nobody leaves with the title.

neighbors,
you guessed it.
flawless failure for your face,
and no mutha-flippin' movie checks for mine.
uh-huh.
another bust-out,
just to send april packing as a total loss.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
one last zero day.
no appointments, no walk-ins.
one more zero hour.
still nil,
still happening.
i can appreciate the scorched-earth
pyrrhic-type self-destructive jauns, y'all.
it's What Is, today and every day;
never quiet, never soft.....69

over and out.

postcards, y'all.
that's the biggest piece of action that activated
and constituted the whole entire month of april.
yeah.
cut and pasted paper, posted on indexed cards,
and sent off to points known and otherwise.
what.
the.
F*.
it's an incisively indecisive style
of diamond-grade hardness, neighbors.
the mohs,brinell, and especially the rockwell,
and albie rock-well charts all confirm it.
it's hard.
(NOT what she said)
postage stamps and zip codes.
i doo-doo that area-specific numerology sh!t, son.
it's over.
april, i mean.
not postcards.
i've still got stamps after all,
so we're gonna run out the remainder,
and tape up the results before too long.
don't worry, ninjas,
i'm on it-

still want one?
send your address to me:
battlebeasteleven@gmail.com
i can send you a one-of-a-kind text message.
printed out, longhand and sh!t.
that's right, in print, A*-hole.
recognize.
***********
oh,
have you minky mutha-'uckas ever
been active participants in a standstill?
oh, really?
well, that's too bad.
i'm getting busy making moves that
only go nowhere,
and i've been demonstrating my styles
of infinite natural hardness for some time now.
indelible.
that's the adjective.
indelible.
marky markings that last beyond the past,
supercede the present,
and cast their shadowy blots and blarps
on the entirety of the future.
awwwwwwwwwwww.
going nowhere because the lines between
then and now and later on have been smeared
with a brutal stain of barbarian blood and guts?
that's apparently a thing.
a set of hard styles, coupled with hard feelings
that trivialize each and every effort to move ahead.
i've never done more,
and i've never reaped a less impressive harvest.
sometimes, it's all really happening,
but because the future is where i'm at,
it's already too late?
i don't know, yo.
but,
it's definitely something to consider;
never quiet, never soft..... 69

big head.

neighbors,
i just don't really want to type anything.
check the teleport:

that's it.
a busted picture of an alright tattoo.
no.
you can't get anything else with that;
never quiet, never soft.....

uncle steven's clubhouse!

duders,
what's better than strange days
full of estranged entanglements?
you guessed it-
family togetherness,
only now with added in-laws!!!
boo-YA, my ninjas.
all my other other family is here.
here, in the white mountains valley.
here, in the woodsly goodness.
here, in F*ing full effect.
that's no joke.
for real, are you laughing?
well, stop it.
how often is a two hour dinner the
perfect pretext to a pretentious, portentous spanning
of a sorcerously weak saucy saturday night ...live?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
good call, y'all.
not once, not never, no way.
then again,
a whole cast of characters who happen
to make sure it all is really happening,
hampering the happenstance and circumstance
of warrior poetry in motion,
and grinding the process of epic meal time to
a stock-stone-standstill is something
that real life documentarians won't ever
pass up an opportunity to witness.
...fact.
it is what's going on.
***********
philosophical fury, kids.
that's how i decided to deliver the day's doings.
doo-doo buttery discourse on the nature of
giving a grand total of zero F*s in a row.
if you can't hang out, get out.
that's the way i'm liking that sh!t, neighbors.
i've got no time for fake ones, y'heard?
it's time to reiterate the raging stormswept berserker
barbarian battle-beastly hot fire phrase that fits
each and every situation across the nation:
just be dope,
or F* right off.
recognize the really realness,
absord the turbo hottness,
and get busy getting busy with that big business, b!tches.
zero F*s, y'all,
in every conceivable sense;
never quiet, never soft.....

moustache rides?

oh, MAN!
when you've got time to write about your day,
right smack dab in the middle of while it's
all really happening might just mean
that it's not exactly an event-filled explosion of
busy business and magic move-making activation.
ummmm,
i'm not sure nothing is going to happen,
but as of this moment?
lame cake.
it's F*ing windy, too.
you ninjas all know that's my favorite elemental
expression of ma nature's infinite b!tchbaggery.
and as i still haven't polymorphed into a pinwheel,
i've got to be honest-
wind sucks all the balls that have ever hung out.
that's real.
***********
there have been masses of the masses holding
black masses and moving as slow as molasses
milling and mucking about here in the mountains.
i can't figure it out, y'all.
stump creatures and swamp hogs and sad sacks of sh!t
must need extra attention this weekend.
great.
i was hoping to absorb some environmental ooze
exuding off the semi-conscious incogent craptards
who're taking up all the available space
in my immediate area.
*
blade runner?!
yuuuuuup.
that's how you cap off a freaky-diki friday,
for sure, kids.
replicant retirement.
that's all there is;
never quiet, never soft.....

compassion.

a compass, y'all.
that could be what i'm looking for.
a sure sign of true north.
a magnetic fact.
the direction where compassion exists
simultaneously with passion, y'know?
a hard-style map-ready atlas-equipped gps.
who's using a global positioning system?
not me.
when i'm reppin' gps,
that's guilt, procrastination, and sorrow.
is that just being 'compassive' aggressive?
maybe.
there's an elephant in the room, duders.
no,
not leftovers, neighbors.
i didn't say a green elephant, did i?
ugh.
more like an unenviable, unmentionable,
unseemly, big, fat, wrinkly carthaginian battle-beast,
with a long memory and short temper.
huh?
yeah,
maybe that could be my compass.
sure.
the only unerring location those animals
know how to find is their ancestral burial ground.
oh,
what i'd give to bury this bastard, too.
awwwwwwwww, shoot.
the only holes big enough, though,
are in the gaps between today and tomorrow.
what-what?
say-what, say-what?
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
anything cold happen.
uh-huh.
april's foolery hasn't shown itself to be spent yet.
there's only ever F*ing more,
even when it's more of even less.
more or less, it's pretty much the same thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

wotan.

odin gave up his eye

for knowledge of the runes, y'all.

he also hung upside down from a tree

for a whole bunch of time,

until the meaning was made clear to him.

it was the gift of language.

communication.

explanation, description, understanding.

an eye, neighbors.

and a bloodrushing swollen heavy head,

the ultimate double dose of dizzy spells

and built-to-spills,

all in order to flippin' see clearly.

now that's some sh!t.

and here i was,

thinking that writing isn't always that easy.

awwwwwwwwwwww.

try going half blind to receive the information

in the mutha-b!tching first place.

ouch.

but,
the up-shot is that you DO get
a day of the week named after you,
or at least your saxon incarnation, anyway.
that's not so bad, i guess.
***********
get ready, minnesota.
you've got a batch of about sixty hours
of all-the-way live albie rock show thunder
headed directly at your faces.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
a short-and-sweet-and-sour whirlwind
a tornado of visitation and activation,
starting cinco de mayo,
as in, casa de papa anniversario supremo,
and lasting through the belated mayday parade,
onward into a day of big fun louderhorn
togetherness and busy businesstime discussion,
and i'll be back before the milk has curdled, kids.
i'm expecting fancy sushi, mexican magic,
and a responsible nurse-shark gluttony amount
of all the calorie counting rawfulness in-between.
you've gotten your heads up.
now get ready;
never quiet, never soft.....

so long.

yup.
so long.
that's the duration, it seems,
that every single thing takes to go anywhere.
i'm beginning to suspect i'm never going to get there,
and not for lack of travel, endurance, or activation.
the nutrients aren't nourishing,
and the only destination seems to be somewhere else.
so i'll just say-
so long;
because goodbye isn't that good,
and farewell seems disingenuous.
i mean,
it's neither fair,
or ever going to go very well.
and if we're being real,
which i always am,
i don't generally mean it.
not literally, anyway.
neighbors,
the decline is steep,
but it's SOOOO LONG.
i almost can't believe it's still going down.
like,
below the bottom-most and out the other side, even.
we'll have to keep waiting and seeing,
but whatever is waiting on the far end
had better be pretty flippin' expert.
that's all i'm tryin' to say, duders.
***********
i should've led in with this part, y'all.
it seems the teleport only goes to the future,
because i haven't been able to change sh!t in the
here, the now, or the past.
awwwwwwwwwwww.
check it anyway:

postcards!!!!
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i'm still making and sending them to
any and all worthy warrior poets,
in hopes of striking gold on some
cohesive, compatible correspondence.
if you want some,
you'd better email me your address,
or you can forget about it.
now,
there are other other ones, too,
but i've been waging a war of attrition
with the postage for postcards.
for real,
i have been sending them from here to here
in the form of love letters to the future.
that's a thing.
loose leaves of love,
falling out like autumn's last rattling exhale.
more misguided missives about
my misgivings tomorrow, kids.
tune in for a hot batch of that, i'm sure.
until then,
it will probably seem so long,
so,
so long,
and i'll see you soon;
never quiet, never soft.....

an even darker place.

floods, kids.
deluges, even.
we're on that days and days of rain sh!t,
and it's shooting down at a steady rate
with intermittent blastbeats of pouring
and pattering and that sort of thing.
it's a hard rain and a hard style
and a steady streaming torrent of
terrible weather and unlovely hours.
neighbors,
the muddy banks are swollen well past
the point of holding out,
and the overflowing excess is activating
all kinds of washouts and sweep-aways.
it's brown and festy, and i can't really hang out.
of course, it's outside and it's raining,
so it's unlikely i ever even would, y'heard?
i don't doo-doo that moistened mayhem.
awwwwww.
it's misanthropic miscreancy for me,
as far as the eye can see...
and that's not any remarkable distance, duders.
the cloudcover at this altitude is basically a foggy
fence obscuring and occluding everything.
plus,
the sun will NOT come out tomorrow
any more than it did today or yesterday.
it's dark,
it's cold,
it's busted,
and it's the regularly scheduled programming
for months like this.
april showers mutha-'uckers.
that's a thing.
***********
my weekend is here,
again,
and as usual,
i'm the last to know about what's up.
the light and the bright,
like i just told y'all,
are suffusive far too rarely,
and elusive the rest of time.
i described the feeling to a good friend yesterday-
it's like watching a dying star.
you know it's on it's way out,
and you know that there's not much you can do.
the worst part, really,
is that it takes so long for the last gasp
to reach across millions and millions of light years
that once you finally witness it,
it's already been dead for generations.
spirits and memories and ghost circles
rippling away from what was,
and breaking on the insurmountable obstacle
of What Is.
enjoy your evening, friends;
never quiet, never soft.....

erf.

erf day, duders,
and another 'nother round trip road trip
to deliver the dopeness away from here,
and unto others in less worthy sectors of
the world at large.
all i can say about getting ready to get lost,
and about emptied out nests
just as the birds begin to build their own
happily homemade babycake activators?
it's this teleportational representation:

yuuuuuuuuuup.
thank heavens for panniecakes, kids.
without 'em,
everything else could've overtaken the day.
yeah, that's real.
the two little-bitty bright spots that anchored
these past days and nights have moved
from their firmly affixed family togetherness location
southward to less firmly fresh firmament.
awwwwwwwwww, man.
now it's cold and dark and busted all over again.
still,
i'm always grateful for whatever time i've been given,
and i haven't given up the ship just yet, neighbors.
plus,
it's erf day.
all day.
i smoked an enormous stump of monoxide magic,
whilst driving at an uneconomically fuel inefficient speed.
i needed to be back here,
and i needed to breathe fire.
luckily, i had what i needed and i made it happen.
and now,
i've got every light in the whole house on.
it's not spite, kids,
it's illumination.
where there was a deficit of bright bright bright spots,
i've made my own;
never quiet, never soft.....

last days and long goodbyes.

awwwwwwwwww, man, duders.
another 'nother week has blown by us,
and now it's over again.
already.
...yeah.
that means road warrior poetry,
and tollbooth fares,
and farewells both fond and otherwise to all
the super-dope family togetherness
of these last seven activated and expert days.
that's a hard style,
but then again,
it always is.
so we're getting rad on one last night of
molto fresh adventures, adventure time,
and iced-type creaminess, in cones and cups, my ninjas.
we're on it,
and it's all really happening.
*
in other parts of the world,
they don't have clients that bring the thunder like mine.
it's not about the career-making turbo-fanciness,
and it's not about the movie checks.
neighbors,
it's about competent and capable communication.
that's a thing.
the best part of tattbombing my boys and girls
of the woodsly goodness and beyond is
chatting them up and increasing my understanding
of human nature and it's winning ways.
that leads to deeper and darker realms of universal truth,
and secret universal plans.
before you know it, y'all,
there are whole wide worlds of really realness
unfolding like battered blueprints in front of your face.
without those talks,
there'd be none of this.
that's real-
remember that the next time you think of the words
long-winded;
never quiet, never soft.....

'boli.

kids,
what's better than one big broccoli bread?
the answer is blowing on the wind,
as generated by the futuristic teleport:

yup.
individual stromboli bombs, b!tches.
we doo-doo that kind of delicious dopeness
for each sharky gluttony at the dinner table.
no need for frenzy, we're all getting fed, friends.
that's a thing.
we activated them with false chee',
and nootch, obviously,
and big green florets of freshness,
and caramelized onions,
and pretend bacony strips, activated and crumbled,
and then took it to eleven with pan-fried,
GpOp'd butterishnessed artichoke hearts.
that's right, nutrient-rich nootch-blasted grenades
of spiky flavor, strewn within the rolled up
pizza burrito we know and love, my ninjas.
woooooooooord.
i mean,
even unbaked they had it going on.

c'mon.
super-salubrious seriousness in baked bread form.
neighbors,
sometimes we need to let everybody have their OWN.
i know,
that's a new thing, but it's a good one.
we get busy.
we stay busy.
our business is our own,
and we're willing to share;
never quiet, never soft.....

four and twenty.

stoners of the world,
suck my balls!
today's the kind of day that is perpetually lame
for every really real worthy non-turd activator.
uh-huh.
four twenty, all day long,
and no potheaded weed smokers are invited to my
clambake, that's for sure.
actually, no clams are scheduled to be harmed in the
making of this vegan-friendly twenty four hour period.
y'know what i did at 4:20 a.m.?
nothin', neighbors-
i was blissfully obliged to obey the oblivion
of sleepytime predawn recuperation.
that's real.
bowls are for ceral, son,
cottonmouths are for snakes,
red eyes are for airlines,
and stoner designed assault rifles
because in the woodsly goodness
we've got no time for weak-sauce minky-mouthed
munchie-huntin' gaytards and their illegitimate holidays
celebrating the sh!t-salad smoked-out tie dyed
doo-doo butter and juggalo jerkoffery of being lame.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
we're repping on that just BE dope jauns,
not some sally-caked suck-A* suckling of a joint;
not a knee or an elbow or a finger, ninjas.
well,
maybe a thumb, because all that crybaby
suckery of the waterbabyish weed culture rationalization
can take a hike, and get hitched to all the other b!tchsap
that battles the burliness of barbarian battle-beast business.
y'know?
real ones just do what they do.
sober, solid, and serious.
wordimus prime.
you wanna smoke somethin'?
try smoking poles.
awwwwwwwwwwww.
i meant like the german blitzkrieg, duders.
hey-O!
it's also the birthday of a long-dead bag of crap,
responsible for inspiring that last total world war.
i'll bet it was windy when that happened.
that's the worst.
just like today.
it's all happening,
every glazed-up crsytally nug and neo-nazi idiot explosion.
however,
active participation and family togetherness
and super-dope warrior poetry are also just as actually occurring.
checks and balances and all that noise.
the best and worst and everything else;
never quiet, never soft..... 

half and half.

i'm on that arnold palmer jauns, duders.
what do you ninjas know about that?
oh, c'mon.
i'm obviously not talking about golf.
i mean,
what am i?
an A*hole?
well, that depends on who you ask,
but in this case?
no way, neighbors.
i'm drinking on some homemade expert sh!t.
half lemonade, half iced tea,
with twice the simple syrup sauce,
and no caffeine.
it's kid friendly, if not exactly healthy.
still,
it's good for you, y'know?
and it's good for me, too.
brewing up that nutrient-rich juicy 'ade.
we GOT they, y'all.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
we've been having an incredible time being dope
and getting rad on some teamwork,
and some yard work.
i moved heaps of dry and crumbly crap for hours
and hours and hours,
and i've got spaghetti noodle arms today as a result.
who wants a shaky tattoo?
i hope somebody does,
because while my hands may have teeth,
they're loose teeth today, kids.
they bite isn't as firm as the bark i blasted off
those logs and sh!t across the grounds of the Fortress.
our lawn and gardens are looking spit-shined
and pretty well polished.
we were admonished for our usage of hot fire as a
manicuring tool.
apparently,
it was a red flag day.
that's when the whole world will burn down
in under eleven minutes if so much as an ember
hits the soil and starts it blazing like a host
of demons from the pit an' that.
meanwhile,
i'm feeding a flaming frenzy to the circle of stones in my front yard,
bringing the hades-heated hottness out
for every-flippin'-body to see and disapprove of.
awwwwwwwwwwwww.
we doo-doo that pyro-type activation, duders.
hot fire, dry leaves,
good peoples, and great successes.
it's all really happening,
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

daaaaaaaaaaam?!

check the teleport, neighbors.
my amateur naturalists and i got expert
in a swamp today:

that's right,
a giant stream-stoppin' animal-erected dam,
damning those downstream to a weak flow.
beavers, y'all.
elusive at the best of times,
literally, and metaphorically,
i can't seem to connect with those oily,
flat-A*ed, big, toothy waterbabies.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
however,
we saw some proof that as that old comparison goes,
those muthas get busy.
for really real, they doo-doo that, ninjas.

they also aren't afraid to chew it up:
deforesting the muddy marshes and gnawing
their way towards clearer skies and open spaces.

sometimes they get bored partway through, i guess.

other times, they just decorate, or snack,
or whatever the F* they do when we're not there
bothering them.
dang if that ain't some cartoon A* jauns, though ,yeah?
their fortress of waterside activation wasn't too b!tchlike, either:

c'mon.
that burly barbarian battlecastle was taller than me,
and you know i'm no minky midget or nothin'.
and on the ones, duders,
it's inhabited.
we got that footprint-style proof-

steppin' out on the banks an' that.
beavers, son.
nature wins,
and we're riding it's coattails to victory.
word up;
never quiet, never soft.....

socially secure.

huh?
duders,
i trekked my way across the thinner portion
of new hampshire's north country today.
i needed to reactivate some social security-type jauns.
for real.
i had to get a replacement i.d. card for some
fancy style proof of being me.
and that's some seriously weak sauce.
i mean,
if was the type of ninja to get busy robbing identities,
it wouldn't be of a broke, broken, busted,
and not THAT disgusting mutha-ucka like myself.
awwwwwww, c'mon.
yet,
i found myself the only barbarian battle-beast
waiting in line to fill out forms and present photographic
proof that i am exactly who i claim to be.
good news, neighbors,
it totally worked!
i've got a stamped and notarized and authorized set
of paperworkings that aver and avow that
mister albie rock
is a really real person, keeping it really real.
that is, i was verifiably born, and am currently existing
somewhere in the world of woodsly goodness an' that.
what a relief.
i thought maybe i was a fictional character,
or a delusion of extreme grandeur.
***********
how did i celebrate,
once i was done wasting hours of my weekend
working my way home to Folk Life & Liberty?
i got back into the car with the whole damn fam',
and headed south towards the down east expert area
where green elephants roam along their vegan ways.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
brutal shark gluttony with a great big posse of pretty ladies.
like,
me and five crazy, hungry b!tches gettin' busy on some blops.
we SO doo-doo that.
and we rocked out pretty hard the whole way there,
and back again, to the pattony patterns of faith no more.
don't hate, suckas.
that soundtrack was just what the doctor ordered.
today was the day,
tomorrow is too.
full bellies and empty gas tanks,
and lots of gas, if you feel me;
never quiet, never soft.....

unseasonably unseemly.

awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
i swear my face may have actually melted off.
like,
it's just fur and flesh in a runny puddle
where my chin would be if i wasn't such a
weak-featured victim of high temperature
dissolutionary weather patterns.
duders, it's a batsh!t balmy ninety degrees outside.
yeah, i know,
the whole east coast is getting roasted
so what's so special about us?
not much.
but it still feels like an oven-baked sweatshop
steam-cleaning the meat from my bones.
ugh.
the bright side?
well,
i've got two beautiful little women hanging out,
making moves and watching movies,
eating treats and drawing pictures,
i've got a mission-specific set of objectives ahead of me,
proving my identity isn't stolen,
and that it wasn't me who stole it,
i've got the well-rested relief of having my professionally
prepared tax attack sorted and filed,
and i've got two fully packed days ahead of me
to activate that family-friendly togetherness sh!t.
just sayin',
the weekend for worthy warrior poets starts now.
***********
i've been powering down piles of those
extra-fancy pantsy vegan chocolates.
they may not be good for my physical form,
but they are absolutely necessary for their
contribution to my nutrient-rich well being.
fact.
fancy sh!t is what i need.
*
it's been another manic maniac monday,
and as it winds down,
i'm reminded of one important thing-
it's ALL really happening,
and i'm grateful for every sweaty minute of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

filing those extensions.

oh stop it, neighbors.
today is normally tax day here on the
north american mainland, but,
it's also sunday,
so there's a temporary reprieve
for all us selflessly self-employed selfish sheltered suckers.
huh?
we get a little minute more.
now,
i know all the ninjas getting loot back
filed those happy-returns jauns months ago.
however,
the warriors and poets of perpetual income generation
in the manner of artistry and activation almost always
end up having to cough up a couple of their near and dear
movie checks in full effect to their dubiously related uncle.
just sayin', our white haired and top-hatted uncles am i am
has never ever been to vegan thanksgiving at MY house.
i guess i'm paying him off to stay home.
it doesn't matter, muthas.
today is the day.
the big fun road trip roundhouse round trip to
the weak sauce of westford, masscrackachussetts.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
harvest and maple and spring and vacation are all
about to occupy the same space at the same time.
we're on that turbo-hottness-infused coexistent concentric
overlapping of all the best parts in all the best places.
that's a lot to make happen, and it's ALL really happening.
i'm running down in the morning,
and bring my sweet baby b!tches back to the realm of
pure participation and active being and vice versa.
regrettably,
those lovely little bluebirds have to hang out with us at the
tattbomb studio until dinnertime.
awwwwwwwwwww.
nothing takes a filthy crap on vacation like starting it two days late
driving for a ton of hours,
and topping it off with a sh!t-salad sandwich
of skin and ink and swear words.
real talk.
we've got family togetherness on the schedule for the rest
of the week and for our time away from work, especially.
the rest of the wreaking and wringing is on hold.
there's plenty of time for everlasting anxiety and all that noise,
but right now, duders?
yeah.
it's adventure time.
i'm on my way down,
and i'm destined to be back again by lunch,
with the bestest two beauties my body could've contributed
to the spirits and memories of what's really going on.
wordimus prime;
never quiet, never soft.....

seven with one blow.

today blew by, ninjas.
i mean,
there was tattbombing well past closing time,
and there were lots and lots of duders
waiting around to get a slice of the very
on point, on target, on line all-the-way-live
albie rock show,
and that was in F*ing full effect today.
word up.
the solution to worry, woe, and weariness?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
that's right neighbors,
the answer, as it blows in on the wind,
is activating that eleventh-level expert warrior poetry.
louder, fresher, and harder, for longer than ever before.
the only time i took a breath,
was when i took somebody's breath away.
that's real.
seven tattoos,
several extra hours,
zero weak sauce,
and even fewer pictures to show for it.
that's not the point anymore.
it's only next-level futuristic competent communication
that interests the interested and interesting.
believe it.
we're all on it,
and it's all really happening.
corresponding?
we doo-doo that;
never quiet, never soft.....

F* luck, make moves.

super-duper-stitions, son!
it's that black cat path crossing,
umbrella-indoor-opening,
mirror breaking,
ladder underside traversing,
jason voorhees hockey-demon
camp crystal lake-type jauns
all dang day today.
duders,
it's the thirteenth,
it's friday,
it's happening,
and it is ON like grey poupon.
no,
y'all pardon me, my ninjas.
is it really as unlucky as you duders would have me believe?
or,
is free will and control of my own destiny
gonna trump the remains of today?
my money is on an even split,
a tie score,
a double-or-nothing double dutch date
of spirit and memory watching the submarine races.
that's a dirt-dirty make-out session, y'know?
...so there's that.
***********
the jinx, neighbors.
i'm skeptical.
i mean,
the secret universal plan has no agenda other than
personal nutrient activation.
it's not trying to F* off our A*s.
it just beez like that, yo.
waiting and seeing,
and doo-dooing all the in-betweening.
*
lucky ducks and aw shucks warbucks,
it's all really happening,
live and on fire,
right now in the woodsly goodness;
never quiet, never soft.....

twelfth.

thor's day thunder heads, ninjas.
that's that ominous activation, y'heard?
there are clouds and darkness,
and lights and open sky,
and some serious interaction between
the elements an' that.
the woodsly goodness has got a fix
on the firmament,
and that's pretty fresh.
there's a dazzling display of open airways
all over this fine forested time and place.
plus,
i'm no longer alone in the Fortress,
so it's a homecoming party, of sorts.
at least,
there's food and there are treats.
that makes for a little baby party at any rate.
plus,
you F*ers know i love treats-
the mailman delivered another 'nother
totally expert next level packaged parcel
of prepared words on paper.
that's right,
i got music and movies and books
at the post office box office today.
and like i just said,
you know i love treats, too, neighbors.
it's been a day,
and now it's gonna be a night.
times are being had,
and time is catching air.
the sky is wide open,
and the hourglass is emptying it's dust out.
dust on the wind?
that's not it.
it's more like valkyries getting lifted,
bringing that victorious viking virtue down
on the whole wide world below.
i don't know,
it's just all really happening,
and a little overwhelming.
more than that, even;
never quiet, never soft.....

eleven.

neighbors,
today is the day.
teleport confirmation?
check it:

rock blocks.
the pinnacle of edible expertism.
sweetness.
-

vegan deluxe mixed chocolates.
as yet unopened.
suspenseful, ninjas. for real.
huh?
what about post cards?
don't worry, we GOT they.
-

c'mon.
i get busy.
treats from the mail,
treats for my face.
even the dog got some action.

that's real.
mutha-F*ers,
today goes to eleven.
fact;
never quiet, never soft.....

detox?

oh man!
i am the milky way man, duders.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i'm on that meg ryan/matthew broderick sh!t.
uh-huh.
that no limit robert palmer jauns.
i'm serious.
you know what i'm about, yeah?
that's it, neighbors.
i guess i'd might as well face it-
i think i'm actually addicted...
...to love.
that's real.
i'm just sayin', kids,
that if you could see my netflix queues,
you might concur that there is the
distinct likelihood of a problem.
on the ones,
my bestest homeboy, and watch-it-now account sharer,
the cucch, actually HAS seen 'em,
and he brought it to my attention first.
that's what friends are for, i suppose.
ninjas,
i am a hopeless romantic.
or i am exemplifying both of those adjectives
in equal measure, separately at the same time.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
true stories can't be told falsely, yo.
so,
if i've got a bad case of the hearty heart attacks,
what do i doo-doo to treat it?
it's not like there's a miracle cure.
unless listening to the cure will break the spell.
that's not that crazy, now is it?
word.
cold shoulders and cold turkey, kids.
that's the real cure for a crushing case of a
crucial crush,
or at least,
it seems to be the way the cookie crumbles.
again,
i'm all by my lonely lonesome self,
at home in the chill expanses of the woodsly goodness.
i mean,
what good is a Fortress if there's only one
guard manning the battlements?
a storyteller needs an audience, mutha-b!tches,
and olive the dog is a poor substitute for
active participants and warrior poets.
although battle-beasts have a special place in my heart,
and by my hearth,
they just don't quite get it, y'know?
***********
what have i been up to the last couple days?
good question.
i've been making the magic of competent correspondence
completely consume the spanning of time.
yeah.
post cards, y'all.
for nobody in particular.
hand crafted and packing tape laminated for posterity.
it's the littlest leaf of a love note to nobody,
unstamped and unaddressed and undelivered.
for now.
there's the very likely reality of a relapse at any moment.
it's ALL really happening, friends,
all the time;
never quiet, never soft.....

nil solution set.

ouch, duders.
a zero day,
the day before my weekend, even.
...and what's up?
it's my weekend already.
that's just further proof of the flight path of time,
with or without the added ingredient of fun.
y'heard?
yeah.
a big fat lazy waste of collected moments, neighbors.
and with holy sh!tloads of windy weather to boot.
awwwwwwwwwww.
no tattbombs,
no sweet moolah,
no nuthin'.
but,
there are two days of unbridled dopeness looming
on the hard-style horizon.
that's definitely a thing.
hangin' out and makin moves?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
oh, don't you worry, kids-
it's supposed to snow.
ma nature is not impressed with my frequent
absences from the woodsly goodness, i suppose,
and has decided to dump some activation down from
the sky onto my head, shoulder, knees, and toes.
it's all happening,
lootless, rootless, companionless participation,
day in and day out all over the place.
i'd say aimless, too,
but there's some talk of blasting off a few
high-capacity magazines worth of ammunition.
and you've got to aim with that noise, ninjas.
c'mon.
*
never having been one to deal well
with epic disappointment,
i decided, yesterday,
that easter treats were very dang necessary.
as a result of that heroic decree,
i ordered one hundred pieces
of vegan assorted chocolates.
for my face.
they're en route, too.
...unlike the mutha-flippin' coconuts i attempted
to tempt the postal service into delivering.
thanks a whole bunch,
dirty po'cho A*holes;
never quiet, never soft.....

rza-rection.

across the jugular,
perpendicular to the square!
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
it's easter, neighbors,
the glory of the resurrection,
the unholy terror of the fullest of moons
this side of the tomb.
uh-huh.
today is the day.
alas,
i've no chocolates, no bunnies,
no cellophane grass.
just hard times and hot spit.
for real.
y'know what i did today, ninjas?
i worked.
on that tattbomb grind sh!t, son.
i keep it realer, on any given sunday,
than the hope and the glory of the word of the savior.
daaaaaaaaaaamn.
i said it.
***********
it's a surly, dismal evening in the woodsly goodness.
that's no lie.
i think that the weather needs some serious renovations
because the clouds and the hail are really harshing
the flavor of the elements, y'all.
perhaps some hot fire?
i think it needs to happen.
i've got fuel,
i've got accelerant,
i've got ignition,
and i've got initiative.
what else is there?
you said it;
never quiet, never soft.....

full of it.

that moon out there, duders.
you seen that sh!t?
it's lit up like a giant easter egg of awesomeness.
for real.
and the otherwise empty evening
is totally full of light.
flooded with it,
overflowing with it,
brimming over with illumination.
that's real.
sleeplessness is just one side effect
of that nocturnal inversion, neighbors.
wolfman activation is another.
and that's definitely a thing.
i'm reppin' that leader of the pack jauns, too, y'all.
lone wolfen?
not yet, but ask me again tomorrow.
huh?
oh,
i've got another 'nother day off this sunday,
and it kick starts a Folk Life & Liberty-type
Fortress of solitude interlude, duders.
uh-huh.
just sayin',
i'm once again doing my dirt all by my lonely,
as the homestead will be limited to olive the dog
and yours truly, of course,
until some time next week.
weak?
i don't know about that.
i take time and i utilize it,
i take distance and i use it for gaining perspective,
i take space and i fill it with light,
yeah.
i'm a F*ing warrior poet,
and we keep it really real.
c'mon.
i've got a howling heart and hairy palms,
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

so good.

jesus,
it's a good friday.
so, duders,
how's it feel to be absolved of all your sins?
i'll bet it's pretty dang sweet.
c'mon, neighbors!
today is the day.
it's friday.
it's good.
it's happening.
two-thousand and twelve years' worth
of magic in the making,
and yet i'm almost positive there's no real treats
in store for me this nor'easterly easter season.
awwwwwwwww.
no baskets of chocolate,
no cellophane grass,
no nothin'.
except,
i may hide some eggs somewhere, though.
just to activate the eagles' nutrients an' that.
we'll see.
then again,
i don't really know how i feel about painting eggs so much,
unless of course they're human eggs.
which i remember as being kinda tiny, and awfully wet.
ugh.
i'll need a specialty brush, i guess!
art supply shopping trip?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i suppose it IS a good friday.
*
okay,
i know it's a super-jesusy day for all the true believers,
but i'm interested in giving equal time to the opposing side-
therefore,
i'd like to show you guys a shot of my hawai'ian sunburn.
check the time travel teleport:

uh-huh.
i look like the flippin' devil.
(and that was on a sunday!)
checks and balances, kids.
i GOT they.
there may be passion in the christ,
but there's desire in the fire, my ninjas.
recognize.
***********
i'm a deep rich brown these days,
so much so that my pumpkin buttery eye color
looks like maple-syrup kissed honey on a big
hairy pile of cow sh!t.
uh-oh.
that's a thing.
you can't polish a turd, friends,
but you can bedazzle it, it would seem.
that's what's up;
never quiet, never soft.....

new format.

ugh.
blogger just tried to make my life easier.
and of course i totally hate it.
it's 'new' and 'streamlined'.
and if e'er there were two adjectives i'd prefer to avoid,
those are the ones...
easier?
no me gusta.
effortlessness is the same as meaninglessness.
neighbors,
that's the truth.
convenience kills appreciation,
and that's not cool, duders.
and to top it all off,
the F*ing moon has got it's magic raybeams
totally blasting out of it's silver shell,
directly down into my head.
yuuuuup.
it sure seems like it's all getting easier.
that's it, exactly;
never quiet, never soft.....

four four.

swollen.
that's right neighbors.
look out the window.
that moon up there?
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
...swollen.
it's a dirty dang shame that something so
big and bright can bring so much light to the darkness
and deprive me of my sleep at the same time.
sure,
i get to enjoy all the blue and silver of it's tumescent heavenly glory,
but it gives me the shivers to think of the deep, dark,
careworn purple satchels it stows away under my eyes.
and that's not all that gets swollen, either-
in fact,
ALL the big, bulbous round orbs i ever even heard of
are swelled up, and out, and full to bursting.
that's real.
the luminous lusciousness has got me going
all out on that werewolfen insomniac attack, jack.
uh-huh.
my woodsly goodsly worthy weekend pretty much
flipped past like a lightning stricken flash in the pan,
and already it's evening all over again.
one more night down the hatch,
one more day under my belt.
real life keeps happening.
fast.
another 'nother moon-eyed lunatic launch
from now until then, directly into the eye of the future.
howl;
never quiet, never soft.....

april showers...

bring a lot of flaked-up sloughing.
yeah.
i'm somehow still shedding my skin.
i suppose that it's just a necessary process
for the purposes of becoming something else.
right?
i think that might be true.
i mean,
i also got a haircut and a baby beard trim today, too.
that's real, neighbors.
any chance i have to decrease my undesirability
seems like a chance i can't afford to miss, y'heard?
now,
notice i didn't say increase my desirability.
...totally intentional, kids.
nobody gets to get expert by faking reality
in any manner whatsoever.
word up.
the problem with skin-shedding animals is
that only cicadas turn into something way crazier.
and cicadas lump around underground for yeeeeeeeears,
and when they pop out from deep within the dark recesses
of the earth's dirty embrace,
they look even flippin' scarier than they did,
and have like eleven seconds to hump it up,
as hard and as often as they can,
just to squirt more babies into the earth,
to suffer beneath the roots of the world,
doomed to repeat the whole thing over and over and over.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
looks like it's almost better to shed like a slithery snake, son.
yeah,
you're still a snake afterwards,
but you're a F*ing bigger snake, right?
more, kids.
that's all there ever is,
even when what little hair my big misshapen head
has remaining has been cut away and shortened.
somehow,
there's only ever more.
april won't stop foolin' around,
and i may be all set already.
oh, c'mon;
never quiet, never soft.....

fooled.

yeah!
the mountains are kissed with snow,
and the temperature stayed just barely above freezing.
as a result,
the very first day of april was almost as nice
as the north shore of maui in march,
except,
without giant spiders to keep me company.
awwwwww.
my first day back to that grind?
uh-huh.
hard-style pounding and tattbomb explosions,
all dang day long.
good thing tomorrow is my weekend.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i need a break, for sure.
six whole hours of resuming the drudgery
of skin-rip skullduggery,
and i'm ready to take it easy.
there's no time like the present for presenting
a plan of inaction, right?
you know it, duders;
never quiet, never soft.....

(face)palm sunday.

that's a thing.

never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, rabbit.

good F*ing luck, my ninjas.
that's what i'm sighting in my scope
and aiming downrange for.
you bet your sweet bippies that i said it,
and i meant it.
the first thing off the tip of my hot and fiery tongue
was an echoed utterance of that magic hat-pulliong
easter-type long-eared hippity-hopper.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
RABBIT. RABBIT.
it's another 'nother new month already.
somehow,
scouring the sandy shores of the extremes of
the western united states
spanned a whole half a month of move-making,
and now it's the season for showers already.
time flies,
and so did i, neighbors-
all the way from over there and back again,
and i find myself home alone in the
Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
back in the granite-clad embrace of the woodsly goodness.
uh-huh.
*
my dog has already forgotten about me.
i rated about eleven minutes of welcome,
and she's back to sleeping away the remains of the day.
nice.
***********
my face looks like i shoved it into a sandblaster,
and some of the buffing agent remained embedded in my skin.
i'm a flaky pastry crust of exfoliation, y'all.
it itches like i'm undergoing a midlife molting crisis.
here i was,
worried about flesh-disintegrating centipede bites,
and instead it was that golden globe of life-giving
light and warmth that mangled my already-tenuous grip
on looking not that disgusting.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
sun poisoning.
even the elements have it in for me.
at least that happened before i said rabbit a couple times.
so there's still hope.
maybe.
back where i live,
and wondering where i belong.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....