super-flatness...

HURRY UP!!!!
that's what my bellyhole was screaming at me.
i got home, early, to my sick and tired terrier,
took him outside, and then turned all my attention to making something to eat.
i preheated the oven to 440F,
and then i got crackin' on a quick boomfire bump-up for my face.
yeah!
guys,
i made a couple of genuinely crucial flattie-boombattie-breads!
i did.
check the teleport:

WORD!
half a cup of regular all-purpz flour,
half a teaspoon of salt,
a pinch of sugar,
half a cup of sprouted wheat flour,
a third of a cup of plain soy yogurt,
baking powder(which proved extraneous)
and a scant half cup of water-
that's the whole dough.
rolled out into a pair of pies, using SO much exxxtra flour,
until they were thin as heck, and twice as firm-
i buttered a couple pizza pans and laid 'em out on top,
while i had a whole mess of other sh!t poppin' off.
maybe, just check the 'port again:

olive oil, crushed tomatoes, roma tomatoes,
shallots, daiya mozzarella, cashew-garlic custom chee' blops,
and a garnish of fresh basil,
plus a few black pepper sprankles!!!!
expert.
duders,
these crusts were crazy crawnchy-
i put both of 'em in the oven at the same time,
and i alternated back and forth slice by slice,
from one to the other.
oh, yeah-
the other.
check it:

HECK YES!
neighbors,
what sauce?
i used some lemony hummus,
and added on that broccolini, and the baby bok choy,
but the upgraded the whole thing with fried garlic sprankles,
and a whole spicy spate of crushed red pepper.
c'mon.
i'm on it.
i needed a fast fix,
but nothing weak.
and this solved all the problems.
well,
all the dinner ones anyway.
awww.
*
radio silence sucks,
but i s'pose when there's nothing to say,
or,
at least,
if nothing getting said is having any effect on the outcome,
it's probably better to just STFU,
and let events unfold the way they're going to.
at least there's going to be another 'nother decent breakfast over here,
before crabtree and i take our superlong walk together.
at least there's that;
never quiet, never soft.....

power up.

>>disclaimer: a brief real life story precedes the food story. be advised<<

damn,
duders.
it just so happens,
you can't really fully appreciate the burden of truly being alone
until something goes wrong,
and there's nobody around to help out at all.
oooof.
cleaning up poop isn't so great.
cleaning up the fast poops is worse by an order of magnitude.
not being able to fix the cause of that calamity is far far worse-
neighbors,
crabtree was a wreck friday,
and he was a wreck yesterday,
and he's not quite back on track yet today.
that really sucks,
for him, and for me.
i had to cancel my appointments
(or, i'm sure it's more than likely they were appropriated by someone else),
and hang out at the vet,
and then at home with the sick little shark-bullet, tending to his torn-up tummy.
....what?
no.
not from surgery, thankfully-
...from his object-destroying digestive destruction.
he's got three kinds of medication to recalibrate his intestinal equilibrium,
and i'm glad for that at least.
he's also on a diet of rice and sweet potato-
which is kind of nice,
because at least i'm still cooking for somebody.
...
and,
while he slept in fits and starts,
i packed up my post-script partner's part, parcel, and apparel
from within my Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
yup.
the bags are packed and stacked by the door awaiting retrieval.
no sense in carrying on,
or carrying a torch.
or carrying any extra burdens beyond the ones that come with a change of circumstance.
ugh.
tough times abound in my woodsly goodsly world.
***********
wow.
well,
that's a true story, told truly-
of woe and malady and missing and messing up.
so,
now that we've gotten that real-life documentarian doo-doo butter out of the way,
let's continue on along a positive route-
i needed some sort of strength to draw upon after a sleepless night
of upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside, upside-down repetition.
we were up a lot,
and stayed up once it was bluish-bright in the pre-dawn hour.
what did i do to power up?
i made the BIG BREAKFAST.
teleport:

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
yup.
there's no up-angle in empty-stomaching straight from the start
when facing a demanding day.
that's real.
i had batter cold-coolin' almost immediately,
spelt, coconut, oatmeal, buckwheat, and all-purpz, all together,
with salt, soymilk, lemon juice, vanilla, a little sugar,
 vegan sour cream, baking soda and powder, and melted earth balance butter.
proportionately,
i'd advise
1/2 cup a.p. flour,
1/4 cup spelt
1/2 cup coarse oat flour
1/4 cup ground flake coconut
1/4 cup buckwheat
3 T sugar
3/4 tsp salt
1 tsp bakey soda and kapowder
1 cup soymilk
2 T lemon juice
1 T vanilla
3 T sour cream
4+ T melted butter,
and heck, man,
maybe even toss in some chocolate chiplets.
that's what i did.
also,
if you don't own a waffle iron, you're effing up.
dented pancakes with exxxtra-crispiness are expert.
real talk.
topped with melty chips, fresh backyard blueberries,
real maple syrup, because i am NOT an A*hole,
and finished with kapowdered sugar sprankles!!!!
to be completely honest, i didn't even come close to eating everything on my plate.
i've got a sad seperation stomache ache,
and some sympathy pains for my little buddy, too.
awwwwwwwww.
i STILL had potatoes roasting while the oven preheated,
getting red hot for a loaf of fresh baked bread, though,
c'mon
too much is the right amount,
and moping never accomplished anything good.
haha.
skin-on super-crispy butterish-fried skin-on red potato homeboy fried,
with red onion and garlic, smoked paprika, and parsley.
mmmmm.
crawnchy.
a few of those field roast soysages did right by my syrupy face, too.
i like 'em, even if they taste like poor person brekkie links.
oh, stop.
and tofu scram is always my jam.
for serious.
a crumbled-up turmeric-tinted nootch-boosted GPOP-activated,
smoked-sea-salt-seasoned scramble is what you need,
when what you need is POWER to see things through.
mmmhmmmm.
that's what's up.
my baby boy and i are livin' low and lonely,
but we're together.
yeah,
that also means that i'm missing the PIEBALD reunion.
i'd been anticipating it for some time,
reminiscing about our shared scene,
and them being the soundtrack to the most important periods of my past,
and down in their ol' stompin' grounds in boston, at that.
F* me, right?
i basically threw away that loot in exchange for a pooping puppy,
no looking back, i guess.
but,
that's responsible adulthood for you-
bummer.
oh well, friends,
y'know what they say:
you're part of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

getting dumped.

duders,
i started early.
i did.
in the morning, in between gluten-chain development in my white bread sourdough,
i got a few things in place to make the big action flow a bit smoother.
that's real.
in fact,
i've been pre-portioning a few things in advance,
in order to keep the momentum moving forward in the clutch.
that's smart.
i had my flour and salt and wheat gluten ready when i woke up,
and i had a batch of proprietary new test-batch blended flour ready when i got home,
as well as a flavorful filling that turned out fresh-to-death.
mmmmhmmmm.
neighbors,
when it's time to get dumped on,
i'm in no way about to administer anything other than the loudest, freshest, and hardest
batch of individually expert, collectively elite plump pouches of pure hottness.
real talk.
tell you what-
we'll get into detail right after you check the plumpy-d-type teleport:

WU-TANG!!!!
yeah,
i put some coolwater crunchers on that plate.
i mean,
i added a whole lot of cayenne and crushed red pepper
to the oil in which i simmered those suckers,
and spicy sometimes tastes better with a little cool-off in-between bites.
that's a thing.
so, there's cukes, and pea tendrils, and silantro, and sprouts, hangin' out.
but,
that's not what you came to see.
you're here for the garlic-and sesame oil-seared broccolini,
with giant fried garlic slice sprankles.
so good.
straightforward deliciousness,
with the sesame oil and the garlic doing their dirty work.
and those crawnchy green stalks keeping it molto real for the win.
dope.
i had to add some leafier greenery.
i wanted it, man.
soy-glazed braised bok choy, with toasted sossamon sesame magic!
again,
the ingredients did all the heavy lifting.
i'm not complaining.
and those DUMPS??
dudes,
dumps on your face are in place.
i made eighteen dumplings, i ate eighteen dumplings,
and i did it in a hurry.
i had to.
there're other things happening that require immediate attention.
at any rate,
i combined black beans, firm tofu, garlic, onion, GPOP, shredded cabbage, soy sauce,
ginger, rice wine vinegar, ground mustard seed, a splash of liquid smoke,
cayenne, coriander, and scallions together,
and made that filling as fulfilling as possible.
it was super good.
mostly, i was just tossing what we had into a pan, and cooking it up.
the dough, tho, broski-
that's the ticket.
---
the doughski recipee-pee
half a cup of flour,
a quarter cup of ground brown rice,
a quarter cup of white rice flour,
a tsp of xantham, a teaspoon of salt,
and a half a cup of warm water.
---
that's it, and that's right.
firmer, heartier, and crispier dump-dough was on the docket,
and it did what i wanted it to.
mmmmmhmmmmm.
garnished with scallion, cilantro, and sossamon jauns,
i made sure to observe the prime directive:
just be dope.
yep.
i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
also,
the custom sauce was off the chain.
soy, sesame oil, powdered sugar, GPOP, ginger, rice wine vinegar,
ho'sauce, black pepper, and scallions took it to eleven.
there's no question my dumpling styles are coming correct.
it all fit in place like it was s'posed to.
that's expert, and that's what happened.
*
you know why i'm ok with those things going smoothly with minimal interference?
because i've not got the time to eff around with vegetables.
nope. not at all, y'all,
because my little mango, crabtree, is very sick.
very sick indeed.
he had repeat performance of his recent poopfest explosion.
that meant a dirty defecation destruction zone took over the living room,
and my white dog was eleven shades of sh!t.
i don't know what else he ate,
that may still be hiding out withing the walls of his terrible tummy,
but i do know tha i didn't put him IN his crate with several pairs of knotted,
stained panties, lint, bark, and enough cardboard to choke a recycling plant.
he didn't eat that since we've been alone here together,
so i wonder and worry about how long hat stuff was fermenting,
and what sort of sharklike tendencies cause that reaction.
yikes!!!
and also,
yuck!!!
and also,
awwwwwww, man!!
the poor little guy is beside himself
we didn't sleep last night.
i was too worried, he was too weary from launching liquid fury from his wrinkle-dot.
real life is not a ton of fun,
but my small friend is in need,
and we're off to the vet in just a moment.
wish us luck;
never quiet, never soft.....

cheek ache?

no, dummy-
not cheek ache;
it's CHEE'CAKE!
yeah!!!!
i don't mess around with that weak-sauced-out b!tchbaggery, bro.
no way.
when it's time to rock this funky joint?
i'm on point.
check the chocolate-chocolate-chocolate-chee'-type teleport:

BaDaBooooooooom!
i got chocolate graham crax, by the stax, and i crushed 'em into coarse powder
by the power of the food processor.
a teaspoon of vanilla, three consecutive splashes of soymilk,
a few Tablespoons of melted earth balance (like 3-4),
and i had myself a proper crust mix,ready for impressing and pressing into a tall tart tin.
word up.
i baked it for 11 minutes at 350F,
and let it cool while i made the filling.
and that filling is the big action big business that gets busy in the back section!
neighbors,
one and a half tubs of vegan creamchee',
a heavy squeeze of lemon,
2/3 cup powdered sugar,
1/3 cup tapioca,
2 T a.p. flourb
one blarpity bloppy block of silken tofu, pressed as dry as possible,
and a steady blend in the processor until it's all in together now.
i reserved half, as i always do,
and then added a half a cup of cocoa to the party,
and made a very convincing chocolate hottness explosion within these walls, y'all.
i mean it.
brown on the bottom,
standard-issue chee' on top,
both stacked on that impressively black crust,
all baked in that same 350F oven for about 33 minutes or so.
(it keeps cooking even after it's out of the oven, i'm told)
that's good.
lucky for me,
i've been brutally, blisteringly, blindingly, busy single-parenting my puppy.
what?
well, it's lucky because i wasn't just staring at that masterpiece,
waiting for it to cool enough to take it to eleven.
hahahah.
when it was the right temperature and firmness,
i melted some chocolate chips, powdered sugar, vanilla, and soymilk in a pot,
and whipped it into a spot-on ganache glaze, which is obviously latticed across the surface.
that's expert.
so is that chocolate-coconut frosting halo around the rim.
you know how i do it:
too much is the right amount.
and THAT'S why i grated a quarter of a chocolate bar into sprankles on top.
really,
what else could i have done?
rules is rules,
and if it's worth doing right,
it's got to be worth overdoing even righter.
*
food is my salvation.
if i make something, and it works, and it's tasty,
then everything is going to be alright.
if not, i can easily adjust and amend the recipe, or lack thereof,
and impose the will of a worthy warrior poet on these pots and pans.
today is the day,
and it's going to be a big one.
there's so much to do,
and i can't believe i haven't gotten more done already.
i guess i gave the opposing forces a headstart,
but once i build a head of steam,
the headlong headstrong hot fire juggernaut
of ragnarokin' albie rock showboating showman(viking long)ship
is surely going to do some damage.
guys,
i get a baby bit edgy when times get tough,
and that only makes the steady spout of lava-spat lyrical linguistics
spew forth a lot louder, and a whole unholy helluva lot faster.
i'm running behind a bit,
and i can already feel the bass-boosted decibels buidling in my belly.
it's sure to be a sight and sound for sore eyes and ears today.
i'd better begin with a much bigger breakfast than i'd originally bargained for;
never quiet, never soft.....

augustus bloob.

wild blueberries are everywhere up here right now.
and i mean, like, everywhere.
my yard has low bush small guys,
and tall bush big balls,
and all along the roadsides of the woodsly goodness,
there are little sapphire spheres doing what they do best.
which is, of course, to say that they're delicious, dope, and super expert.
in keeping with the season,
i decided to do up some blueberry treats,
and let the hottness of a cool chee'cakey cup
make the next couple of days and nights all a bit bluer,
but somehow still a whole lot happier.
neighbors,
check the teleport:

yeah!!
that purple perpetration is distracting, duders.
on the ones,
i have to come clean and say that i love blueberries,
but that purple stuff is NOT my favorite color.
don't misunderstand me, now-
i rep a purple shirt like nobody's business,
but when it comes to blueberries,
they're only antioxidated on the skin,
but they're pure jimi hendrix within.
awwww, man.
the bottom half of anything worth snacking on has to be expert.
those are words to live by.
graham crackers, coconut, vanilla, soymilk, and vegan butter.
that's the stuff.
two full sleeves of those crax, and a handful of unsweetened flakes,
with a TON of butterish, melted, and drizzled into that dusty bowl.
mmmmmmm.
i pressed 'em into shape,
and baked 'em in a muffin tin for 11 minutes at 350F.
that's it.
...
it's the INSIDES that really turn it up, though.
half a cup of fresh blueberries, 2 tablespoons of crushed freeze-dried blueberries,
a generous squeeze of lemon juice, a quarter of a lemon's zest,
one and a half packages of vegan creamchee',
1/2 cup powdered sugar, 1 tsp vanilla, and 2/3 cup tapioca,
all slowly softened up together over low heat,
until the purpliest pulp of creamy, dreamy, gooey, no-bake magic
was fully ready to set up and go for it.
c'mon.
that's what's good in the 'hood these days.
i got you those freshest-of-fresh-picked bloobz on top,
offset by surrounding swirls of powdered blueberry-activated creamchee' frosting,
all of which was ferociously elevated to a new high-water mark by a liberal
application of powdered sugary sprankles.
yessiree-
too much is the right amount,
and sexxxy treats are the kind i need to eat.
it's the season for it,
which means it's the right time to doo-doo that freaky sh!t;
and,
more personally compelling:
baking up the goods helps me organize my thoughts,
and make sure that i'm on track.
on track?
yeah, man.
i've got to keep the tasty treats happening,
so i can continue to achieve more-refined skillsets with my skillets
and remain inventive, within my steady stream of invectives.
y'feel me?
i'm on a path, here.
a trek into a signature vegan style of foodmaking and baking
that is defined by my continued productivity.
thinking is rumored to be doing something,
but honestly,
you can't eat thoughts.
productivity is key.
my respect is reserved for the doers, duders.
and i can't rightly do the opposite of what i'm saying, can i?
no way.
that's not the way of the worthy warrior poet-
we only tell true stories about really real life,
and only because it's all really happening-.
rules is rules.
and that's the whole point.
*
i've been leaving work early these days.
i don't mind it so much.
i mean,
i'm still working six days, i just bounce before last call at the zipzap shack.
what?
no way am i shirking a damned thing.
i do the work, i tattoo the people,
and then i rush home to crabtree.
i kinda HAVE to.
without a dog-watchin' partner around,
my little dog needs plenty of one-on-one added and extra attention,
and really,
we both need the exercise.
he could be left longer, but that's not very cool,
and it feels irresponsible not to accept and assume the responsibility
that is tacit with pet ownership.
i get up in the night, i get up in the morning, i go out on the walks,
and i feed the little F*er,
and in exchange, he keeps me too busy to mope around.
we have a relationship, y'know?
he's my dude, and i'm his papa-dad.
the big guys watches the little guy,
and vice-versa.
i suppose it's a fortunate symptom of an unfortunate circumstance.
we do what we do, each according to his infinite nature;
never quiet, never soft.....

doing it wrong.

wanna see four inches of poorly-placed daytime camouflage?
sure.
why not?
guys,
check the sticking-out-while-trying-to-blend-in-type teleport:

WOW!
this guy is no joke.
he wouldn't budge, either.
nope. not at all.
it was as if his insistence that he was well hidden would become true solely
based on his belief in it.
i admire that kind of conviction.
heck,
i even do that sort of dumb sh!t from time to time.
although, on further reflection-
i'm actually kind of glad he didn't move up or out,
because i'm sure i'd have shrieked just a bit if he bounced
his impressively fuzzy bark-colored body off of my beard during takeoff.
real talk. i mean, he's not small at all:

ooooof.
i guess when you're trying to play it cool,
and it's not exactly the right time or place,
you're gonna get noticed.
he stood firm, though,
and was immovable in the face of poor decision making,
which says something.
on the real-
commitment to a bad idea,
and seeing it through is something i know a little something about.
you pick a side and you stick.
rules is rules.
he's got stars and stripes,
i've got the woodsly goodness,
but both of us are staying ugly and dope in a spot where we don't fit in.
nature wins.
...that's a thing.
we do what we do wherever we are,
and i s'pose that's going to have it's own complications.
i don't know what eats giant tree-lookin' moths,
but i do know that i don't want to meet whatever it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

OHHHH!!!!!!

woooooooo!!!
duders,
wednesdays are usually pretty flippin' hectic here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's the truth.
and yesterday was yet another 'nother example of never ever taking it easy.
yeah.
why?
well, only because it was more of the same:
with baking,
and baking,
and baking,
and dinner-making sandwiched in-between some serious responsible pet-ownership.
that's real.
crabtree and i had a chance to bond over our shared enthusiasm for long hikes
and longer car rides.
mmhmmm.
he's just a puppy, guys.
he needs a whole lot of attention, and even more exercise.
we walked/hiked/climbed 8+ miles yesterday,
and that didn't include the time we spent playing indoors for hours.
aww.
the thing is-
even if i'm on the hook for 100% of a job i used to split,
i'm still not about to do less.
c'mon.
i'm not an A*-hole,
and besides,
even if i were:
too much is the right amount. regardless,
and that means we need much much MORE.
so,
we're over here walking a whole hour earlier,
and for a whole lot longer,
over a whole lot farther distance,
and a whole lot faster.
we're bringing the noise,
just us boys...
and since we're going to have to get used to a new routine,
there's use wasting any time waiting for things to get easier.
ha.
hard styles and tough breaks always get me motivated.
i applied that principle to dinnertime, too.
big action, big flavor,
and kids,
i did something else i don't normally do-
i repurposed some leftovers, and made something exxxtra-expert.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
check the worked-out-waste-not-wednesday-type teleport:

WORDIMUS PRIME!!
unfortunately,
my portion control is still based on diner-for-two,
which is really scaled to a dinner for three-and-a-half average mortals.
hahaha........blarp.
so,
i've got waaaay more than i could ever even unreasonably
full-bore shark-glutton out on.
i ate two people's worth, for sure,
but there was enough for another really-real professional munch-up.
yeah.
i felt the pangs of an empty house,
even being as overfull as i was.
damn.
however,
let's talk a little bit about those magical medallions of new-new up there-
tempeh-taco-crumbles, with tomato, and all the remaining jasmine rice
married and melded overnight into a mushy mass of meaty music,
and i added GPOP, nootch, soy sauce, liquid smoke, cayenne, black pepper,
and vital wheat gluten to the mix.
HOLY CRABAPPLES, kids!!!
those fried-up rounds really took my mouth to some exciting places.
yum yum yum.
we had dry-fried slime-free baby bella slices;
steamed/seared broccoli forets;
fiesta guacamole, of course;
red onion, fancy tomatoes, scallions, cilantro, and lime;
plus, tiny-diced green peppers and vidalia onion,
added to grilled freshly cob-cut corn, with black beans and cilantro;
AND,
just because a piping-hot panful of tradition felt right to me-
FAJITA-STYLE PEPPERS AND ONIONS!
sweets, hots, bell, poblano, red onion strips, and huge garlic slices,
oiled up and flash-fried like i was trying to cauterize some sort of savage injury.
wow!
...y'know what the best part of a build-it-yourself soft-flour hobby-kit is?
i'm in charge of how many tortillas i get.
guys,
am i understating this?
as many tortillas as i want, with fajitas.
c'mon.
that's expert.
**********
it's been a few days of running nearly silent,
and i'm more certain than ever that communication is seriously my strongest suit.
so strong, in fact,
that overcommunicating is really what i'm deadpan deadlifting throughout the day.
where i come from,
every single voice in the house just gets louder, and louder,
because every one of our different opinions mattered as much as anyone elses'.
y'know?
louder, and harder are two out of the three ways that i learned to talk,
in competition to be heard,
out of an innate and un-nurtured certainty that my words are worth something.
turns out talk is cheap, but most people i meet still won't spend a sentence.
ouch.
so,
i guess i'm just used to commandeering and dominating the discourse.
it's a matter of infinite nature, i'm afraid,
and without that take-it-to-eleven raised-voice contest,
my syllables will surround the whole scene like an invasion.
but,
i've learned that when i'm not filling the room with words,
it's awfully awfully awful and fully quiet.
yikes.
there's plenty of time NOT to speak,
but there're so many ideas to discuss,
and ideas to share, and opinions to debate,
and stories to tell, truly.
if there were friends around, and dungeons to crawl,
i s'pose i can guess what character class i'd play these days...
goddammit,
bards are the lamest ones, too;
never quiet, never soft.....

TEMPTATION!

no big deal, dudes,
but,
i totally got to clean up about an acre of excrement yesterday.
uh-huh.
my poor little idiot shark-bullet ate something 'sgusting,
and it did exactly what you'd expect.
mmhmm.
underdigested fecal explosions,
pursuant to unauthorized ill-advised ingestion of befouled bits
of rotten grossness are NOT expert.
nope.
no way.
not even one little tiny bit.
....and certainly not in piles and splashes.
i mentioned that yesterday,
but there was one small addition that occurred while i was at work.
apparently,
there was still quite a bit MORE.
yup.
crabtree blew the lid off of his crate,
and filled it up with skids and splats,
which, naturally, due to the size constraints,
covered his entire aft side as well.
whew.
coming home, early, is going to be my new job, anyway,
without the day to day assistance of my lovely assistant.
so,
what better way to start a first-day scenario off?
a TON of diarrhea, after a whole night of diarrhea?
no chance of that being an allegory, i'm sure.
guys,
too much is the right amount,
but when it's sh!t?
oh MAN, is it ever.
superlative, but not super, if y'feel me.
-
sooooooo,
i had a late afternoon laundry situation develop,
and a whole lot of cider vinegar and baking soda to soak up the olfactory markers,
and hopefully keep crabby from deciding this house is his toilet.
yuck.
also,
we had a shower.
yeah.
...to wash off all the crap, obvi.
so,
once we were all tidied up,
and everything was scooped up, scraped off,
disinfected, laundered, soaked, rinsed, sprayed,
and back to normal-
i lit a few candles, and thought better of giving my little guy
anything other than rice for dinner.
and where there's rice,
(and on a tuesday no less!)
there's a basis on which to get expert with that meal.
neighbors,
when life hands you a house full of poop,
and a dog emptied out of it,
what else is there to do but make some dinner and get over it?
seriously.
thank goodness for good food.
without it,
i'd be lost.
check the triumph-after-the-fall-type teleport:

WHAAAAAT!!!!
that's right, mofos-
just because mostly everything is weak sauce,
that's no excuse not to go solo on an expedition
to the topmost tier of TACO TUESDAY!!!!!!
...get at me, dog.
the main body of each is a custom blended slow-simmer of
onions, jalapenos, green bell pepper, garlic, cilantro, diced tomatoes,
bouillon, GPOP, cayenne, smoked paprika, liquid smoke, coriander, cumin,
and smashed up three-grain tempeh.
word!
tempeh crumbles up like a taco-ready treat
that everybody should get into at least once.
with all those fixin's in there, too?
c'mon.
the tempeh hydrates in the brothy tomato base,
and everything else really sorta soaks in super deeply as it cooks.
the flavor is phenomenal,
and just the nostril-pleasing bouquet on that bad b!tch
started washing away the first hour of my homecoming cleaner than the shower.
mmmmmmmmm.
i had cilantro greenery on one;
i had baby kale on another;
the other two?
i shredded some curly savoy cabbage, and broke up a head of tart radicchio,
and let that hold fast under that tempeh.
i used jasmine rice.
why?
because i care, man,
and i wanted something delicate for crabtree.
honestly,
i needed a little gentleness as well.
awwwwwww.
and when i had those elements in place,
i turned it up a little,
and brought my A+ game to the avocado scene.
fiesta guacamole in full rainbow regalia was cranked up to level eleven.
no question.
all my frustrations were alchemically polymorphed into pure magic.
red chili, jalapeno, poblano, green bell, yellow and orange sweet minis,
and cracked black pepper competed for promionence,
while red onion, scallion, garlic, cilantro, lemon and lime worked in concert
with a trio of perfectly ripe avocados to synergistically symphonize the
sensual smooth and chunky greatness of a well prepared guac'-rockin' reality.
BOOOOOOOOM.
for the sake of variety,
i also added cukes, fancy tomatoes, pickled jalapenos, red onion, alfalfa sprouts,
cilantro, and scallion sprankles.
damn.
for enduring a dirty, disappointing, distracted day of doo-doo butter,
i still pulled out a delicious dinnertime like a worthy warrior poet.
there's no excuse for weak sauce.
that's the truth.
we get a choice, every day, broskis:
just be dope, or  F* right off.
real talk.
one is harder;
but,
since when has taking it easy ever been any good for anybody?
if the nights are long, get up and stay up-
if the styles are getting too hard, then you've gotta try harder-
if the weight of the world is on your shoulders,
do a few squats, improve that A*,
and then shrug it off.
it's all really happening,
the literal and figurative sh!tstorms,
AND the decadent and delicious dopeness.
ugly truths and ugly people abound and abide,
but no ugly food is invited into my abode, duders;
never quiet, never soft.....

broken mirror

SEVEN YEARS.
dudes,
holy sh!t!
i've been living in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress for 7 years.
seven. YEEEEEEARSSSSS.
it still needs to be painted,
there are still boxes of books in the back bedroom,
and the home-improvement projects i began back then
are largely still unfinished.
yes!
y'know what they say about seven years of bad luck?
what if it's for sounding like a broken record,
instead of breaking a mirror.
uh-oh.
i repeat myself,
over and over and over.
i have to admit, my whole life echoes back and forth
in a decreasingly fidelitous copy of a copy.
hell, for half of those long years,
i've been so busy, every damned day,
and working so much, and so often,
that i can't really even remember why.
all to amass seven unlucky cycles around the sun,
right here in the woodsly goodness.
so what's different?
not much.
what's the same?
SO much-
i've got a needy, greedy, unheeding beast, just like seven years ago;
i've got a girl who isn't staying, just like seven years ago;
i've got days chock full of all work, and no play, just like seven years ago;
i've got the same five year plan that's not going to reach fruition for a bit......
just like seven years ago.
ugh.
F*.
when you really lay it out there,
all the sexxxy food and folksy art and flowery words in the world
aren't going to dress up the naked facts so that they look better.
the truth is much much uglier than a lie,
but damn does it sure feel a whole lot more real.
hey guys,
there are some differences between then and now:
i AM balder, and older, and waaay more broken, busted, and beat up-
so there's that.
wait,
is that change or attrition or decay?
or all of that at once?

seven years on,
i can safely say i'm feeling a whole lot like this:

stay ugly, stay dope?
i dunno. neighbors.
after being buried for what feels like forever,
followed by the quickest glimpse of daylight bright enough to
provide for a wild scrambling search for an acceptable partner?
BOOM.
...it's all over.
of course,
i had a better run than ^^this^^  A*hole.
poor dummy picked the scorchingly hot pavement to play out his drama upon.
and i'm pretty sure that's the worst-set stage to act on.
ummmm.
let's just hope that's not part of the parallel between it and i, then.
i'm just sayin',
if this is the worst place,
and i'm still here?
..........well,
you get the idea.
*
maybe the time limit is up?
maybe the statute of limitations is lifted?
maybe there's room for more good things,
and maybe even time to work a little less.
i honestly can't see it,
but,
then again,
i was up every hour on the hour,
letting a sick puppy spray some sour sauce from both ends,
over and over and over.
awwwwwww, man.
poor crabtree.
the thing of it is:
i've got the same problem,
but i think mine is from goodbye-related stress.
awwwwww.
what is there to say?
strong men have strong feelings, kids.
and a strong kick in the guts will get you a strong response.
-
i would've loved to hook up a mexican monday,
or a meal worthy of a rabbit-rabbity celebration,
but my heart wasn't in it.
my cooking is a reflection of my being-
and maybe that's the mirror that's a little bit cracked.
ooooooooooooooof.
besides,
nobody who knows anything likes ugly food,
and nobody thinks that food made to fulfill an obligation,
instead of being made with love, tastes any good.
that's real.
y'gotta go all in, or get all out.
it's ALL really happening,
it's the same, but different,
it's a low-budget remake of an unbeloved box-office bomb.
we know the ending, we know the score, we know the rules.
still,
we let it choke us;
never quiet, never soft.......

too much is the right amount.

neighbors,
it's face day.
yeah.
y'know,
the one where i show you all that you've been missing out on.
so,
if you're not getting a daily dose of decorated domepiece from me,
please allow me to reveal my snaps.
check the teleport:

















aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.
there's just so many.
every day,
whether i'm feelin' it:

or not:

i still do the thing.
after all,
rules is rules,
and too much is the right amount.
even when it's very early,
even when i'm running late,
even if i would rather stop it, cut it out, and call it quits-
there's something in me that HATES letting go.
so i keep drawing on my phone screen,
and documenting my morning warm-up,
just for you.
lucky lucky:














double mermaid!!!!
woooo!



hahaha.
i'm surprised there are always so many.
i guess once every day adds up fast as time whips past.
this year has been a tornado,
pushing and pulling and spinning out of control.
it's a kind of comfort to continue in a routine,
no matter how simple or stupid.
i like doing what i do.
it sort of helps.
don't worry there's more:











jeez.
i guess that's what's up.
you want a few more?
really?
well, okay, if you that's what you want:







august is happening-
it's cold, it's wet,
and i look like an idiot, in single-serving parcels of digital paint;
never quiet, never soft.....

RABBIT!!!rabbittttt!!!!!!

i'm starting to wonder how bad it would be if i didn't say it.
y'know?
oh, YOU KNOW-
like,
if this unfolding blueprint is the cultivated coincidence of fortune and favor,
what in the name of the hottest hell is the alternative?
i'm serious.
now,
i don't believe that the literal saying of magic words changes anything-
c'mon.
i'm not dumb.
however,
i DO believe that it's a symbolic summons to the creased keys and codexes
of whatever secret universal plan holds the recipe for success.
yup.,
focusing intention and attention on positivity can affect
the overall shape, size, scope, and spectrum of perspective.
specifically,
if we concentrate on the moves we can make,
and ignore the dead ends,
there might only be one extra bit of hottness available on the monthlong path
to expert active participation before the recharge of that focus.....
....but even just one extra bit of taking it to eleven is a good thing.
you gettin' this?
every time i flip the page on the calendar,
every single time,
when the clock strikes 12,
and a whole new grid is revealed,
and the squares with numbers that compose a new month
of single serving light and dark cycles starts up again-
every time that happens,
just to begin on the right side of the bed, with the best foot forward,
and the very first thoughts steady on an onward upward trajectory-
i repeat the word that gets repeated.
yup.
the 'magic' word,
twice.
rules is rules,
and consistency creates tradition.
so,
i said it, very early in the morning.
so early, that as a matter of fact,
most folks would consider it to still be very late at night.
mmmmhmmm.
the very first syllables echoed out into the quiet darkness:
rabbit rabbit!
duders,
real life documentarianism doesn't allow for lazy storytelling.
so i gotta give you the truth-
if this is how nurtured good fortune looks,
i'd hate to see the harder styles produced by ignoring the superstition.
ha!
today is the day,
and naturally,
i baked up a treat to celebrate.
check the teleport:

yuuuuuuuuup.
i make something every month for the first.
it's what i DO.
oatmeal, big sugar crystals, mini chocolate chips, and salty pretzel sticks
all working as a team
in order to become something bigger and better than each individual ingredient.
that's how it's s'posed to work.
cookies make it look easy to combine and rise-
...it's much harder for people.
i'm thinking that if i eat enough of them,
a little of that cooperative spirit will fill me up along with the oats and stuff.
yeah.
that's the way to do it.
guys,
regular cookies are formulaic.
formulas, templates, and guidelines are great things.
they give you room to freak it off,
but within parameters that all but guarantee a positive productive outcome.
if you can put this in a bowl, you'll get something you can enjoy eating out of it:
half a cup of fat,
a cup or so of sugar
half a cup of wet binding
half a tsp of salt
two and a half cups of flour
and vanilla, probably, to make sure it's nicey-nice.
golf-ball sized blops,
baked at 375F for 13 luck-tempting minutes.
that's the basic format.
these tasty jauns also have a huge man-handful of oats,
and a cup of crushed pretzel bits,
and a long shake of chocolaty chips,
because an overabundance of awesome stuff only ever adds more awesome.
that's real.
too much is the right amount.
i believe it,
and i don't ever, ever, EVER, want to accept less than that.
neither should you.
*
neighbors,
here's the thing-
it's all spaghetti.
what?
look.
spaghetti is good.
sure it is.
but,
whenever it's up to me to decide what's for dinner,
it will likely NOT be spaghetti,
even if pasta is in the forecast.
i don't even know why i'm not that into it.
i mean, i'll eat a lot of it if it's there,
but i'd never choose it as my meal.
last night,
for our say-goodbye-to-july supper,
i got home to a plate FULL of spaghetti:

i'll admit,
it tasted great,
and i'll always give props to parsley sprankles.
on the real-
good is still good,
even when it's not what you'd have done.
that's a true story.
here's another one-
ampy-d got a pretty sweet job offer somewhere far enough away
to warrant her relocation from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress to points southward.
that's great news.
......for her.
the spaghetti really is kind of a metaphor in that sense-
if there was ever any question about what she'd choose to do,
left to decide on her own, without anyone elses' input or opinion?
she'll always pick the spaghetti.
good is still good, objectively.
A is A.
MORE is better,
just not always for everyone.








damn.

happy F*ing august.
i guess time is ticking,
and all the rabbits i could've blabbed and babbled out
into every first day for days turned to months turned to years
aren't gonna add sand to the hourglass.
i'm gonna go ahead and be happy for the opportunity she's earned.
and i'm gonna be grateful for the time that we've spanned to the fullest.
and for all the good things that've come from it,
i get it, i've got it, i gotcha, i getcha-
when y'gotta go after it,
you have got to GO.
nobody should stand still when there're moves to make.
it's all really happening.
a sequence of events, collapsing like dominoes-
when it all falls down, the big picture shows itself-
really, what's else is there?
never quiet, never soft.....