four and twenty blackbirds.

4-20.
all day.
fat, crystal-resin syrupy, sticky, fat bud nugs;
24 hours worth.
that's just great.
what's lamer than lame stoner F*-tards
blazing up some skunky herbals in their glassware,
and then stimulating the snackfood industry to new economic heights,
and giggling all day?
well,
it's also hitler's birthday.
so i guess there's that.
what a suckie sh!t-salad calender date.
my two least favorite things,
celebrated simultaneously,
in a wonder-twin tandem bicycle two-seater turd explosion.
will i be getting baked out of my potato,
clearing a whole bong-chamber of zyclon b?
don't be dumb, mutha-uckas.
my oft-mistaken-for-hasidic-style, bible-icious beard,
and aversion to altered states of distorting What Is
prohibit my participation in weak-sauce hatemongering
AND dazed and confused douchebaggery.
forever.
instead,
in true warrior poetic nursery-rhyming fashion,
i've got sixpence and a pocketful of rye, ya'll.
i'll be reppin' blackbirds,
and pie,
at the same time.
of course,
as much as dead birds are sexy,
i'll keep both menu items separated,
to sing the praises of their individual merits:
blackbirds,
surreptitiously synonymous with  symbolic sorcery,
for thought and memory,
spirits and ghostly smoke rings.
concentric cyclic circular overlaps of comedy, tragedy, and history.
plus,
corvids are pretty flippin' rad,
fresh outta the box anyway...
and pie;
mostly,
because i like pie.
it's delicious.
c'mon.

i've got grown-up adult-type meetings this morning,
phone calls and house-hunting tonight,
free tatzap re-working to satisfy an unsatisfied client in-between,
(it's cool, kids....go easy)
and my homeslice the cucch is comin' up again!!!
again?
yep.
and it's 'ucking 4*20.
at 4:20 this afternoon,
i suggest we all go out and show the less-than-dope dopers
what really real numerology is all about.
take it to eleven, my ninjas.
harder, louder, and prouder than ever.
represent!!!
never quiet, never soft.....

bring the noise.

turn it up, my ninjas.

it's sunday,
and most folks have the day off.
not me, though.
and not just because i'm the reverend rock, either;
i've got a ferocious weeklong workload,
chock full to the tippity-tip-top
with school-vacationing families,
visiting with my peoples,
and tourist town destination designation,
throughout the following seven days.
tatblastzapzippin',
disposessed posessions packin',
hot vegan deliciousness cookin',
new location lookin',
& most of all,
hard-style hustlin'.
that's what it's lookin' like over here.
wicked busy business.
all day, every day,
all the way past ten,
to eleven.....
i'm thinkin' it's time to go about gettin' some runes tattooed.
lightning-striking viking berserker barbarian battle-beast
warrior benedictions, mutha-uckas.
legitimate fresh and flavorful skin-scribed spirits and memories.
a little bit of nordic trackmarks,
healing hard and dry,
whilst still gettin' so busy all the time?
uh-huh,
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
believe it.

if you haven't yet bought
(or pirated or downloaded or whatever)
the new morrissey album,
"years of refusal",
then you might be an a-hole!
what i mean is:
go and get it,
and listen to it as hard as you can.
it's ridiculously classic.
you need it.
really, you do.

relocation. re: location. real-location.
that's the three big things right now, kids.
where i'm from, where i'm at, where i'm going.
somewhere, somewhere else, and nowhere.
hard-style sundays,
for sure;
never quiet, never soft....

what the futhark?

word up.
seriously.
the futhark is really real.
barbarian letters, ya'll....
they look like sticks and branches,
but it's not that simple-
rumor has it that my homeboy Odin,
the big asgardian papa-bear,
plucked his own eyeball out,
dropped it down a well,
and hung from a tree for a while,
just to discover the secret wisdom
of the previously unknown runic hottness.
the runes aren't just lightning-strike sound-alikes, either.
each one has a name, too.
and a symbolic meaning,
and all of that kind of pagan tarot card crazy-person goodness, too.
i think they look cool,
and i love nordic destroyer stuff,
and i love alphabets,
and words, too.
 
what happened today?
vicious viscuous victuals
versus
versatile viking verses,
and vice versa.
heroic toasts,
heroic boasts,
and heroic ghosts...
verisimilitudinous much?
all damn day, ya'll.
all week, really,
it's been all about incredible edible quantities of eats and treats,
spirits,
memories,
gratitude & generosity,
and talkin' crazy amounts of sh!t.
i'm back to keepin' it bearded and weird.
like a gnarly nomad roamin' the roads,
i've got my mystical wizard-type sh!t a-poppin',
and i'm writin' out secret messages in ruined runes;
never quiet, never soft.....

inferences

you may infer whatever you'd like from the above photo,
i admit nothing;
but i will say this:
viva fidel!
viva raul!!
viva la revolucion!!!
and since those dudes allow mobile phones now,
somebody should text them a thank you:
OMG, so delish! TTYL.
thx,
arock.
OR...
roll out a raft or two for those duders,
next time you're swimming off shore in miami.
word up.


my beautiful, talented, and all-around amazing little lovely ladies.
harvest & maple 
went home today.
bummer city, my ninjas.
having them around helps to keep the focus on positivity.
they need it.
i need it.
it works out pretty good.
i'm positive about that.
where else did i go today?:

wellllll yeah,
portsmouth,
but also to eleven.
you know, 2:11.
(c'mon)


berserker barbarian bobotronic battle-beast.
i'd like to thank both my dogs for makin' finding a new place to live
SO SO SO much easier.


i spent the day in the car,
from here to massachussetts,
only to turn right around,
with an added hour of traffic to enjoy,
and i feel as spent as if i jogged there and back again.

it's 5 o'clock,
do you know where your children are?
i do.
they're back on the weak-sauce waterbury town line.
until next time;
never quiet, never soft....

oft f*d off....

...that's the way i'd describe
my metaphysical metaphorical A-hole these days,
due to the hardest style of poetic, ironic, lyrical
ferocious brutal balls-deep pounding it's ever endured.
at least, so far to date, anyway.
it only ever gets harder, right? 
give it time....
fortunately,
a figurative prison-style shower shanking,
can be a pretty serious character building exercise.
which is the only exercise i ever get.
it's like sedentary cardio, my ninjas....
i'm sayin',
it takes a whole lot of strong heart
to endure the bad time battles in-between victories.
i don't want to wallow in weak-sauce.
warrior poets don't doo-doo that babypants business...
i'd not give a pittance to be privy or party to pity.
that's some victorian talk for saying:
just be dope, or F* right off.....
word up.


hardest times,
longest nights,
and everything makes me feel tired....
however,
i've got some spirits and memories up here
in the woodsly goodness that need documenting.
i've got arthur to make.
i've got food to cook.
i've got sh!t to DO.
i've got seeds i've got to feed with this.
i've got life i've got to live with this.
that's some real conversation for your ass.
real real.

despite the day,
the evening was excellent;
barbarian bonfire festival, night two....

the ladybirds and i had a sparkle-magical time, ya'll.

here,
maple demonstrates the two-handed torch style.
the campfire's own pep squad cheerleader.
they're flamin' pom-poms!

harvest did a little skywriting with the sparks and smoke....
we ignited four full packs of sparklers,
and warmed up our whole selves in the dwindling evening lights.
by the time it was full-blown dark out,
we were all already all ready to get back into the comfy coziness.

i rocked my wizard hat to the fullest.
i have to admit to being a bit concerned with combusting, though.
(it's made of woven rag paper after all)

today is my kids' last day up here for a little minute....
i'm working for a few hours,
then tag-teaming the second half to my better half,
and spanning the afternoon with these little awesomenesses.
even when it's bitter,
it's still pretty sweet, ya'll.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft..... 

beware the ides of april....

fuego is the way to go....
hot fire, mutha-flipz,
so hot,
so good.
it dropped down to 25 degrees last night!
after a 66 degree day of delightful dopeness......
that's a cold snappin' thermometer freefall, ya'll. 
fortunately,
blazin' barbarian berserker battle flames
are so toasty and delightful.
we lit it UP, yo.
with just one match,
and the 'for rent' pages of the local paper,
(which needed to be taught a lesson with a trial by fire)
and a soundtrack of lovesongs and cat-calls from a whole batch of chilly, silly,
hard-style pounding amorous amphibians
decreasing in tempo like a metronome set to the temperature.

lightning-striking vikings.
the fire was so mutha-uckin' BIG,
and so righteous.

i repped on the jedi look all night.
albie-wan kenobi, yo!
 
that's more like it....

the small and sleepy sisters didn't make it to the late-night inferno,
because all the 'nacho libre' we watched (again)
tired 'em right out.

tonight,
we'll have another 'nother one,
especially for the kids.
with sparkle-magical sparklers,
and hot cocoa an' that.
i'm serious about having great times with my peoples, ya'll.
i'm tellin' you;
we hit up some cider doughnuts yesterday,
and a woodland wizard walk,
we went to the beachy riverbank,
and we enjoyed the incredible natural world around us.
it's all still really happening,
that's the whole point.

this morning,

i baked up some crucial cinnamon buns,

(i started 'em last night in anticipation of the cucch's early exodus) 
out of the oven by 7:30,
in my bellyhole by 7:35.
delicious.


for every hard time,
and every long night,
there's good friend,
and a sweet dream.
i am grateful, ya'll.
still.
for all my ninjas out there,
spanning time.
never quiet, never soft.....

berfdays was the worst days.....

my homeboy,
wayne f'n' morris,
the burly, beefy, bearded body piercer i work with,
is 35 today!
he built a big extravagant outhouse.
he helped me make the stilts i broke my a-bone off on.
he's an all-around great guy,
and he gets a cake and candles today.
that's probably pretty exciting.
happy birthday, wayne!


tonight,
we blaze!!!
i assembled the penultimate bonfire.
the cucch and my kids are all up here for the last time in this house,
and we are gonna go down in flames, ya'll.
i've got eucalyptus,
pitch pine,
red pine,
white pine,
rock maple,
birch sprigs,
oak logs,
oak leaves,
mountain laurel,
and a smattering of alder and beech, too.
we'll be readin' the runes in the wreckage,
like savage gypsy fortunate fortune tellers....
that fattie-boombattie cuban cone of delicious fuming hottness
has got a date with my mouthpiece this evening!
jess yardworked up a storm preparing for the big action.
i'm so flippin' ready.
it's been months since the last barbarian battle tribute pyre,
and this one will include some special sacrificial offerings
sent up in smoke to the secret universal plan.....
the next chapter is already written,
in reappearing ink, even.
i'm as excited as ever to get a peek at what's a-poppin'.
jfk and susanna hoffs have got nothin'
on the eternal flame i've got lighting up my life.
after dark,
it'll be an external flame, too.
there is a light that never goes out,
it's where my heart is supposed to be;
never quiet, never soft...

what's cookin' good lookin'?

that's correct, kids.
broccoli bread brings the thunder!!!

jim, cucch, jess, harvest, maple, and myself
all got stoically heroically hungry-style on a whole entire loaf.
how much was left?
not even a crumb, ya'll.
demolished. destroyed. digested.
victorious and glorious.
that's how dinner gets served in the woodsly goodness.
pounds and lbs. of gooey green greatness got gobbled.
so hard.

recognize, b!tches.
***********

moths are not butterflies;
i'm sayin'....
nothin' like a stressful situation to accentuate the dark circles,
wrinkles, gray hairs, and wonky crimps, kinks, and creases. 
and nothing helps me feel even less attractive than retrospective introspection.
im referring to being put on blast,
by the past.
have ya'll ever looked at your ex-partners' ex-partners?
i mean,
what does it say about your own appearance
if every other 'nother person they've dated,
before and even after your tour of duty with that booty,
is a heinous half-formed mutant stump creature?
is it hubris to assume that they only got lucky and landed
just one devastatingly handsome devil,
and that that handsome devil is YOU?
statistically,
that just seems so unlikely.
moreover,
why would they go back to dredging the swamp
after a taste of the hottness,
if in fact it ever really had any heat at all?
they probably have a type,
and that type is ugly mutha-lickas.....
just like you.
no foolin';
minky girl-bird babies,
short an' stout little pube-'froed teapots,
ham-lipped homonculi,
and ichabod crane wannabes
are the before-and-aftermaths
of some trysts with yours truly.
a few of those femmes could've done better,
at any point,
but they just chose not to. 
hard style business, for sure.
makes blind dates seem like a necessity,
but in a helen keller kind of way.
word up.
i guess the track record speaks for itself:
comedy, tragedy, and history,
at the same time.
i'm a regular old dirty bastard.
fancy clothes on a funky monkey...
the mirror still serves as a constant reminder:
be ugly and be dope.
more pity to the fools who choose poorly, yo.
what i'm lackin' in looks,
i'm making efforts to make up for in flavor.
the sort of overcompensation sensation that makes
lackluster ladies lament lapsing the lease on the lycanthropic lothario
they used to bump and grind on.
this one goes out to all my dope 'n' ugly mutha-uckas,
gettin' busy on that freaky-diki doo-doo business.
let the other ducklings sing their swan-songs too soon.
we'll outlast 'em all;
never quiet, never soft....

battle-beaster

arugula.
(it's a veg-e-table)
delicious,
especially when wilted in olive oil,
with some diced scallions.
how about stuffed mushrooms?
and potatoes?
c'mon.
what are you, an A-hole?
even that beige faux meatishness was good.
we even baked up a coffee crumb cake.
and,
we watched TWO movies, too.
one at the theater,
one in the home theater,
and both were pretty flippin' terrific.
monsters kicked some alien butts,
and a tiny mouse fought with a soup-ghost against some rats.
nice.
even in the throes of impending homelessness,
good food and great times were had.

it was so dang windy up here all dang day;
coinciding with the anniversary weekend
of the world's worst wind,
that it put the kibosh on the proposed hot fire festival.
instead of barbarian bonfires,
it brought the usual bevy of brutal truths;
cold temperatures, hard times, and long nights.
heralded by the harbingers of What Is:
war and change.
and,
hopefully, 
also some answers,
will all barrel by,
blowin' on and bellowing in,
carried like leaves with the breeze,
really kinda robert zimmerman an' that.
the whole woods was a swingin' and swayin',
all day and all night.
i should go rake up,
but then again,
i'm moving!
it was pretty much a nor'easter.
as in:
neither the weekend,
NOR easter,
provided any respite from the rush to find a solution to our situation.
two and a half weeks, my ninjas,
that's what time we've got left
to pull out a buzzer-beater full-court victory.
seriously.
time constraints are crushing my waking brain.
and my sleeping one, too.
wide awake or dreaming,
have been the same damn thing:
a haze of haunted, hungry, house-hunting.
at this point,
i'd be psyched on a hungry haunted house, even.

i've said it before:
you only get the time you get,
sometimes more literally than others.
warrior-poets and lightning-striking vikings
can only ever fight against time
until the last second ticks away....
running at eleven,
in the red,
until the very bitter end.
time is what you make it.
i'm over here fighting to keep mine
never quiet, never soft.....

the dead shall be raised....

holy cuteness!
the easter bear showed up and rocked it.
yep.
it looks like the whole world is glowing
in lavender, lilac, and pink,
with a little baby blue and mint green, too, my ninjas.
it's a milk-muted whited-down rainbow over here.
fortunately,
i love all that pastel sh!t,
and cellophane grass.

now that we've munched up some breakfast,
skipped church (of course),
and got busy with our newly-arrived fuzzy plush funblops,
we're gonna get goin' on the really relaxing remainder of the day;
cider donuts,
'monsters vs. aliens',
vegan stuffed mushrooms,
(that's what she said)
a blazing barbarian bonfire,
and an hecho en cuba cohiba.
that's what the next 11 hours have in store for me.....

i'm on a mission, mutha-lickas.
to resurrect the spirit of the woodsly goodness.
today's a good day for that kind of thing,
or so i hear.
our woodland wizard walk yesterday turned up a ton of turds and tracks
from our resident backyard bull moose.
it also soaked the seedlings' shoes from their soles to their shins.
wet feet and muddy waters,
those're the first two ingredients in my recipe for success.
i guess i'm takin' another 'nother week of takin' 'er easy;
i've got giddy little girls over here,
and they sure as sh!t don't need to feel the press
of the impending proceedings,
y'heard?
so here's to rural relaxation,
and distress deferral,
to maximizing the moments,
and disregarding the dirty doo-doo butter, ya'll.
it will all work out,
or it won't.
either way,
in the meantime,
i've got seeds i've got to nurture.
they're here.
i'm here.
we're here.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point.
that's What Is.
watch out for undead rabbis and enormous rabbits, ya'll;
never quiet, never soft.....

what's the 411?

every good vacation starts with the same thing...
pannie-cakes!
so naturally,
since a good vacation is the whole point of this weeklong visit, 
that's exactly how my sweet'uns and i got filled up this morning.
and now that we're all fueled up on syrupy sweet wheels of wheat,
today is going to be awesome.
woodsly wizard walks,
arthur-making illustrated storytimes,
apple-streusel coffee cake,
and gargantuan grocery getting
are all on the docket of duties demanding to get done.
we might even pack up some stuff today.
because that's SO much fun,
for kids and adults.

the sun is shining, ya'll,
and the day's date IS the information.
4/11,
the 411,
information's own number, even.
mary j. blige-type business, an' that.
i'm certainly balls-deep in uncertainty;
so hopefully today isn't just the day,
in the everyday way that every day is,
but maybe it's THE day, too,
for big news and much-needed information.
tremendous tidings of the unfolding, unfurling, and unleashing
of heretofore untold tales of trial, tribulation,
and tempestuous troubles triumphed over,
trounced, and trumped, 
by living well, 
being worthy,
and keeping it really real.
information is half of wisdom, after all.
and choosing wisely involves informed experience.
i'm sayin'.
4/11, my ninjas-
it's also the only way i'm livin' these days;
you know:
for eleven.
some folks just work for their weekends,
but i'm workin' towards loftier, more esoteric ambitions.
new ventures,
new venues,
new virtues.
necessary investments in just-be-dopeness, ya'll.
stakes is high,
times is hard,
and damn but the nights is long, too.
the only thing i'm runnin' short on
is options.
better get your guest bedrooms ready, mutha-uckas,
the unofficial backyard houseparty world tour
may just be gettin' ready to roll....

dear secret universal planagram blueprint,
if there's a plan b,
or a phase two,
now would be a great time to let us in on it....
xoxooxx,
love,
albie

i've got a full house,
a full heart,
and a full day ahead of me;
never quiet, never soft....