people and places and things.

treats!
yup.
more and more and more,
i find treat-making to be the best way to relax.
seriously.
i can't be unproductive and then feel any good about anything.
that's real.
so,
if i've gotta get busy to loosen up,
and there has to be results or i'm less relaxed than when i start,
then there's got to be treats.
plus, if i make treats,
then i get to have treats and that is expert.
besides,
the cucch was only here for a little minute,
and i couldn't send my bestest friend on earth downeast to work in maine
without a care package from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i mean,
c'mon,
what am i?
an A*-hole?
no way.
it wouldn't be right to slack off on the treats when my homepiece
is in town for a day or two, since treats are a hallmark
of fresh-to-death Folk Life active participation.
so we made treats.
because that's a thing.
check the beige-on-beige-on-beige-type teleport:

molto loco coffee coconut cookies.
neighbors,
they've got coconut flakes and coconut sugar and coconut flour,
and that's heavy duty hearty textural comin'-correctness....
but they've also got coffee crushed up in the crumb,
and coffee extracts (cut with vanilla) all up in the wet half of the dough.
they have a molasses-cookie consistency,
and a crawnchy outer shell, too.
mmmmmmmmmmm.
when it comes to making up some weird science withour exact measurements,
i'm ALL about the handfuls and the pinches,
and it seems to be working out overall, y'all.
like,
these cookies are pretty dope,
and that coffee icing with those coffee-infused toasted coconut sprankles
are only making them even MORE dope.
i mean it.
there's an overabundance of flavor, and that's a good thing.
after all,
too much is the right amount,
and that just means i'm doing it right.
yeah!
*
spring cleaning.
ugh.
a winter's worth of stuff,
piled high, bundled up, stashed in corners, spread out on every available surface.
yuck.
i'm definitely not a neat freak, duders.
however,
the increased light being allowed into my dusty windows is grossing me out.
i s'pose i'll need to start a big ol' cleansing campaign
in these fingerprint-stained walls.
i can see that i've really been preoccupied with any-and-everything else,
and now the rugs could use a good vacuuming,
it turns out, i might be 'sgusting,
and that's not cool at all, guys.
tell you what-
a few brownies, maybe a pan of tarts,
and i'll get all kinds of domestic within these wrecked rooms.
first things first, i'm preheating my oven.
i'll worry about where the vacuum might be hiding afterwards;
never quiet, never soft.....

p is for pizza, and for paulie.

the cucch!!!

yup.
don't pretend he doesn't look like a hun in that hat.
i know, right?
a real attila-type barbarian,
straight off the steppes.
hahahahaha.
this guy is my bestest friend,
my most solid, and stalwart, and staunch supporter,
my ace numero uno hetero lifemate,
my main man,
my broskimoski,
he's up here,
and we're spanning time,
and when we're both in the same spot,
you KNOW we're making a big ol' fat mess in the kitchen.
mmmhmmmm,.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress knows what's up when we
start in on some ovenly lovin' and dough-stretchin' dopeness.
the whole house seems more alive when good food is in the makin'.
that's real.
and what kind of good food are me and my dude all about?
pizza,
OBviously.
so what did we do?
c'mon.
what even are you?
some kind of an A*-hole?
don't be dumb, duders.
clearly, we doo-doo'd a two-pie eyeful,
and a heavy daiya(rrhea) reality for our butts and guts.
yikes.
we else would we, could we, should we do?
it's a rule,
and that's no joke.
we love that pee-eye-zee-zee-ayyyyyy!
check the tossed-and-embossed-type teleport:

wooooooooooooooord.
underchee' is the secret hottness from the future,
and it has changed the way i enjoy pizza forever.
bacon-style pink parts and caramelized onion,
with green onions, parsley, and smoked gouda?
smoked gouda?
it's pretty good-a.
definitely wetter, and also a bit better, than i would've expected.
we terrorized it in record time,
and sat digesting for a minute or two before this big baby was ready:

mmmmmmhmmmmm.
same ingredients, mostly,
with different chee' in different places.
not-zerella daiya on top,
but also all of that baconical onionized expert excellence on there, too.
two bigger than our usual, heavier-than-appearances-suggest pizzas,
for our faces,
shared in this cold cold northern wind tunnel,
with bestest buddies, and really real talk between us.
it made for a good night.
i have to say it, because i mean it-
i am grateful for the time i have been given.
the good parts are really good.
and that's saying an awful lot.
good enough is not enough,
so you can be positive i'm telling the truth.
(i do that)...
me and my peoples span time, break bread, share stories,
and keep our small, secluded, specialized woodsly goodsly Folk Life
with us wherever we end up.
that's what we do, and that's why it works.
the longest nights,
the coldest days,
the worst work,
the farthest distances,
not one of those, or any of the myriad other other hard styles is going to
take away what we keep protected on the inside.
no joke.
enduring is what we do,
and that's just the way it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

ethiopia.

neighbors,
it's ALL about the food.
that's real.
i should've written more yesterday,
but i was molto busy making pancakes.
mmmhmmm.
hahaha.
that's a thing.
but, anyway, there was more than just burritos and cake involved
in my trip down to my homeland, homies.
really,
i'm tellin' you-
after that adorable junior high-style play wrapped up,
and the curtain was surely stayin' closed,

i absolutely HAD to get with the traditional cheshire, connecticut 

consolation prize on a cone.

what?

c'mon,.

i took my ma, my father, my daughter, and my ride-or-die b!tch

out for those icy cream hottness jauns.

duders,

rules is rules, 

and when you're in that crackery-A* craptown.

there is only one totally expert way to span time.

yuuuuuuuuuup.

check the teleport:

emergency tofutti!!!

with those fancy sprankles.

word up.

that's that good thang, right there.

however,
there was a whole lot more food to get involved with.
and you KNOW i actively participate, don'tcha?
damned right i do.
so,
for my ma's belated berfday dinnertime,
late in the evening,
on a collegiate street-level downtown saturday night,
getting live down in dirty gun wavin' money-cravin' nueva haven,
we beat up a double plate, and a whole exxxtra side plate
of diapery doodieblops and glops,
straight outta the freaky-diki depths of my ethiopian spot.
check the teleport:

kaBOOMfire.
and there was MORE, obviously.
check out the other other other stuff:

diaper bread injera and alllllll those blops,
and a jazz pianist tickling the ivories all evening.
expert.
the piano was less headachy than you might suspect.
food, y'all.
i love it.
and that ethiopian earth-toned pretty tony supreme clientele action
is the ultimate late night indulgence for people who know about what's good.
.....and me and mine know about what's good.
that's the truth.
*
negative degrees, every damned day,
and poor scheduling,
and poor people,
and petty individuals and petty situations that my crew goes through.
it's all hard styles,
and all of it is really happening.
if it was easy,
then it wouldn't be choosing the wrench, though, would it?
killing me softly,
and slooooowly,
despite my loud fresh hardness-
one wrench is all it takes,
and even the most well-oiled machine is wrecked;
never quiet, never soft.....

roundtripping.

connecticut.
that's where i went,
that's where i was,
and it's even where i'm from,
albeit no longer even kinda where i'm AT.
school play jauns were in full effect,
and that meant heading down to the southern extremes of new england,
in the snow and rain and lameness of highway lanes and windy,
awful faux wintertimes in early spring.
it sure wasn't like this last year, duders-
that's no joke.
everything was worse, except the play,
which was way better.
i did a whole lot of driving, neighbors.
like,
a whole holy helluva lot,
back and forth,
to and fro,
over and over and over.
and i saw that drama unfold, or comedy, or musical,
or whatever,
and i watched my daughter maple prance around like a pied piper.
for real.
teleport:

awwwwwww.
there was dancing and singing and all the sorts of voice cracking
early teen adolescence presence felt by every last person in the audience.
i mean,
seeing my kid all confident and happy was totally expert.
c'mon.

did my heart leap a little?
it did.
was i all emotional?
i was.
proud papa sh!t was at a year-to-date record high,
and that was good.
y'know what else was good?
the 'hood chipotle in hamden, ct.
well,
it wasn't good, actually, at all...
but daaaaaaamn there was a whole lot of it.
check the triple-wrapped-type teleport:

oooooooof.
and guys,
do i like poopy guacamole?
nope.
but,
was there about a pound of it?
uh-huh.
and even though it costs exxxtra,
that's still a huge loss on those margins.
yikes.
that's a monster burrito, on every level-.
with over-serving at every station, and way-out of proportion portions,
it was as big as my head,
and they had to call the master wrapper out from the back to come roll it up.
that's a thing.
it wrecked my whole b-hole,
and also, my other other b-hole.
bellies and butts and burritos, all at once.
the hardest part was that it wasn't that great,
but we ate 'em all up anyway.
ew.
in fact,
it got such a bad review,
and not just because of the dirty doo-doo buttery urban atmosphere,
(that guac' was butt-nasty, y'all)
we had to hit up a whole 'nother 'nother spot,
this time in new hampshire, for a little wrap-slap redemption.
....and it was waaaaaay better the next day, in the good spot.
and even though it was still huge, (double-wrapped, obvi)
it couldn't compare to the massive monstrosity i mashed into my mouth on saturday.
anyway,
check the teleport:

boom.
road trips are for gluttony,
and i'm salt-bloat fat like a balloon of blarp.
yuck.
*
my daughters are good kids,
and they're a lot of fun to be around.
my ma and my father are good, too,
and we had some cake with 'em.
(that cake was the TRUTH)
there was a lot of traveling within the three cities we stayed in,
all of it to get more food.
that's the stuff.
a thirty six hour round trip feast.
with family togetherness and good times for everybody,
in between car rides;
never quiet, never soft.....

cooked.

chocolate,
peanut butter.
oatmeal.
coconut.
expert.
that's right, neighbors.
i put a stick of butterish;
a few glugs of soymilk;
a handful of chocolate chips;
half a jar of peanut butter;
vanilla;
a cup of sugar;
and a quarter cup of cocoa in a pot,
and melted all of it together into a big ol' tarry sludge.
ew?
no way!
that's just the half of it....
there's a whole lotta oats and coconut waiting in a bigger bowl,
and when they meet each other?
a super spell of sorcerously magical hottness
evolves both into something so much better,
like a voltron pokemon of cooked foodstuffs.
mmmmmhmmmmm.
and you know i can't let it go at that, right?
right!
so,
once it all sits pretty and sets up a bit beyond the chunky wet stage,
it becomes essential to maximize the activation,
and freak it off with a little somethin' extra.
you know what i mean?
no?
would you like to?
then check the no-bakes-three-ways-type teleport:

woohoo!
silicone molds are rad, and they are useful for all kinds of cool stuff.
in this instance,
flowers and hearts make the cookies so flippin' cute!
hahahahaha.
flowers of unmodified choco-p.b.-coconut goodness,
hearts with more and more chocolate on top,
and hand-formed circle jauns, with added coconut, for added textural complexity.
duders,
they all are expert in their own ways,
and i think you'll need one of each to believe me.
that's a thing.
*
connecticut, here i come.
there will be acting, and feasting, and so much driving.
this is the way the weekend unfolds.
i'm hoping for warmer weather in the blacktop paved tarscape of the nutmeg state's
inescapable suburban sprawlways and highways and traffic jamborees.
ew.
i'm gonna eat all the treats i've been missing out on,
and then,
when i can't fit any more?
yep.
i've gotta get myself another mouthful.
it's impossible to say the wrong thing if there aren't spaces for words to form
between bite after bite of every last tasty morsel in new haven county.
that's the truth.
i'm on a mission-
family togetherness,
responsible adulthood,
dutiful son sh!t,
fun vacation dad sh!t,
and shark gluttony.
this is how saturday unfolds;
never quiet, never soft.....

spring?

presently,
it's 4 degrees outside.
huh?
yes, above zero.
huh?
oh, really?
i'm being a baby?
awwwwww, man.
neighbors,
it's spring.
the ley lines and lateral motion and orbital trajectory of the earth
have all aligned to bring about a fifty-fifty split of light and dark.
yeah.
the bright side is as long as the downside,
and they're balanced precariously along a point in the midday that promises
to pivot us towards more day and less night.....
and while that cosmic circumnavigatory struggle unfolds
in the firmament of a far far bigger picture above and beyond us all,
it's still only four degrees out.
LAME!
also,
it's not just the vernal equinox.
nope.
it's also my ma's berfday.
yes, it is.
and the answer, to the beatles' song is yes.
hmmm?
oh, c'mon, duders, keep up.
the question is-
will you still need me, will you still feed me, when i'm sixty four?
...and here's the thing,
i'm going to see my daughter in a school play matinee tomorrow,
in the sappy crapslaps of connecticut,
but,
i'm bringing my ma a cake for her belated-by-one-day berfday,
and the ensuing sensational celebration.
yuuuuuuuup.
so, the answer is yes. clearly.
at the very least, i'll still feed you when you're sixty-four.
in fact,
it isn't just some budget store-bought box-mix sh!tsmear sheet cake i'm bringing.
i mean, c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
don't be a turd.
we're talking about the activation that only happens in the well-loved oven of
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, and that is never anything but expert.
you'd do well to believe that.
but if it isn't some phoned-in doo-doo gesture,
then what IS it?
well,
it's a fresh baked a ball of sunshine,
covered in sparkly yellow happiness,
and sprankles.
don't believe me?
check the teleport:

see??
lemon on lemon on lemon on lemon on lemon.....
so much lemony sweet sugar cakey hottness,
especially to bring that warm feeling to these cold northern lands.
there's lemon juice, and lemon extract, and lemon pudding IN the batter-
there's lemon zest, and lemon oil, too.
and that goes double for the frosting.
ha!
three shades of lemony colormatch swatches for those frosty citrus-spiked
butterycreme goobieblops that edge up and hem in all the cakey crumble within,
and zest and yellow sugar crystals for that little something exxxtra.
i know about cake.
i also know about other other kinds of cake, too.
teleport:

i wake up, and i get busy.
and that includes treating myself to panniecakes when spring is on the calendar,
but winter is in the air.
mmhmmm.
*
today promises to be a blur of tattzaps and logic traps,
with plenty of endurance and stamina checks and balances.
how much of the blithering babble of the folks i work with will it take
before the berserker barbarian battle-beast emerges,
and there's a rupture in the lively and spirited snarky smugness,
where all the animal animosity and bestial belligerence i hold back,
as their innocuous but inane banal blather instigates barely-in-check
savage stormswept raging werewolf fury?
it's a question i ask myself every single day.
am i building an immunity to their driveling sniveling mealy-mouthed mutterings
at exactly the rate that they increase the dosage of nattering chatter?
jeez.
it's spring, but i'm hoping that it isn't today that i become uncoiled.
haha.
i guess we'll find out what else today is the day for as it progresses.
it's all really happening,
berfday, equinox, bludgeoning-
this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....

fleeting.

...feels like -9 degrees fahrenheit.
yep.
that's what the weather report says.
i say it feels like somebody is F*ing kidding me.
this is it, neighbors.
for real.
today is the day-
the last day of winter,
and it's going out like a frozen tundra turd,
whipped apart by a swirling sh!tstorm of whirlwind.
ugh.
i can't hang out with this sort of arctic deactivation,
or at least,
i've had my fair share, and then some, of this brutal b!tchbag of a winter.
that's no joke.
northern new england was colder than alaska?
colder than iceland?
WTF?! it's called ICEland, duders.
c'mon.
we win for suckiest,
and we even set some sort of records for worst one yet.
nicely done, ma nature-
you always win,
but thanks so much for really putting the insult on top of the injury this year.
the wind was such a gusting bustout yesterday that people were wearing ski-masks
whilst ambulating along the sidewalks, with zero sense of fashion consciousness,
and a bone-bitten awareness of the knife-edged frostbite incising all exposed skin.
i'm just sayin',
it sucks a whole bunch when you're out walking anyway,
but it super sucks when you're gonna lose body parts while you do it.
yuck.
i was so enraged at the moving air blowing in changes and answers
that i really didn't know what else to do with myself...
so i baked up a bunch of treats,
and let my oven add ambient thermal units to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
uh-huh.
the kitchen was a hotbed of activity,
but it never really got hot.
instead,
the wind pressurized the thermal panes of my picture windows,
and pulsed along the seams and sills, so that the whole massive mansion
was a vacuum of bass-boosted airstreams and sub-sonic sh!t-salad.
yep.
the thrum, throb, and thump of air wishing it wasn't suck an A*-hole,
or maybe basking in it's A*-holery,
had my whole house pulsing like the icy heart of a frost giant.
damn.
that's a hard style.
so, i spent most of my day bundled up and shivering anyway,
but,
i got the treats poppin',
and i finished off my breakfast bloxxx first thing this a.m.,
for a feast of tea and bananas and bread.
mmmhmmmm.
check the cinnamon-sugary-type teleport:

wooohoooo.
cranberry walnut baby banana bread blocks.
expert.
cinnamon and nutmeg;
vanilla and brown sugar;
toasted black walnuts;
diced dried cranberries;
soy yogurt;
oatmeal, and of course, bananas.
boom.
*
i don't know what y'all are up to,
but i'm stuffing my face full of square delights.
it's a good way to start up a last day,
and a very energizing addition of nutrients to the final breakfast
of this woodsly goodsly season of wintry discontent.
...yup.
-
...oh,
and did i mention i became a furnace repairman last night?
uh-huh.
my usual method of total overreaction,
and the inevitable application punch-kicks didn't fix the problem (surprisingly),
which forced the intervention of cooler heads and deductive reasoning.
it was getting so unpleasantly cold in here
that i felt the boiling point inside me was going to be reached
even as the temperature dropped steadily in proportion
to the plummeting darkening doo-doo buttery frozen airflow from without.
ew.
i used my brain, however, and systematically activated all the possible combinations
or switches, levers, toggles, and controls,
until i got it right, ad got it going all over again.
what was the reward for all of that rugged interaction,
and objectional interjections of ornery homeownery troubleshooting?
a warm homestead, for starters,
and also, amber made me some stir fry.
and that was good.
teleport:

mmmmmmm.
a full belly of warm food,
and a hot stove throwing a little extra fire my way?
F* you, ol' man winter,
and moreover,
why don't you stop with the overstaying of your welcome?
time's up.
it's over.
get to steppin'.
hit the road.
pound sand.
go away.
this is it, kids,
the last day, and with no end in sight, it's realy just another day.
just like every other one.
hard, long, cold, bitter, broken, and brutal.
the deceptive brightness of the hour belies the absolute zero of infinite space.
thanks for that, winter;
never quiet, never soft.....

boiling.

duders,

i'm about that boily d.

yep.

what?

oh,

you were busy getting tuned up last night?

lame.

i was busy boiling up all those tuberous roots,

and getting fresh with marinated corned wheats an' that.

no, really.

i boiled up all those bits,

and cabbage wedges, too,

but here's the big shocker-

non-alcoholic exxxtra-hopsy clausthaler beerishness.

yep.

that's the main constituent of my broth, neighbors.

with bouillon, and salt, and black pepper, 

horseradish dijon mustard,

and all those juices from all those different veggies.

mmmhmmm.

i can't do just potatoes, carrots, and cabbage.

that's just not enough.

i like more, i want more, i NEED MORE.

and anyway,

more is better,

and too much is the right amount, right?

right.

so, with that in mind,

check the sober-saint-patrick's-day-type teleport:

i'm on that boiled dinner: omega level activation. 

nevermind about that parsley garnish,

or that dollop of radish'd slaw on the side...

let's focus on what's more important, by far-

for instance,

what about that buttermilk irish breakfast-style black tea soda bread?

guys,

it's expert.

i mean, c'mon-

we all need a heavy hunk of hot crumbly tea-leaf-speckled, 

tea-steeped big action excellence, with custom black tea-infused 

scalded homemade vegan buttermilk,

(with curdling agents of the lemon and vinegar variety, and whipped olive oil)

for a superfresh custom dippin' triangle perfect for all that juicy juiced-up stew.

word.

it does go well with that corned beige protein leprechaun jauns, too.

yep.

i've got a marinade i use for soaking all the right flavors into that roast, 

and that tempeh,

that i use in place of beef, bro.

haha.

i do, though, and it seems to work out well.

mustard and onion and garlic, celery seed, tamari, black pepper, coriander,

horseradish, red pepper, white wine vinegar, red pepper flakes, smoke,

and heat, to marry all those flavors into one well-regulated barbarian bath

that the 'meats' can absorb while i'm away at work an' that.

and then i braise 'em in a little tiny bit of that soupy stuff, 

to brown 'em up and make 'em better.

teleport:

this time around i glazed the seitan/cashew roast,

and i smoked-paprika sauce'd the tempeh.

it's a nice touch, for serious.

and i got that whole grain mustard, charcuterie-style, for even more flavor. 

mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

i love food, and what's more,

i LOVE making sh!t i couldn't hang out with when i wasn't vegan,

and upping the ante on a full-house of new improvements.

yikes.

really, though, friends....

that vegetable stew had it poppin'.

teleport again:

what's in there?

potatoes, carrots, parsnips, turnips, sweet potatoes, celery, 

sweet onion, leeks, jerusalem artichokes, and cabbage, sliced into sixths,

with the center intact, for that sweet-lookin' wedge effect.

yeah.

it all goes great together,

and all of it went right down the hatch as a warm, and comforting starchy

sleeping potion.

yeah.

it wasn't a light and fluffy meal,

but it was a delicious one.

***********

i enjoy having reasons to celebrate stuff.

i remember all the days, and dates, and times, 

for commemorating meaningful events and experiences.

that's right,

i doo-doo that sappy sentimental sh!t.

firsts, lasts, bests, worsts, all of it.....

it's all worth knowing, and it's all worth remembering.

i'm 0% irish, but i'll get busy with a boiling pot of hot.

hell,

i'm 0% druid, but you KNOW i'm about to celebrate the equinox.

rules is rules,

and one of 'em is that there's always a reason to celebrate

just like there's always room for improvement.

you can't have the sweet without the bitter,

but you can't have the reverse either.

it's all really happening,

and it will all have to continue to,

because i have so many groceries i need to cook up;

never quiet, never soft.....

luck o'.

happy saint patrick's day, neighbors.
a whole day of potatoes and drunkenness and boiled sh!t.
expert.
ummmm,
wait.
there will be no alcohol in the Folk Life & O'Liberty McFortress today,
nor any other other day, for that matter-
you may not be aware, but i assure you
it's okay not to drink.
moreover,
it's a whole holy helluva lot less F*ing lame when you aren't
feelin' the green beer buzz of a saint paddywhacker.
really.
but, despite the uninebriated excellence of a sober celebration,
there will absolutely still be potatoes, and boiled sh!t.
mmmhmmm.
rules is rules, always.
and besides,
it's also a snow day,
and that means there are an awful lot of possibilities brewing away
under the cloudcover.
there is a low likelihood of pot o' gold rainbow leprechaun jauns,
but a very high rate of cake eating.
huh?
yep.
you know i made holiday treats.
don't be dumb.
check the blarney-from-kilarney-type teleport:

irish cream cakes,
sans bailey's but plus coffeecreme frosting.
a vegan heavy creamchee' and sourcream crumb,
moister than cuchulain's crotchal puffs, kids.
yikes!
did i just interject some pagan red branch business in with our favorite
holy roman busybody's snakecharmin' shillelagh stuff?
wordimus prime, duders,
you know how we get down.
and on the really real-
it IS legitimately delicious, despite that description,
so much so that i'm about to eat another 'nother one.
mmmm, creamy.
it doesn't hurt one bit that there's so dang much coffee-extractive activated
whipped-up frosting, in white and green holiday-appropriate
seasonally accurate site-specific sexxxiness for your face.
woooooooooooooooord.
not to mention, i took it to eleven right away,
when doused 'em with a buttload of two types of kelly-colored sprankles.
yeah!
treats are a thing when holiday times are in effect.
and i LOVE holidays, guys.
like, so hard.
***********
tattoos all day,
boiling roots all night,
and treats in between.
with ice and snow coming down,
and a journey over to the accountant added in?
damn.
it's a full day before it even begins,
and since i'm clearly in full swing, it seems even fuller, somehow.
ew.
there's more to do than there are hours to do all of it in,
and that's the way it always seems to be.
too much is the right amount,
but time is not correctly included in that equation.
i'm rushing around,
and i'm wearing green,
and i've got luck and labor, smilin' eyes, and a kissable mouth
all lined up for an overdose of doo-doo doings and buttery breads....
it's all really happening,
and it's all too much for me to take in in one sitting;
never o'quiet, never mcsoft.....

afterwards.

those ides of march, neighbors...
they're never all that great.
this time around, however, despite my wariness,
i gave in to world-weariness, and let 'em unfold along a seriously
cesarean pathway from within to without and back again.
those damned ides were a real sunovab!tch.
a sh!t-salad smorgasbord, in fact,
of late nights and lame business,
cramped hands, sore backs, and so many, many necktards
camouflaging their way across the normal business hours
and then some, of my sunless sunday suffering.
ew!
and it was a snow day, too.
damn, that made it an even harder style. y'know?
mmhmm.
i guess the only anythings that could've happened were all crappy things.
...and they ALL really happened.
yuck.
there was one tiny bright spot, however.
and i made it all by myself-
since i was already at work all day anyway, early and late,
i took those tiny minutes before and after the doo-doo butter of a tough
schedule full of conversationally-averse intellectually unequal adversaries,
and i busted out my crafty crap paints to finish what i'd started earlier in the week.
yep.
you can't let a stacked and stocked docket of inescapably unpleasant,
unassailably awful awkward introverted A*biscuits take over
and take up all of your time for themselves.
there has GOT to be something worthwhile tucked in there for you.
yesterday, for me,
in those small snatches of space and time that i secreted away,
it was robot skull mouse monsters.
that's right.
check the teleport:

yeah!
fleshy skulls and extra robobotronic red orbs,
that pinky squiggler of a tail,
all of that toothy grinning,
and those eyes.
it's not a feast,
it's not a treat,
but,
it IS another 'nother way i actively participate in the makey-makiness
of my own private Folk Life.
i'll maybe even make some background elements-
it depends on where my open spots and glimpses of work-UNrelated imagery
all happen to be located over this next week.
uh-huh.
there's plenty going on at the same time that all the preoccupying poop
is comandeering my attentions and attenpting to attenuate my connections
to the whole-hearted honest hottness that woodsly ghoodsly warrior poetry
is primarily composed of.
there are no good reasons to be a lazy layabout,
and as such,
i can't hang out with that, at all.
i've got moves to make,
and time to take,
and so many surfaces to mar up, mark down,
and make into so much MORE.
this is it,
and it's still happening, even right this very moment;
never quiet, never soft.....

ganache panache.

cake, neighbors.
yeah, that's right, cake.
all that caked-up cakey cakiness,
and some frosting,
and maybe a knife, too, i s'pose,
so you've got yourself a slice of awesome wedged-out and waiting
for your chompers to tear into it, and munch it up just a little bit.
mmmmmmmmm.
F*ing cake.
it's pretty expert, if you like things like that.
y'know?
yes, you do know,
and i'm glad you're here with me right now,
so we can talk about what happens when you curdle-up and buttermilk
(as a verb) some almond milk with apple cider vinegar and lemon juice.
huh?
oh, for sure,
it sounds pretty 'sgusting, but it makes the batter better,
and not bitter, and not vinegary, just lighter and softer an smoother all at once.
cake, y'all.
i'm on it.
and i'm trying out new variants just for fun.
mmhmm.
i'm on some experimental additive jauns over here in the kitchen laboratory
of my Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's real.
creamchee' and vegan sour cream in place of eggs?
heck yes.
those white delights add all sorts of soft texture,
and they've got that acid activation that whips in so much fluffffffffff...
if i learned anything from my pancake times in the mornings,
it's that sour makes for sweet treats when you doo-doo that freaky sh!t the right way.
tell you what,
check the ring-of-doom-type teleport:

concentrated concentric wu-TANG circles on that 36 chambers style of hottness.
word.
vanilla cake, with almond flour in it, and all that other other stuff, too.
it's seriously got the texture of a pound cake's ghost.
i mean it.
it's heavy, but it isn't that kind of heavy.
annnnyway,
there's dark chocolate almond ganache drizzled in stripey spokes across the top,
and plastered around the outer rim, like a belt of bangin' betterment.
i'm just sayin',
it holds in all the moist, and it adds on all the flavor.
of course, that's not enough, though, is it?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
obviously, there needs to be MORE.
too much is the right amount,
and that means we're fancy-pantsing the rest of it with two kinds of frosting.
wait....
ganache and frosting?
yup.
why would i do just one, when both is clearly better?
right?
that's what's up.
vanilla full-fat betterthanevercreme frosting gets extra butterish and a splat of creamchee'
and then gets the long-stroke whipping of a lifetime laid down,
until the sugary peaks are perkier than seems possible.
that's the big-ticket hottness, for serious.
but,
with cocoa and almond essence added in?
yeah.
it goes to eleven.
hard.
how would i know?
teleport:

...because i had a big slice, b!tches!!!
kaBOOM!
so we've got dark chocolate strips and stripes,
as well as a girdle of gigantic flavor wrapped around the perimeter,
and then we're totally indulging in color-switch flavor-flipped two-tone frosting,
in alternating patterns and colors, ringing around the ring of round cakey goodness.
THAT'S the big action,
and that's the way it has to be.
one thing about ring cakes, though-
they take a while to bake.
maybe that's all that vegan wetness sloshing around,
maybe it's the deep-dish center resisting all that ovenly warmth,
maybe it's just that good things take time.....
i dunno why, exactly, but i know it took all the time it needed,
and paid off a fat jackpot of baked greatness in the final lap.
*
i'm a fancy decorator, sort of.
i'm a professional appreciator, always.
i'm even kind of a hard-hearted hater when it comes to right action,
active participation, worthy warrior spirit, and weak-sauce weasels
furtively and filthily sneaking around the honorable course of action.
is that weird?
i hope not.
do you understand what i even mean?
no?
ok, let me explain-
fighting fire with fire makes sense if you're controlling a burn path,
but fighting sh!t with sh!t is just plain gross.
just be dope, or F* right off is the cardinal rule, kids.
and any and all ploying, plying, cloying crap can't be tolerated.
that's not worthy, that's lazy.
y'know how you get better?
you work harder and do more, and then try even harder,
and endure through all the doo-do butter.
more importantly, you don't cheat to win.
i am not above feeling the frustrations of facing unfairness,
but,
and this is the thing of it, when the dust settles and the smoke clears-
at work, at play, in love, and at war,
rules is rules-
stay ugly and stay dope-
the truth is always ugly, and being true is always dope-
that's the way it is,
and if you can't be a part and party to participation in that particular activation?
you've just gotta F* right off.
principles aren't negotiable,
otherwise, they'd just be called guidelines.
it can be cake-baking or working or friendship or romance,
plan your work, and work your plan.
it's the hardest style, and it counts the most.
there are an endless number of reasons to cut corners and shyst-out
on the full-blown big action. but none of them will ever excuse it.
black and white, objective, definite, and absolute.
just be dope, or F* right off.
ask yourself what you're all about.
then ask yourself what side of the line it falls on.
if it isn't dope?
get back on track,
or get the F* outta here;
never quiet, never soft.....