boomfire!

homemade activated spice blends.
yup.
that's what's up.
freakin' it off with some Folk Life custom jauns,
inspired by that india-type business.
y'know?
no?
well, you will-
smoky paprika,
and cinnamon,
and nutmeg,
and ginger,
and ground mustard,
g.p.o.p., obviously,
a little pinchy-pinch of cloves,
black pepper for days,
and turmeric,
plenty of toasted cumin,
a shake of asafoetida,
coriander,
cayenne,
and a teeny tiny dash of salt.
that's a whole lot of stuff, toasted together in a pan,
until that super-aromatic action filled the whole Fortress.
that burly blend is what i built my supper on, neighbors.
check the tandoori-type teleport:

mmmmmmhmmmmmmmm.
i had some jasmine rice hanging around,
so it stood in as the overprepared understudy for the basmati.
i know, i know, but i was just making dinner,
and it happened to be world cuisine wednesday,
and i happened to have certain substitutions on hand.
no excuses, that rice was flippin' excellent,
so maybe just shuuuut up with your criticisms, kids.
jeez.
anyway,
i slow simmered some onion, and a whole lotta garlic in vegan buttery ghee'ness,
until i sweat out all the juice, and seared up some brownification on the edges.
that's usually rad all on it's own,
but,
that's not enough for us, is it?
nope.
so i also slapped down a scattered smattering of cilantro,
and a giant sized jalapeno,
and some crushed red pepper flakes, too,
for added hottness across the entire mouth region of my face.
expert.
with pureed tomatoes poured all over that,
and turned on and turned up with a tablespoon or two of that spicy spice jauns.
yep.
once that was all happily interwoven,
those gonzo garbanzo channa chickpeas dropped in to say hello,
and before too long,
all sorts of baby kale took the place of the saag,
and you know i got my leafy green goodness on, too.
what's with the chickeny chunks?
i'll tell you what's up,
double butterish fried, with the spices, and brown sugar, and fresh garlic,
plus maybe a pinch more paprika, and shake or too of some other other stuff,
i got down on some poor man's tandoori red-and-brown-on-beigeness.
yep. it was freakin' elite.
and roti?
you better recognize.
baking-soda reaction quickbreads,
flat and fresh and ready for my hands to use as shovels for all that heat,
directly into my mouth, my friends.
yup.
dinner got served properly up in here.
rain instead of snow;
sunless and surly;
hard styles and slipping sands in the hourglass....
all of that can't be controlled,
but i'm the head of this household, as well as the only inhabitant,
so i've got executive creative art direction for whatever i want to eat.
i guess that's pretty good, all things considered;
never quiet, never soft.....
and this little love-note makes 2600 posts!!

just add water.

soup's on, neighbors.
yeah.
a big ol' thick and chunky potful of hot wet dopeness,
simmering away like a secondary heat source on my stove.
y'know?
of course you do.
onions, and carrots, and parsnips, and celery...
cooked down a bit in a pat of buttery yellow;
and then potatoes, and red lentils, and parsley...
briefly browned and lightly seasoned with ground mustard and dill.
vegetable soup needs vegetables, friends,
and i wasn't shirking on that.
at all.
a little lemon juice, to break down the shells on those lentils,
before the sweet pectin-rich power of a gluggity-glug's worth of apple cider,
and some white wine vinegar started simmering all the stuff extra nicey-nice.
that's right.
and a punch of nootch, and a shake or three of g.p.o.p.,
and sage and basil and thyme and a few more dashes of dill,
along with the remains of my fancy rice blend,
and a bath in burly broth.......
so much going on in one place,
and liquid smoke, and all the tomato sauciness from pizza night, too.
holy sh!t, y'all.
everything. and lots of it, really cooperating to make my night better.
that's no joke.
when it's colder'n heck,
and you're hungrier than usual,
and you need to do two things at once?
yup.
soup.
or stew, actually.
since there's orzo pasta, and garbanzo beans, and vegan sausages in there too.
and collards by the greenful.
yum.
yum.
YUM.
check the liquid-cornucopia-type teleport:

souuuuuuuuuuup!
it's good for your dumb face.
how'd it taste?
expert, obviously.
what else would you expect?
i mean, c'mon.
it's all the good, only hotter and wetter.
mmmmmmmmmmm.
organic aroostook maine whole wheat sourdough toast, too?
F*ing right, duders.
y'gotta soak up the juice with something special.
regular bread is for regular people,
and i can't hang out with that.
i need that super-fancy and exceptional jauns.
...it goes better with a symphony of soupy specialty.
word up.
***********
it's a snow day, again.
this month is a real A*-hole about the weather.
worse than usual, unseasonably seasonally inappropriate,
and site-specifically so sucky.
winter in the woodsly goodness is a hard enough style without
starting a whole month early.
ugh.
at least i've got soup to help me along.
i'm still gonna go to work, because that's what i DO.
however,
i'm pretty much positive i'm really only going to job,
as there's not likely to be much actual work to do.
i span the allotted time, in the assigned place,
and i rarely reap any rewards for it.
i guess there's something to be said for doing what you're supposed to?
maybe;
never quiet, never soft.....  

pizza party.

pizza is my favorite.

no joke.

anyone who isn't an effing A*-hole know it's expert.

i mean,

it's basically a plate made out of bread, with stuff on it.

that's rad,

even in wedges of triangular tapered toppings and sauce an' that.

pizza is the way, and the light, and the truth, 

and pizza is what i can believe in when i can't believe a word you're saying.

the difference between pizza and people?

i trust pizza.

i like pizza.

hell, 

i have a healthy relationship with pizza.

i bestow so many gifts on it,

and under it,

and i put it inside me.

c'mon.

i'm talking about pizza, neighbors.

y'know?

here, just check the subzero-sunday-evening-oven-type teleport:

yeah!

pizza.

homemade vegan sausages, caramelized vidalia onions,

garnished with greenery in the form of parsley sprankles,  

over some of that gooey daiya(rrhea) chee',

on top of custom sauce for ages,

on top of that spicy next-level underchee' activation 

(which remains the sexiest secret and most magnificent add-on), 

and all of it resting comfortably on a stretched sourdough circle.

it's heavy.

not at first, kids.

but after a  second or two,

you realize you're full off of a small pizza.

and then you eat another 'nother other one.

obviously.

too much is the right amount, anyway.

check the fat-piglet-type teleport:

mmmmmmm.

kale and mushrooms and onions,

and all the rest of it.

i have goals,guys.

one of them is to overindulge in pizza whenever there is pizza around.

and i doo-doo that freaky sh!t, too.

485 luscious fahrenheit degrees,

a stone slab in the oven,

big cornmeal grit lube,

and a healthy appetite for all sorts of bite-and-swallow gnash-and-gulp 

unearthly-mouthful-style shark-gluttony.

i like what i like,

and i've got a system in place for every interaction.

i like plans.

i plan my work, and i work my plan, 

and i plan my pizza, and i make that mutha-F*er work.

there are natural and unnatural selections at play here, y'all.

infinite nature and genetic predisposition towards berserker full moon mania,

with a learned knowledgeable cultured and fostered analysis of human behavior,

and thick crust.

yeah.

thin in the middle, fat at the edges.

i know what's up,

and i know what's good,

and it's ALL really happening,

like it or ready or whether you're into it or not.

yikes.

there's just not enough time for everything,

except pizza.

there's always more time allotted for pizza.

that's word;

never quiet, never soft.....

living in infamy

today was another werewolfen sh!t-salad sandwich, kids.
that's the way the weekends work when the weather is cold,
the shopping lists and the wish lists and the xma lists don't
include a healthy heapin' helping of tattzappin' crap,
and the silence is thunderous within the homely homes
and fair forests of the woodsly goodness.
mmmhmmm.
i'm freezing,
and i'm feeling the aftershocks of a low-end-bass-blasted
batch of barbarian battlehymns.
y'know?
oh.
well,
not sleeping,
and feeling disconnected, and disappointed, and disrespected,
as well as displaced and disgusted,
coupled with clogged roads full of poor drivers shopping
for inadequate gifts to give to ungrateful and unworthy people,
and topped off with a dose of slow studio time
makes for a loooooong day and a hard night.
that's what i meant.
also,
today is my dad's berfday.
he's like, old an' that.
so all around,
for everyone,
time is flying,
or,
more likely,
nosediving like a kamikaze into some sort of swan song
trumpeted out and crashed with calamitous crescendoes
for all of us ugly ducklings out there.
after all,
today is the day.
and that's all that could've happened, anyway;
never quiet, never soft.....

invisible indivisible.

a full moon and a snow day?
c'mon.
this is IT.
anything can happen,
and anything awful is much more likely to be on the menu.
winter werewolfen berserker barbarian battle beastly no-sleep freak-out
savage snow-stormswept raging gypsy tidal waves,
wroth with wrought rays of hot fire spit and lightning-striking viking vitriol.
yikes.
so many words.
sorry, neighbors,
but it's verbose and morose prose gettin' typed up today.
here:

that's as good as it's gonna get this morning.
mmhmm.
because i am fairly sure i'm an ultra-electromagnetic lodestone
for cultivated coincidences of the first and worst order,
each time the moon fills up with light,
and the nighttimes seem to circle around in a whirlwind of wails and howls,
high pitched and double-bass-boosted,
i can't really help but sense and surmise that maybe,
defying the force of free flippin' will and active participation,
i'm really only given the luxury of reactions,
and when i'm truly determined to manifest my own destiny,
a helluva lotta loud, fresh, and super-hard-styled overreactions.
y'know?
yeah.
when it's all really happening, with or without you,
and you aren't making moves or magic to catalyze any of it?
that's when the superstitious suspicions set in.
curses and cures, neighbors,
werewolfen anthropomorphic bestial best-case scenarios.
that's what's up.
shovel in one hand, slush on my boots,
dripping from  my nose and eyeholes,
sweating from my pores,
steaming and screaming from out of my big mouth,
and shedding at an alarming rate off the top of my head-
that might even be the best thing that happens under the grey clouds,
and maybe those billowy blankets will suffocate, or at least diffuse,
some of the silver slivers of lunatic light that are hiding out of sight,
and on my mind, as the pale day promises to deepen and darken
into the depths of a frigid and fraught evening.
-
sometimes,
circumstances overlap in concentric spiraling circles,
ghost rings and smoke rings of spirit and memory.
those coincidences we cultivate go on to propagate and proliferate
like prodigiously prosperous profligate invasive entities-
operating under the prime directive-
too much is the right amount:
the object is MORE of all of it.
hard styles, cold bones, grit teeth, heavy heads, loooong nights.
all of it, interbreeding with the success of hybrid vigor.
that's natural selection doing what it does best,
on a lycanthropic ley-line timeline of infinite nature and finite resources.
i mean, c'mon.
a snow day means anything can happen,
a full moon means nothing good will.
nature wins, either way, every time;
never quiet, never soft.....

STRENGTH.

if you aren't on that strong mack-handed bakery jauns?
stay home.
because we're having a hard-styled soft-centered super-activated
makeout party over at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
mmmhmmm.
oatmeal is french kissing on lemon zest;
lemon zest is playing spin the bottle with coconut;
coconut is going smoochyface with walnuts;
walnuts are full on glomming with chocolate chips,
and all of it, all at once,
is engaging in a downright filthy orgy of excellence in german-inspired
drop-cookie format.
that's real.
go ahead,
voyeur into the future with me, via the teleport:

ka-BOOOOOOOM.
those sons-of-b!tches right there are the truth.
word up.
is that lemon-infused effusive icing in front?
you bet your A* it is.
and in the back,
could that be chocolate-lemon ganache, with zestified sprankles?
don't be dumb, neighbors.
obviously, i wouldn't bring that weak stuff to the table.
cookies are dope.
and fancy cookies are dope, too,
but fancy flavored barbarian blocks of cookie hottness?
they aren't just dope, kids.
they're expert.
and that's what we really always want, isn't it?
mmmhmmmm.
i try to keep it going as often as i'm able.
the treats, i mean.
i love baking, and i love the meditative focus i achieve when i make up
a batch of made-up sugar-blasted freestyle goodness.
that's no joke.
i do what i do, and i do it to the best of my ability.
the thing of it is,
i want my best to be even better.
that's why i do so much of what i do.
building blocks,
with eleven times the effort,
to make sure that the goods are even better than great.
ugh.
mostly,
i keep my coworkers and acquaintances fully fattened up on frosting.
yep.
that's a secret benefit to never enjoying anything that much.
i get the experience, and they get all blarpity.
by comparison, i'm looking less busted for my beneficence.
self-serving service supplying sugar to the subordinates?
i'm like that.
*
anyway,
the werewolf moon is nearly swollen to the max,
and i'm feeling the feral effects and animal aftershocks of the push and pull.
it's all really happening,
and there are cookies to accompany it;
never quiet, never soft.....

life didn't hand them to me.

lemons.
yep.
i got 'em,
and i peeled 'em,
and i squeezed 'em,
and i made somethin' special with 'em.
that's what's up.
y'know?
mmhmmm.
i sure like those circle cakes,
and i especially like lemon circle cakes.
with zest, and meyer lemon juice and lemon oil extract,
and all the soft, succulent, sweet circular sexiness
of a ghost ring made from citrus and sugar.
uh huh.
check the teleport:

c'mon, neighbors.
lemony bundt jauns in F*ing full effect.
and you KNOW i made that icing extra lemony,
with peeled pulpy bits, and fresh-squeezed juice,
and then i drizzled it extra thickly all over the g-dang thing,
and blasted it with microplaned shranel from the vitamin-rich rind.
yup.
lemon sprankles for that eleven rating, y'all.
it's just that i always want to include so much of the signature ingredient,
and,
i always doo-doo that overdoing-it-type  sh!t.
i gotta do what my infinite nature demands, duders.
that's real.
lemon on lemon on lemon on lemon on lemon on lemon on lemon.
yes.
and if you try and pretend you can't taste the difference?
you are a big fat stoopid liar mouth,
and that's a fact.
too much is the right amount,
and i practice what i preach.
a double buttered cake pan, lightly tapioca floured,
for maximum release from the form,
really gave the outer shell of this mutha-'ucker a crisp shiny skin.
mmmmmmmmmm.
little accidental subtleties for my face make the day go along much more nicely.
and a little nicey-nice nicetie by the slice
is about all i'm gonna need to get through this day.
yup.
no sleep, still,
and a F*ton of tattbombin' to do, too,
but with a faceful of cake and a eyeful of exhaustion?
today is the day,
just like every day.
lemons and sugar.
without the bitter, the sweet just ain't as sweet;
never quiet, never soft.....

dinners.

i've decided to eat too much.
well,
i s'pose i've actually just decided to eat dinner more often.
which just feels like a lot.
it tastes like pure expert activation, though.
what've i been up to in a culinary stove-top non-bakery capacity?
oh, y'know...
just a little bit of vegan shark-glutton hottness.
yeah.
i love to eat food.
i love to eat food so hard.
i love to eat so much food so hard all the time.
for realsies.
last night,
i got a little dirty on the coconut curry.
teleport:

onions, carrots, celery, sweet potatoes, mini potatoes,
cilantro, and jalapeno peppers.
brothy goodness and so much creamy coconut wetness,
with g.p.o.p. and toasted cumin, turmeric, cayenne, mustard, ginger,
lime, rice vinegar and a splash of tamari.
mmmmmmmm.
that's good for you.
fake beige protein copycats,
and that five grain fancy rice business competed the bowl,
and then, just to make sure,
it got more lime juice,
more cilantro,
and scallion-style sprankles.
holy flippin' crap, kids.
i needed it, and i ate way more than a normal person should've,
but only half of what i could've.
i've got heroic capacities for punishment,
and i'm testing the limits.
the night before last,
i wanted to be healthy-ish, and iron-rich, and green and leafy, all at once.
plus,
i had those homemade super-rad vegan sausages.
and i had lemons, too.
y'know what that means?
yes, neighbors,
it means that i had to get all scallopini or something.
re-teleport:

collards, brussels, kale, garlic for days, a little sweet onion,
and those elite spicy beige tubes, too.
and in keeping with my 'thing' these days?
parsley sprankles for roughage and digestion or whatever.
mmmmmmmmm.
so,
that's what's up.
eating well, instead of not eating.
eating too much to counteract the benefits of eating well,
and doing it often to make sure that all good things are still bad for me.
i've got a system, guys.
i take all the positives and i abuse them until they hurt me.
you do your thing,
and i'll do mine.
i'll wager mine taste better, at least;
never quiet, never soft.....

X'ed-mas.

neighbors,
i'm festive, right?

yes.
i certainly am.
a rainy, snowy, windy day off driving to and from shops and stores,
back and forth and up and down throughout the woodsly goodness.
i doo-doo that XI-mas sh!t.
i mean,
c'mon...
...if it doesn't end up being totally expert,
that's going to be a poor reflection on me as a worthy warrior poet.
really.
there are standards i hold myself to,
and there are standards i wave to let y'all know what's up,
but there are no standards i'll waive to take it easier.
more, and more, and MORE.
that's what's up.
even when it sucks outside;
even when i couldn't think of much i'd rather not do;
even when it's a one-sided one-act of active participation-
because i'm doing it the way i would want it done,
if there was someone out there who could do it like me.
no F*ing kidding.
it's not about anything other than being the best version of myself,
doing the best job yet.
too much is the right amount,
good is good, and bad is still everything else.
accept no substitutes.
and while you're at it,
better is even better than good.
take it to eleven, friends.
everything else is dumb;
never quiet, never soft.....

together.

a decent december deuce.
hold on.
i'm talking about today, the 2nd of december.
...so go easy.
i'd like to have a good day, and a better night.
i'd love to have a great day, and an expert night.
and i'll be blown away if any of that unfolds along the planed path today.
i promise it won't be for lack of active participation on my part.
neighbors,
i'm powered up by treats,
and that means i've got my blood boiling, my guts roiling, my pants soiling,
and i'm spoiling for a fracas full of ruckus.
also,
for the record, my pants aren't soiled.
stop that.
anway,
treats.
mmhmm.
chocolate?
you bet.
peanut butter?
absolutely.
teleport:
check:

yeah!
chocolatecocoafudgybrownie jauns,
with a whole other 'nother kind of peanut buttery blondie business
blasted into the batter,
for a double decker marble-type mini-loaf-style crisp-edged four-cornered
super-deluxe turbo-hot cakey heavy hitter, kids.
wu-TANG!
with those mini baby chocolate chip sprankles, too?
yup.
i took my preferred method for making 'em,
cut it in half,
freaked it off,
doubled it,
and made it make up,
and make out,
and make nice in the buttery pan jams.
that's a thing.
y'know?
i'm serious.
peanut butter and chocolate LOVE each other,
but sometimes they need  little prompting and prodding in order to actualize and
achieve their true make-out party potential.
and if there's one thing i'm good for around here?
mmhmm...
it's making people want to make out.
oh.
hold on.
that's true, for sure,
but,
there's just one small detail i've left out.
everybody wants to french-style kiss my cake.
not my shifty, sh!t-talking, fire-breathing, caustic, candid chapped lips.
ew.
and awwwwwwww.
hard styles are the ones we've got,
and that's fine with me.
i'll let my flours flourish,
and i'll keep the rest old and busted.
i do what i do, after all.
stay ugly, stay dope,
and do more;
never quiet, never soft.....

RABBIT. RABBIT.

well,
that was disappointing.
another 'nother month over and done with.
another 'nother november living up to it's reputation.
another 'nother visit with my dearest darling daughters ending too soon.
and all sorts of interpersonal puzzle pieces either misfit or missing altogether.
jeez, neighbors-
from the sounds of it, time is acting like a real b!tch right about now.
ain't that the truth.
however,
today is the day.
yup.
the first one of the last one,
a cloudy, crowded, rowdy monday morning,
a brand new calendar page,
and as it happens, it's also the last calendar page,
december is already underway, kids,
and it's headed into these mountains with a full F*ing head of steam.
mmmhmmm.
it's here.
the balls-out barrel-A* blitz on obligatory holiday warmth,
and the gift-giving high-watermark measuring stick has been driven into the
frozen soil of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
yikes.
it's time to start thinking of presents, and about cheer and goodwill an' that.
well,
it'll be time to do that as time races along the checked-off squares,
right now, though,
you all actually know what time it really REALLY is, don't you?
yup.
cultivated coincidences;
magnetic lodestones of locution for fortuitous circumstances.
super-duper-stitious statements,
from the first to the last of it,
just a little bit louder,
and a whole helluva lot harder than the preceding eleven times.
yes,
today IS the day,
and there are things that needed doing, first things first, on the first.
hmm?
yes.
i doo-doo that repetitive stressful-style freaky-diki sh!t,
and i do it because rules is rules, fools-
that's right.
i said it again, and again.
the magic word that makes me feel better about the beginning of things,
and makes me more excited about endings, too-
rabbit, rabbit!
that's what's up.
got it?
i said the thing i say on the day i am supposed to say,
i hit my marks, i memorize my lines,
i arrive on time,
and perform the rites right on cue.
meeting expectations is good.
exceeding them is better.
too much si the right amount,
and real life needs a whole lot more of everything
to be the kind of life that makes sense.
keeping it simple is for simpletons,
and symphonies have ALL the notes.
i'm reppin' that maestro jauns for a wizened and wizardly (albie)rock opera;
never quiet, never soft.....