindred kinfolk.
this is it.
the very last deep-woodsly goodness we'll share at this location.
the mudhole barbarian sacrificial bonfires will burn higher and hotter than ever.
a cathedral of combustion sending sincere ashen appreciation skyward.
family time with my most favoritests, you munka-funkas.
that's important stuff.
more mutha-uckin' important than money.
and definitely waaaaaay more important than tattoos.
this week.
this day.
this moment, ya'll.
that's what matters,
that's what's happenin',
that's What Is.
i've got my big dreams,
i'm makin' my big moves,
i'm schemin' on the big action,
and the trio of ladies i care most deeply about
will have me surrounded in an affectionate enfilade by suppertime.
this really IS a good friday;
(sorry, jesus)
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
never quiet, never soft....

the warm gold of morning.

jess found this for me in the mud and marsh of the woods, kids.
c'mon.
a flippin' moose antler!
she even carted it out of the stream and all the way back home...
just one more reason why i love her.

the sun is shining.
the sky is blue.
it's super fresh inside and out.
we hit up corduroy boutique last night,
after visiting our sweet duders and peoples at tsunami tattoo.
it's a really nice space.
i picked up my movie check,
and i dropped off some more dolls, too.
you should check it out.
we were on a mission, though,
to stuff copious amounts of comestible digestibles down the hatch.
and after the tatzap studio,
and the skate and surf lifestyle studio,
we decided to fill up the bellyhole studio.
did i forget to take pictures of our crucial feast last night?
yup.
was it still incredible and edible?
of course.
the green elephant, my ninjas.
you probably need to eat there soon.
because it is that good.
if you're ever in portland, maine,
and want some crucial vegan off-the-meter asian fusion eats and treats,
go there.
citrus spare ribs,
mock duck,
stir fry,
king oyster mushroom fritters,
soybeans and tofu curry,
soy nuggets that were eerily KFC tasting,
fried wontons,
spring rolls,
pumpkin cheesecake,
and award-winning chocolate orange mousse pie!!!
really, ya'll,
we munched up in true big fat person style.
yum4tum.
being vegan is so much more awesome
when there's gourmet hottness to gluttonize.

today is shawn hebrank's birthday.
he's 28.
in a row.
which is another way of saying that he is really still just a little kid.
despite the incredible lack of years under his belt so far,
he's pretty great.
and i'm glad to know him.
happy birthday, shawn!

hey hey hey,
it's possible i'll be back on track,
espousing positive barbarian virtues
from a northern new hampshire location as yet undisclosed,
but promising more of what you (and we) need,
and soon, even....
we're lookin' at some places this morning,
possibly to move to and live in, an' that.
in fact,
it is barely past 7 a.m. and i'm already runnin' late.
we've got to drive, arrive, and survive
almost the entirety of carroll county, new hampshire,
before work.
the pedal is to the metal,
and the deadline is descending;
never quiet, never soft....

stumps!

 
so big.
so thick.
so dirty.
(that's what she said....)
c'mon,
that thing is huge!
the cucch and i got down on some quality manliness time,
which obviously involves huffin' and puffin' on smoldering stink-sticks.

fat bastards!
that's what these burly battle-baguettes are called.
and no joke,
they sure live up to the name.
do i look surprised?
i was,
because i got a glimpse of my reflection with that sturdy shillelagh hangin'
out of my facehole.
shillelaghs are so dope, my ninjas.
battle-bashing walking sticks?
uh-huh.
i know,
that's pretty fresh, innit?
we nubbed those cannons down,
in the cold and wet and windy weather.
little minutes,
questionable choices,
good friends.
a battle-bard booster shot of bromance, ya'll.
time is what you make of it,
and this time made my tongue taste like a tarantula's testicles.....
word.

we drove around all afternoon long, 
checkin' out homes and neighborhoods.
without any revelations or successes, or even promising leads.
nice.
then it was back to the house again.
jess made some kickass roasted garlic homemade hummus,
and then a little later on, my peoples baked up a trio of super-duper delicious pizzas!
and we tuned up and emptied out a bottle of birch beer, b!tches.
that's the only acceptable accompanying beverage.
and we ate candy beans.
and watched 'role models'.
the kind of day that would've seemed idyllic
save for the sword of damocles perched precariously
over the impending relocation abomination.
dingle-dangling over our heads ya'll,
it's a regular rocky horror....

portland, maine is the destination for the day.
brown people food,
art boutiques,
my buddy phuc,
and a day of delayed duties.
again.
time is what you make it,
like i said.
today i'm making it meaningful,
alongside the meandering manner
by which i'm circumnavigating my immediate concerns.
savage gypsy nomads may be the likes of us in just weeks from now.
keep an open ear to the road for the harmonicas and the gunfire, mutha-lickas;
never quiet, never soft...

visitors.

the cucch is here!
yup,
paul is up in the wet and muddy woodsly goodness
for a few days of vegan face-stuffin', belly-bustin', gregarious gluttony.
did you know that two horses can pull four times as much as one horse can?
it's true.
something about teamwork and sympathetic enhancement an' that.
well,
when hungry hamden warriors get together,
we can each EAT four times as much as one of us alone can.
something about goin' to eleven an' that....
we are gonna eat our flippin' whole entire faces off.
you won't even recognize us.
smooth beige eggs, on shoulders,
with ears.
he even brought up some foxon park sodas to ride shotgun with him.
anyone worth a wet lick knows;
that's one of the only things worth enjoying from connecticut.
if jess makes some homemade pizzas,
well,
ya'll already know that birch beer
is destined to get guzzled gladly,
to wash down each steamy slice.

what makes good friday so good?
not much,
especially if you're jesus.
but for me,
i'll be scoopin' up my sweet and lovely, tremendous, stupendous,
and supremely splendid miniature arkansas capitols.
(that's little rocks, ya'll....c'mon)
harvest and maple will be spending april vacation with us,
with should make packing and moving SO much easier!
there's talk of the easter bear bringin' sugary treats, too.
weak-sauce babies get that sad little bunny, b!tches,
the woodsliness reps on the bigger, burlier, barbarian berserker version.
that's how WE doo-doo the religulous doo-doo!
in any event,
we'll all be enjoying this fortress of freshness together for the last time.

my homies,
and fellow stogie appreciators,
john & chris popped in the other day to discuss tattoos,
AND deliver some truly epic thick black stumps of cigary goodness.
i'm almost intimidated by the girth and the torque these smog-logs promise.
almost.
my peoples are sprouting up like crocuses lately.
i like it.
thanks for the faceblasters, kids!
you rock it out.
hard.

that's it, ya'll.
no big news.
no big plans.
it's never not raining.
i'm never not eating.
there's never not moving/packing/relocating stress.
it's loud.
it's hard.
it's all really happening.
never quiet, never soft.....

a little closer.

oh, um,
yeah.
those're knuckler zappin' runes on his righteous right hand.
i.s.h.f. (i spit hot fire). word.
the other other ones on his head belts spell out eleven,
with a XI underneath.
right after i got done telling my phone buddies about how i had
no extra arthur-making in me after a brutalizing weekend,
i sat down and did just a little bit more on my new ones.....
it was either that or packing up boxes and boxes and boxes of books,
and i mean,
after all, what am i?
some kind of an A-hole?

sparkle-wizardly djinn (that's nerd-talk for genie)
monster philosopher.
warrior poet.
berserker barbarian battle-beast.
you like the red robes, dont'cha?
me too.
y'know what i'm NOT sure of yet?
what that roundie in his mouth is!
anybody have any suggestions?
c'mon, i'm serious...

quasi-graffiti, shenandoah space fantasy
cardboard cutout recycled nature robobotron goodness.
especially executed in a half-urban, half-folk flavor.
that's my tasty jam jamboree.
in this woodsly 'hood, my ninjas,
we rep on harmonicas and ak-47s,
organic vegan dinner and bulletproof vests,
gene kelly, jill kelly, and r. kelly,
black star, black sabbath and the black keys.
a perfectly spiced blend of voracious victorious variety,
measured up and meted out in devastating doses of just be dopeness.
it's not easy, mutha-lickas.
in fact,
anything that isn't the weak-sauce never is...
we keep it real, we keep it random,
and we make a lot of it.
speaking of lots of it;
we had fart sandwiches last night!
be easy,
the fart part actually comes after the sandwich,
but sandwich farts for dinner sounds pretty horrible,
i like more sandwich than gas,
i'm sayin'.....
anyway,
what we actually ate were honkin' hoagies of vegan sausage
(that's what SHE said!!)
with sauteed peppers, onions, spinach, garlic, broccolini, and basil marinara...
slow simmered and saturated with some greasy gargantuan goodness.
then the other portion of the meal kicked in....
and believe me,
as almost every good vegan can attest,
garlic, soy, broccoli and dark leafy greens
usually result in an assblastin', filthy, flatulent frenzy.
word.
and after a second helping of heroic proportions,
you'll leave the entire environment for acres around you
never quiet, never soft....

long hard days, short silent nights.

jeeeeez,
i'm once again not understanding compulsive overworkers.
what's wrong with you?
i got out of work 3 looong hours later than on time yesterday.
.....and it was horrible.
don't get me wrong;
i'll work really hard if i really need to,
during the allotted time on the schedule for doo-dooin' that freaky-diki sh!t,
OR if bobotronic cardboard skeletons need painting,
or even if snow forts need some sweaty scoople tunneling;
it's just i don't want that sort of thing f*ing up my dinnertime.
however,
being a responsible adult with impending fiscal constraints,
i had to make the righteous choice:
there were dollars to be gotten, though,
and i am NOT a flippin' a-hole,
so late night, adults only comedy hour(s) at the studio were a must-do.
i did so many tattoos,
on so many people,
for so many hours.
i took one four minute break to choke down a few slices of eggplant pizza.
gimme s'money. gimme s'money. gimme s'money. 
that was my meditative mantra as i zapwhipped it to eleven for almost 10 hours....
anybody who's been around the full swing albie rock show knows;
the motormouth smartass smartypants routine stays fresh for weeks-
but i seriously haven't talked that much in days, b!tches.
i gave myself a headache.
in the end,
time consumption was greater than wallet refueling,
but a terrific time was had by almost everyone.
(except me, but at least it beats packing!)

the autoclave got cleaned,
the tattoos got zapblastified,
the sh!t got talked,
the cold pizza got ate the f* up.
even lame cake weak weeks get lived hard, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft....

home is where the house is (or isn't)

how about a little in-progress reporting?
an acorn in the grasp of a springtime forest spirit ghost.
holding history in one hand, teeth in the other,
and keeping his brimstoney hot fire breath well-cooled with a peppery mint.
what's up with that third hand?
well,
that's a wizard's mystical mitt,
conjuring the whole thing with a wave.
word.


the partial-body of a soul-singin' pop-and-lock bobot battle-bard.
he's gonna have wings, too.
i found some pearlescent paint.
it's sparkle-magical.
and sparkle + magic + spirits + memories = dope.
i've got a couple more days to finish these fellas,
and then even the arthur-makin' supplies get boxed up.
hard styles, kids.
times is tough,
i'm sayin';
-when the going gets tough,
the tough eat a lot of treats,
and read dungeons & dragons novels,
then get busy doing easy things.
we'd get going, too,
but as yet,
with less than a month to get out of here,
and into somewhere else,
we still have nowhere to go.
that's some harsh realm reality.
as such,
arthur-making has been in full swing instead.
the other available options are less appealing.
packing up all your sh!t,
just to move to ____ ,
is molto turbo lame.
i don't even know where ____ is!
i know it's a big blank spot, though,
and it doesn't seem like it's very dog-friendly, either....
is the woodsly goodness trying to evict us?
can it not handle our infinite eleveny natures?
if so,
what are we gonna do?
where are we gonna go?
how can we make this work?
i sure as sh!t don't have those answers.
but i DO know that is some undue and doo-doo buttery stressfulness.
this must be one of those times;
the ones where the ability to believe in secret universal plans gets put on blast.
if i knew how it was going to end, though,
the plan wouldn't be secret, now would it?
we've got to move,
but instead we're mostly making moves....
the irony is frustrating.

in willfully unimpeded other news,
does anybody know where to get some antique-ish barber or dentist chairs?
i need two.
that way,
when i'm turned out onto the streets,
or forced into for-real homeless hermitage somewhere in the woods,
i can still maintain my hair, beard, and teeth in a gentlemanly fashion.
one does what one must, in any and all circumstances, mutha-uckas....
and,
when the plan eventually works itself out,
i'll have a pair of powder-coated and re-upholstered manly
butt-bolsterers to hold up the heinies of all ya'll peoples
who want to make the pilgimage to the woodsly goodness.
c'mon, ya'll,
find 'em and bind 'em and i'll come get 'em.....

cold, wet, and dreary,
and the weather is too.
never quiet, never soft.....

stormshowers.

slap-happy sigils of a savage gypsy summoner.
a stormswept shimmering cloud,
sprouting an incantation-inscribed high fiver,
with a side order of wheat,
olive branches,
battle-bones,
and lightning.
oh,
and some anthropomorphic moth monsters, too.
page eleven of the dictionary, by the way,
but you probably already knew that......

did we find a new place to live today?
nope.
did we eat some kickass lunch instead?
heck yes we did.
avocado focaccia sandwich in my bellyhole makes for better arthur creation.
i even had some 'tato wedgies,
and sesame oil snap pea salad.
throw in a few mouthfuls of barbecue soy crispy things,
and captain eli's strawberry pop.
they use the word pop, so don't look at me like that;
i'm talkin' to you, new england, 
believe me, i already know:
soda is the term for delicious carbonated sugar juice.
word.
oh man,
immediately after that sumptuous and scumptious smorgasbord,
we even hit up the cider donut spot for lunchtime dessert.
if we can't fill the day with productive procedures,
we'll stuff our faces instead.
fat bellies,
empty hearts.
awwwwwww.

i tattooed our friend amanda yesterday.
she was formerly one of the weirdies.
up until that trio of kooks broke up,
disbanded, began seeing other 'nother other weirdies,
from other 'nother other places,
and sorta started solo careers.
they're still kinda weird,
but singularly, 
so much much less so.
she got a stomach-rocker of autumny swirls and belly-blowin' leaves....

seasonably inappropriate,
and probably pretty painful....
but she took it like a champ, anyway.
it's kinda nice.
not the tattoo.
(well at any rate, besides the tattoo)
it's kinda nice when you see people you know and like.
it's especially nice to see 'em
after a brief absence that has changed them up a bit.
preferably for the better.
y'know,
so when you smalltalk 'em with a curious querious "so what's new?",
they hit you back with the howitzer of hot hard happenings.
it makes me psyched, my ninjas,
seeing folks i've watched grow up for years,
(or at least get older for years,)
reappear with a new sparkle,
a tiny twinkle,
and a post-march windblown change all up on 'em....
that's the nicest part, mutha-uckas;
getting the sense that there's a barbarian blueprint
bigger and better than originally imagined,
plotting out simultaneous courses for all ya'll.
correction: all of us. 
it's good to know that outside of the studio,
outside of the small town,
hell,
outside of the woodsly goodness, even
there's a secret universal plan at work,
makin' moves and makin' the magic for everybody.
provided they've got the worthiness and the wisdom,
the flavor, the fury, and the berserker boldness to make it work....
when did i turn sparkle-magical and feel-good?
today.
today is the day, b!tches,
so is everyday.
word up;
never quiet, never soft.....

al dente

slowly but surely,
there's more arthur-making to be produced.
jess donated a dictionary from the 'olden days'
to the heap of
papergoods in the supply box.
hmmmm,
despite the absence of the word dopeness therein,
i'm pretty sure the rest of the hottness
is about to get some definition,
even if merriam-webster only spells it with one t.
they, of course only ever refer to the temperature.
instead of the state of being derived from lightning-striking living.
as such,
to distinguish the two,
i add the extra t for extra hottness.
word.

AL DENTE.
to the teeth.
that's word.
because that's how i'm livin' my worthy warrior poetry.
tooth and nail,
sharing space in the same mitten;
my hands have teeth. 
even when i'm unarmed and bare handed,
i'm still armed to the teeth,
because my hands bare their fangs even when i'm open-palmed:
index finger incisors,
middle-finger masticators,
and even my thumbs are a pair of third molars...
...those're the unopposable wisdom teeth, son.
 i've got two spindly and spidery hands that take every action al dente.
when i make moves by the skin of my teeth, ya'll,
it's callous calluses and bloody knuckles for sure.
same place, same time, same thing;
al dente.
y'know that cliche' saying?
"take a bite out of life"?
or how about
''take a bite out of crime"?
well,
yeah.
axe-warrior axioms aside;
those're still hands-on activities.
you gotta do that sh!t al dente. 
i'm sayin'....
my hands have teeth, ya'll.
and i've been working on this handmade homestyle Folk Life for years;
what i make, what i cook, what i shoot, what i write.
unwavering, solid, steadfast, resolute, strong, certain.
firm.
even when we're just referring to makin' up some mackin' macaroni,
and the desired doneness thereof,
al dente means firm to the teeth.
and that's mutha-flippin' word, too. 
it's a phrase that pretty much sounds like the most all-the-way-live way to be.
firm to the 'ucking teeth!?
damn,
that's some hottness.
and yeah,
that's with two t's.


swan songs sung about holy hands!
a little early easter metaphor perhaps?
or,
an unfinished bit of chronic skeletronic bobot barbarian armament?
only shawn hebrank,
my good friend,
and perpetual (nigh incessant) sounding board
was 0% fooled by my april 1st misdirection.
most of my other other peoples,
from connecticut and everywhere else
were fooled at least a little.
so,
while my mission was by and large a success,
thanks shawn,
for not believing i'd turn super f*tarded overnight!
just be dope, ya'll.
since when would that sentiment include
the connecticut doo-doo butter sediment?
c'mon. 

the mirror is reflecting back my batch of horse-face chukkers, ya'll,
the beaveriffic (but not brown) bicuspids of a barbarian battle-beast.
it takes an f*n' push broom to brush these enameled enormities.
my, what big mutha-uckin' teeth i have.
all the better to take that bite out of life, kids.
moments, minutes, months...
documented and digested.
from deglution to digestion to disposal.
first to last,
beginnings. middles. and ends,
from delicious right down to downright disgusting,
it's all really happening.
real-life.
really real.
and when reality bites-
my hands have teeth mutha-uckas,
and they bite right back.
al dente, b!tches...
recognize.
never quiet, never soft....

Rabbit, Rabbit!

wake up wake up wake up,
it's the first of the month!
so chiggity-check yo'self,
check that mailbox, 
then grab yo' checks, my ninjas.
i made sure to spout out a shout-out of Rabbit, Rabbit! at 5:24 a.m.
if i can't sleep in,
then i may as well crow up a cock-a-doodle-doo-doo buttery
pre-dawn salute to the prospect of
a month-long defrosting deluge of showers.
i know i could surely use a rip-roarin' spirit-soarin'
parcel of month-long good luck, too.
speaking of:
holy smokes, ya'll,
i've got some great news!!!
we found a place!
it may even be THE place.
more accurately,
my homeboy from hamden found it.
and passed along the info.
thanks, john!
talk about kismet, b!tches.
our phone is barely working,
but whilst worrying out loud on the fiber-optic freeway,
well past my bedtime,
i got a  a click-over call-waiting conference,
and a convergence of kickass karma coalesced!!
it's perfect.
seriously.
big, affordable, clean, dog-friendly.
i went to school with the dude-guy who owns it.
weird.
the secret universal plan works in mysterious ways.
and it's almost too good to be true.
naturally there's a catch;
so i've also got some other news!!
it's back in hamden, connecticut!!!!!
i know, i know,
i've said some things....
but still,
a few late night phone calls,
and all of a sudden,
we've got a great opportunity to take a stake in a tattoo studio down there,
and be closer to our families at the same time!
two spots for two tatblasters, ya'll!
what are those odds?
may 1st, my duders,
and the woodsly goodness will be replaced by nutmeg and a charter oak.
triumphant returns, mutha-uckas.
prodigal sons and daughters, yo.
big changes,
big moves.
big action.
new hampshire,
i'll miss you,
but when i picked live free,
you insisted on or die.
now this is happening.







c'mon,
what are you,
an A*hole?
APRIL FOOL'S, ya'll.
they don't make enough self-loathing on this planet to induce
a voluntary relocation to the cookie-cuttin', nut-grubbin',
weak sauce waterbaby poop-cauldron of connecticut.
woodsly + goodness = the whole point.
relax, everyone,
(sorry connecticut)
we'll be fighting the good fight for a while longer up here in the north.
(and who the heck is john?)
c'mon.
come on.
c'mon.
C'MON!!!!
i hope nobody actually believed i had turned it down lower than eleven.
contrary to what you may have heard,
i'm not a b!tch-sap diaper baby.
jeez.

as the news is on my mind this morning;
i want ya'll to recognize,
people up here love chevys.
so hard.
something about earnhart country or some crap like that.
i don't get it.
i think they're really ugly,
on the incredibly rare occasion i think of them at all.
not that i believe i share much in common with a pickup truck
(besides a gun rack)
but,
like a rock?
that's what chevy trucks are reportedly like.
at least,
according to that soft-rock sound bite from their old commercials.
and chevrolet's ceo got fired...
...like a rocket.
fired by america, no less.
that's some bombs burstin' in air-type sh!t, an' that, ya'll.
asking for more greenbacks got him a pink slip.
damn,
that's a hard style, my ninjas;
the government adding cars to a list previously composed of 
e.b.t. cards and bright orange bricks of age-resistant oil-based cheese.
i'll bet cadillac still finds the means to stay pimp, though.
ohhhhhhhhhhhh, sh!t,
i even heard they've got a new gov't cheese colored escalade comin' out.
wu-TANG!!
it's april, fool;
never quiet, never soft...