zapped.

strength-sapping zaps of tattoo magic, in massive megadoses?
mmmhmmm.
i woke up tired from yesterday, and i was only doing it,
i can't imagine being the one getting it done.
actually,
i zipped and zapped all damned day on just one duder,
and he'll be back again for a whole other other 'nother section of
suffering skin-slashing rashy abrasive behavior TODAY.
yup.
my buddy beau is on a mission,
and i guess that means i am, too.
we're spanning time in the tattoo studio,
and we're terrorizing his arm two days in a row.
ouch.
but,
the first session is over, at least,
and we're down to smaller spots in sh!ttier sections this afternoon.
one more long day, wrapped up and under wraps.
boom.
and in the longer history of big action and small details,
not to mention epic heavy metal medieval narrative,
today is also going to be the day, neighbors.
i didn't finish what i started, but definitely not for lack of trying.
that's the bad news.
the good news?
check the teleport:

ka-

-boom-

-fire.
...and this guy:

halcyon days, indeed.
right in the swollen, soft skin of  the ditch.
yikes.
a wayward bleary-eyed black-tear-droppin' kingfisher,
watching over the devoted deathstroke of a witch-king warrior poet,
tethered to a war-god ram spirit,
and wearing some sexy armor.
that's what's up.
the bird is a nice touch, though.
and while we're on the subject-
what's up with laughing kookaburras, kids?
they're related to kingfishers, it turns out.
(you can tell by the beak.)
the thing is,
nobody was laughing when nobody would sing the kookaburra song.
i guess they're shy?
i don't know it, but i want to.
and i don't know  why a kingfisher is watching a lich-king of men plunge
his own stag-antlered sword into his chest.....
i s'pose it has something to do with an immortal soul-phylactery?
probably.
all y'all D&D haters can't hang out with me when i'm like this.
and that's fine, too.
i'm deliriously tired,
and the sun hasn't been out in days.
it's dark, it's wet, and it's cold.
and what's more,
there's LOTS more of all of this really happening al over again today.
it's a belated groundhog day of repetitive stresses,
but,
it's already underway, and there's no getting away from it.
as often as not, there's a a wrench patiently waiting to tighten up, loosen up,
or just generally F* up your whole day.
more of this, right and left and up and down.
that's all;
never quiet, never soft.....

420.

ugh.
gross.
four-twenty.
today is the day.
all day.
that's the worst.
yep.
the two lamest coinciding events falling on the same day?
...and it's kinda rainy, too.
a series of unfortunate instances,
culminating in a day that only doodieheads from the far ends
of the full spectrum of awful A*-holes are excited about.
nope.
not cool.
it's hitler's berfday and herb smoking.
weak sauce waterbabyism and the worst kind of whiteness are in full effect.
that's today
for serious,
i can't hang out with stonery bullsh!t at all, y'all.
it's just not my thing, y'know?
i'm a whole lot more into really real life,
and an unadulterated unaltered state of being and keeping it real.
we aren't inviting any high points, on any level.
that's no joke.
damn.
so,
smoking weed isn't on the menu, not today, nor any other day,
or ever, actually,
because worthy warrior poetry isn't composed of euphoria.
and it sure as heck ain't about that nappy nazi fast and fuhrer-ious F*-ery.
it's the paean of active participation with honed hands and hawk eyes-
the saga of sharpened wits and pointed teeth;
the bigger, louder, faster, harder hottness for your face.
and it also relies pretty heavily on chocolate.
mmhmm.
chocolate is good for you.
and that's where we're at.
nevermind about the date,
disregard the marijuana mendicants,
wipe away the worthless white power poop,
and instead get busy with some chewy chunks of chocolate.
yeah!
i think that's a better idea, don't you.
word up.
check the cookie-zone-type teleport:

yup.
chocolate drizzles on top, chocolate chips in the middle,
and ground-up chocolate dissolved inside each and every bit.
plus,
they're multigrain jauns, friends.
yep.
i know,
that's silly.
but there's all kinds of grainy goodness going off-
flax, millet, quinoa, amaranth, rye, barley, wheat, rice, triticale, oats;
and also coconut, and brown sugar and raw sugar;
and two kinds of shaved chocolate-
deep dark bittersweet baking-style,
and smooth vegan milky silken belgian  sexxxiness, too-
instead of going traditional with just common cocoa as the big-deal brownifier,
i grated away at the greater part of two small but fancy bars
of solid, sweet, sultry, sensual chocolate greatness.
....and it was worth it.
ALL of that stuff is working together, like F*ing teamwork,
turning each singular sensational ingredient into those chunky
brown circles of super-expert treat activation.
wu-TANG.
*
i've got nothing else to do but eat cookies and tattoo.
that's the way today is going to unfold.
there's lots of work to do,
and lots of cookies to eat,
so i s'pose i'm prepared as best as i can be for whatever comes next.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

vegan fluffy.

what?!
is it true?
is it really happening?
indeed, duders.
it is a super sunny sunday morning in the woodsly goodness,
and a hungry breakfast-time manly bearded barbarian appetite
has awoken with a bear-sized burly powerful pull inside my stomach.
yup.
that calls for a well-rested munch-up situation,
lookin' extra-sexxy and going down easily like a time-and-date appropriate
sunday morning ease activation sensation.
umm, what does that mean?
duh, neighbors-
it means it's time to dominate some panniecakes.
obviously.
check the vegan-fluffy-type teleport:

yeah!
so tall.
so stacked.
so expert.
i'm lookin' to fix up a batch of the best ones yet.
maybe even the best ones ever.
i'm letting my pans preheat well in advance of any batter uppage,
and i think it's helping out a whole lot.
i'm letting all the ingredients sit together in a span of time that allows all the
rising powers to get fully underway,
and lets all the flour relax and advance into a whole 'nother level of excellence.
i really like to eat panniecakes, kids.
for serious.
with that real maple syrup sliding around on top,
and buttery fattie boomboom business sizzling before i drop a hotcake like it's hot.
wordimus prime.
i get it poppin' when i make my breakfast plans, don't i?
that's right.
and you know they've got that fresh ground oatmeal flour up in 'em,
for hearty wholesome whole grain greatness in every bite-
and that unsweetened coconut flake jauns, too,
so that there's a touch of the superfancy unnecessary nuance to the big picture.
that's good for you.
.....no, really.
all kinds of double-sifted flour, and melted vegan butters,
and sour creamy soy stuff,
and buttermilked full-fat soymilky lemon juicy jumbled junk
all together and working towards high-rising pop-up cakey pan-heated hottness.
i'm sayin',
just LOOK at the median line where they cooked halfway at a side...
the thickness.
a hearty breakfast is essential for all the activities headed my way today.
i'm busy, guys.
like, really busy.
and just because i'm pretty psyched about my breakfast,
that doesn't let y'all off the hook when it comes to last night's dinnertime feast
of a batch of freshly ground garbanzo goodness.
uh-huh.
i had even MORE falafels, again last night.
you though it was all about that 'cake?
pysch....a.k.a: SIKE.
check the deep-fried-balls-type teleport:

BOO-ya, b!tches.
that's how you doo-doo that freaky sh!t, for sure.
and a whole other 'nother one, too:

yummmmmmmmmmm.
that thick-foldover pressure is real, friends.
teleport:

but, then again, i'm realllly good at it.
hahaha.
i'm all about bringing to eleven when it's time to represent.
too much is the right amount,
and this april will forever be recognized as the month of too many falafels.
which is to say,
it's kind of the best month ever.
*
there's more work to get done than there is time to do it today.
i'm overbooked, and i'm feeling the pinch of a week of weak movie checks.
so, i'll do what needs doing, for as long as it takes,
for as long as there's sweet moolah to get gotten.
i'm about those riches.
and i'm about that crackery up-here rich-type life.
that's some sh!t, for sure,
but it's what's up.
steady reppin' my grind,
and seeking out a fat stack of loot to match my fat stacks of pancake.
that is all;
never quiet, never soft.....

feel awful? falafel....friday.

long days, neighbors.
three quarters full of tattoos,
and three quarters full of responsible adult obligations.
...wait a second, that's one and a half days' worth of time,
every day.
yup.
somehow, i've always got a heck of a lot going on,
even when there's not much on the schedule.
mmhmm.
the hours drag on forever, in the moment,
but overall, they still slip by too quickly.
hmm?
oh,
i don't get it, either.
but that's still a thing.
every day this week,
i've done as much as i can,
fitting spanned times and hard styles into the available hours,
but it doesn't feel like i'm accomplishing a dang thing at all.
plus,
every night this week, i've nodded off into sweaty, fretful nightmares,
in the odd hours i'm actually able to sleep.
...i'm serious.
it might be that circumstances have placed a spate of the least
conversationally, occupationally, and situationally compatible clients
in my tattoo chair at the studio....
really.
y'ever feel like everything you say is pure A*-hole,
even when you are asking relevant questions to the job at hand?
yikes.
(if you've ever been married, you might be able to relate)
anyway,
i'm carrying that stressball knotwork in between my eyes,
and whole other parcel of tension between my shoulders.
ugh.
the only spot that feels alright is my stomach.
that's right.
my guts are well-sorted and sated,
and there's no rumbling roughness to be detected
despite all the tedious turd-trampling workweek weakness i'm experiencing.
why, you ask, is that?
because last night was friday night.
and even though i did my dirt all by my lonely,
i really overdid it to eleven,
and i did it according to the calendar.
the calendar?
a friday where i'm already feeling awful?
uh-oh.
that calls for an alliterative assault on all the available activation.
y'know?
because rules is rules.
OBviously.
what happens next?
feel awful falafel friday.
check the teleport:

that's right, duders.
even more expert than ever,
because i need a little something good to happen every single day,
even if it's up to me to doo-doo that feasting-falafel-freshness-style sh!t.
mmmmhmmmmm.
toasted sesame seed sprankles this time,
...and pickled jalapenos in addition to the pepperoncinis,
and more red cabbage than average.
plus,
there are thinly mandolin sliced cukes under all that vegetation, too.
yuuuuuup.
and just look at how sexxy the foldover is:

c'mon.
that's one burly barbarian bundle of hottness, no?
yes.
and i let myself indulge in it because i've earned it really.
and i made it, too, so nobody handed me a damned thing, either.
that mammoth meal monster was filling and fulfilling in ways that the meager
and measly movie checks of these past days would never compete against.
however,
there was a little bit of extra room in my foodbox,
so i fried up a whole other 'nother batch of spicy balls, y'all.
that's it.
check the too-much-is-the-right-amount-type teleport:

and encore of more!!
and again,
when it gets doubled over,
it's molto impressive as well as massive:

fat.
on the inside.
that's me.
overdoing it is the only answer.
and that's the way i repay my efforts at the end of a long day.
*
it's been a real b!tchass blast of labor-intensive trials.
tedious tattoo times, with long stretches of awkward silence;
lightning-fast free times, fleeting by, and flickering out before they even start.
wide-awake night spikes of struggles and turmoil an' that-
i'm up three or four different times during the sleep cycle,
heart-racing and teeth clenched,
fists-balled and gasping for breath.
i've been fighting, tooth and nail, wrench and hammer, axe and dagger,
in my subconscious, all night every night.
when i close my eyes, all i see is conflict.....
...but all i taste is falafel.
y'win some, y'lose some-
it's all really happening,
except for the dreams.
those are pretend,
and for that, i'm grateful;
never quiet, never soft.....

cake baking.

square cups of cake.
uh-huh.
squares, blocks, cubes...y'know-
righteous right-angled rectangular round-frowning freshness,
for your face.
they're like cupcakes, without papers, but with corners.
i like the way they look,
i like to eat them,
and that's the truth.
what's up with today's treats?
well,
they're square, obviously.
mmmhmmmm.
and they're hearty, and a little heavy, and a whole lot of the hottness.
yup.
check the squares-of-derring-do-doo-doo-type teleport:

aw, yeah!
because a little brick of buttery barbarian brown sugar sexxiness
is always gonna be at the top of my to-do list.
oatmeal and brown sugar, hold the cinnamon, and add the vanilla?
that's what's up, neighbors.
i wanted something a little burlier,
and a smidge more substantial than some
ordinary everyday cake time.
it gets cold at night up here in the woodsly goodness.
april ain't for the sunny-side-lookers,
it's for the really-real hard-stylists.
that's a thing.
but,
when is treat time, and how is it almost all the time,
when there's never enough time?
i'm sayin'-
what goes on in my kitchen in the mornings?
ummmm, for starters,
there's usually Tea'N'Toast.
that's number one.
after that,
i F* with that cakey business until it's got enough goodness glommed together
to make even the most cynical suckholes say 'word up'.
word up.
a lot of frosting gets whipped up over here-
in this case,
a whole batch of chocolate, for the middle of each cake,
and the top, to hold onto a whole bunch of spring sprankles.
y'know,
to activate a little bitty bit more
of that springtime warm-up come-up jauns,
indeed,
a little pastel patch of pebbles is just what i wanted in each bite.
of course,
there's also a goobieblop of chocolate frosting on top of that,
and a cute little linzertorte leaf,
for that extra-extra eleven-style freaky sh!t.
treats are an important part of every day.
fact.
and the little extras,
like cookies and swirls,
are as integral to activating an expert day
as the hard grind of a movie-check chucking chunk of tattoo hours,
or a deliciously dope deluxe dinnertime.
all the pieces fit together,
and the small details are the linchpins in the big picture.
it all matters,
and it's all really happening.
the treats are good;
the weather is not;
the days are long;
the nights are longer;
the styles stay hard;
and time gets shorter the more of it there is;
never quiet, never soft.....

mexican miercoles.

wu-TANG wednesday,
world cuisine style.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i LOVE to get the big action underway,
and wednesdays are the days when i have the most time to do just that.
uh-huh.
if i know dinner is at 5:30,
three p.m. is when we get the big action started.
for real.
flavors aren't gonna marry into each other in just eleven minutes, y'know...
this week's hottness?
mexico-co loco beans on beans on beans.
yeah.
i went legume heavy,
and i regret nothing.
check the supreme-fatness-type teleport:

kaBOOMfire!!!!!
this one's got all kinds of expert flavor bursting off of the plate.
no jokes.
yellow rice,  broth-boiled with sauteed shallots, g.p.o.p.,
and a splash of lime in with the turmeric-tinged juicy juice.
nice.
but, above that?
those are baked black bean medallions.
expert.
with the faintest hint of cinnamon to activate the cumin,
and oregano, basil, coriander, black pepper, cayenne;
crushed red pepper flakes and nootch;
SO much garlic,
grilled sweet onions, cilantro, green bell pepper, and jalapenos, too.
held together with a few tablespoons of flax seeds and egg replacer,
they baked to the crispest outside, and the steamiest middles i've made to date.
.........and then they got hit with that sauce, neighbors!!
hot smoked ranchero salsa explosivo-
that's what is is, that's what it tastes like,
and this is what in it:
grilled red tomato,
flame-roasted golden orange sweet grape tomatoes,
poblano, jalapeno, red onion, bay leaf,
oregano, g.p.o.p., black pepper, olive oil,
smoked sea salt and smoked paprika.
damn it tastes good,
and it complimented those cakes like they were soulmates.
awwwwww.
you know i LOVE food, guys,
so i couldn't stop there.
nope.
i always need more awesome ingestible comestibles in my mouth....
going counterclockwise from the top-
*there's upgraded refried beans, with sweated sweet onions,
ho' sauce, nootch, vegan butter, g.p.o.p., and cilantro,
with more cilantro, and smoked gouda daiya(rrhea) chee' on top of that.
layers of flavor are what i'm into, friends.
i almost can't help myself.
*then we've got that jalapeno-garlic tofu jauns.
with a sweet and spicy sauce of broth, agave, black pepper, chili-garlic paste,
pickled jalapenos, and ancho pepper powder,
poured over that super-slow simmered superfirm diced-up tofu,
and big slivers of garlic and rough-cut sweet onion.
damn.
it was muy muy caliente, and crazy spicy,
but it was sooooooooo good, i couldn't stop shoveling it in my mouth.
no foolin'.
*guacamole??
obviously.
i mean, c'mon.
that's mandatory.
finely minced red onion, green bell, poblano, and jalapeno peppers,
fresh-pressed garlic, cilantro, scallions, lemon and lime juice,
salt and pepper, all mashed into two perfect avocados.
daaaaaaaaaaamn, i say again.
.....and a wedge of lime for squirting the hurt on everything, too.
***********
i truly enjoy and appreciate making food.
i'm grateful for the company i keep, as well.
seriously.
i wonder, often, if i would do even half of what i do in my kitchen
if i had to do it solely for myself.
i mean, really.
the rules are very clear-
just be dope, or F* right off-
...i'm just not sure that i wouldn't be F*ing right off.
luckily, for me,
and possibly for you, too, (if you like looking at pictures of food)
i have at least one active participant in attendance most times.
and that inspires me to do what i do more than doing it\ only for myself.
the thing of it is,
dinner is better with company-
it tastes better, and there's a discussion available while it is enjoyed.
critiques are welcome,
and kudos are even more so.
spanning time is more enjoyable side by side than solo,
and if there's going to be times spanned,
i'll provide the fuel for our journey.
i know i'm lucky,
and i want you to know i know it;
never quiet, never soft.....

fruit and nuts.

raspberry preserves!
uh-huh.
sugar and vanilla and lemon and lemon zest,
and a whole lot of raspberries,
cooked together until they're the juiciest jumble of pulp and seeds and tart
and tangy sweet syrupy saucy stuffs.
word!
i made that,
and i added some cornstarch into it at the end, to thicken it right up.
how much?
i dunno.
i didn't measure not one single ingredient.
nope. not even kinda.
i just freestyle eyeballed all the ingredients,
and made myself a batch of preserves worthy of a terrific linzertorte.
that's real.
almond meal and lemon and sugar and flour and lots and lots of vegan butters.
kneaded into a shortbread with all kinds of extracted essences to activate it.
really.
almond, lemon, AND vanilla.
that's right.
i don't want some mincey minky stinkt stoopidheaded stuff as the crust
to my newest homemade hottness.
no way.
i need that expert sh!t, always.
i put the preserves on top of the dough,
and i fired it right up, right away,
in the fresh flames of the oven, right here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that means there was soft, buttery cookie crust,
and thick sweet tangy raspberry jammie-jam melded into one treat.
but, that's never enough, is it?
c'mon.
every day, i repeat the mantra,
and every day, you KNOW what's coming, don't you?
yes.
too much is the right amount.
that's what's up.
check the triple-layered-treats-type teleport:

wooohooo!!!!
vanil'lemon pastry creme?
yeah.
fresh whipped, soft yet firm, and totally awesome when it's
sitting on top of  baked raspberries.
no joke.
and then, on top of THAT,
there's a whole other 'nother layer of raspberries,
this time as more of a light, lemony compote,
and some linzer-cookie flowers for that level-eleven garnish goodness.
it's so juicy, and it's so red, and it's so dope.
two styles of raspberry jamboree jauns,
and lemon in everything.
that's important.
pastry creme has that little lemon zing in it, for a sort of italian flair,
and berries are usually better with lemon.
really.
try it yourself if you don't believe me.
i promise it's true.
true stories told truly are all i really have to offer...
since i'm not giving you the recipe, i mean.
i wrote it down,
and i can recite it from memory, if need be,
but i'm not using a preplanned list of do's and dont's,
and i'm encouraging y'all to do the same.
do it LIVE, and you'll really be actively participating.
it isn't easier, but that's just it-
if it's easy, don't bother.
three layers of tart, y'feel me?
more and more and MORE of all of it,
in different ways, for one grandiose finale of finished productivity.
super-fancy unnecessariness is the way to doo-doo that freaky sh!t, son.
believe it.
today is the day,
and there will be a tart tasting at some point.
will i see you around later?
maybe,
but if you're coming over to the studio this thursday,
with dreams of raspberries preserved in your mind,
bring a fork-
it's a tattoo shop, not a restaurant;
never quiet, never soft.....

haunted.

well,
i was trying to make a night wooer neighbors.
a block rocking print of a happy nighttime duder,
bringing a bouquet with him on his way to romance-land.
i guess the ephemeral ghosts of really-realness in the
Folk Life & Liberty Fortress had other plans, though.
they 'geisted a geas on my good vibes,
and guided my hands into something different altogether.
yup.
check teleport:

it's all in those eyes, guys.
y'know?
like one squinty squinky one,
and the other and one dreadfully dread-full-
i s'pose i carved 'em in an accidental portrait of my own mirror image;
making those sunken cheeks look more than just a little haunted.
uh huh.
he seems more like he's headed out to place those flowers on a grave,
and looking back at death, calling from out of frame,
and giving a wave to that familiar face.
damn.
i dunno what went off in between drawing and carving,
but it did, and this is what we've got.
i made a bunch, and they're drying throughout the house:

yeah.
i'll tell you what, friends-
golden linoleum is not fun to carve.
especially when you've been spoiled by soft cork blocks for years and years.
it's way less forgiving, and way more slippery.
i won't say i hate it,
but i don't love it as much as the cork jauns by a very wide margin.
maybe that's what went awry?
the hard styles of a hard surface created conflict and caution
while i tried not to F* it up, and also not to stab myself in the hands....
i think that's it.
-
overall, i think the image works-
i was hoping it wouldn't be such a bleak one, though.
there are some points that make me happy, anyway.
like the striped shirt.
am i right?
it makes that fella look old-timey,
especially since he's also wearing that straw hat
with the feathery macaroni stuck in it.
why do all my old folksy men smoke pipes?
...because pipes are flippin' expert.
c'mon.
don't be dumb.
*
i don't think the next one will be so simple,
but there will definitely BE a next one.
art making has to happen,
and it has to happen more often, with more results,
less rarely,
in more mediums,
and it should at least attempt to be well done.
oh, stop it.
there's always room for more.
that's just the thing....
i need to find extra hours to get it going on.
this sort of sh!t takes FOREVER to finish,
and it's a real drag to only have one day off a week
to indulge in all the things i'd rather be doing instead of grinding away
at those movie checks.
ew!
responsible adulthood will ruin you, kids.
one minute you're making art because you like doing it,
the next you're making bad art happen to worse people,
because you have to pay the bills.
damn.
hard styles and haunted eyes are what i'm living.
laying to rest all the other other good parts until next wednesday...
they say art imitates life.
i think i see it,
and it looks just like me;
never quiet, never soft.....

ugly but cute.

if i've still gotta be ugly,
then i'm gonna have to do cute stuff.
that's the only way.
i'm just sayin',
nobody ever cares about ugly people doing lame ugly things.
with that in mind,
when i'm making my dinner plans,
i'm putting out some attempts at adorable ideas,
and trying to conjure up a few sighs of happiness,
and maybe an awwwwwwwww or two, too.
neighbors,
i'm on some serious food lover evenings of excellence these days,.
and i'm definitely taking it to eleven,
and that's with or without falafels on the menu.
real talk.
last night was absolutely no exception, either.
what was the happenings?
super-elite gravy-laced everything, that's what.
can i be more specific?
of course i can:
i started with roughly sliced mushrooms, browned up in vegany butteryness,
and fired into a big ol' bowl with nootch and g.p.o.p.,
and thyme, sage, basil, oregano, celery seeds, caraway seeds,
salt and black pepper.
mmmmmmmm.
i seared up some shredded cabbage in red and green,
and sauteed that together with crushed-up carrots and celery.
when that softened up, it went right in the bowl with those 'shrooms.
then it was time to blacken some leeks, and add in some brussels sprouts,
braise 'em in malt vinegar,
and brown 'em in that butter.
what happened next?
into the bowl with 'em. obvi.
that's just a pile of wilted vegetation and spices on it's own,
and that's not enough, is it?
nope.
so,
in order to make the whole thing expert,
and endearing,
i blasted out a batch of buttery biscuit dough,
lined some mini-pie-pans up in a row,
and cut out circle after circle of biscuity goodness as cups of crust
for all those tasty veggies.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
check the teleport:

awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
neighbors,
it's a mutha-'ucking biscuit torte!!!
but, seriously, you like it, don't you?
that's right.
i mean, after all,
how sweet is that little crispy biscuit star?
yeah!
and i placed a few scallion sprankles on top of every one!
little flavorful extra awesomeness is essential to being expert.
so are side dishes, duders.
red onion and brown broth marinated braised tofu is dope.
like,
real dope.
not mushy, and not boring, but totally flavorful, and firm as F*.
and those golden butter-baked roasted baby red potatoes were SO soft,
and so crispy,
and so richly deserving of that gravy.
and that gravy, guys.
a little custom roux, some broth, a little nootch,
a pinch of cornstarch,
a lot of g.p.o.p.,
and plenty of seasonings,
all rich and thick and luscious,
like a fat volcano's greasy lavaflow.
um.
or not,
the gray was dope, though kids, anyway.
all on one plate,
it's a warm and hearty dose of active participation from my kitchen
to the waiting mouth of my only visitor.
uh-huh.
i make a lot of fancy stuff,
and i rarely share it with anybody.
that's the thing, isn't it?
just be dope, or F* right off
doesn't account for an audience, now does it?
i do what i do with or without guests.
i s'pose that says a lot about adhering to the prime directive after all;
never quiet, never soft.....

printing, pressed.

braying.

and using a brayer.

that's what a chunk of my yesterday was made of.

lots of my voice, loudly calling out expletive profanity

while i brayer'd a bunch of freshly printed lino block arts.

uh-huh.

i got new inks,

and i got big paper,

and i made sure that they're in good working order.

turns out,

they're exactly what i ordered,

and just what the Folk Life order of worthy warrior poets ordered, too.

y'know?

no?

oh.

well,

i needed to get it done,

and i wanted to be sure that i had all the correct stuff to keep it rustic,

and rurally-righteous, and coarse,

without being sh!tty.

it's harder than it sounds, neighbors-

hence all the braying and spraying hot fire spit at the inky mess i made

throughout the counters and floors of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.

the ink gets EVERYwhere,

except the nooks and crannies of a big ol' block of graven imagery.

damn.

what a hard style, 

and what a tremendous amount of ink,

and what a flippin' mess.

of course,

once i had it down,

a system became apparent,

and i do so love myself a sexxxy system of productive processing.

really.

check the spare-space-type teleport:

every room has a carpet of brown kraft paper prints now.

and while i'm waiting for them to dry right out,

i got some harder than i'm used to golden linoleum pads,

and i've been sketching some new hottness to try and excise from the

rectangular surfaces today.

teleport:

^^^this guy.^^^

he's a night wooer.

looking for love in the evening,

and waving to all who happen by in the interim.

ha.

i like folksy art styles,

and i like when the mood strikes me to make some.

i swear a lot,

and i swear even more when i draw a lot.

i guess they go together.

my own spit-hot sh!t-hot soundtrack to my own creative process.

spoken words and written words and scrawled images made into negatives

that are in their turn turned into proof positives....

and hopefully, when that all gets combined with the right proportion of 

spirit and memory, gratitude and generosity, and luck,

i'll have a whole 'nother new block in the next few days.

we'll see how it goes, friends,

but in the meantime,

i've got prints on prints of that coelacanth,

and if you want one,

you need to get in touch.

uh-huh.

i'll breathe easy,

knowing full well not to hold my breath on that one.

i GOT they, though,

and i'm geting busy with this woo dude, too.

arthur-making moves,

and movie checks in the wake-

this is what i want, and what i'm working on;

never quiet, never soft.....

waffling.

duders,
breakfast is reported to be the most important part.
heck,
i make a point of munching up on some breakfast jauns every day,
and it's important to me that i get a cup of tea and something delicious
in my facepiece before the day gets all the way underway.
y'know?
what i mean is-
breakfast IS important,
and even more so when you're making it for someone else.
seriously.
you can't just pour a bowl of cereal and call it good.
no way.
that's weak sauce, and that's not coming to my house in the morning.
no.
we need more.
like,
with some fancy unnecessary extras an' that.
i am happiest with a heaping helping of something rad in front of me,.
and that incudes waffles.
yup.
i love to eat waffles.
i do.
because those crunchy dented pancakes are really expert,
...and that's no joke.
so,
when i'm all out of breakfast bread,
and i'm feeling a little frisky,
i batter up, and butter down,
and make a little magic happen.
the secret is in the fine-and freshly-ground oats and coconut
in the bottom of the bowl.
that, and a punch of brown sugar.
(keeps 'em crispy, neighbors,)
i fired up a batch of freeze-dried blueberries directly into the dry ingredients,
and a little bit of flaky coconut shavings were hucked right in, as well/.
i like textures, and i like flavors, and i love to eat a good breakfast.
that said,
check the championship-style-waffles-type teleport:

mmmmmmmmm.
those are pretty flippin' serious, huh?
yup.
you can bet your bottom buck those are some burly, blueberry-buried,
blueberry-imbued nutty and lovely latticed circles of success.
word up.
i made a panful of toasted, buttered, and candy-coated
vanilla cinnamon-sugar pecans.
pcans are delicious, especially when their acidic dryness gets deactivated
with some a little bit of suga and spice.
i also figured a little lemony heavy hot syrupy blueberry compote would
go great with the blueberries already waiting within each one.
(i was right)
the hot fruit on top took it to eleven, for sure.
but that can't be it, can it?
nope.
there's more.
i hit it all off with a splash of REAL maple syrup!
c'mon.
i get it poppin',
because i know the rules.
too much is the right amount,
and that's what i'm aiming for.
i love food,
and i love breakfast,
and i love breakfast food.
active participation is a key element in woodsly goodfellowship.
really.
so,
i do what i can to get involved.
sometimes, it's as simple as making waffles,
as long as they aren't simply waffles.
it's that something extra that makes it much more worthwhile.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....