the last day in april

it stopped raining,
but it is freezing cold outside,
and really windy.
which, of course, is perfect, since keep-it-real barbarian warriors would want low temps
and war winds to be blowing anyway.
and if this keeps up, and the rain keeps away, then MayDay is gonna be a dope day of bonfire hottness.
(of course, i have to rework some huge dude-guy triiiiiiiiibal before any berserker funtime happens, aaand it has purple jesters in it, too. by my math, thats two wrenches in one, so i win.)
fire. beltaine purification. refreshing renewal.
this MayDay, i fully expect each and every one of you who is not an effervescent,
cookie-cuttin' sodababy to burn some shi-. light fires, y'heard? i'm sayin'.

today is a travel day.
 im going to get tattooed for the first time in months, by this guy. 
i'm ready, i guess. i'm also a little bit sick, out of nowhere, which figures, since i've cancelled one too many times already. so cold or not, its on, ya'll. feverskin and flu-like cough be damned,
i'm leaving with some amount of a blue rock lobster down my thigh...ouch.
as usual, i choose the wrench. my immune system is NOT impressed.

if you haven't read about the hottness that is battle bards yet, please do so. that guy, Egil Skallagrimsson,
was writing fresh rhymes and choppin' heads like he had to use up some store credit or somethin'.
the idea that being a battle-beast is not exclusive of being smart appeals to my own vanity,
pretty hard.
warrior poets. writing the so-dope lyrics to the song of your own life.
epic sagas, ya'll, in the first person narrative.
in Norse countries, bards are called skalds. how dope is that?! anything named after something as superbly
oxymoronic as a 'water burn' has got my vote for hot fiery flavor. i'm sayin', yo, c'mon...
homophone or not, hot fire+water=steam. word up.
scalding skalds scolding weak-sauce weaklings.

what do you know about frank miller?
i can tell you a few things:
he's dope. he wrote the original paper versions of 'sin city' & '300', he wrote the best stories about comic book characters like Batman, Daredevil, Elektra, & Ronin, which pretty much indirectly laid the groundwork for samurai jack, the cartoon. go buy some of his stuff. on the real, he can tell a story. books, with pictures, for grown-ups.
(there's usually some boobs, too)

i am sending out a special first-class request to the secret universal plan:
i want my fire to be so hot, and my lava lungs and superheated heartbeat to be so volcanic,
that even on 104 degree days my breath comes out as steam, like its 20 below.....
scalding skalds, battle bards, warrior poets.
dont forget, ya'll, after midnight, BURN.
byth tawelwch, byth llaith

floodwaters

yep.
the river is swole up from the hole up, about as high as ive ever seen it.
on the real, it is twice as high as it was yesterday,
and it was raining a LOT yesterday, too.
that mountain+gravity+water effect, y'know...
i get excited to see how the sandbars and shorelines get rearranged and polished up.
its especially nice when all the old paper and cans get washed to someone ELSE's house.
i will probably take a stroll to turtle-town, and see if they are liking it as much as i am?
how fresh would it be to have a snapping turtle moat? i don't think they would go for it...
in other life aquatic news:
no little froglets, yet, in the front porch pond,
but i have to tell you i am very psyched to meet the little guys.
hopefully the presently dropping temperatures don't damage the amphibian marmalade
that is incubating all over the place out there. frogsicles are not on the menu,
unless we're talking the "triplets of belleville".

flooding. very wet, very, very wet. i'm watching beakneck rapids form frothy pinwheels.
this kind of thing is very refreshing, very 'noah's ark', even.
washing away the old and busted, a clean rinse, and a squeaky new palette for the new hottness.
i hope this sky-water doesn't poop up the barbarian bonfire i have planned on thursday.
i'm almost actually tempted to initiate the lighting of the bonfire by shooting it double-barrelled with a pair of twelve-gauge tracer shells!
how ridiculously dope would THAT be?!
never quiet, never soft, not too safe...

and while we're on the subject of bonfires, i am seriously giving thought to
maybe making some major moves this fall...
on the 5th of November, because of how flavorful it is, in Wales, ya'll.
guy fawkes and the gunpowder plot,
word up.
a better barbarian backdrop to blissful betrothal i bet you can't begin to believe!
BONFIRE NIGHT! for goodness sake, i'm saying it out loud......
i would not, naturally, be celebrating the failure of the plot, but the dopeness of the idea.
follow those links; mr. fawkes was gangster, and the cleansing fire traditions, ya'll,
i am clearly destined to be all about that, after all.

viking flavor. blot out the heavens with blood. i mean, c'mon.
the wolfen, people. werewolves. so so def.
always better than vampires. always. (you never see a werewolf in a frilly shirt, i'm saying)
scary wolf-men, scarier wolfen monsters, vikings had that business down pat.
get the skinny on werewolves, here.
moon dogs, they say, but specifically, the Moon Dog....
as in 'hati', the despiser, son of the fenriswolf,
who chases 'mani' through the sky to munch up a little bit....
moon dog is not just gidget's homeboy.
do you even know who gidget is?
figures.

hot fire+water=steam.
from furnace to boiler, my ninjas
hot heat converted to energy.

great Odin's ravens!

berserker.
translated as bear-shirt, or bare-shirted. nobody is exactly sure.
maybe they wore wolf and bear skins? maybe they didnt wear many clothes?
ancient icelandic isnt exactly easily translated. so nothing is for sure....
but, they are sure that those dudes were the real deal hot fire battle-beasts.
i mostly am into the idea that they were posessed by the spirit of never-ending battle, and couldn't have their insane blodlust quelled until doused with pails of frigid water!
talk about living in the now.
nothing exists except this moment. a perfect balance between life and death. and chopping heads.
oh my GOD! i get so pumped up thinking about the reckless abandon, the lack of consequential conciousness, the epic lord of war spearheading of elite lava messengers wrecking every single thing.
every. single. thing.
that is my new goal for this week: to summon up the spirit of perpetual destruction,
and make the magic moves happen whenever necessary.
get ready for a wrench-choosing mutha-flippin' mamma-jamma.
(i advise you to have a bucket of very cold water handy, as well)
may day this year, ya'll, is also thor's day. aaaaaand, the theater in town will be showing a sneaky early release of 'iron man' as well........its like a bonfire bonanza of bad-ass battle-bobots.
the spit hot fire bobot grampa, if you will, and an especially fresh-to-death black sabbath song.
and ghostface killah's alter ego. never not dope, i'm sayin'......(avengers assemble)

battle bards, ya'll, real deal northern new england warrior poets.
thats who gets the invitation,yo.
people worth knowing telling tales worth hearing about stuff you wish you were doing, a round table revelry of real life documentarians. its all really happening. thats the point. 
hot-fire battle beasts, poised to release berserker fury,
 and send out morse-coded 
earthquake thunder. a canterbury contest of pointed parables, every single day a john henry victory or death, do-or-die-tryin' trial against the whole wide world.
a folktale tournament of real-life living.
 gun shooting, food cooking, hole digging,
smoke ring blowing, fire breathing all-out war on life. 
you only get the time you get, so show your worth by grabbing each day by the hair, and doin' it in the butt. 
(leon phelps, ya herrrrd?)
a better fate than death awaits us anywhere, for sure.


battle bards defined: here, here, and here. (that last one is the hottness)

volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes. fire earth water air.
llosgfynydd, daeargryn, llanw gwaneg, tornado.......(that last one, huh?)

rainbow connections.

my days are full of rainbows and orchids.
jess took this shot while our solar-powered revolving prism crystal rainbow maker
shot little gay-pride lasers all over the house.
i dig it.


witch balls.
literally it seems counter-intuitive, but,
i enjoy looking at these things.
its like a tiny hollow planet. and supposedly,
they trap demonic satan-worshipping devils, so they can't hex your whole realm.
maybe thats the secret to molten-cores? planets trapping balrog battle beasts?
fiery engines. flame-powered furnaces.
jeez, its always the same with me, isnt it?
incidently, i have no idea how this picture got scratched. how lame.


you really want some of THIS?
no way.
forget it.
i know, i KNOW. but seriously, take my advice and forget about it.
is not that i dont want to share, but theres only so much to go around.
so just let it ride, kids.
this so so hot and lovely look is not for the unprepared.
you got to be hard, son.
so just step off. fall back. take 'er easy.
berserker barbarian battle-beast, in stripes.
its not for everybody. or anybody, really.
(my face chose the wrench, yo, i'm sayin'.)


in this case, every decision is the wrench.
thats the best way to describe my current state of affairs.
when you can't find a way, you make one.......
tighter or looser, either way, you bring the thunder.
no flippin' weak sauce here, my ninja.


and speaking of battle-beasts.

i have been doing a week's worth of tatzappin in two days for almost a month.
i only wish i had more to show for all the unaccounted-for time off.
i think i am recharging my odin lightning generators.
soon enough the tsunami of creative juice will flow over everything...
of course, even tsunamis are just little ripples if your view of things is big enough...
here's hoping your world is big,
and if not, heres hoping its brightly colored, glass, and hollow:
at least then you might catch a demon-humping witch, and steal a little hot fire for yourself. 

RV's of the reptile world..

the only way to get smarter is to play a smarter opponent.
(did you see 'revolver'? the guy ritchie movie, watch that jammie. its pretty fresh.)

7.62mm springtime beech tree leaf bud ammunition.
natures first green is gold.
word.



so i found the top secret snapping turtle birthing grounds.
i was following the trail of seven kinds of little round poops through the woods,
 for real, and i mean we had cocoa puff style, cocoa pebbles style, chocolate munchkin style, coyote style loglets, etc, and i happened upon a posse of tortugas straight baskin'
on the banks of what is usually a little weak-sauce trickle, but is now a spring-thaw thunder river deep in the woods.
big as car tires, ya'll. 
a crew of destruction dinosaurs doing their own dope doo-doo in new hampshire. 
i tried to capture the epic scale of em all, but logistics, and a desire to not get bit in the face, prevented that. sorry about the blurry one, it was battle-beasting the camera. furious.


turtle mayhem, kids. i'm sayin'......




the idea that a trophy proves you're dope doesn't hold water with me.
if you're dope, you're dope,
i mean, anyone can buy a trophy and say they're dope. and tattoo trophies are usually given out
by judges who aren't all that fresh, or by judges who are actually tattooers, which equates to a
group of fragile fevered egos trying to play cool-guy and decide who they like that day ......
weak sauce, my ninjas, for real. trophies arent exactly the litmus test for the hottness.
HOWEVER, this is a really big trophy. those little babycakes in the background,
to give you a sense of scale, are a pair of first place trophies.
look at how cute they are compared to the big daddy. ridiculous. 'best in show.' c'mon.
(i wasn't even there.......)
its like a wedding cake made out of bowling alley ingredients. ridiculous, again.

did you see the birch sapling wreath we made?....

...well, this bad boy is the other end of the birch tree world.
birch trees are the first trees to establish themselves in available environments,
then they sprout rapidly, die off after fixing nitrogen for other flora to absorb, and rot just as rapidly, providing a growth sponge for fungus, moss and lichens.
i thought it would be a good idea to show the other half of the hourglass, after all.

i'm making use of my welsh-english dictionary.
twym tan, son.
brwd fflam, i'm tryin to tell you, b.
(hot fire, in english. i'm sayin'.)here's some more:
barbariad brwyrdro-bwystfil! (barbarian battle-beast)
dewis y rhwyg.........(choose the wrench)
byth tawelwch, byth llaith   (never quiet, never soft)

i got a really nice copy of 'the Canterbury Tales'.
complete. and translated from older english. seriously, middle languages are fun,
but you HAVE to read them out loud to make sense of them.
fun, but also hard to explain when you get caught.
hat fyr. hot fire spelled like a real cockney bitch.
go watch some mighty boosh cockney stuff on youtube. hilarious.
i mean, how can you NOT like this quote:
'elements of the past and elements of the future combined to make something not quite as good as either.'

dischord and cacophony

when i see bread and puppet art,
it makes me want to freak out.
its so flippin' fresh to death, and so simple. third world primitive, even.
i cant figure it out. its dope beyond comprehension.

today is an art day. a go-out-for-lunch day. a nature hike day.
and a megalithic stone day.
i'm reading the prose edda,  with a little help from another book,
a family tree of norse gods, giants, and monsters, called 'norse mythology' by john lindow...
and i'm also reading a book about the modern stone circle revival, written by one of
the guys i admire: rob roy (not mr. macgregor, ya'll, although he was pretty flippin dope, too.)
anyway, rob roy operates earthwood building school:
YOU NEED TO CLICK THIS LINK ,YO. i am sayin', my ninjas. dream house like a mo-fo.
if you dont know, now you know, ninja.....

speaking of old ghosts, as i have been lately,
i found a pair of faded promises in a box of my old stuff.
a coconut ring i got with my better buddy, mitch, while he visited me in london, and more dramatically, my wedding ring. flippin' weird, yo. they were in the same box as some old pipe tobacco.... vanilla sky, dear reader, is not derived from madagascar orchids..... word.
smoke+rings, yo. consider that coincidence cultivated. metaphor as literal truth? too much, ya'll.
to make it weirder, because thats how it goes, i just heard from mitch after a prolonged silence,
and it was good to do so. and jess and i were totally discussing our own wedding plans, rings included, yesterday. true story. if you know me, you know how it works. vanilla, son. delicious.
kill your old self, or die trying.


mira, smooth mami, that "A" stands for albie and shit. im sayin'. it also stands for ass. both asses, even. you could see me do that shit.
pillsbury, son, on the banks of the pre-magestic mississippi river. known as 'the gay', in its diminished origins in minnesota. trust me, too, because its pretty gay. 

last night, by the compost pile, 
the sounds of true berserker fury could be heard! 
coyotes vs. something much bigger, and battle beasts, 
y'know, like for everybody. 
pitch black, snarls, yelps, and cries? so dope. 
add the frog chorus, and it was a war of sound and 
epic combat, all for leftover peanut satay tofu, 
and blubery coconut streusel cake.
dischord and cacophony. neither quiet nor soft. 
the food chain, with crumb topping for good measure.
everyone eats everyone else eventually,
one way or another.......
like a circle, it always comes back to the same places, 
over and over and over. revolutions. 
(make your own clever revolution analogy, here.)



i drew these a whiiiiiiiiile ago.
i'm not sure they make any more sense now than they ever did, but,
after discussing punch & judy, the clown showing up fit in a little tiny bit.
the skull bobotron 5000 however, still eludes explanation.
EXCEPT, jess's brother, rob,
did just call as i typed to report on his new
replacement aftermarket space-bobot robo-arm. i swear.
everything is the blanket. (go watch 'i heart huckabees' again, tonight)

that's todays installment, kids.
we might start a garden today, and plant a tree.
it IS Arbor Day, after all.
i may have to deal with some weak-sauce antics by way of my current employment situation.
beat street, for sure.
as if i had a choice, if theres a wrench, i have to choose it.

drums in the deep, like the mines of moria are in my chest.
balrogs, im tellin you. fire demons made of magma, old flames that should stay asleep.
shock troop berserker battle beasts, spitting hot fire and cracking whips of kickass burning.
wherever you look, the hot fire flows.
gothmog, yo. (the balrog)
look that junk up.........

infinite nature.

when i make fun happen, i really make it happen pretty hard.
even when its soft and fuzzy.
hot glue, googley eyes, and of course, puffballs!
(uhhhhh, i mean: they POM-POMS, bitch!!)

i am a 'makey' person. i make stuff. i make the magic happen. i make out. i make moves. i make that celery, son. i make it look easy. i make things harder on myself. i make messes. i make love.
i'm all makey.
shoot, i even make breakfast AND dinner.
creation. creating. being creative. creative writing. creative solutions to life's daily problems.
all contributions to the universal secret plan.
all reparations for making 'Albie Rock'.
if the old you sucks hard full balls, make a new one.
you'd think i would've made me cooler. gotta be true to your own infinite nature, i guess. 
when you make yourself better, when you reinvent your self, when you release version 2.o,
you effectively kill off the old you. cold blooded premeditated character assassination.
the person you used to be, the one your old friends and old flames 'just dont KNOW anymore'.
its the idea of spirit and memory, man. you're a smoke ring.
but that, of course, isn't the end of it....
    just being dope, choosing the wrench, the whole idea. the big picture. the kit and kaboodle,
requires that you earn the new you. every day in every way. every decision every time.
i'm not just repeating myself over and over because i cant think of anything else, yo.
its called keeping it real.
its the weregild for making a haunted house out of my body. old ghosts fueling the furnace.

it reminds me of being in college, and figuring out that if no one knows you're a shy d&d nerd,
then you're NOT as far as they know. you decide who you are by how you are. (i'm sayin'.)
remember that old Bane song, superhero? heres the important lyrics:

Yes, the body is weak, but the mind is strong
and it controls the body,
you are not a slave,
and I am not a superhero.
The difference between hard
and impossible is a thousand miles wide,
but that's not what you want to hear.
So you live a lifetime of regret
instead of moments of uncomfort
never knowing how great it feels to be free.


i'm storytelling my own epic saga, one verse at a time.
hopefully.
actually, its probably a lot like punch and judy.
figures.... 

jess took this photo in covent garden, london.
there was a whole huge puppet shop.
it marks the spot where the first u.k. performance happened.
you cant beat that with a stick.
word.

woden's day.

keeping it real. keeping it rural.
whats 'hood? apparently weird trucks are. it says so itself.


beaver destroyer.
what does it mean when a dead beaver is defrosted from the bottom of a snowbank?
i dont know, but beavers are still symbolic....check it.
i hope that doesnt mean the reverse when its all bloatie and swarmie and festy.
i vanilla sky-ed this guy after watching some BBC 'Narnia'... mr. and mrs. beaver scared the kids.
low budget make-up = horrifying nightmares of yellow teeth and squatty oddbodies. word.


like the rolling stones said:
dont play with me, 'cuz you play with FIRE!
if you dont have the hot heat and lava lungs to spit it,
be careful. hot fire is not for regular folks. only for b.b.b.b.*
this sign showed up in chatham, n.h. i think 1982 teleported it there.
take heed. be careful. don't play, son.
*(berserker barbarian battle beasts)


we made this. it was collectively our first wreath. Harvest, Maple, Jess and i all got it together,
along with some wire and the saplings our terrible plow guy uprooted. its a little rough,
and kinda all over the place, but i like it that way. birch wreath, my ninjas.
learn about birch trees HERE, and about other birch magic, a la May Day, HERE.
what stuff means, i'm sayin', is what its all about.
like when something is super elite, and brutally dope.
and then you find out how much more dope it actually is. thats word.


i tried to take pictures of smoke rings. its hard by yourself.
i thought of them as ghost circles. not like in 'BONE' comics, (buy the complete collected volume)
but more like little portals. or lenses. look through 'em. specter's spectacles.
the film was a thousand years old...but then, the grainy, messy look kind of works.
grit-grimey ghosts. circles. circlets. rings. fading promises, even.

so i'm just sayin',
i'm blowing smoke rings, ya'll.
silent grey notes, loud beyond hearing, calling all my fading promises back.
little ashen windows, circular shadows, perfection as a disappearing act.
cryptic crowns for regent spirits.
evidence of ignition. corroborated combustion.
hot fire burns. theres no smoke without fire. 
spirit and memory ...i'm saying.
spirit, and memory, never quiet, never soft.

the sign says: be extra careful with fire.
 a word, to the wise, is sufficient.

loud frog love songs

bread & puppet know what its about. word.
love shacks pale in comparison to the life shack.
old, broken, spare, beautiful. so dope.

'earth day', in latin is terra dies. all pronunciation differences aside, thats pretty f*ed up.
but, today is the big day, for earth. i'll be celebrating, for sure, with photos and fun to follow.
seriously, though, earth day-america, is NOT the same as earth day-world. the U.N. reps the march equinox, our spring, the southern hemisphere's fall, as earth day. march 20th ya'll. my ma's birthday.
of course, some dude from wisconsin (strike one), named gaylord (strike two) nelson, came up with
earth day-usa as a hippie-friendly thing at the end of the sixties environmental movement, (your'e out).
but, im here on earth and its the 22nd. which, naturally i like, because its eleven, twice.
if you want to really keep it really real, you got to get up and at 'em on friday, go buy a bonsai tree,
and mr. miyagi that jammie-jam.

ARBOR DAY, yo. trees kick ass, hard.

the front yard here in our forest home is a swamp. a deep, wet, murky, mossy, melted snow bog.
in this bog, every year, a pantload of hibernating frogs emerge to mack on the ho's
and pimp their bizzles. this involves heroic amounts of amphibian Al Greens keeping us up all night beggin for it. 
and by IT, 
you know what i'm talkin about. its kinda nice, really, i mean, they're gonna eat all the mosquito larvae, and theyre gonna muck up the swamp with translucent jelly egg clutches, but, in a little minute, baby sperm-alikes will be scooching around.
tadpoles equate to transformation.
i'm all about it.
 

^^this^^ is basically the way i view springtime;
even as new life is emerging, the ghosts of old lives hang on. reminders of the inevitable.
thats history, abbreviated.

those winds that blow make the skeletons of memory ring like chimes, yo.
winds of change are winds of war.
and war makes ghosts.
always haunting new decisions, and new directions. 
wherever you, go, ya'll. whatever you do, just be dope.
i just vanilla sky-ed this jammie. (as in spirit and memory, spring growth and creation):
"Scandinavians legends show two crows, perched on Odin's seat : Hugi, the Spirit, and Munnin, the Memory. They symbolize the principle of creation. In the same way, these birds are the companions of Wotan ("the God with the crows")." 

spirit and memory. history.
remember.

a vision of visionaries?

so on my way home from delivering my tiny improved human awesomes, those loveliest lovelies,
i saw an osprey totally f* up a fish hatchery. i almost crashed my car, yo. 
my man was straight up dive- bombin', and then was up and at 'em with a trout who was, expectedly,flippin' out. fighting for his life.
 a better fate than death awaits us anywhere.
but to be honest, for the trout, trying to break free over the highway wasnt that smart.....
and that osprey was ferocious. water splashing, wings flapping, talons and beaks and shi-
so naturally, being a cultivator of coincidence and a seer of signs, i looked into it.
peep on this:
OSPREY: Also known as the fish hawk, the Osprey is the only bird of prey that feeds solely on live fish. Known for its acuity of sight, the Osprey has been used to represent those of vision, (and fishermen, too.)
barbarian oracle, yo. i'm sayin'.....

i have decided to unilaterally declare war on the weak-sauce antics and low-rent 'baggery
that pervades the area i live in. and when i say 'baggery, i mean douche, NEVER ninja.
i come up and out of my ninja-bag on the all too necessary regular. as a result of this new war,
i am in need of a coalition of the willing. and able. or at least the supposed support of
individuals, warriors, who know, and do something that stokes the hot fire furnaces,
keeps the beacons lit, and stirs the pot counter-clockwise
creating splashback ripples that echo the flavor of berserker bouillabaisse.
just be dope, yo. just be dope.

MAY DAY is coming up, kids. i'm talking about the bonfire fury one, not the workers rights one.
and not because i hate workers rights, but because i keep it too real to go modern day communist bloc parade blitz.
i'm excited to enjoy the day, but lately, i am making more of a point to enjoy my days.
nobody else is going to do it for me.  listening to The Kinks is helping. go get some of that, too.
its practically impossible to not enjoy the day if The Kinks are playing.  
they'll be on the may day soundtrack, you can count on that.

 

i'm repping this week 'Lady's Man' style, and giving life every inch of what ive got,
directly in the butt........ go buy that movie, c'mon, its probably $5. leon phelps represent!

ready to get busy.

never let it be said i dont know how to show my kids a good time....


robyn banks.
no, for real. i did this on my sister.
she took it like a champ. and got me some socks.
i just got the picture developed.
digital, you say?   bobby digital, i reply. look it up.


we spent the most incredible week of springtime weather together.
it was still cold up in the mountains. (that's Pinkham Notch) but it was still super rad.
we rode bikes. we ate so much elite food, we watched 'nim's island' at the movie theater,
we read books, and drew for hours. i can honestly say these were some truly excellent days.

today, i had a talk about the word reckless with my friend jim. he came over and shared his old dublin mixture, and we enjoyed it thoroughly. right after some very crispy homemade homefries.
we talked abut his very dope new vest (hand-knit by his own self, yo), and about j.r.r. tolkien.
pipe smoke does that to people, i guess.......hobbits like a mo-fo, ninja.

reckless is defined by webster's thusly:
Reckless
Reck"less\, a. [AS. reccele['a]s, r[=e]cele['a]s.]

1. Inattentive to duty; careless; neglectful; indifferent. --Chaucer.

2. Rashly negligent; utterly careless or heedless.
 
Syn: Heedless; careless; mindless; thoughtless; negligent; indifferent; regardless; unconcerned; inattentive; remiss; rash.

keep in mind that the synonyms involve the absence of a real thing. mindless, thoughtless, etc. but there is no word reck. nor reckful.
however, there is a word rackful. so i did a little berserker word search,
and rackful is based on middle english for rack, which is adapted from old dutch "rec",
and means framed, or fenced, like for livestock, who otherwise would go tear-assing around, recklessly(ahem)...... so being reckless literally meant being untethered, and unframed, as in unfenced and open-ended, without clear boundaries........i'm like a detective and junk, yo.
learning stuff makes me freak out harder than ever. i really love words. hard.

i'm learning about The Difference these days, too.
mostly, its why i'm like me, and ya'll are like you, and other people are beat street doo-doo butterballs. its because theres a difference, or more reverently The Difference.
its that special gravy that makes life more interesting
than the herds of turds you mix with all day.
The Difference is the outcome of the just be dope principle.
i mean, how much harder can it be to just be dope, instead of just being around? c'mon.
every choice: pick the wrench
every voice: never quiet
every day: spit hot fire
every way: never soft
every decision, every time. how you are, kids. how you are is what makes you who you are, and defines what you do.......i'll keep sayin it.
the hottness is how you make it, wherever you make it, and i'm declaring a five foot bubble around my person as the ever-expanding epicenter of a 'weak-sauce-free zone'. the sovereign soil i sanctify with barbarian boullion cubes of lava-fed flavor.
thats what refusing not to be dope tastes like.
delicious.

NUMEROLOGY?

thats right,
seven, and of course 11,
and check the total: six hundred and sixty six.
the number of the beast. in this case: berserker barbarian battle beast.
word.
symbolism is everywhere.
and all i'm gonna say about 1334? Akhenaten's last day, yo. 
look him up.
heres a hint: Nefertiti and King Tut. (or, without the bitter, the sweet's not as sweet)
symbolism. mix in some history, and everything is a little bit more dope.
how many magic numbers can you get off of one receipt? (a LOT)
keep those eyeballs on the eagle's eggs powers tip, and you'll start seeing them junks too.

go watch 'the life aquatic' again. i know, i know. but do it. again.
most epic line?
"people are gonna think i'm a showboat, and a bit of a prick, but thats me. i said those things, i did those things, i can live with that...." i'm saying yo, its the f-ing cover.

in other news, we thoroughly enjoyed these weeks off, first with the cucch, and now with Harvest & Maple, 
but as the vacation saturation thins out and draws to a close,
its time to start seriously thinking about exactly which
moves have to be made.
the creative sauce is flowing like a spring thaw ice river.
i'm ready.

dear secret universal plan,
if you're waiting for a good time to speak up,
now would be nice.
no pressure,
love,
albie.
p.s. thanks for the great weather.

escabeche

escabeche.
pronounced ess-ka-bay-chay
its spanish.
it means pickle.
c'mon. thats pretty dope, right?

tonight, we stay at a hotel resort waterpark.
its an indoor big slide fountain extravaganza!
and the room has t.v.
which is no big deal for regular people.
but for me, its a once a year treat,
right up until the third commercial break, when i realize t.v. makes you
real f-n' 'tarded, and i wait until next year to tune back in....

we had blueberry cake for breakfast. mostly, its blueberry muffins in one big pan,
with streusel on top.
streusel makes everything better.
this streusel had coconut and oats, and was especially delicious.

my life is pretty kickass today.
but then again, my life is inextricably tied to new england weather.
and you KNOW about new england weather, right?
if not, then hit up my man:
samuel clemens like a mofo.

traditions.

broccoli bread.
every visit with my kids includes a loaf of this tasty business.
so good, for you face, for you eye!!!!

mmmmmmmmmmmm.


heres more proof of my permanent malfunction.
who thinks this look is a good idea? party like its 1999.
y2k bugs were in abundance. ointment might clear that up....


not that i was in any better shape in london, a year earlier, bangers and mash style.
...i smelled the way i looked. for real.


soooo, ive had one week off, so far, and another happening right now.
holler if you miss dollars, yo.

change. the winds of change, and the winds of war must come from the same direction.
i think its the same wind that always blows the smell of hot dumpster toward you as well.
wind happens when conflict happens. high pressure vs. low pressure. warm air vs. cooler air. beans vs. digestive tract. word.
every difference that isnt immediately resolved makes wind. and thats great if youre a kite, but if youre a viking, the only thing wind brings is full sails to Iceland. which is very pretty, but not very useful to me at all...
thats probably why they also rocked out with oars. (and illmatic dragon head masts.)
proactivity. thats the key.
so what happens when being proactive is being patient?
being patient.
BEING is the operative word, here.
the act of being patient is harder than the act of making it worse.
choosing the wrench in this case is NOT freaking out. im confused by this, but i am doing it.
the universe is taking its time, or im just to dumb to see the bigger picture,
but i am cultivating coincidences at breakneck speed these days, 100% pure vanilla sky extract.
synchronicity, the hippies call it.  
in any event, the extra time spent storytelling and artmaking, cooking, and movie watching with my young replacements is appreciated.
as always, i am grateful for the time i have been given.
and to show it, im being patient.

last night we created our own monsters. and looked at d&d monster manuals for 'clues'.
then we watched a little 'Return of The King', and some of the old-time BBC, made for t.v. style 'Chronicles of Narnia'. there a LOT of sharp teeth being drawn.

wind. inner conflict type. being patient, with a gut full of tofu. hot sauce vs. the hot fire furnace, ya'll.
im not one to blow my own horn (off my body), but on the real, there is some wind a-blowin'.
the wind of war, not quiet, and not soft.

live free. then die. repeat.

profound truth, or painfully obvious lucky guess?
a suckie consolation cookie takes a shot in the dark.......


i got this patch from the collection of an old guy named leon.
throwback nostalgia hilarity. berserker battle beast with a disco touch.
moustache crimes, too, yo. i'm sayin'...


this book is a real face melter. prepare for smoother skin, and no nose on a melted,
featureless face. youve been warned. lose limbs if necessary, but obtain this book.
now.


i took this picture in Conwy, Wales.
it says a lot.
mostly about how hard times look pretty cool.
Wales is pretty much one of my favorite places in the world.
i mean, c'mon. castles! walled cities! oceans, forests, mountains,
and the longest named city on the planet.
plus a nearly unpronounceable language! and its british.
plus i love crusty old haggard fishermen, and sheep, too.
wool, yo. i got a special place in my heart.......i'm sayin'.

the cucch and i blazed up some big black sausages. metaphorically.
we actually enjoyed some kauai cigars, a hawaiian souvenier from his adventures
in lava land, and then we watched 'Nacho Libre' with my special favorites,
my daughters, Harvest and Maple, and after they hit the hay,
we watched a little bit of Tenacious D's 'Pick of Destiny'.
at least until i fell fast asleep. and paul's visit is over. he's alaska bound. 
bon voyage, my ninja.
so now, i get to deal with another 'nother 5 miserably best-buddy-less months.
lameness, to be sure.
i guess both of those movies made a great send off backdrop,
as they both tell the story
of  a loud a-hole and his homeboy,
rocking all the socks and masks off the universe.
eagles eggs, yo. mystical eagles eggs powers. and the power of rock.
plus, that little fat kid from 'Nacho Libre', with his sweatpants
and his mom's lucky machete, is so fresh.
his name, little chancho, or 'chanchito', means
my little darlin', but is also a chilean three-legged lucky fat piglet.
how fresh to death is that?
jess got me one, and it rides with me in my car. nice.


we've got the week off with the smallish ones. can you say barbarian bonfires?

The Difference

more vikings, more often.
and below, proof ive always been an a-hole (circa '99)




the Symbol of Endurance, Defiance against difficulties, Hardiness, Perseverance, independence, and Resourcefulness. 

oomingmak. thats the native alaskan way to say: bearded one. 
its what they call musk ox. its what i call dooooopeness. barbarian fury in the arctic.
i will be visiting alaska this summer. i will embody oomingmak. hard. harder than you, even.

i watched 'the life aquatic' last night. its one of my all time favorite movies. every part, start to finish makes me feel. good, bad, sad, happy, the whole shootin' match. if it doesnt make you think of me, i dont know what you think of me........ i watch it every time im faced with a choice that seems to have no better options. 
only bad ones. or bad, badder, and worse. its a pretty good reminder that its not just what you do, or even who you are, but HOW you are that makes it make sense.
you gotta just be like that. however that is, and the rest of your actions will follow the directions. and of course, if two alternative not completely horrible choices present themselves, the harder, less instantly gratifying one has GOT to be the one you pick.
the wrench, yo. im sayin'.
 
today, the cucch leaves for connecticut, and in a week, he'll be in alaska. it sucks my a-hole right off my body. its hard remembering how much you like having someone around right as they leave so hard. epic hard times. 5 months. 
but, at least thats a reason to get one of these for my visit!

time always fills half an hourglass when it runs out. im not sure what to make of that.
word.