megalodontics.

the problem with trans-species emulation?
physical challenges.
what?
hold on, i'm getting there.
okay, so...
y'know how a great white shark
will have license plates and shoes and sh!t in it's stomach?
it's because it chomps on all kinds of F*ed-up treats.
but,
after it munches up a whole volkswagen or whatever,
it stops chomping away,
and goes and takes a lap to swim it off a bit.
once it's full, i'm sayin'.
once it's full, it takes a breather.
so,
being a non-shark,
and supposedly being in possession of free will,
and to a lesser degree, good sense,
i'm faced with a whole separate series of issues
when i get down on some super-shark gluttony.
physical challenges, y'all.
i can't fit a license plate in my bellyhole.
but,
that didn't stop me from trying last night.
for real.
jim and i had a man-date in portland.
the green elephant was not ready.
neither were my insides.
there may actually be a whole fork
and maybe even a cloth napkin
sloshin' around in there today.
shark-gluttony, my ninjas.
more like megalodon-gluttony.
i was full after the multiple-meals-worth
mountain of appetizer-type treats.
i could've stopped.
i could've got my main meal to go.
i could've and i probl'y should've.
instead, duders, i chose the wrench.
(and then, i put some sauce on it and ate that b!tch, too)
jim had the good sense to save some room.
he knew what was happening-
which, of course, really just meant that i
had to destroy a couple trays of treats all by myself.
i mean, we ordered 'em,
and i couldn't just box up the leftovers, right?
right.
feeding frenzy, kids; not my fault.
that's berserker-type sh!t.
the one concession to physical limitations we made?
we got dessert to go.
chocolate pie with cocoa-frosted orange slices, my ninjas.
oh yes, there will be fudge.
it could've hung out in the fridge until today, yeah?
what kind of weak-sauce is that logic?
you already know as soon as we reached the fortress,
out came the mutha-flippin' forks.'
seriously,
the pounds of vegan vittles in my middle
did some kind of permanent damage.
something is loose and rattling around in there.
i'm pretty sure that's bad for you.
in retrospect,
i think i was getting exacting some vengeance.
on the parking situation during rush hour in the city.
30+ minutes circling like a barbarian buzzard?
unacceptable.
therefore, i obviously had to eat even more,
just to make up for the lameness.
and i did.
vainglorious victorious vegan victuals.
we do-doo that freaky sh!t.
***********
i also mineral oiled my woodsly kitchen counter-top.
after only a mere short six months of contemplating it.
it was so easy, i almost felt foolish for procrastinating.
almost.
what can i say?
i was feeling flushed with fresh spring flavor.
so much so, i bought a banjo.
wait.
what?
yeah, i totally did.
it just seemed like the right course of action in the moment.
of course,
just a few of those moments later,
i stumbled upon the banjolele.
that's a banjo/ukelele combo.
dang.
an extra second of resonsible adult contemplation,
and i could have purchased an even more irritating instrument.
ah well,
there's always today.
i've heard it's THE day.
you'd better believe it.
see what happens without my superior spousely lady?
banjos and broken bellies-
horrible noises from without and within;
never quiet, never soft.....

solo flights.

my wife is leaving me.
hey, now,
take it easy.
she's only going away until friday.
she's headed to weak-sauce waterbaby world.
yep.
connecticut,
land of the worst,
home of the lame.
of course,
there's a sparse few folks down there
deep in the doo-doo butter,
who AREN"T totally awful.
she's going back home to see most of them.
i know.
the good news is that jess is bringing back
my delightful, devious, darling daughters.
harvest & maple are headed up for april vacation.
and that's dope.
big fun, good peoples, all of that.
but not until friday night.
in the in-between times,
it's just me and the dog and the fortress.
oh man.
what am i gonna do up here
all by my lonesome an' that?
....so many things.
first up:
pecan raisin oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
that's the baited lure, y'all.
it's how i entice visitors to hang out.
dangling a parcel of sweetness out front.
and there will be plenty of treats.
(but i'll be here, too... sorry)
and after that big big plan of action,
all sugar and chocolate and nicey-niceties,
well,
we'll just have to wait and see what happens.
***********
speaking of waiting and seeing.
the early bird is clearly a robin.
i know this because he's the only bright-chested
mutha-licker out back in the yard slurping up worms.
and he's busy getting busy with it, too.
everybody else just hangs out,
and patiently waits for the seeds.
really.
-
dear rockin' robin,
take your time,
i mean,
who wants to settle for vermicuisine?
just wait five minutes.
be easy,
and we'll get you a whole bunch of tasty sunflower bits.
love,
xoxoxox,
albie
-
***********
my b!tchin' butcher block kitchen countertop
needs oiling.
my firepit and my compost pile need excavating.
the mutha-suckling bathroom isn't stained.
still.
and this morning is rushing right past me.
how many chores will get done?
what with me left to my own devices,
without home improvement imperatives
delivered down from the lovely lady of the house?
it doesn't look good.
what about hot fire?
what about manly man-times?
what about Folk Life Fortress sh!t?
i'd say the odds are slightly skewed away from
chores and boring b!tchsappery,
and far and away in favor of flavor freshness,
in the form of fuego and funtimes and ferocity.
for the next three and a half days,
i am the tyrannical terror,
the savage sovereign,
and the diabolical dictator of this place.
the despot of dopeness.
it's all really happening.
right here;
never quiet, never soft.....

open-handed

choke-neck sandwiches!
what whaaaaat?!

that there is an open-faced fried tempeh sandwich, ninjas,

with lettuce and tomato and caramelized vidalias.

plus vegenaise and plenty of black pepper.

and what's that in the back?

is that a side order of garlic'd greens?

yes, yes, y'all;

those are some thick collard jauns.

wu-TANG!

it sure is.

sandwiches make me feel cheerful, and confident.

no big surprise then,

that the Folk Life shorthand for a sandwich is

a guini (gwee-nee).

it's a diminutive form of sanguine,

which, obviously, is the closest root word to sang'wich.

which even more obviously,

is how you pronounce the word sandwich.

it's welsh phonetics, i think...

vocab test aside,

that guini was flippin' excellent.

that's what hapens when i cook, mutha-F*ers.

and i do cook. hard.

one of the many, many, many ways i get busy.

and don't let a duder hear you misquote some sh!t.

sammich?

that weak-sauce will NOT be tolerated.

guinis.

get it straight.

***********

the weekend is waiting for me.

just another 'nother soul-smothering sampling

of simpering sad-sack skin scat,

and i've got a free 48.

that's one more weak week closer to minneapolis.

all ya'll midwestern peoples had better be getting ready.

i've had a whole extra month to ripen up,

and now i'm positively bursting with the hottness.

it's all expected,

things are for the lookin',

if you got the money,

rock is for the bookin'.

word;

never quiet, never soft.....

four one one

4-11!
today's the big day.
all mary j. blige an' sh!t.
ALL the information.
today.
y'know, slowpokes, the 411.
like the operator?
that's right mr. telephone man,
there's something wrong with my line.
it's crooked, i think.
the day, though, is straightforward.
of course,
everywhere else in the world,
today's date is written 11-4.
naturally,
i prefer it the american calendar way.
even though it makes less sense, really.
an ascending order of temporal duration = logical.
still,
the disjointed bossy boss way makes today cooler, by far.
(and i don't have to wait until november to get excited.)
win!
***********
vikings.
that's what's up.
i'm feelin' especially hoarse, norse, and without remorse.
yellin', rebellin', and not tellin'.
today just feels like the kind of day for barbarian berserking.
really,
almost every day could use a little living hard
in place of the usual hard-living.
but especially today.
why?
because i'm thinking about all the sick old men i know.
older than their ages, even.
it's like long life, from concentrate, that never ever got diluted.
so it's thick with experience,
but still a little bitter.
you get it.
all the extra days just kind of got packed into the short hours
of everyone else's early times.
and now they're almost over.
long nights, hard times, and hot fire.
the hotter it burns, the quicker it consumes.
thing is,
it's sad and it isn't, but both at the same time.
i mean it;
these old and crusty, rusty, busted duders
have seen and done more in the time alloted them,
than most mediocre mincey muthab!tches
could ever hope for in twthrice as many lifetimes.
cliche', maybe,
but no less true.
of course,
there's always a cost.
now i've got a couple of lions, in winter,
right in the middle of spring.
racing to the bitter end.
different kinds of men.
a berserker barbarian battle beast,
a scolding, scandalous skald,
but both important lightning-striking vikings.
like wotan's havamal says
in 'the way of the norsemen':
wealth dies,
friends die.
one day you too will die.
but the thing that never dies
is the judgement
on how you have spent your life.
.....C'mon.
-that sh!t definitely goes to eleven-
i only hope that when my hourglass runs empty,
my final wheezy death-rattle
comes out as a bellowing battle-cry...
glad is my fate at the glorious finish;
never quiet, never soft.....

flurries.

it's snowing.
no joke.
not a storm, really.
certainly not a blizzard.
but still,
there are flakes falling out of the sky.
and this after our precursory summer preview-
maybe the clouds were sunburnt,
by all the shiny bright secret summeryness;
and now, after all the ray-soaked saturation,
the peel is in full effect.
gross.
the weather, the image, all of it.
it's gross.
of course,
it could be frozen tears, just as easily.
whih is not as 'sgusting, but just as sad.
bummer.
***********
yesterday was shawn's berfday.
he's 29 now.
add it up, kids:
2 + 9 = eleven.
that's pretty good news, yeah?
somehow,
he's still only in his late twenties...
that's F*ed up, duders.
i mean,
i've known him and his big, fat mouth for a hot decade.
which means he was just a little kid when we met.
now he's almost thirty.
weird?
i thought so, too.
i didn't call with cheerful well-wishes.
not that i don't have 'em, or anything.
it's just that i'm not a very good friend, really.
and,
i even felt bad about the lapse until i heard about
how he worked late and didn't eat cake.
i am confused by that sort of thing.
but, also i feel relieved...
cake and candles and not workin' are part of the regulations.
i'm just sayin',
if you don't hold to the code,
then i'm off the hook.
score!
happy belated berfday, shawn.
i'll be seeing you soon.
***********
duders,
the scampering scritchers in the yard
are multipying.
jess puts out seeds and treats every day,
and every day,
more and more little wodland creatures
show up to munch up on those goodies.
it's a regular wildlife preserve over here.
for serious time, though.
small mammals and winged scoochers
spend most of the morning entertaining us.
today,
most of 'em lok twice their normal size,
but it's mostly the puffled ruffles of fluffed-out
fur and feathers.
flurries aren't warm, kids,
and these little muthab!tchers don't get down like that.
so it's floofy little getters today,
and frosty skies tonight.
hard styles in the woodsly goodness, for sure.
why does the hottness have to get so cold?
never quiet, never soft.....

fray.

my griddle sizzles, kids.
what happens when you forget to get bread
for the tea and toast traditions of mornin' time?
pannie cakes!
so, there's a happy ending anyway-
what better way to start a rainy day?
a hearty lumberman stack of flapper jackers.
breaking my fast on some burly man food,
with real-deal maple syrup.
'tis the season, sap-suckers.
recognize it.
the tubular technology involved in
modern maple harvesting is pretty rad.
all those hoses, looped together,
feeding the juicy juice to big ol' barrels.
..to get boiled down to one fortieth of it's former fluidity.
just so i can slather it's saucy syrup on my pannies.
that's not b!tch-sap oozin' out, sucka.
it's essential nature nectar.
that's what's up.
new england makes me happy during the sweetening times.
local maples.
local sugar houses.
pure distilled woodsly goodness.
right in my bellyhole.
digesting the dopeness.
right this very second.
nice
***********
i just finished another 'nother novel.
a trilogy actually,
in one collected volume,
in rapid succession, and in short order.
....yeah,
you caught me again:
there totally were dragons in it.
now, i read a lot.
seriously.
in the absence of television,
and my ambivalence about arthur-making,
it's book after book after book.
(with dragons and sh!t all up in 'em, too)
i can't tell if i'm actually getting any smarter
from these compendiums of non-factual
information i munch up,
or if my penultimate nerdiness just makes it seem like it.
now, just for the record,
i don't read those young adult ones;
-i'm old, after all-
so it's strictly the lame full-grown adult ones.
i won't stop, ninjas.
they keep writing 'em,
and i'll keep reading 'em.
it's what i do.
whew...
good thing about all those pancakes.
y'know,
to offset the fantasy dork explosion
with all that stout manly nutrition.
these days, y'all.
chock full of dungeons and dragons an' that.
the lightning-striking viking storms
have given over to the drizzling middling
mediocre moistness of dreary drippiness.
the sky is silver,
but the lining is hiding,
and it's pancakes and mandrakes as far as i can see;
never quiet, never soft.....

days gone.

thor's day is here.
just like every week.
the day-off times are through,
too soon,
and without enough action.
it's been the should-be-asleep-times
when all the get-busy business is showing up;
there've been top-secret late-night lightning storms
for a few nights now.
fresh.
that's secret universal determination, duders:
the thunder is bringing itself.
and that might very well be the best part about
super-unseasonably hot days;
evaporation, and recondensation.
mid-evening, pre-sunset cumulonimbi, ninjas.
refreshing.
cleansing.
nourishing.
the backyard foliage went from nubs to shrubs
in just a few days.
the goldenbells are out in the front yard,
and memories of hamden, ct. are strong.
(green and yellow and forsythia like you read about.)
it's overcast like a ground-level riot-suppressant.
fumigated, y'all,
with misty dewdrops and rainy teardrops,
and all that wet watery wishful washing.
i'll take the vaporous veil in the meantime,
and let the air rinse itself out.
nice, kid... nice.
***********
our buddy jim came by and munched up some thai treats.
that equates to one friend for wednesday dinner.
just one.
uno.
vanilla sky?
maybe.
we went to a raging white-water falling riverside,
and some mountaintop farmlands,
and felt all new englandy,
and all that.
i made scratchtastic peanut chili sauce.
(heroic freshness, out of my own brain's recipe)
and once we were full to the brim,
we took it up to eleven.
a little more fat-belly fury an' that.
we had some strawberry 'shortcake'.
actually,
modified biscuits...
but shortcake, even in quotes, still sounds better.
i don't know what's in shortcake,
and i don't care, either.
i just know that what i made was vegan,
and delicious.
they weren't even short.
i just needed some sweet breadsly goodness,
for soy whip and strawberries,
and i got what i needed.
word up.
**********
this day is important.
i mean,
they ALL are.
but today's the day.
lots of tatblasting is ahead of me,
lots of weird weather.
and lots and lots of thunder.
i hope there're some answers grumbling
and rumbling alongside the pressure collisions.
besides antlers, i mean.
the whole of the next month's worth of days
are slipping out of sight too quickly.
today is important,
like i said,
because one day's worth of time,
at a time,
is how we're gonna make these moments matter more.
thunder and lightning;
never quiet, never soft.....

quilted.

c'mon.
elsah and saima made this treat for our A*s.

a queen-sized quilt of woodsly goodness.

those sultry seamstresses hooked us up.

i mean, c'mon.

a great big handmade quilt?

molto rad.

just a little minute ago,

we picked out the fabric, the fat quarters, an' that,

since then,

spare moments must have been mustered up

to square up, stitch out, and seam in the threads.

there's little kickass patterns all up on it, too.

and secret ones, like leaves and flowers,

are hidden around the perimeters.

it's dope, y'all.

real dope.

as always,

our gratitude for the generosity of our peoples is present.

thanks, ladies.

you're indirectly keeping us warm at night.

nice.

***********

we went out and saw 'how to train your dragon'.

kids,

let me be the one to let you know:

it is awesome.

there's vikings, and axes,

and lots of sh!t on fire,

and monsters,

and bigger monsters,

and chopped-off arms and legs,

and all kinds of hottness.

and, i need to say it:

....waaaay better than the titanic clash.

it had actual character development,

top-shelf animation,

cohesive storylines,

the works.

it made my night, y'all.

***********

it's wednesday.

that means i'm cookin' up some treats.

we should be havin' some folks over,

y'know,

to remember why they are friends with me.

(it's because of the food)

my irrepressible cranky sh!ttiness

isn't exactly endearing, or so i'm told.

unfortunately,

that's the admission ticket price to the vegan deliciousness.

really,

it's a small price to pay,

the verbal assault and voluminous polysyllabic striking,

when compared against the big action of

tasty foodstuffs and congenial wifelyness.

it can't be helped, nor exchanged.

that's the irrefutable, immutable infinite nature, duders;

truly a gruff, rough, barbarian bard and baker.

i don't get it either,

but it's just What Is.

the food must be pretty good, though,

because ninjas keep coming back for more,

knowing full well that i'll be here, too.

gluttons for punishment?

shark-gluttons?

active participants?

all of the above?

the water will boil,

the oil will sizzle,

and the times will happen.

really;

never quiet, never soft.....

day off layoff.

better late than not at all.
the postponement predicament has been placated.
and i'll be back in action in the middle of the flattness
of the midwest sooner than later-
april 27th,
through may 6th,
i'll be appearing at Identity Tattoo.
in minneapolis, minnesota.
for really real this time.
best behavior at the airport and everything.
scout's honor, even, or whatever.
there'd better be a bangin' mexican food spot
for my last night in town up there.
cinco de mayo in minnesota?
i expect todos los marron blops especial, senor.
palabra, mis ninjas.
and as an added plus,
(that's a ++, yeah?)
the big fun parade that passes the louderhorn inn
takes place on the sunday i'm there.
puppets, and bicycles, and vegan barbecue times?
good things, kids.
all good things.
i'm psyched for the doo-doo over.
i'm psyched for the work week.
i'm psyched for all the loud and hardness to come.
that's real.
***********
sooooo,
i've been thinking a bit.
not about anything important.
when am i ever?
but i can't help but feel a little tiny bit let down,
y'know, by evolution, or intelligent design,
or whatever osteopathic pathfinder forged the
ossified endoskeletal structures of animals.
why's that?
i'll tell you why that is:
because,
it sucks about how lame bird skulls look.
yeah.
i mean,
dead birds covered in feathers?
sexy.
but bare bone-head beak bits?
NOT sexy.
fact.
the sexiness is in the feathers, i guess.
that's probably why strippers rock feather boas.
feathers are sexy.
that's the secret.
even when detached from the wings and skinny legs.
but,
there's a size limit.
small ones are not sexy
(t.w.s.s.)
which means: down is not sexy..
but only as it applies to small soft feathers,
and not in terms of directional orientation...
sorry, eider ducks,
but your manly chest plumage doesn't pop any boners.
actually,
it's a little bit 'sgusting.
which makes a lot of comforters less so, huh?
but, back to the topic-
bird skulls suck balls.
cardinals, jays, tufted titmice.
those duders all have pointy feathercaps.
but when the bones are laid bare?
roundies.
no tufts.
bummer.
great horned owls?
no horns, or even any ear tufts.
only roundies.
the dopeness just isn't there.
not since the old powell/peralta days,
has any tony hawk bird skull action been hot.
not once, not never.
there's almost never any teeth, or tooth protuberances,
and never ever any horns or antlers.
-not sexy...like i said.
check the alternative,
in land animal examples;
what about a moose?
with it's life attached, it's butt-nasty and fugly.
but a deceased, decapitated, disembodied moose skull?
pure, raw, uncut hottness.
teeth and antlers factor prominently in that equation.
it's science y'all.
Folk science.
i just can't help but feel disappointed
by the framework of our feathered friends.
it might be that the overcast sky,
or the looming chores list,
is really the cause of the malaise
but then again,
bird skulls may just not be dope.
it's too soon to tell;
never quiet, never soft.....

sucks so bad.

i love lanterns.
the candle kind.
glass and metal and wax, ninjas.
round ones, tall ones, little mini-ones.
we got the jauns, in pairs, all over the place.
and not just because we like candle light in the night.
(romantic)
it's because lanterns are the super-hottness.
i mean it.
i love 'em so HARD.
we spent some time yesterday putting up hooks.
big, sexy, swirly wrought iron loopty-loops.
just for hanging lanterns on, of course.
how do they look?
c'mon.
you all already know.
just be dope, or F* right off, yeah?
well,
i'm not going anywhere...
word.
***********
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
looks a whole lot more fortressy today;
those little spring cleany things help a whole bunch.
jess dominated the organization angles yesterday.
the sun room is sunnier, and uncluttered.
the front walkway is re-raked and ready for a new patio.
the deck is open for business, too.
yep.
easter saw a whole bunch of activity.
and a trip to the home depot.
how could i resist?
i couldn't. & i didn't.
hardware hard-styles and holiday hook-hanging hook-ups.
strangely,
no candy beans or resurrected regents of heaven showed up.
i was looking forward to the candy beans, too.
ah well,
i did puff on a cameroon-wrapped fumigator,
and we skipped eating any ham.
so even without the savior of the sinners,
we still rocked the day to it's fullest.
real life is way better than imaginary eternal life,
every day in every way.
a better fate than death awaits us anywhere;
until the end, at least.
***********
sooooo,
our amateur naturalist skills are growing.
we're on some bird-watching action these days.
and some small ground rodent feeding.
and some horticultural landscape tending.
the natural world is closer here than anywhere.
woodsly goodness' spirit and memories an' that.
the veil is thinner,
the borders less concrete,
and real life is more real and less so
at the same time.
it's good.
so good in fact,
this morning,
only the doves are mourning,
and even then,
only in name and not in deed.
indeed;
never quiet, never soft.....

he is risen...

out of bed,
and into action amongst the woodsliness.
yep.
it's easter.
caaaaAaaaare?
although,
in true new hampshire springtime rebirthing
renewal-emergence fashion,
we were awoken in the small hours
by a terrible clamoring clatter.
oh, yes,
indeed, we were.
a big fat black ball of burly barbarbian black bear body
came a-crashin' and a-smashin' through the yard.
that's the easter bear, y'all.
new hampshire's answer to the weak-sauce rabbit
that the rest of the duders out there wait for.
no hoppin', only bare-chested battle-barreling.
he was a sure enough big'un, too.
i guess all that hibernating did just about nothin'
to diminish his stout stature at all.
i think i know where my fancy rug is going to come from.
nice.
***********
we had our date night with our buddies again;
it's sort of our new saturday thing.
we saw the new clash of the titans.
now,
maybe i'm just a big grumpy jerk,
but what happened to making storylines make sense?
no matter how pop-outie the 3D doo-doo butter gets,
or how sparkle-magical the effects,
shouldn't the story matter at least a little tiny bit?
i guess not.
it was a darn good lookin' movie though.
i'll hand out some propers to the cinematic visuals.
but that's about it.
a little underdeveloped character play
isn't gonna ruin MY date night, ninjas.
we had pasta fagioli a la rock.
from scratch, mutha-suckas.
and with a whole bulb of garlic in it to win it as well.
then,
i made some easter cookies.
oh man,
did i EVER: peanut-butter, peanut, chocolate, coconut, chocolate chip.
more and more and more.
it's as if i'm compelled to go beyond
the borders of culinary caution,
striking right out into the uncharted realms
of bakery barbarism.
i most definitely doo-doo that freaky sh!t, y'heard?
and they're good, too.
real good.
not too dry,
not too crumbly.
just dope.
in my mouth and in my bellyhole.
***********
i woke up lateish...
and immediately got to cookin'.
because when it's warm out,
and i haven't got to do any work,
y'know what i want to get busy on?

yep.
pasta salad.
tri-color radiatore pasta,
chick peas,
red onions,
red and orange peppers,
cukes,
grape tomatoes,
and italian dressing.
holy crap.
if i was jesus,
i'd come back from the dead for a scoople
of that tasty big action, too.
word up.
***********
looks like today's one of those days.
there's food to get munched up,
there's wood that needs staining,
there's yards and yards of yard that need working.
and to think,
i could've been at an ice cream social,
or eating a weird potato earth-nest in minneapolis.
everything happens the way it's supposed to,
the secret universal planagram trumps the
chocolate bunny-eared, zombified god-son,
dyed-hen-ovum jibberish every time.
i'm here,
the weather is beautiful,
it's all really happening.
i'm probably going to paint up some bear poop
into miniature easter eggs and decorate the driveway.
the spring spirit is all around us;
never quiet, never soft.....