big breakfasts.

i guess that vegans all kinda celebrate not going to work

by gorging on gorgeous globs of greasy goodness.

we doo-doo that shark-gluttonous freaky-eatie sh!t.

it's a real thing.

i'm sayin',

this delish dish may not be served up in an outre-hip community co-operative urban food spot,

but my kitchen isn't one to shirk sh!t, and not rise to the occasion.

i'm sorry-ish,

all you die-hard earth-nest-grimy bicycle and dreaded head-lock dudes,

but my early morning weekendy hottness is pretty dope all by it's ownsome in the woods.

and that's with or without a side-order panniecake with pinwheel pecans.

some of ya'll may be thinkin':

that's a lot of yellow for one plate.

and normally, i'd agree.

but polenta is just so pleasant,

and that tofu scramble has triumphant turmeric,

and paprika, (think of it as a toner)

to utilize the essential nutrients,

replicating eagle's eggs powers,

and activating the inner 'ness.

as in, hottness.

it also helps it to rock my flippin' socks off my feet.

besides,

if you think that's a lot of yellow,

try standing across the street and looking at the giant lemon i call home.

oh, and that's not actually some cedar bark strips on my plate, either, ya'll.

it's pretend bacon.

it can pretty much stop pretending,

and change it's name to tasty construction paper,

because i'll still snack on it when i feel the urge.

word up.

we're fueled up and unfurled out for a big fun day.

yeah.

i think we're gettin' wall primer or some sh!t.

jealous?

i'm on some new other other sh!t today.

a little reactive participation, my ninjas.

events unfold, ya'll.

like it or not,

there's times and places for all kinds of stuff.

i'm on a mission,

to stop, look, and listen,

and figure out where and when and how my times are.

word to hour glasses,

i came to crack asses.

oh, c'mon.

how about you mutha-flippers?

is it just good times, like j.j. and florida?

hard times, like really real life and minneapolis bum cafes?

or ALL the mutha-forkin' times?

you know how it goes....

it's all really happening.

acting and reacting,

we're part of it;

never quiet, never soft......

labor intensive...

whoah!

i like how i always make a semi-surprised face when i take my own picture.

one would assume a self-portrait is at least partially prepared for.

i mean,

i'm pointing a camera right into my eyeholes,

so i completely knew what was comin'.

do i seem a bit like a spaniard of old?

i think don quixote might've had the same flavor before he got old and crazy.

i sure could use a right hand man of la mancha to take some photos.

maybe then i could spend a little more time actually being surprised.

the orange glow from the autumnal embers and ciaroscuro focus

seems to help hamper the hard style of lookin' like me all the time.

the darker the better, i guess,

when it comes to the optimal light for catchin' a glimpse of your main ninja, eh?

i figured some duders out there were wondering

about my devastatingly dashing good looks.

....yeah,

i still haven't found any,

but,

i'm slowly inching my way to contentment with my new short and sweet and sour hair.

what a day.

we had howlin' full-moonin' wolfmen and ladies in the studio today.

no, i really mean it;

bayin', sobbin', throbbin' and all that kind of warbled woeful wailing.

it makes for a loud hard work scenario.

leftover baked zitis and little corgi dogs are fillin' out the remains of the day.

tonight may see a replay of our onion-shaped orb of fiery hottness.

the front lawn and garden got a miniature makeover today;

jess yardworked it for all it was worth.

my weekend starts now, my ninjas.

all you sancho panzas had better believe it;

never quiet, never soft.....

glorious. laborious. victorious.

"it feels like it's really fall now. like the season just jumped off"
true enough, and well said, jim.
our buddy came by for dinner and the first fire at the new citadel.
jess's ma delivered us a chiminea,
and with the scaped-up raked-up bark and splinter leavings from the cords of woodsly goodness,
we blazed up a brief respite from the pre-fall fall in temperatures.

yeah,

those're the solar lights back behind my ladyfriend.

and that view is from the sherlockian study upstairs in the fortress.

times are being had ya'll.

and they're pretty flippin' good ones.

holiday weekends in a vacation town can be pretty sh!tty,

but we live on the opposite side of the traffic jam jamboree,

and there's no place we needed to go.

there's no place like home base, anyway.

all of that was after a nearly nauseating shark-gluttonous feast.

uh-huh,

shark gluttony is when you may have actually swallowed the fork,

and the napkin,

in a balls-out barbarian no-chewing allowed brutal noodle gnashin',

sauce bossy blop-bashin' feeding frenzy.

i made my unparalleled 5 pound pantload pannie-pan of italian thunder last night.

you read that right.

and you missed out, hard, on a chance to go insane

all the way from your tongue to your bung!

wooooooooord.

world-famous it ain't.....yet; but it sure should be.

because it is pretty mutha-uckin' incredible, edible, and unforgettable.

word to gettin' nude,

i came to eat food....

it's like rome gettin' razed by vandals in your mouth.

it's like alderaan gettin' F*d up by the de*th st*r behind your teeth.

it's like eating pornography...?

y'know, kinda awesome, but just so dirty.

okay, O-kay, okay;

it's actually just a big-ass tray of vegan baked ziti.

but it is also all of those other things too.

and i've even got some left over.

recognize.

never quiet, never soft.....

the greatest.

treats!
i got some new hand-thrown hottness yesterday,
from the tin mountain potteryworks,
and plans to obtain some new other other assorted hottness,
from hurricane mountain pottery today.
i've got that glazed look in my eyes,
all proper raku an' that.
i've got some loot, to cash us some clay.
muhammed ali? what? hold it...
you know, as in, the greatest.
the greatest collection of kickass bowls, mugs, jars, and crocks.
and what a crock it is, kids.
seriously, i've got a pair of 'em, and they're proper fresh, for real.
today's big affair?
i'm buyin' another bowl or two to hold my treats, ninjas.
be easy.
c'mon, can you blame a mutha-ucka?
i got a ragin' rocky top for that handmade stuff.
i mean,
i'm not hatin' on machine made bits and pieces, if they happen to hold some heat,
but there's no comparin' candlepower when up against the crafty crafted creations
of hands-on handmade treats.
that's word.

and,
today's the last real summer day.
and it's already got that autumnal accent liltin' through the leaves;
heck, it's not really even that warm outside.
come tomorrow, it may as well just be apples and sweaters.
labor day is mostly reserved for rednecks to burn burgers over blazin' grills.
and for college-age kidlets to practice getting drunk.
i'm workin' throughout all of that.
better off blastin' tatty-o's and commiserating with run-of-the-mill waterbabies,
than breakin' bread and hearts with the very same liquid infant diaperpants.
i'm sayin',
i've got run-of-the-mill zappin' to scribe up and vibe out.
you know it;
word to wood stoves,
i came to pinch loaves.
...on your life.
that barely even makes sense.
and yet i totally doo-doo that doo-doo,
it's a regular rear-ended three-day weak-end weekend.
so sit on back, have some oogey loogie potato salad,
with extra mayo, (to prove you're a proud american)
and enjoy this long range rovin' on weak-sauce work avoidance....
...and don't forget to stop by and gimme some money.
i'm at the fire, even when i'm not.

yard sales and old people,
traffic jams and elderberry jam,
tattyzips and steam engine restorations;
i'm grateful for the time i've been given.
every day,
not just on holidays;
never quiet, never soft.....

nature wins.

so we've got these hundred-year-old oak trees, yeah?
and we've got this snazzy metal roof.
full-moonshine love shack-style.
and do you know what you get when you combine those things?
pitter-pattery rain drips and drops, for one.
filtered and reflected sunshine, for another.
but,
at 3 a.m., by the light of the silvery moon,
far, far more often than not,
you get the bad dream wake-up call of assault weapons shooting at your face!
wait....what?
acorns, mutha-lickas.
i said it: acorns.
acorns come careening off of the mighty oaken branches like barbarian battle bullets,
ricocheting raucously off the roof.
staccato strafing fire, not sustained attacks, but still....
bumpin' moreso than grindin' my nights,
and things that go bump in the night,
excepting bumpin' uglies,
definitely hurt all my grinds,
except for my teeth, an' that.
word.
no jokin', it's the sound of the devil's pogo stick.
that sh!t is crazy loud in the still of the night.
maybe it's all the woodsly zombie preparedness i think on all the time,
maybe it's the soldier of fortune subscription i've been contemplating,
it could even be my last nerves gettin' frayed by all the steam cleaning goin' on,
but call me paranoid
(i'll answer, ya'll)
you ninjas already know i'm ready for duck-and-cover barrel rolls and return fire.
get busy time, indeed.

saturday.
busy holiday weekend wonderland.
the second-to-last hurrah.
pottery, farmer's markets, craft fairs, all of that,
is ALL really happening.
i've got a hearty hankerin' for a heapin' helpin' of my favorite sweet 'n' salty treat;
kettle corn is on it, like what's poppin'.
oh, c'mon.
and that big, hot, oily copper cauldron
is cookin' up kernels of crucial crunchiness like you read about.
i'm ON the mutha-ucka, yo.
after all,
what am i, an A-hole?
probably,
and you already know how corn treats A-holes:
never quiet, never soft.....

greyer than gruyere.

holy smokes!!
my little diaper-baby infant youngest sister,
anna,
turns 29 today!
that's ridiculous.
i mean, she's the baby of the family,
not some grown-up woman or anything weak-sauce like that.
what the F*, ya'll.
happy berfday, freaky-diki old-ass b!tch!!
weird.
hell,
jess's lil' broski,
robert,
hit the same milestone yesterday.
y'know what that makes your favorite berserker barbarian lawnmower man?
old.
i feel that sh!t in my osseous calcium sticks when i wake up, too.
and when i go to sleep, all early-like an' that.
and especially when i peep a peek at my mirror image in the lookin' glass.
i'll gladly take the gray hairs that're stayin' put
over the ones that're brown and still leaving my scalp for greener pastures.
nice.
not to mention, lest i ever forget for a quick second,
i've got hunin and munin sittin' pretty on either side of my facepiece, yo,
or at least their feetprints next to my eyes.
crow-footed squinty smile wrinkles, some would say, look distinguished.
c'mon.
laugh-lines my ass, mutha-uckas.
i think it may be more of a pyrolysis effect.
weathering my wan complexion with each licking tongue of hot fiery spit.
it's better to be bold and let the words, worlds, and worries wear well on my face.
the price of vainglorious narcissism, ya'll.
i can't help but stare.
even when it sucks.
ah well,
you miki-fikin' mutha-lickers aren't gettin' any younger either.
yeah, misery does love company.
it's so true.

okay, i'm really not that old at all.
maybe i'm just feelin' time creepin' up on me
well,
with the nonstop reality that i contnue to age,
in some places more gracefully than others,
i don't worry about having a screw come loose
or about problems with the plumbing.
my jawns is tight, ninjas.
that's yet another 'nother benefit of having the right tools for the job.
just one more reason to always choose the wrench, y'heard?
i live life, ya'll.
it's all really happening,
every single day in every possible way.
careworn and weatherbeaten,
worthy warrior poetry is written all over my face;
never quiet, never soft....

john henry would lose to this guy.

^^this lil' fella could be bumblebee,
y'know, from the original cartoon transformers,
the old school one,
before the chrome computery battlebotic business.
it sure works it's little snout off, though.
in just a few short hours,
we've almost cleared the whole room of old and busted doo-doo.
nice.
seems somehow fitting that my new futuristic bobotron machine matches my house.
elements of the past, and elements of the future,
combined to make something somehow not quite as good as either.
that's on that mighty boosh sh!t.
click that jawns and recognize.

so far,
this morning has the room lookin' a little less 'haunted house',
and a wee bit more new england hottness.
and yeah,
the roof, and the ceiling both pitch lower at the windows.
interesting rooflines?
F* yes, they are.
one room at a time.
one day at a time.
slowly, ya'll,
the incredible turbo-fresh woodsly goodness will prevail.
believe it.

all the little kiddies are all the way back in school up here,
and all their parents haven't any vacation time, or money left.
do you know what that means for the warrior poets at the tattoo shop?
uh-huh.
skanks.
old, rusty, white oldsmobiles chock full of 'em.
unemployed, a little bit 'tarded, high as F*....
who else has nothing better to do at 1p.m. in the woods in september?
nobody.
lower back tribal and asian language lettering, my ninjas.
keep 'em comin'.
i've got that mortgage death pledge to scoople.
gimme $ome money;
never quiet, never soft....

grillin' it.

whaaaaaaat?

yep.

dinner was so flippin' bangin',

i thought my ninjas should know of it.

act like you read about, ya'll.

deliciousness for your face.

that plateful of flavor had it goin' on and on and on.

clockwise from the steamed-on-the-grill baby bok choy,

we got the gardein protein slabs, and some mirin-glazed maitake mushrooms,

and also a vicious discus of vidalia onion,

and some burly burnt summer squash.

i had my charcoals glowin', all real lump wood an' that,

i got my vegetables marinating all early-like,

and i even sliced and diced some cherry-ripe cherry tomatoes.

what do you get when you take garlic, onions, basil,

olive oil, lemon juiciness, and tomatoes,

and leave out the bread that'd have made it bruschetta?

a little something called a bowlful of salad, yo.

c'mon.

don't all vegans just eat salad all day?

sure.

what's the proper way to aid digestion after a bellyful of tasty treats gets got?

you guessed right:

steamy bedroom business.

seriously.

the whole room is like a sweatbox sauna now,

after the savage stormswept power-steamin' we just handed out.

damn, ninjas wanna stick me for my (wall)papers.

that's enough work for one day, hey.

now it's cover-to-cover sheets of paper,

and paper-thin coverlets and comforters.

bedtime is a good time;

never quiet, never soft.....

elemental mentals.

lazy days off kind of rock it.
i mean,
crosswords and word jumbles and no jumbled cross words at all.
takin' 'er easy an' that.
y'know, proper easy for sure.
right up until it isn't;
we've got a wallpaper steamer.
man does not refurbish by scraping alone.
that's some 'find out the hard way' hard styles, my ninjas.
and that's why we've got the aforementioned hot water blasterizer.
for the record:
yes, i actually already have burned AND scalded myself today,
yes, i did get adhesive doo-doo butter on my shoes,
and yeah, suckas, i even managed to get a little tiny teeny spot of wall hooked up.
de-papered, scrapered, and glueless goo gone and all that noise.
i promised myself i wouldn't do any of the wall re-doo-dooin',
but the mellow yellow robobotic battle-buggy was way too cool to resist.

what can i say, i'm all about the bobotronic wizardry.

and woodchucks, too.
we've got a truly monstrous mutant marmot up here.
i spotted him today,
and actually thought someone had dropped a tree stump off across the street...
...until it started moving.
dopeness, kids.
that's woodsly warrior spirit type sh!t.
groundhog's day type sh!t
fuzzy wuzzy if i could chuck type sh!t.
and us barbarian types definitely doo-doo that kind of woodsly goodsly sh!t.
yep.
another fun-filled day off in the white mountains.
i bet all the granola heads are hiking and gettin' sweaty.
good luck to 'em.
but while they take it to the limit,
i'm hot and steamy, woodsly woodland dreamy,
and making the tasty pasty papers get all soppin' and creamy.
take a hike, indeed.
it's all really happening, even when not much is happening;
never quiet, never soft......

hittin' it from the back....

i thought all ya'll mutha-lickin' 'uckas might like a snappy one,

of our glorious, notorious Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.

it's yellow, for real, so don't worry, your monitor is perfectly fine.

that there is the westside backside sunroom/upper bedroom area.

yeah.

seriously.

times are being had,

styles are gettin' harder,

and in between all that we're slowly makin' these moments happen.

all of 'em.

really, really hard.

i'm practically sh!tting my pants about all the crap that needs to get gotten to,

but in the right here and now, my ninjas,

i'm feelin' pretty flippin' psyched....

dear secret universal plan,

i love you.

thanks for lettin' me blaze a burly stump,

and see the settin' sun shine down on the woodsly goodness.

for what it's worth,

i'm grateful.

xoxoxoxox,

a.

never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, RABBIT!!

more fortuitous freshness, carved and craved in the woodsly goodness.
good F*n' luck with that.
i called out my jinx-proof safety 'xclamation,
all early and still-dark-out an' that.
i awoke in my crisp sheets and warm jammies,
next to a beautiful sweet honey baby, and a dumb dog,
but the question remains:
do i feel lucky, punks?
a little.
probably moreso than if i'd hollered out "rabbi, rabbi", anyway.
the t's, ya'll, two of 'em, like in the hoTTness, are essential.
and should that have been challah'd out, as well?
speakin' of;
i may head over to bethlehem today to check out some super-sexy stick furniture.
be easy,
i'm talkin' about bethlehem, new hampshire,
poetry capitol of the granite state.
and home to some palace-time (not palestine) places to scoople up some luscious housewares.
if you don't know, you'd better ask some bunny....


firewood.
it warms you twice, as the old-timey saying goes.
it may even keep my temperature torrid a couple more times than that.
hell, on a hot day, it overheats the heck out of my face.
all that physical laboring, but with such studly results.
rich, firm, and fully packed.
in the interest of sharing my newfound masculinity,
i just had to snap a shot of the woodshed.
i mean, that is exactly what i'm talkin' about right there.
oddly,
the dark, dank woodhole was also exactly where i wanted to hang out.
and almost no spiders messed with my well-being either, happily.
nothin' erases that turbo-testosterone triumph like a nancy-pants scream
and the subsequent scurrying that a spindly soul-sucker incites in me.
earwigs, for sure, were scamperin' around with their grabby grab-assey asses,
but a crickety little pincerbutt is not gonna break MY stride.
not enough legs to kick it up to eleven, y'heard?.
same reason i don't get weird about sharks.
too tubey to care about.
word.

it's september, my ninjas.
get ready.
the ultimate epic dopeness is here.
three weeks to official Perfect Fall Days;
never quiet, never soft....