fullest.

eclipse action?
i guess so.
it's the full hard swollen circle sh!t
that i'm more concerned with.
and temporary blackout conditions aren't
going to prevent the super-duper-natural
transformation sensation jauns that this
great big fat blazing beacon of blue light
brings about for all the barbarian battle-beasts.
yuuuuuuup.
b!tches,
the berserker fury is raging,
like a burst balloon filled with the four winds an' that.
yeah!
the conditions for hot and fiery fury are optimal-
outside,
it's so cold that the air feels sharp,
and inside,
it's so hot and dry that the air feels sharp.
duders,
it's an atmospheric razor's edge...
tooth and claw and breathing,
in and out,
and full-moon nutrients seeping into all
the day's doings and goings on.
uh-oh.
werewolfen activation bodes poorly for
all the waterbabies and b!tchsappy slap-happy
saucy weak ones out in the woodsly goodness.
that's a thing.
hard styles, and bleak predictions,
and a whole lot of fomenting discontent,
fermenting the blood of monsters,
and forming fomorian firmaments.
huh?
bright, blighted, angry skies,
and spirits of savage stormswept curdled causticity,
with a burly batch of brutal business in between.
that's what's up, y'all.
our full moon saturday over here in the mountainous north.
***********
neighbors,
that lycanthropic mischief is flowing along
the lifeline leylines of my palmistrical mystical
pannieman-caked right hand.
that's real.
i picked up my blue pencil,
and this ungentle-man-beast oozed out.
check the teleport:

a wolfman.
indeed.
you like that background?
hahaha.
c'mon.
moon AND clouds and a ground shadow?!
this lunar magnetism must be doing something
because that's waaay more non-foreground subject matter
than i'm normally comfortable with, kids.
i don't know.
but,
i'll bet he's smoking some pretty powerful pipe tobacco.
a barbarian blend of perique and latakia, my ninjas.
too heavy-duty for regular duders,
but just right in it's tight wrenchiness for a briar bowlful
of burning smoke ring spirits that go to eleven.
y'heard?
 *
the sun isn't out,
but it's still too bright to see the moon.
today looks to be chock full of expectation,
and possibly expectorants as well.
i spit up hot fire?
maybe;
never quiet, never soft.....

werewolf.

that moon up there is bright, kids.
uh-huh.
it's a nearly daylight caliber shiner
keeping me up, and keeping me salty.
what unsavory salt cellar-dweller could have that effect
on a warrior poet of heroically insensitive propensities?
how about skin-rip american flagmeat eagle tatt-'sploso-bombs?
yuuuuuuuuuup.
i did that so hard first thing yesterday.
....or how about maybe some black spikes of triiiiiiiiibal?
wordimus prime, b!tches-
my broke-A* stayed late to activate those jauns.
full moons and empty pockets make for hard styles.
and while on the subject of hard styles,
neighbors,
check the teleport:

werewolf!
i don't know, y'all.
it's not a goat.
i'm not sorry, either.
there might be little ogre-type sh!t mixed in with the nutrients.
that underbite action an' that, y'heard?
yep.
full moon fever,
in full effect.
***********
huh?
c'mon.
and what about the laundry robobots?
they're dope.
it doesn't take a whole holy helluva lot
to get the experts excited up in the woodsly goodness.
obviously,
if washers and dryers doo-doo it,
then we're easily impressed by the futuristic technology
of space magic soapy superwet hottness and cherry-red
noise-makin' high efficiency.
y'know what that means, ninjas?
uh-huh-
cleanest undies ever, mutha-'uckas.
my butt is currently clad in luxurious laundered lavishness.
that's a thing.
*
the moonbeams and space rays are intense.
the long nights and late hours are intense.
the XI-mas activation consumer frenzy?
yeah...intense.
the gaping hole in my house is intense.
the wolfen wild hunt barbarian business is intense.
that's it, buddy.
intensity is the order of the day.
every single thing in the woodsly realm
is currently maxed out,
y'know, red-lined at eleven.
life is hard.
and loud and fresh, too.
and it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

moon.

wolfen?

yep.
one thousand words worth,
succinctly summed up.
...and that's all you get today, neighbors;
never quiet, never soft.....

boys' night in.

me and my ace participator Ro-Ro
got activated last night.
yeah!
italian-style dinnertime gluttony;
technological interface interaction,
and overreaction;
stinky stumps in the pouring rain;
a hot coupla cuppas of that cinnamon vanilla blackness;
and pie, muth-F*ers.
check the teleport:

c'mon.
german chocolate and toasted coco-loco-nut?!?
wordimus prime, neighbors.
steve confirmed my baking prowess,
and very possibly forever altered his culinary
and digestive realities.
a thick, moist slice of that sweet black pie, ninjas.
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t.....SON!
and not for nothin',
lookin' at that photo makes me realize
i'm a man of many different flavors-
homemaker baker,
tattbombed barbarian,
flashy timekeepin' watch-wearer.
every day in every way.
in fact-
y'ever wonder what i would look like
if i was in a grimy 'hood-A* hip-hop video?
well,
you need wonder no longer, duders-
just check this teleportational future projection:

ghost circle spirit rings of ephermal flavor.
yes.
i do look a little like an extra from planet of the apes.
F* you.
stormswept raging rainy evenings,
in fifty degree farenheit warmth?
hell yes, kids.
we GOT they.
*
did somebody just say infinite kung fu?
how very prescient of you.
wu-TANG teleport action, for your face:

we got you all in check, b!tches.
four corner ninja footpunches.
protect yo' G-darn neck.
***********
spanning time with my homie.
getting expert.
staying rad.
it's all really happening,
right here in the woodsly goodness.
thanks go out to steve for documenting real life
with his professional photographic skills.
long nights,
hard times,
everything that makes me feel tired.
i am grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

infamy. living it, all day long.

the most surpise-attackish duder i know
celebrates his amillionety-second berfday today.
uh-huh.
the legendary guru of supreme intelligence,
the hardest-style 'garious get-right activist,
the meat-worshipping maestro of the marchigianos,
the one and only (thank heavens) Big Albert.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
my dad, mutha-F*ers.
happy flippin' berfday to him an' that.
another year older,
and deeper in debt, just like the song, y'all.
really real ninjas know what's up.
pearl harbor day kamikaze fatherly activation,
that's that eleventh-level paternal expertism jauns.
just remember, b!tches,
without him,
there'd be no me.
and we wouldn't want to miss out on that big action,
now would we?
the fruit doesn't fall far, friends,
unless it rolls downhill,
y'know,
the same direction the sh!t flows.
uh-huh.
this also means i'm precisely one month away
from another turn of the existential earth-orbits myself.
daaaaaaaamn, we got those old A* mutha-uckas up in here!
wisdom, y'heard.
age + information + experience.
we got they, at least.
mostly in my butthole i think.
c'mon,
wise-A*?
you like it.
***********
you like labels?
a duder i know referred to this blog style
as 'stream-of-consciencelessness'.
now,
i don't know about all of YOU,
but i'm 'bout it.
that's that What Is jauns,
in the freshest nutrients,
and loudest hardness.
truth tellers doo-doo that brutal sh!t.
*
i'm reppin' that slippery road trip ship today.
and the fastlane highroads are headed downeast,
to portland, maine,
to fully activate the operational holiday hottness.
it's not easy, neighbors,
but when is it ever?
shark-gluttony all by my lonesome?
mmm-hmmmm.
it doesn't always have to be a feeding frenzy, yo.
i mean,
it still will be,
but the option to go easy is there.
fortunately,
even when nobody is there to be disgusted,
i'm still holding it down for my peoples.
i got you,
we got they,
it's ALL really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

nature, you got me again.

rain!
yep.
grey clouds are emptying their guts out.
raindrops keep falling, y'all,
right on my F*ing head.
hahahaha.
that's weekend day off busy business
difficulty-level upgrade elemental challenge-type sh!t.
we doo-doo that, y'know?
dark and stormy morning jauns,
and bark bark barking overreactivated dog noise,
and semi-sleepless empty nesting,
and other other ingredients are combining, kids-
i'm making swamp soup.
that's a thing.
***********
yes indeed, duders.
finally,
clean clothes are back on the schedule!
check the teleport:

stacked launderizing cherry-red futurism.
double decker expertism,
like an ac/dc amplified space robobotron.
big deal,
on the big deal.
simple pleasures or some sh!t.
*
neighbors,
i think i might need to make XI-mas cookies.
uh-huh.
you slinky minky mutha-lickers know i get busy
with that futuristic oven lovin',
but i'm thinking about going backwards,
and making some pre-woodsly goodness-era
italian-type guinea goodies.
it's true.
i'm feeling like a genetic heretic most days,
living that Folk Life in the yankee hills an' that,
so maybe a little confection reconnection is in order.
those jauns are italic.
c'mon.
vegan new england italian heritage sweets and treats?
won't that be hard?
sure.
i prefer to stir my batter with a wrench.
*
i'm on that solo loco lobo situation jam.
a lone wolf lunatic lycanthrope,
coping without his pack.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
don't worry about me, my ninjas-
there's a coconut cocoa creme pie on the cooling rack,
with that german-style chocolatey
toasted coconut streusel on top.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
it's a pie party......
...for one;
never quiet, never soft.....

pleading the fifth.

uh-huh.
it's another monday morning,
presented in all it's fullest flippin' glory.
big deal?
no.
not really.
it does mean ther's only one sh!tty day
of doo-doo buttery tattbombing,
and then the woodsly goodsly worthy weekend is here.
mondays are pretty fresh, in that respect.
in fact,
we rarely get a case of the blue mondays.
up here in the white mountainous vale of Folk Life
it's far more likely to expect a blistering outbreak of thursdays
to cause a severe flare-up of thunderous fury.
but let's not dwell on that weak sauce.
there's seventy-two hours before that becomes an issue.
in the interim,
it's monday.
and it's happening.
i hope y'all weren't lookin' for any goats today.
because i'm fresh out.
*
neighbors,
sh!t is underway.
the mikes are here,
measuring dimensions,
and activating their expert construction skills.
we're closing in sections of homestead,
and reinforcing the Fortressy facing of our castle.
that's work, ninjas.
hard work.
i'm glad i'm not the one doing it, that's for sure.
mostly because i want it to turn out dope.
and that's their job, y'all.
*
the Fortress of solitude is what's happening.
well,
actually,
the Fortress of i-wish-my-dog-would-choke-to-death
is more to the truthful point of fact.
barking?
yep.
non-stop.
that's a side benefit of my wifey's absence.
a brutal case of canine anxious nervous awfulness.
it's the worst, kids.
it's like the sound of raw november reinstated.
no me gusta.
i'm here,
the story is developing,
the characters are fully-fleshed,
and the plot is thickening;
never quiet, never soft.....

and again.

over and over and over,
until it's all over and done with.
duders,
december days and nights are blasting past us.
yeah.
the spanning is expeditious,
and the timely elapsing is both fleet and sure of foot.
these days know exactly where they're headed,
and precisely how to get there.
that's real.
normally,
i don't sweat it, my ninjas,
but this particular XI-mas season is F*ing with my A*.
that's no joke.
i've got builders erecting structures,
appliance deliverymen installing sh!t,
holiday destinations to arrive at in obscure and distant places,
and a big fat dumb dog who needs tending to,
and prevention from issuing bodily harm to
the aforementioned worker-type mutha-'uckas
who would otherwise serve as chew toys for her face!
oh, yeah,
and the wifely hottness has decided to activate a
long-weekended impromptu out-of-town vacationary liason,
so i'm doing all my dirt all by my lonely, homies.
uh-huh.
solo-type hard-style manliness and homestead management,
with the added challenge of round-trip round-ups
for all my hard-to-find giftly givings and misgivings.
ooooh.
these are the things that happen to really be really happening.
responsible adulthood continues to disappoint me.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
i'm just sayin', neighbors.
dinner for one,
monitoring the comings, goings, and doo-dooings
of all the improvement-heavy 'mos,
and babysitting the sh!t-salad suckiness of my canine companion,
all while my entire holiday agenda is hampered by the
absence of a second set of eyes and hands.....
infringing on my move-making,
and undermining my decrees?
oh, MAN!
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress kinda feels a little stuffy
if you get me, y'all.
maybe there's magic to be made,
and maybe there's not enough time.
a whole fleet of fleet feet seem positively motivated
to carry off whatever time frees itself up for me.
quicksand hourglass A*-blasting, y'all.
-
what's up december?
how about you keep an eye or two out for us
worthy warriors of woodsly goodness.
yeah.
***********
y'know what might help?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
one more big-headed wrestler goat man.
teleport:

arms for grappling,
hands for wringing,
head-butting horny nubbins,
and a crotchal puff that'd make an earth-nest jealous.
that's how it goes.
anyway,
that's probably the last goat for a minute,
tattbombin' zaps are back,
and those year-end movie checks are essential.
plus,
the next few days promise to be packed up fully
with have-to's and probably-shoulds.
so the goats aren't invited, kids.
hahahahah.
c'mon.
*
i've got tatty-o blastin' on the books,
i've got cold and lonely nights on the house.
and somewhere, sometime soon,
that XI-mas mission activation needs doing too.
full days, y'all.
time is slippery,
and even my hands' teeth can't bite off enough of it;
never quiet, never soft.....

wild go(at)

what should we do about december third?
a sunny saturday in the woodsly goodness
calls for some sort of supplication to
the secret universal plans an' that, y'all.
for serious.
we need some big action up in here,
and we really need some brisk busy business
to bankroll our buying habits for the XI-mas
celebratory gift-giving explosion sh!t.
uh-huh.
that's a tall order for an early morning, for sure.
i think it calls for some battle-beasts.
yeah. it definitely does.
how about three wooly woodwose warriors?
that might doo-doo the trick, y'think?
i guess we'll just have to ask the teleport,
and check for answers on it's windy activations:

a sort-of longhaired goat man,
complete with woodhouse thorn branch bludgeon,
and smoking a pipe!
yeah.
the pipe is essential for heroic relaxation-type jauns.
that's no joke.
more?
okay:

hot fire b!tchslaps for your face!
demonic? devilish?
kalahari red-style hard horned horniness,
with definitive stormswept unholy-possession flavor.
you want another 'nother one?
okay,
but just this once, duders:

who the heck is this chappy champion?
it could very well be rubezahl.
that's real.
he's an expert woodsly wild monster-man nature spirit.
like i've said before, y'all-
berserker barbarian battle-beasts are what's up.
*
i don't know, neighbors.
i'm just gonna rep these goats until i run out.
what else can i do?
oh, crap!
check this mutha-licker out:

pure blackmetal hard-pounding underworld nutrients?
maybe.
all i know is, it's real dope.
and that's a fact.
***********
maybe it's just a placebo effect,
but this last page of the calendar
has got the whole warrior poets' circle
re-activated and energized with non-vember
eagles' egg nutrient jobs.
uh-huh.
it's totally expert.
three days into it,
and it already has november beaten.
no contest.
loud fresh hardness, my ninjas.
for all the faces;
never quiet, never soft.....

a decent december deuce?

goats.
i'm serious, duders.
i'm reppin' on those trip-trappin' bridge-burnin'
billy the kid-type jauns, y'all.
that's because goats are molto expert.
and you know how it is when i like somethin', right?
yep.
it's happening-
super-intensive goat-based reading and learning
and arthur-making and all of that.
it's non-stop full-on immersion in the big action.
c'mon.
december activation is hard at work elevating
my inspiration levels and creative juice quotient
to eleven.
that's right, neighbors.
abracadabra a la capra.
(that's that goat magic sh!t, son)
 i even drew a few more scribbley butt-heading boys
to bring that head-crackin' noise to you ninjas.
uh-huh.
i guess that's what's up?
check the teleport, and let me know:

bleating hearts.
get it?
deviltry, on four legs, with wings.

half goat half fish.
all crap-ricorn.

who is this guy?
i dunno, duders.
a faun?
an inverted satyr?
somethin', that's for sure.
yeah.
so.....
i've been layin' down a little tiny bit of lead
making goat heads materialize an' that.
i needed to doo-doo that chevre-type sh!t,
or so it seems-

goat heads!
it helps get the brain a-workin'.
i mean,
it's just some stimulation of my perceptions,
so that my XI-mas gift-giving generosity and gratitude
are fully-functioning and 111% operational.
that's no joke.
nobody likes getting an 'obligation' gift.
so i need to be on it like a worthy wizard of wrapping
and yule-logging lumberjackery,
so that the peoples i appreciate know what's up.
and to get it going,
it's all about goats.
uh-huh.
***********
december, my ninjas.
approaching winter
with encroaching increases in frostiness.
that's a cold deuce on the calendar,
full of holiday hottness.
it's happening, homies.
tundra-style yeti confetti action, yo.
you know-
abominable.
from my butthole to my abdominals.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
i'm bellyaching and decorum-breaking
and earth-shaking my whole body rockin' torso
like a bigfooted sasquatch from the north.
making moves,
making pictures,
and making those movie-checks.
well,
maybe.
it's a fresh and frenzied  fa-la-la-la-friday,
the shoppers and weekenders and tourists
are all up in force,
and the woodsly goodness is ready and waiting.
so am i;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit........rabbit!

DEEeeeeeeEeeCEMBER!!!
wu-TANG!, mutha-lickers.
it's here.
the end of the year,
the XI-mas season,
the whole shootin' match.
december, in flippin' full effect, my ninjas.
did i wake up, bright eyed and cognizant
of the subtle changes incurred by
the secret universal planagram being forced
by the passage of time to flip a b!tch and turn a page
on the calendar, all the way to the very last one?
you'd better believe it, broski.
december!
the best thing about december?
november is done, duders.
that's a thing, and a welcome one at that.
the very first word out of my massive manly mouth?
RABBIT!, twice in a row.
a good luck infusion activation recitation, y'all.
those nutrients need replenishing,
and the only way to get it going on
is to shazam-a-bam-a-lama the magic mantra.
c'mon.
in any case, i'm not quite sure it's working,
by my super-duper-stitions tell me i have to keep keepin' on.
so i spit that hot fiery bit of hare-bit thin-lipped
directly into the ether,
and it'll either work, or it won't.
then again,
it's not november anymore,
so just maybe the butt-ugly lucky duckiness has already started.
*
yep.
it's definitely time to kick out the XI-mas jammie-jams.
our tree is fully operational,
the gifts are beginning to accumulate,
and the spirits and memories of the
past, present, and future are congregating
in the woodsly goodness.
i can feel it, neighbors.
the holiday hottness,
complete with decked halls and all of that sh!t.
the even better news?
it's warm outside.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
you wintry mixers can keep all those arctic blast-type jauns,
i'll take a subtly sweatery weather reality until
winter officially gets crackin',
and that noise doesn't get busy until the 22nd.
coincidentally,
my littler lovely lady, miss maple star, turns 10 on that very day.
that's right, friends.
both of my baby girls are gonna rep double-digits from now on.
awwwwwww, MAN!
as if the silvery streaks of hair,
and all those crow-footed, raven-toed wrinkles on my face,
which just don't seem funny enough to call laugh lines,
weren't enough to mar my mood with time's poorly-planned
passage towards the ever-lovin' bitter ends of itself.
yep.
hard styles go hand in hand with living that real-style life, yo.
fact.
***********
goats.
i'm kinda on that big busy business right now.
goats are kind of what's up.
it must be that capricorniness in my blood, duders.
i dunno.
all i'm sayin' is-
i think i like goats.
stubborn, recalcitrant, horny, horned, bearded, and adaptable.
heck yes, kids.
they've got all the most important attributes for any and all
worthy barbarian battle-beasts.
you could even say i'm inspired by those chappy cabras.
here's another 'nother doo-doo-doodle of those dudes:

teleported, friends.
like a regular pannie-man, an' that.
oh, c'mon.
goats.
december.
XI-mas.
all good things,
all really happening.
today is the first day of the last month
of the whole year.
time out;
never quiet, never soft.....