hard hearts.

they're so hard,
these hearts of mine.
yup.
heartS...plural.
they're hard,
and they're sweet.
...and crunchy,
and buttery,
and that's great news.
seriously.
my own little magical sugary heart attack.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is FULL of warm oveny hottness,
and that's what's up.
today is the day-
valentine's day.
and i've got shortbread sugar cookies to celebrate with.
check the lovely-lovey-dovey-type teleport:

mmmmmhmmmmmm.
neighbors,
c'mon.
there're red and pink candy crushed crankles up in 'em.
that's how you know they're not F*ing around.
crawnchy candy crank'zzz make it all a little more expert.
believe it.
that's incongruously-colored lemon icing on top,
with color-coordinated site-specific holiday-appropriate sprankles, too.
yuuuuup.
if you aren't about it,
you might very well be a total A*-hole.
that's a thing.
sugar cookies, in short-order, shortbread-style,
in a couple of different shapes, and a couple of different finishes,
because just one way isn't nearly enough is it?
nope!
too much is the right amount.
especially today.
overdoing it means you care.
at least,
that's the way i do it, anyway.
ha.
***********
another 'nother abominable winter weather ruiner is in the works.
uh-huh.
MORE snow.
at this rate,
unpredictability will become expected.
oxymoronic?
absolutely.
snow day chaos is underway, again,
and as usual,
anything can happen.
i hope whatever it is that goes down this weekened,
it's in the valentine spirit of smooches and grabs an' that.
y'know?
i'm sayin',
there's chocolates around here somewhere.
and flowers, too.
they're purple, but they'll do in a pinch, kids.
a savage raging severe snowstorm shut-in shutdown,
and the woodsly goodness on barbaric blizzard blockade business?
yeah!!!
-
dear vacationers,
            your SUVs are literally made for this,
         but thank you for being too afraid to trek around town regardless.
         your weak sauce is appreciated as i navigate the vacant thoroughfares
         of this fine mountain vale i call home.
                                                           xoxo,
                                                             your pal,
                                                                   albie.
p.s.
thank ma nature for revealing the intrinsic cowardice
of your false sense of vehicular security.
nature wins, again.
-
uh-huh.
there's a new blast of winter wreckage every weekend,
and i've gotta tell you,
i don't hate it.
i DO hate the plow guy who sucks balls at activating
a two-car breadth in my driveway-
but i suppose,
since i only have one car, he probably thinks he's doing it right.
it's not good enough.
then again, nothing ever is.
hard to please,
harder to come by,
and hard-hearted, albeit covered in icing.
that's the day,
today.
it's all really happening,
and furthermore,
anything might.
that's the nature of this valentine victory.
one way or the other,
somebody is gonna win;
never quiet, never soft.....

bad luck.

this is it.
today is the day.
uh-huh.
the chance for all of that rabbit rabbit stuff to work it's magic.
mmhmmm.
friday the thirteenth.
the big bad bad-to-worse-luck timelapse crap-slap of calamity and woe.
y'know?
yep.
it's a thing,
if you're inclined to believe in those sorts of mundane superstition.
but, remember, thirteen isn't all bad.
for example,
thirteen isn't unlucky if you're a bar mitzah, b!tches.
yup.
and besides,
i like fridays.
and i like valentines.
and i love to eat treats.
so,
how can it be a bad day when i've got these?
neighbors,
check the big action, via teleport:

awwwwwww.
heart-shaped scones?!
cute.
maple cranberry chocolate chip wedges,
all folded over and up and down and again.
seriously,
thirteen flips and flops of the dough,
so those layers got all kinds of activated.
and after i cut the triangles,
i dented 'em all in at the short side,
forming little hardy hearty heart love notes to my taste buds with every bite.
c'mon.
plus those red sugar sprankles,
sweethearted sparkle-magical bloody valentine style,
for extra cupidity and slightly less stupidity this morning.
expert?
oh, yes, friends,
i should certainly say so.
refrigerating the cut-up buttery, creamchee'd flour helped the fats stay
bunched up in the batter, and made this batch of from-scratch hottness
the best ones yet.
consisitency, inside of them, comes from consistently improving my recipe.
yeah!
good enough is not enough.
it's even BETTER that i am aiming to achieve, always.
and that's no joke.
*
vacation wintertime getaway weak-waterbaby asscrackachussetts turds
are en route for a whole week of ruining it.
ruining what, exactly?
everything.
i mean it.
all the best parts of the woodsly goodness are about to be invaded with A*tards.
and as much as i love a thriving economic environment,
the predatory pulse of this vulture culture is downright gross.
really.
the frantic scramble to gulp down every last available casually-cast-aside dollar,
like filthy scatophagic buttkissers, feasting on the bloated still-breathing
bleating carcass of every fat family's corpulent cadaverous indulgences?
yikes.
the whole valley has been abuzz with the promise of an extra buck,
praying for snow to lure the leisure-seeking suckholes up,
so their spare change can be siphoned off into......what?
i'm just sayin',
maybe that's actually considered a cool way to go about your business up here?
i think that might be a real thing.
i can't hang out, though.
real talk.
i'm steady on my grind, every damned day, with or without snow,
or tourists, or friends, or tax returns,
i'm an obvious inaccessible opposite to the composite archetype of mountain people,
but honestly,
the supplicants and the serfs that serve as staff  at most of the shops
up in this mountain valley make me sorta sad.
awwwww.
it's just that desperation isn't attractive,
and perhaps it's just that hard-style hamden, connecticut east coast warrior spirit,
but i appreciate the crappiness dwelling inside my secret inner heart-of-hearts,
and i actually like a little dissonant indifference in my daily indulgences.
no?
don't spit in my food, but don't wipe my butt with your tongue either.
i think that's a pretty fair trade, no?
for serious,
being on vacation doesn't make anyone actually special,
it just makes them somewhere other than where they were.
maybe that's my bad luck, today?
poopheads pooping up my place of business,
and my local haunts with their doo-doo buttery soft styles.
if so,
i guess i'm getting away easy.
there's more of this coming.
all week long.
there's a system in there somewhere,
and i'll decipher it before next sunday;
never quiet, never soft.....

cuties.

blondie blocks.
yeah.
that's right.
brownie-consistency cakey squares,
without chocolate,
but with coconut.
so much yummmmmmm in one cube of deep, dense delight.
i GOT they,
and i got 'em goin' further than that.
obvi.
there's a system to making valentines treats.
something chocolate,
something red or pink,
and sugar, for ever and ever.
if it isn't sweet,
it isn't invited to the makeout party.
that goes double for bitterness outside of the batter, too.
uh-oh.
does that mean i'm missin' out on kisses?
no way, neighbors.
i'm the host, and i make the house rules.
i also make the treats,
so just sit back, and feast your face on the freshness.....
check the neapolitan-coconut-type teleport:

strawberries'n'creme frosting?
yes, indeed.
chocolate fudge frosting, too??
you betcha.
three tiers of good cheer and coconutty well-wishing?
abso-flippin'-lutely.
and exxtra frosting goobieblops swirled on top?
expert.
i like the way the look,
but i LOVE the way they taste.
there's a whole lot going on in these,
and that's to our benefit, b!tches.
i mean,
you wouldn't want some nancy-A* weak sh!t up in here, would you?
no way.
not even once.
so,
this is it.
heavy ordinance in the Folk Life & Liberty test kitchen arsenal.
yup.
all that sweet golden goodness,
all the dark brown decadence of that cocoa fudgy funtime,
and the strawberry fruit flavor and pectin-poppin' frosty fuego,
all in one spot,
with that toasted coconut essence weaving back and forth throughout.
mmmhmmmm.
i''m on it.
valentine's treats, all day, every day, up to and including the big day.
don't even act like you can't hang out.
we both know that even an invented holiday can be expert.
hey, now-
think about sandwich week before you naysay
the validity of this decree, duders.
that's more like it.
consider the constituent elements for just a quick second.
word up.
i'm just sayin',
i like chocolate,
i like hearts,
i like fancy dinners,
i like jewels.
i like sweet sweet romance.
i like flowers.
i like candles.
i like cards.
all the ingredients for excellence are right there.
so , then, what's the problem?
the color scheme?
stop it.
get on my level.
pink is good for you.
and so is valentine's day.
that's what's up;
never quiet, never soft....,.

again and again and again.

another 'nother snow day?!
yeah!
after a whole day of being extra busy doin' so much stuff-
and all of that on my only day away from the tattbombin' studio,
it's time to get back to my official workplace to do what i do best.
hmm?
yep.
good guess.
that IS what i do best-
y'know?
oh. for those of you who don't know what we're talking about-
it's eatin' treats whilst talkin' noise at everyone who passes by.
yeah.
it's a niche market, but i've pretty much cornered it
that's my thing.
i've ghot a whole bunch of it stockpiled up from yesterday,
poised the the precipice of my lips, ready to spit out a scalding stream of
rock-steady ragnarok on all the mincey mofos i meet today.
and it's a snow day?
big ol' flakes are fallin' hard, and coating everything in a subtly slippery sheen.
nice.
just in time for me and my coworkers,
and the unfortunates who will still show up for tattoo appointments
to slalom up and down the least-convenient,
most-locationally dysfunctional site-specific sh!t-salad slope.
huh?
oh.
the driveway to the tattoo shop is a total A*-hole.
forty-five degrees of angled inaccesibility,
perpetually unplowed,
and eternally an abysmally dangerous decision to drive on.
yikes.
i'm probably gonna need a little extra traction,
just to get up there, just to sit around upon arrival...
good thing for me i've got treats by the careless carful
weighing down the wheels with kilotons of valentines-style treats.
that's no joke.
i doo-doo that pink hearts and chocolate sh!t,.
because i love holidays.
uh-huh.
i think it's weird that i like something, too.
let alone the fact that holidays are notoriously the territory of crafty moms
and little kids.
maybe that's the secret?
could be.
regadless,
i've got a cake that'll make the snow melt for days, neighbors.
check the starburst-shaped-ring-of-hot-fire-type teleport:

strawberry cocoa devil's food circles!!!
kaBOOMfire!!
crushed freeze-dried strawberries,
ground chocolate, and a LOT of cocoa,
plus the usual odds and ends that make the bakeshop up in my homestead
such a wellspring of new hottnesses .
yuuuuuuuup.
and that exxxtra-thick icing?
crushed strawberry powder made it gummy, and ooey-gooey good, too.
it's like fruit lava,
and it's expert as F*.
no joke.
anyway,
that's comin' with me to work today,
and although it's riding shotgun,
it isn't the only passenger.
nope.
there's more where that came from.
c'mon.
too much is the right amount,
so there's got to be MORE.
it's valentine's season,
and that just screams chocolate, and red and pink and lace and everything.
i'm into ity,
i'm about it,
and it's all really happening.
nothing else will be tolerated;
never quiet, never soft.....

odds and ends.

in-between walk-ins of an epic level of under-rewarding stature,
i frayed away the cheapest of paint brushes in an effort to make something
 more interesting than the weak-sauce and wearisome winter waterbabies
that threatened to ruin my afternoon.
i wasn't having any of that.
i'm still not having any of that.
there is always the chance, on a snow day, especially,
that of the many anythings that can happen, all of the will be bad.
it's the infinite true inner nature of nature,
and the odds will always be in her favor...
nature wins,
and sometimes, she's assisted by nurture,
as an overture to an impossible expenditure of creatures masquerading as people,
hoping to pass the scrutiny of an attention-paying worthy warrior poet like myself.
y'know?
i'm sayin'-
sometimes, these weirdies that show up, in snowstorms, especially,
are even scarier in my carefully controlled environment,
than they would be in their  normal habitat.
possibly because i avoid doo-doo buttery sh!tshacks,
and trailer hovels as a general rule, so my exposure is normally limited at most.
yikes!!!
they were out in force in the freshly driven whiteout wetness yesterday, though.
i didn't let it get me down,
but,
it might've manifested as handlebar moustachios
through the subconscious connection of my thoughts and actions.
i'm steady representin' on these craft paints, kids.
check the seltzer-can-twelve-pack-back-type teleport:

a technologically-inclined extra-fresh redcap gnome!
gnome sayin'?
awwww, c'mon.
a captain of the bobotronic hip-wader invaders!
that's right. neighbors...
no horde of weirdies is gonna keep me off of this garbage-art makery.
i have it in me, and i've got to get it out.
word up.
*
however
i also sometimes need some other things in me.
whoa!
not like that.
i'm talking about breakfast.
and breakfast, in the bitter, brutal cold winter woods means one thing:

yuuuuuuuuuup.
panniecakes!
i gotta get those nutrients, duders.
it's too cold not to stock up on some extra-heavy-duty fuel.
i'm shivering in my skin, rattling my bones, and crabbing my fingers...
but,
not for long.
a real maple syrupy man-stack of 'cakes in my bellyhole,
and paints awaiting me at the studio?
i've got a day of doin' stuff ahead of me,
and i'm all powered up for it, too.
this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....

encore.

hey, neighbors-
y'wanna know what happens when you're officially finished
with the bums' rush crush of eight days of foods between breads?
yuuuuuuuuup.
you blow out one more as an encore.
obviously.
sandwich week exxxtras, in F*ing full effect.
what else would i eat for dinner once the ruckus had already been brought?

no?
i'm sayin'.
eight days is already a whole lot of sandwiches,
but nine?
that's pure wu-TANG.
real talk.
now,
check the one-for-the-road-type teleport:

a dirty double-decker superburger???
yes, duders,
that IS the new hottness for your face.
a toasted hard roll, with underchee' on the bottom piece.
duh.
that ISwhy it's called underchee' not overchee'.
the sandwich hierarchy has a place for ever ingredient.
c'mon, y'all.
get with it.
i got lots going on in this one-
pickles, pickled onions, a straight-up pan-seared seitan steak,
the crisp inner heart of red leaf lettuce,
and a homemade chickpea fatty-boombattie patty.
that's right.
a big big bigger bite of that business.
butter-fried to a medium-well mash of beige beany beauty.
sauteed shallots and garlic, parsley and basil, salt and pepper,
brown rice flour, xantham gum, soybean flour, olive oil,
and lots of hard-styled heavy-handed mashing,
until everything touched everything else.
mmmmmmmmm.
and it only made two burgers.
that's more'n a hill of beans, kids.
it's twin towers of power!
oh, wait-
they were short and stout, but they still turned it inside out,
and activated all sorts of hearty lead-belly barbarismo!
mmmmmmmmm.
one last one.
that's what i needed.
and i'm glad i did it too-
because YOU know what we rep up here in the woodsly goodness,
sittin' pretty in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress....
....you like it, because we live it-
too much is the right amount.
good enough isn't enough,
and there's always room for one MORE.
ka-BOOMfire.
that's the rules;
never quiet, never soft.....

closing out.

eight days a week, i love you.
eight days a week are not enough to show i care.
there's a certain beatlemaniacal sensibility to telling time
when there are invented events underway in the woodsly goodness.
that's a thing.
eight days of sandwich week?
expert.
but,
today is the ninth.
awwww, MAN.
it was big fun while it lasted, neighbors,
but this installment of our favorite Folk Life & Liberty food festival 
has wrapped up it's rolls, buns, and loaves,
to fulfill our dreamiest dreams and most gluttonous fantasies another day.
i'm sorry to see it end,
since i'm almost always in the mood for a sandwich,
but,
i certainly did enjoy my simple Tea'N'Toast breakfast today,
without the pots and pans and preparations
that've muddied my mornings since the onset of february.
yeah.
we went out on top, though, y'all.
check the final-night-delight-type teleport:

thai yellow curry tofu sandwiches!!!!
a soft ciabatta bun, already all oily and salty and brown-
toasted up just a bitty-baby-bit more, right in the pan,
and layered with cucumber slices,
bias-cut big diagonal shards of cool refreshing crawnch;
and thai basil leaves, all fresh and tasty,
lookin' all supersexy with their deep green goodness;
napa cabbage shreds, over that, because we love to get our vitamins,
and our nutrients, too, duders.
since we aren't ever reppin' eagle's eggs,
it's up to other other ingredients to doo-doo that vitaminimalist animalistic activation
all up in our bellyholes and progressive digestive juicemakers.
whoa.
that's real, too, i think.
anyway,
once the vegetable base was in place,
it was time to really get it poppin', people.
yes, indeed.
coconut crusted tofu, crispy and sweet on the outside,
with a black pepper bite that'll go hard all night,
and a firm but still tender tofu texture within, for another 'nother level
of foodstuff facestuffin' flavor and feeding-frenzy fury.
too much is the right amount.
that's why we overdo it,
and add all the super fancy unnecessary to it.
i like it like that, and i do what i want, and i make what i like...
,,,,and then i eat it.
what's up with that yellow curry sauce?
oh, man.
it goes to eleven, in a hurry, even.
red onion, poblano pepper, black pepper, garlic, and heat,
sauteing that dicy little debris until it practically begged me to deglaze it
with rice wine vinegar.
i granted that request, and took it a little farther-
sriracha, chili paste, turmeric, roasted cumin, ground mustard, g.p.o.p.,
cayenne, ginger, and a dash of salt.
mmmmhmmmm.
then it was ready to get a bath in coconut milk, and cilanntro,
so it could all soak up all that spicy, smooth, creamy new hottness.
yup!
and friends,
you KNOW that made the whole sandwich even MORE expert.
that's what's up around here.
sandwich week does not go out like a little b!tch,
at least, not while i'm around to say anything about it.
oh, yeah, with chopped cilantro sprankles,
and that sriracha rooster bleatin', beatin', and blastin' across the top bun?
c'mon.
it almost didn't need anything else.
rules is rules, however,
so i simmered up some cilantro-lime tempeh cubes,
and added 'em to a little mung bean, red onion, and cucumber salad.
there are jalapeno chips on the side, also,
for even more crunch and spice an' that.
if you weren't sure before,
i sincerely hope you're on board now.
all the things, interconnected, on one plate.
that's how you send off an eight-day week of worthy mealtime overindulgence.
and that's the way i live my whole entire life.
it's a tapestry of different threads, knotted and braided,
overlapping and woven through ins and outs and ups and downs.
from where i'm sitting, there's small squares of work to do,
but viewed from afar,
it's a big picture kind of a thing.
Folk Life isn't just living far away from everybody else-
i don't even know that that's a actually a requirement-
i DO know that it means being an active participant,
not only in our favorite things, but in everything our days deliver.
you see a gimmick, maybe, without gain, in eight days between bread,
but i see opportunities to expand my creative thinking,
and hone my skills at planning, preparing, producing, timing,
and describing the world as it unfurls from my fingertips.
it's magic, guys.
spellcasting,
from my hard-pressed, stressed, and compressed presto-digits,
spiraling outwards from thought into action.
it's ALL really happening,
and it's never just a sandwich.
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

chopped.

ho' sauce isn't enough,
and ketchup isn't either.
nor mustard, for that matter.
condiments aren't my thing.
it always seems like florida and condiments go together.
y'know?
sure, lots of people like those things,
but nobody any good.
so imagine my surprise when i added all of them together!
no, not florida, that's NEVER invited.
but all the rest of 'em, which i happened to have on hand.
(embarrasing)
even though i only had the highbrow condescending versions
of all the condiments normally used in a molto dirty southern sauce,
it all worked out in the end.
it's not the stuff i remember from twenty years ago,
but we're getting into something even better, if not altogether different.
that's right, i said it.
i'm committing a sacrilege just sayin' it,
but what do you duders know about northern winter vegan barbecue?
i figured.
no.
it's a thing.
and no, it's not brown baby ray's jar sauce, either, you big dummies.
c'mon.
it's its own thing, and it might be a new thing,
but when i need another dinnertime extravaganza?
northern vegan barbecutioner is what i become.
dirty pots and dirty fingers and a fork to pick up all the spillover on my plate,
on the ones, just for fun,
i'm steady reppin' some tangy spice-rubbed bbq, b!tches.
that's IT.
first off,
i roughly chopped some of my custom elite homestyle seitan up into strips
and threw those shreds onto a slow-cookin' pan of oil.
once they started to get juicy, with their water content dribbling to the outside,
i hit 'em up with that smoked applewood salt, and coarse black pepper,
g.p.o.p., chipotle powder, cayenne powder, oregano, and a sprinkle of soy sauce
and a splash of white vinegar to let 'em steam into those spices.
uh-huh.
once the flavors were all married into one heroic supersaturated sheen on that stuff,
it was time to activate phase two.
yeah.
it's a multi-step procedure.
ho' sauce, liquid-smoke-infused ketchup, and whole grain mustard,
and a heavy blast of smoky hot paprika, with just a smidgen of brown sugar, too.
neighbors,
if you can't hang out with that much hottness,
you're definitely not ready for the whole sandwich.
check the saturday-night-fever-type teleport:

ka-BOOMfire.
a pan-browned poppyseed kaiser roll,
loaded up with all the fixin's.
yup.
did i simmer down a brace of tempeh bacon strips?
i sure did;
and they're on there, adding more smoky-sweet meaty vegan protein to the party.
mmhmmm.
completing the stacked stack of smokestack-attackin' action,
there are pickles,
and blackened poblano pepper strips,
and raw red onion rings for even more tangy, spicy, crunchy bite.
then, juts to cool it off enough to keep eating it as fast as you can.....
turbo-elite stone-cold-bottom-line coleslaw.
cabbage, red cabbage, carrots, pea shoots, radishes, and parsley,
vegenaised to a smooth and refreshing bite-after-bite bangin' fistful of salad.
yuuuuuuuup.
and then, to freak it off properly?
horseradish dijon mustard, kids.
i took that poor person sh!t,
and raised it up to untold expert tax-bracket elevations.
yup.
you know it had to happen.
there's only today left, anyway.
sandwich week is shuttin' down this evening,
and then it's back to whatever the F* i usually do.
awwwww, MAN.
it's always so hard for me to say goodbye.
i would much rather do what i do, harder and harder, forever and ever,
until i wear away into a ghost ring smoke ring of dyin'-tryin' warrior poetry.
that's no joke.
***********
until then, though,
i've still gotta eat breakfast, don't i?
yes.
and you KNOW what i'm having don'tcha?
yes.
a sandwich.
clearly.
check the last-breakfast-sandwich-type-teleport:

a toasted almost-everything bagel.
yep. almost everything.
they make whole wheat everything, and that's one more thing isn't it?
that's what I'M sayin', guys.
for real.
anyway,
fake bacon,
pan-fried so gently it didn't turn into the salty cardboard it is wont to do.
that's delicious,
and fortunate,
since i'd have eaten it regardless.
carrot peelin' strips, and grilled sweet onion on top,
covered over with romaine lettuce and pea shoots, to boot.
i'm eating well,
but i'm probably blarping out.
too much is the right amount,
but fat guts and schlampy butts aren't gonna win you any friends, are they?
i doubt it.
however,
i'm not going out on some peanut butter and jelly toast'wich jauns.
it can't happen.
i'm too deep into this sandwich week to drop off in the last lap.
that'd be pure crap.
i've got moves to make.
and i'll make 'em with aplomb, and drop 'em like bombs over my bellyhole.
that's the way it is.
also,
it's a snow day.
yet again.
and that means that the mysteries of the universe are converging,
for the next few days, according to the most reliable reports,
over the heads and hearts of our woodsly goodness.
the coincidences will be cultivated,
and then reaped.
the echoes of everything we imagine always return.
that's what echoes do.
duh.
and today, they're falling like snowflakes.
unfortunately, so are the snowflakes.
each one is unique, but all together, they're a bunch of A*-holes.
...as is usually the case;
never quiet, never soft.....

too short for too long.

shortbread!
it's so good!
crumbly, crispy, buttery, sweet golden goodness for your face!
i like it a whole bunch,
and i wanted it even more,
so i made it up and rolled out some balls, y'all.
then i smooshed the whole set of 'em down with the palm of my hand,
so that i'd get those good-lookin' cracked-edge cookie circles i was craving.
yep.
but that wasn't enough was it?
no way.
i mean, really, how could it have been.
i did more to them, in a sandwich style, of course,
because it's sandwich week, and those are the rules.
check the long-and-short-of-it-type teleport:

yum4tum, neighbors.
dark-chocolate crumbles, dissolved into cocoa-creme chocolate frosting?
it's a subtle, but elegant little note of textural sensitivity,
but it makes that squished out the sides on the first bite frosty creme
just that much more expert.
that's always a welcome addition to the treats world, is it not?
word up.
a goobieblop on top of swirly frosty hottness,
for even more of that sweet soft contrast.
but that's not enough.
it's never enough.
too much is the right amount.
that meant i absolutely HAD to get even more fancy.
that's the rules, duders.
so i did what was required.
and was that adding shaved curls of chocolate truffle?
yuuuuuup.
softly pressed on top for a sassy accent of cute little ribbony wrappin'.
awwww.
but,
there's more.
yep.
because i care about making treats.
ground bittersweet chocolate sprankles take the whole thing to eleven.
i do what i do.
it's a compulsion, not a passion.
otherwise,
maybe i'd bring it all to the wider waiting world,
instead of hunkering down in my stronghold in the mountains,
mastering the art of inaccessibility.
oh, wait.........damn.
***********
did somebody suggest a breakfast b.l.t. freestyle?
i could've sworn i heard that from somewhere.
maybe it was my own inner voice, gently influencing me to perform
up to it's expectation.
yes, my friends, that must've been it.
and when i say inner voice,
i hope you realize i mean my stomach, of course,
....not my conscience.
don't be dumb.
i don't ever listen to THAT A*-hole.
i s'pose i wanted to feel even fatter than usual,
and it worked like a charm.
thanks bellyhole, for another 'nother blarpity breakfast sandwich.
teleport:

fried tofu,
red leaf lettuce,
little bitty cutie tomatoes, vegenaise, sprouts,
and baconical circles of dubious protean protein.
yup.
all on a toasted poopy poppyseed hard roll.
am i starting this day with shark-gluttony?
ew.
it's already done.
it's just that if it doesn't hurt at least a little tiny bit,
i can't really endorse it, professionally speaking.
overdoing it is the truth.
and i only tell true stories;
never quiet, never soft.....

posting up that paste.

i'm not tired yet, neighbors.
no. really,
i'm going along strong, and steady,
straight ahead,into the future,
with no discernible signs of fatigue as far as the mission is concerned,
y'know?
oh, c'mon, guys,
don't be dumb-
i'm on a mission, like a two-fisted missionary,
single-handedly filling all the available positions at the fire.
a one-man juggernaut of pots and pans and knives and forks,
barreling through bread and butter like bricks and mortar.
yup.
i'm recharged after every expenditure of energy,
by bite after bite of these expert radical vegan eats, OBviously.
i doo-doo that munch-up-on-it-a-little-bit-style freaky sh!t.
real talk.
haha.
yup.
and there's still MORE.
sandwich week is not for quitters, kids.
for sure.
i mean, at a minimum,
we're still talking about making sixteen different sandwiches,
sometimes more than one of each,
and that's if we're skipping lunchtimes.
assuming there's get-busy business to bustle up and hustle down on.
if you aren't about the commitment, that's your business,
but if you're an active participant with warrior spirit and creative juices
lubing up the thought process and your salivary glands.
then that's OUR business.
mmhmm.
last night,
after a laaaaaaaaate start to my workday,
and a fairly disorderly schedule of tattzappin';
with very little pre-planning;
a lot of unwelcome micromanaging;
financial advice and fiscal demands from folks
who really should count their blessings before they count their money;
and a trip to the mutha-'ucking grocery store.........
i finally got started on dinner.
damn.
hard styles are made of minor inconveniences multiplied over short spans of time.
that makes for grumpiness when you've got a powerful hunger.
and cooking grumpy tastes funny.
not funny 'ha-ha', but more like doo-doo buttery.
i can't hang out with that, at ALL, so i turned down.
for what?
for a better tasting dinner, dummy.
boom.
don't worry, i got turn'd back up as soon as the food processor started churning.
hmm?
oh, yes, my little buddies,
i blended up some pesto, like a real g-darned green-eyed monster.
jealous?
you should be, because it tastes F*ing rad.
check the teleport:

yeah!!
underchee' on the bottom of that italian bread.
i beat up 3/4 of a loaf, all by my lonely last night.
that's right. i shark-glutton big-bite barbarian'd my way through
almost one entire loaf, olive-oiled and pan-toasted,
because i eat my feelings.
and then i melt 'em down, and spit 'em out like hot fire and magma.
caustic words and dragon's breath are the result of that spicy pesto, people.
a mountain of basil, half a bulb of garlic, a bunch of scallions,
almonds by the sliverful, nootch, salt, pepper,
and olive oil glug-glug-glug-a-lugged until it all smoothed out.
holy sh!tballs, y'all.
it's strong on flavor.
like powerlifter-strong,
and it lifted my spirits considerably.
that's the way it should be.
too much is the right amount, when it comes right down to it.
grilled leeks and sliced vine-ripened tomato circles?
you feelin' it?
those leeks have just enough bite and smooth oniony sweet
to really add that special something to the party.
that's half a block of nootch and black pepper crusted exxxtrasuperfirm tofu.
yup.
one solid slab of seasoned soybean superiority.
heavy-duty burly giant-sized appetite-sating sustenance.
soft inside, crispy outside, and so much of it, there's no use wasting time-
you'll need an extra minute to mow down this monstrous meal.
i took two extra sixty-second spans,
since it was really a second helping of hottness, all on its own.
yikes.
i needed to fill up the tanks with sandwich fuel.
yeah.
we can't have fatigue weighing us down when we're making more
and more, and MORE of these self-imposed weeklong extrapolations.
can we?
no way, man.
i even hooked up that napa cabbage and kale salad,
with mini cucumber circles, radish half-slices, and tomato domes,
tossed around in white balsamic vinegar and olive oil,
for a little roughage rough stuff , to offset the smoothness of that sandwich.
smart.
*
these days,
in the cold, and the wind, and the snow,
there's something sort of anxiety-inducing about donating a portion
of my preoccupied brain to menu-preparation in among the thoughts
and interactive interface-to-face times that take up so much of my daylight hours.
it's pensive and expensive to look ahead while there's already
so much all always really happening, right this actual very moment,
demanding constant attentive vigilance and diligence and direct action.
participating in right now is good for you,
but that leaves then and there unready for whatever comes next.
chess boxing, kids, on that shaolin and wu-TANG jauns, is what's needed.
anticipation and awareness,
foresight, insight, and objective projective progressive thinking...
three two-part things at once- that's the way it usually is if you're truly ON it.
recognize-
whenever you're immersed in the moment,
there's still information and experience,
time and money,
spirit and memory to contend with, as parallel concurrent paths to real life.
holy sh!t.
good thing about the sandwich power,
or i'd be exhausted already.
today and everyday, this is it,
and it's an awfully awful lot;
never quiet, never soft.....

lookin' for love.

ha.
i hate when it's slow at work,
but i sort of love it, a little tiny bit, too.
i'm just sayin',
it's  sandwich week,
so my time at home in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
is spanned in the presence of a LOT of bread.
which is to say, there isn't much left over for making art these days.
so,
when it's not as busy as my wallet would prefer it to be at the studio,
me and my cheap-art coarse art supplies can sit down and get together
for a little tete-a-tete about weirdie heads and space suits.
that's no joke.
and with february in full swing by now,
we're approaching valentine time.
to sort of work myself up for that action,
i'm choosing wintry color palettes,
and adding just a bit of that lovey-dovey doo-doo butter,
in increasing increments,
so that i don't fall full-force into sappy b!tch-slappin' sap-sucking weak sauce.
hahahahaha.
i don't even know what that means.
but i do know that i made some small arts on a piece of paper.
check the teleport:

heart-eyes!
because that's how i look when i see sandwiches, neighbors.
for serious.
bat-faced skeleton jumper jauns?
yep.
i don't want to wait around for something to show up,
and i won't just do nothing...
and this little guy?
this is what comes out when i pick up a brush.
yikes.
and yes, before you start-
he'll be cut out and glued up on some other other stuff.
so nevermind about that blue blop on the side.
i just thought you'd like to know that it's all still really happening,
and i'm not getting lazy when there's opportunities to do so.
F* that, kids.
i've got too much to do,
and not enough time on my hands.
paint, brushes, bruises, and headaches-
that's what my non-sandwich situation looks like these days.
my chapped lips and dry hands can't keep up with the heat-sappin'
subzero sh!t-salad leaking into my life and limbs.
i think i need more food to fuel my furnaces.
shivering is no way to enjoy yourself, after all.
***********
more food?
yeah.
that's it.
like,
breakfast?
sure.
teleport:

ugh.
i'm only gonna give 'em a C+/B-.
awwwwww, man.
premade sausages, vegan roast, salsa, and radicchio.
english-type muffz toasted up enough to melt a splattering of daiya(rrhea) chee'.
food.
sandwiches.
good for me.
it's so cold, and they were so hot,
and that's really the best part of this day thus far.
a little spiced-up warm spot amid the overcast crap-shoot
of an arctic ghost circle echo of furious northern exposure.
too much is the right amount,
less than none is the opposite of that.
are you listening, ma nature?
put up some worthwhile degrees over here, baby.
enough of this deficit spending.
the temperature needs bolstering,
and foodstuffs stuffed between bread isn't going to be enough to do it.
this is it.
droppin' and plummetin' free-fallin' mercury.
today is the day,
and tonight will only be worse.
wow that's a hard style, and that's the truth;
never quiet, never soft.....