tonight is the night!!!!!

holy crapsticks.
we've taken it to eleven.
we've gone as far as we could in the time allowed,
maybe even farther...
and,
if i was on my own computer,
you'd see so many, many pictures of all of it.
patience,
the suspense should be enough to get you up and out of your house.
for really real.
there's almost not enough time to type this.
a real art opening,
in a real city,
is really really happening.
some of that is cool,
and we've got real-life trees on stands.
cut down and stood up.
woodsly goodness in full effect.
c'mon.
as if there weren't enough reasons to get you here,
there's gonna be homemade cookies.
so even if you hate art, artists, cool kid art-nerds,
cities, hipsters, drunk folks, and site-specfic installations
of turbo hot loud, fresh, hardness,
then at least come out for the cookies.
do it,
because if you don't,
you're missing out.
hard;
never quiet, never soft.....

it's so late, it's already tomorrow.

holy smokes.
when's the last time i missed a day on this blog?
seriously.
that's how hard we've worked to get this show up and running.
all-consuming burnt-at-both-ends candlewick snuff stuff,
on the ones, even.
both ones, right next to each other, as a matter of fact-
eleven.
it is, and it goes there, too.
XI.
the hottness finally deemed itself ready
to show up and stand up and deliver on the promise
of full walls,
site-specific illicit cardstock and sock blops.
cult status gallery, minneapolis, minnesots.
if you're within driving distance of this
two story tower of delights,
then make sure you show up tonight,
some time after seven p.m....
and if you already have a hot date,
then it's time to break up and break north,
and get yourselves over here.
i'm not even tryin' to post any pictures
until the big reveal, later on.
oh,
and if you can't stand to stand up a hot night of hard pounding,
you can come to the countdown to closedown closing party,
saturday night.
forty eight hours of incredible hard, loud, freshness...
for every-mutha-b!tchin'-body's faces.
get some.
***********
we have the best art-makey squad anyone could ever ask for.
cucch and ryan have been there the whole time,
shouting, burning, carving, taping,
and keeping it easy.
adam brought indian food and faux-joe-joe pseudo oreos,
all while painting and spraying and preppin' for two straight days.
and that's just the menfolk, folks.
i'll tell you horny humplestiltskins about all the ladies later.
*
neighbors,
i have drawn more,
worked harder,
and screamed the mantra keywords:
monsieur lavale cerebro.
(senor douche-brain!!!)
more in the last 72 hours than i have in years.
honest to goodness.
if you miss this sh!t,
you absolutely WILL regret it.
so make some moves,
and make the magic happen.
if you're looking for us,
we're right here...
at the FIRE;
never quiet, never soft.....

bone tired and card bored....

without them,
we'd just be us.
and just the two of us would be less than half as useful.
huh?
duders,
we had a whole galleryful of assistants
offering up assistance,
and aides providing aid.
(no, not AIDS, be easy)
never quiet, never soft is doo-dooing it's debut
SO mutha-flippin' hard.
uncounted hours of cardstock, newsprint, duct tape,
and the toxic fumes wafting off of the fuzzy nibs
of a slew of sharp-pointed, blunt-edged, and chisel-tipped
permanent ink-blasting marky-markers.
neighbors,
i'm operating on next-to-no sleep,
next-to-too-much fresh vegan foodie goodness,
and waaaay too much social interaction.
from early-shirley to surely too late,
it's been one holy helluva day.
and now it's done, and none too soon,
because i'm dog-tired, bone-weary, and fading fast.
huh?
no, actually,
we aren't even close to done with any of it...
but thanks for asking and stressing me out even more.
tomorrow,
the entire crew comes back to participate,
with some of the loudest, freshest, and hardest styles
that recycled refuse and potential hottness
have to offer.
even earlier,
even later,
and all the rest of all of it.
ohhhh, man!
it's all really happening, just not as fast as it could.
it's cold, after all,
and things move sluggishly in the cold, yeah?
thank goodness for happy helping hands,
and the teeth they're biting into this project with.
chomp, chomp, swallow, and blow...
this is how it starts,
and it's anyone guess as to how it's gonna end.
the big reveal is still up for grabs,
what say what say what?!
anything could happen;
never quiet, never soft.....

three a.m.

duders,
three in the morning?
whaaaaaaaaat?
leaving the woodsly goodness, in the deep dark
of a hard-style morning.
that's never ever easy,
but just to get somewhere even colder?
c'mon.
that makes a long drive and a long night
even longer.
but now we're here.
in minneapolis, minnesota,
via manchester airport early shirley,
and philadelphia after that.
we smog-monstered them jauns all up and over the
sh!tty city of brotherly love.
ugh.
you ninjas should really see us....
all bleary-eyed, heavy-ham-fist harried,
and lead-limbed with leery, weary light-limned languor.
like i said,
we're here.
and we're beat.
...and full-up to the brim with brutal blops, b!tches.
yep.
ethiopian food has landed in our belly-holes.
T's place had what we needed, and we hit 'em up so hard.
blarpity gutbuster gallons of green, brown, and ochre,
with umber hunks and hulking sap-squats of mango goo, to boot.
and that's not even it, neighbors.
who had a couple of falafels first thing in the twin cities?!
shawn, the cucchie, and me, that's who.
act like you're impressed.
you should be.
that's how the professional shark-glutton gorgers get busy.
***********
art show?
oh, yeah.
that's happening, as well, innit?
well, on that front of this full frontal assault/exposure,
we saw the space,
we sketched a plan,
and tomorrow,
a whole team of worthy warriors and active participants
have been enlisted to cut, paste, tape, print, paint,
and in all other ways be accessible to the NQNS team.
wordimus prime.  
molto work needs doing,
and with miles to go before i sleep,
there'd better be molto promises kept.
i'm just sayin'.
that's real talk.
it's time for bed,
unless ethiopia tries to overthrow my italian innards.
historically,
that's pretty flippin' likely.
it repeats itself,
like expanding concentric circles,
ever wider and wider,
encompassing a whole bunch of right nows,
and soon-to-be's.
it's happening,
the deadbeat exhaustion and digestive destruction,
the preplanning,
and the enacting,
and the whole shootin' match.
holy smokes, it's no joke.
jack is sure to be a dull boy posthaste,
as it's all work, a little (alright a lot) of eating,
and no play, or at least little more than a one act.
thunder?
in my pants, pretty much.
that's the aftershocks of an afternoon of edible exertion;
never quiet, never soft.....

right up until the last minute, even....

i'm sitting in a snow-bog gulag.
mmm-hmmm.
weak-sauce rinse-away washouts,
glassy gulches of icy slicing slick skids,
and secret patches of sabotage on the sunless streets.
days upon days of rain have created
a slogging slush that sits on a murky mire.
for real.
the mountains are totally waterlogged,
from the seven inches of slurried slop on top,
to the deep doo-doo buttery blops of earth
that are supersaturated and soggy.
it's actually pretty gross.
we've even got the above-freezing-temperature-induced
melty-defrost foggybottom smokescreen
settling into the nooks and dales, duders.
that's that mist in our midst,
that makes sure it's hard to see what's poppin'.
as a result, the unfolding events of woodsly goodsly pre-spring fever
are obscured and the occluded cyclonic concentric circular rythyms
make their own plans above and around us in the meanwhile.
what could make me feel better?
how about some tribal tatzappin'?
oh yeah.
that's what's happening,
don't you worry your little heads.
triiiiiibal.
with names.
1-0.
advantage: black spikes.
oh, mountain homestead,
it's like you team up with the secret universal plan
to try and make me excited to leave for a little while.
the operative word here is try.
and we all remember our yoda lessons, don't we?
yep:
do or do not. there is no try.
that's a real thing.
and esoteric best efforts just can't compare
to louder-than-ten travel plans.
here is where my heart is,
but there is where my heart attacks.
love is a battlefield,
and minnesota is the western front.
is it all quiet?
more like never quiet.
y'heard? whaaaaat!
***********
last days are for smooching.
even when many happy return tickets
are already advanced purchased.
i'm looking for love in all the right places,
and preparing for war in all the others.
the blitzkrieg big-head puppetshow preparations
are due to begin in just 30 or so hours.
now that's some sh!t.
look out for stormclouds, midwestern waterbabies-
the hottness of a heatwave is due to butt up against
the cold, dreary doo-doo you know and love.
i'm stocking up on smooches,
and looking forward to so many bro-hugs.
it's all happening,
and it continues to really do so...
listen closely-
that's the thunder we're bringing with us;
never quiet, never soft.....

gravy fries.

what happens when a side order becomes the main course?
awesomeness is what happens.
real talk.
be easy,
we had some baby cabbage bombs too,
but only because a pot of gravy and french-style-fries seemed
just a touch too beige for an entire meal.
molto green and yellow helped out a lot.
these other 'nothers who dwell beside me betimes
in this Fortress of Folk Life feasting
had that too-realistic faux-chee' on theirs.
uh-huh.
that's how we do it up here.
fattie-boombattie blops,
slathered in sauce, neighbors.
grime and punishment, for our butts and guts.
if you can't get down on that big action,
we probably don't hang out much as it is, huh?
woooord.
***********
minneapolis is waiting,
patiently,
for the hamden warrior crew to come a-wreckin'.
my dear friend meryl is about to bear the brunt of
a batch of belligerent berserker barbarian battle-beasts.
gracious hostess meets grateful,
yet gratuitously gregarious,
hard-style hard-heads
for a week of worthy warrior poetry in motion.
ohhh, man.
it's on like donkey kong, neighbors,
and the barrel fever is in flippin' full-effect.
get ready, super marios,
because the jumpin' and jivin' and fireball-blowin' big action
is only a few days away.
i'm already ready, already.
and full-to-bursting with piss, vinegar, pep, vip, and vim,
not to mention vigor and viking vitality.
duders,
the art times are upon us.
blops and glops of vegan hottness.
carhartt art-tards,
brutally cold gemini urban-outlines and skylines
(twin cities, whaaaaaaat?)
and a double-barreled blast of full-choke,
big bore, but never boring,
gypsy opening night highlights and lowlifes.
i hope you're coming out,
because the hermits are coming down off the mountain, ninjas
for the limited-time limited-edition limit-breaking burly business;
never quiet, never soft.....

hot glue, hot fire, hot tea.

...all good things.
so,
did your main ninja numero-uno duder
drop-ship a six foot-high box-stack of arthur-making artsy 'ness
to the impending event horizon in minnesota?
you betcha.
really.
so now we just wait until tuesday,
and then,
when the plane touches down on the tarmac,
the real work begins.
you know expectations, and tensions, are awfully high
when you get mumbled, garbled, semi-encoded
gibberish messages that go on forever and ever
on your answering machine,
all presumably about what we're gonna do,
and how it's gonna get done.
well,
i don't know, and i don't care.
how's that for an answer?!
yeah, it kinda IS a sh!tty one, huh?
oh, c'mon.
***********
distractions abound,
and a thawing winter wonderland is not helping much.
tonight, it's gravy fries and brussels sprouts.
...with gravy.
that's twice as much gravy, baby.
we doo-doo that greasy gooey goodness, guys.
oh, and do you guys know about poutine?
it's a lot like rectangular pizza (i.e. it is nasty)
but my peoples have discovered daiya,
and they are hips-deep in curds of clotted crap.
it even smells like the real thing,
and i hate it's whole face off.
i guess if y'all aren't google searching these new things,
you're missing out.
hard.
gravy is bubbling and toiling, and troubling.
it's now.
right now.
and saturday night is totally winning;
never quiet, never soft.....

long, hard, loud, fresh.

duuuuders!
check the manufacturing promotional teleport action:

sticky situations and masking magic.
straight razorblades, straight-edge levels,
peel-and-crack-and peel vinyl removal mayhem,
and so much crack-a-lacking backing to reposition and place,
just so my friends, neighbors, and countrymen
can show some support for the endeavors
that me and mine make moves on.
huh?
yeah.
ZERO heavy industries decals, duders.
now we have 'em,
and once you have stickers,
you're official.
that's a thing.
***********
it's friday, again.
and another 'nother other long day is done,
and an even longer and harder night is set to begin.
the woods are quiet,
and the breeze is soft,
which is the apotheosis of all things weak and saucy.
no foolin'.
we need the winds of war and change to blow hard like bellows,
and stoke the fiery forges of ferocious freshness.
the weather may be pleasant,
and the surroundings may be lovely,
but it's savage stormswept gyspsy rage
and unbridled barbarian berserkering
within the walls of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
c'mon.
inside is what counts, yeah?
and we've got an ascending amount of hottness
boiling, roiling, and uncoiling amongst the blankets and pillows
of the woodsly, goodsly, rural and righteous realm we call home.
what i'm trying to tell you is:
it flippin' rules here.
so hard.
and these starlit and serene evenings
are just the cuddly and calm coating
covering the core of deep, dark, dirty dopeness
that we nurture and nudge to full-flavored fruition.
we get busy, b!tches.
doing what, you ask?
doing what needs to be done, son.
tatzappin', bill-paying, art-showing, hard-style real life.
it unfurls all around us,
as it actually happens.
i am grateful for this time i have been given,
and for the places and faces that make it all really happen.
this is what it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

3311

march third.
3-3.
even in europe,
where they doo-doo the date in ascending order,
it's still 3-3.
that's a magic number tie score, my ninjas.
and we all know the tie goes in favor of the runner.
yep.
and we're runnin'.
runnin' on empty,
runnin' out of time,
and runnin' free, like the wind, an' that.
i guess that means that the day finds in favor of us.
and that's a win for breaking even, innit?
word.
are we going to do our taxes today?
yeah.
a deep deficit of debited dollars is due,
in quarterly installments, to our uncle samuel.
we must be related by marriage or something,
because i've personally never met the guy.
did i mail five fully-packed boxes of arthurian art 'splosions
to the frosty prairies of minneapolis?
i sure did.
friday, they're in love,
and destined to arrive a week early
for the superfresh dynamite deluxe dopeness of our
especially never quiet, never soft art debut exrtravaganza.
if you haven't booked a flight,
you're probably an A*-hole.
seriously,
this could be your chance to experience a nearly-lethal dose
of loud, fresh, tooth-handed avian-influenza-influenced
wrench-tightened hot fire and lightning.
with not just one, but two opening nights.
...in a row.
march 11th, march 12th.
twice the volume,
twice the flavor,
twice the chances for full-blown failure.
now how much would you pay?!
don't miss it.
cult status gallery, mutha-b!tches.
you need it, and we have it.
*
march third, neighbors.
think first, prepare second, and march third.
the brains are done deliberating,
the tickets are bought, the bags are packed,
and it's time to get a move on.
minnesota is gonna go from being flat and sucky,
to being a crater of bombed-out barbarian brutality.
that's even lower than flat.
concave caveman back-to-the-stone-age apeman sh!t, son!!
we're comin',
and all the viking bloodline dna in the whole wide world
isn't gonna staunch the tide of magnanimous magma
we're sure to spew all up and over the whole place.
i ain't gonna lie, man.....uh-uh.
it's all true,
and it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

fooooooooooooooood.

collard greens,
and cuban-style rice,
which includes blops and gops of brown and red and green,
and epic grill-presses ciabatta sandwiches?
ka-splode, ninjas, on the teleport, an' that:

c'mon.
onions, peppers, fake-type ham slabs, pseudo-chix,
margarine, nooch, non-dairy ranch dressing,
and arugula.
...it's a veg-e-ta-ble.
wooord up.
***********
darling daughters, duders.
they're back in connecticut,
doing dutiful doo-doo down there.
i reconize i rarely share the parts of real life that matter most with y'all.
check out the little ladies, at my ma's.

maple star, and harvest (with dog-toy headgear)
there's just never enough time to span, neighbors.
so we make the minutes matter more,
in snow tunnels,
or on road trips.
with piebald as the soundtrack,
we're part of it.
hey!
***********
we've got jet plane tickets,
and big moves to make with 'em.
time is running short,
art is taking too long,
and in a little while,
the loudest freshest hardness is ready to
hammer out a thunder-and-lightning-striking breakbeat...
...for every-flippin'-body's whole entire face.
if you're able,
you should seriously show up and watch the train derail
along the banks of the mighty mississppi;
never quiet, never soft.....

Rabbit....Rabbit....

hey-O!
it's march.
technically, spring shows up this month.
i'll believe it when i see it.
more likely,
there's to be a more concrete kind of motion-related word
associated with marching and springing-
march madness,
and in no way am i referring to basketball or college.
i'm talking about end of winter, cabin-fever, full-bore
redline-maxed-out, maple-sugaring sappy-crappy,
serious, savage stormswept raging mountain thaw-out frenzy.
an avalanche of awesome,
one increased degree of warmth at a time.
it's march first.
(and ask questions later)
don't you worry your little heads, neighbors-
i called out a midnight 'rabbit, rabbit'
for a fresh-baked batch of good luck spellcast shout-outs,
and a first eye-opener muttered mantra as well for insured success.
we do what we do.
and what we do is that deep doo-doo.
speaking of deep doo-doo,
minnesota in a week?
where in the F* did that creep up on me from?
the avant garde wine and cheese/ pbr and pad thai crowd
get to get a glimpse at the goods, i guess.
what does that have to do with warrior poetry,
Folk Life & Liberty,
hot fire, lightning,
and/or woodsly goodness?
nuthin'.
at all.
besides the fact that is most certainly all really happening.
that much is true.
but in the most removed-from-really-real-life kind of way.
tatblasters, art worlders, and city-livin' sap-suckers?
c'mon.
not one little lippity-lick of real life is gonna go down....
but,
there will be big heads.
and oil paintings of dead birds an' that.
plus,
people seem to really like the partnership of
loud and hard and fresh.
i guess we'll know in a week,
if it's weak sauce or powerful potion.
my peoples make magic happen,
and i'm an abominable blizzard wizard myself.
therefore,
i suspect that the hot fire- and the travesty-meter
will BOTH go to eleven.
oh man!
i sure hope shawn said a superstitious rabbit x2 too.
word.
***********
so it's tuesday.
it's windy.
it's cold.
it's the first of the month.
and it's not snowing.
see?
not all bad, at all.
the slick roads and glaring glare just serve
to make the bright spots blindingly so.
and i'm on that melvins-type kiss coversong kickassery.
goin' blind.
you like it.
there's packing, shipping, picking, and paying
all at the same time.
busy big business is in effect.
i said it, i meant it:
rabbit, rabbit,
in the year of,
and i'm of the year of.
that makes it my year, yeah?
i dunno, ninjas,
but i hope my hard-style hymnal to the hares and jackalopes
gets heard.
i'm yellin' it at the top of my lungs after all;
never quiet, never soft.....