blockage.

hey, y'all-
what do you duders know about new block prints?
not much, huh?
well,
would you like to know more?
okay.
i started off my day getting busy with that sh!t,
and i used some tasty-looking paper to get activated.
thick, sloppy black blops of inky dreadfulness tried
to thwart my plans for all this arthur-making,
but little did it know i had some diluting agents on hand.
as in: water, neighbors.
if it works good for making more soup out of whatever's left,
it's practically magical,
so i tried it out on the ink.
and then what do you suppose happened?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
this:

expertism, kids.
that's what's poppin' in the woodsly goodness.
what's that?
you want details?
oh, alright:

fresh.
dig it, ninjas.
some bearded weirdies are just plain psyched.
what about sophisticated root vegetables?
we got that, too, mutha-uckers.
check the teleport:

c'mon.
if you aren't 'bout it,
you may be an A*-hole.
fact.
***********
otherwise,
it's been yet another 'nother doo-doo buttery day
of wasting and whiling and whittling and whistling
away the whole dang time.
i mean, sure, there was some tattblasting.
and some delicious dinnertimes.
and all kinds of conversation.
but besides all that noise,
it's been a long flippin' day of enduring.
real life doesn't give extra points for style;
never quiet, never soft.....

cramped fingers, wrecked hands....

...and a calamitously cricked-up neckbone.
cork scoopling and tattbomb zipzapping as hard
as the loud freshness permits me to,
and all of a sudden,
my old age has caught up with me!
i've got bonsai roots for digits, duders.
i've got gnarled knuckles (what's up silent letters?)
i've got a stiff one,
but it's holding up my actual head.
awwwwwwwwwww, man.
neighbors.
i'm too old for this sh!t,
but i'm waaaaaaay too young to be all old and busted.
it's a conundrum, my ninjas;
one that has no ostensibly accessible solution.
but,
what i do have is a whole bunch of new hottness.
and that's a good thing.
tomorrow morning i'm inking up these blocks of rock:

yep.
sorry (sorta) about the super-seventies soft-focus blur,
but sometimes,
that's how life looks to some people.
those little baby beauties are due
to get slathered and pressed on some super-sexy
thick-stock earth-toned paper.
arthur-making hand-crushing neck-snapping action.
it's happening.
*
i'm on my own tonight.
it's true.
all by my lonely,
left to languish in anguish over my hurtie parts
and sore bits and broken, ugly, haggard head.
awwwwwwwwwwwww, man. (again)
it's nothing but long, cold nights
and hardy hard styles.
this is the leftover lamentation of a post-full moon
monsterpiece masterwork of hard work and sh!t.
i'm grateful for the time,
but i'm not that amped on the consequences;
never quiet, never soft.....

gentleman acorn.

uh-huh.
duders,
i love it when my man vido comes to visit.
he means business,
as in- he's here for business.
like, it's business time all the time.
he scoopled up one of my favorite original paintings
and a couple other other o.g. artworks from
the capable collection of my wifey.
that's right.
baller-A* doodie twankle art collector jauns, y'all.
they do it molto big in texas i guess.
and then,
after an afternoon together doo-dooing some
woodsly lunch and sh!t,
that crazy ninja got back on the table
for some more hard pounding.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
the object is always more, innit?
you betcha.
he wanted some raw and real Folk Life imagery,
and we activated that hottness as hard as we could.
check out this teleported big action:

a pipe smoking acorn?
yeah!
c'mon, neighbors.
that's what's up.
the duders abide,
the woodsly goodness provides,
the warrior poets reside,
the eleventh level never subsides;
never quiet, never soft.....

wolfenwere.

have you looked outside and upwards yet?
just peep your wolf-eyes at that shimmy-shimmy
ya-ya of a shimmering shiny circle, son.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.

the moon is as full as it can be,
and it's beaming down it's blue light, tonight,
as bright as any cracking crack of dawn ever could.
heck yes it is.
so i know y'all are wondering about just
what goes on in the woodsly goodness
on a windy tuesday of rural really realness?
did i take it deep on car repairs?
so deep, in fact, that i can taste it.
and did i tattzap my ninja vido another 'nother time?
you bet your A* i did, duders.
and did i take a snappy shot of what i zapped up?
uh-huh.
i actually did, neighbors.
what?
can you see it?
sure.
...but not until tomorrow.
hahahahaha.
stay tuned,
and in the meantime,
check that heavenly orb orbiting the firmament, F*er.
it's got that expert-type wolfen jauns on lock;
never quiet, never soft.....

blocked up.

before i got busy tattbombing yesterday,
i got a little bit expert on some old timey sh!t.
uh-huh.
that's right-
early morning woodsly goodness folk art action,
for everybody's face.
the limited edition first printing of my newest picture.
linoleum-style cork-poppin' block business,
complete with activated nutrients and moustachio madness.
teleport to the past via the future, neighbors:

Folk Life & Liberty.
we doo-doo that kind of really rural rustic art jauns.
18" x 10.5" of an old balding ninja talking noise,
and talking in picturesque speech, i suppose,
in a garden,
wearing a too-small or maybe just right, bowler hat.
c'mon.
who wants one?
well,
that's  cool.
i might give one away,
just one,
if somebody asked reaaaally nicely.
just sayin'.
***********
i've got a couple more blocks to finish.
i've also got a bunch of drawings to do.
i've also got an out-of-town guest who needs
seeing to and sightseeing and all that, too.
busy busy busy, b!tchbags.
that's how it goes.
a whole lot of nothing gives way to
all of it really happening all at once.
that's what it is;
never quiet, never soft.....

hard pounding.

my duder vido took his lumps,
and he took those lumps like a trooper.
hours of execution,
piles of poked holes,
and one swollen turtled-up neck.
oh,
and the result?
a werewolfen gentleman on the side of his head-stem.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
check the teleport, my ninjas:

ouch.
howlin' and prowlin'.....
now that's some full-moon appropriate action.
neighbors,
once in a while,
i still doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
i blame it on our regional sports team
totally sh!tting the bed last night.
the collective misery of the meathead meat-tards
who hoped for buffalo-wing-fueled victory,
but instead sucked a bowlful of super sh!t salad,
stimulated some secret universal hottness,
for mine and vido's faces.
that's a thing.
their loss was our gain.
***********
i may actually get a day off tomorrow.
then again, we'll have to wait and see-
i mean,
my homeboy came up all the way from
the lone star skyline for some albie rock jauns....
the lunar berserker battle-beast barbarian brutality
is taking over my whole scene.
and my hands hurt almost as much as that dudes neck.
for real.
we're repping that full moon, son;
never quiet, never soft.....

soup? or bowl?

oh MAN!!
the pull of those magnetic forces
is messing up my nights,
and stressing out the days,
and activating the werewolf nutrients
circulating throughout the woodsly goodness.
have you seen that big silver skyball, neighbors?
it's big, it's almost fully round,
and it is making moves on my brain and sh!t.
wolf moon magic, mutha-uckas.
i'm on that futuristic evolution jauns,
convergent hybrid human canine lycanthrope action,
but that's just how warrior poets get fresh, y'heard?
the rest of america is taking gaytardation off the charts.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
the big game is kicking off,
and bringing the fat, the stupid, and the lame
all the way to eleven.
now, some ninjas know what's up,
and aren't checking scores and eating buffalo wings-
but everybody else is getting excited about commercials,
and otherwise gorging on consumer culture and bleu cheese.
no celery for those duders, right?
vegetables are like being literate-
y'know, super gaysplosive.
weak sauce is the boss tonight,
and that's cool.
more hottness for the really real ones.
that's a thing.
*
my out-of-state graffiti guerilla, vido,
is back on the attack,
looking to attach some more neckzapping
to his messed-with texan tattoo situation...
yeah!
one half of his throat is already done,
and the other other side is due for some tattbomb abuse.
lucky for both of us,
i GOT they!
that trumps sports every single time.
***********
did i mention we're going on vacation next week?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
what better way to demolish valentine's than by
going to connecticut?
awwwwwwwwwwww, man.
that's not romantic at all.
at all at all.
we're not staying there though, yo.
c'mon.
what are we?
A*holes?
probably.
because we're going to an even darker place.
yes.
that's right.
the magic flippin' kingdom.
disney sunovab!tchin' world.
me, the wifey, her dad, his wife, our kids.
brutality for february's face,
and ruination for all of my whole entire everything.
i'll be putting that boastful braggadocio about the
'happiest place on earth' to the test, friends.
believe it.
real life,
not televised sporting events.
both are really happening,
but only one is dope;
never quiet, never soft.....

weekendering F*-bags.

what sucks the fullest hardest balls
in the whole entire world?
genocide, probably.
c'mon.
but,
what sucks the second biggest batch of
swollen balls in the whole wide world?
vacationers waiting for seats at restaurants
in the mount washington valley.
word up.
each and every weekend gaytard is up here
waiting for the big dumb super-stupid game.
and in the meantime?
uh-huh they're getting ripsh!t piss-up drunk
and taking up a whole lot of space at all the
local eating establishments and watering holes
whilst watching other other big dumb games-.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
i've got some hate all up in my heart
on a shivering saturday night in the woods, neighbors.
and i had to eat twice as much three times as fast,
just to rinse away the hard-style angst and indigestion
that the hot fiery acid-reflux-spitting reality
of doo-doo buttery sports jersey A*bags brought out
of my 'hood-type ninja bag, y'all.
that's a thing.
***********
my homeboy matt riordan came up and got activated
on some tattzaps and hang-out time today.
that's always expert, duders.
i mean, yeah,
he is from out of state, and he was out to dinner with us,
but it's cool, friends...
he was with us.
and that's nothing to scoff at when it comes to
judgementalism and considerations.
a free pass was freely given.
and that's even after accepting that
only worthy warriors and/or berserker barbarians
can qualify for an exemption on our List.
yeah.
if we weren't picky,
the List wouldn't matter, right?
you know it.
good times.
*
tomorrow,
it's early morning pre-game block printing.
inking up that sh!t,
stamping up the whole joint,
and then tattbombing until kickoff.
the rest of the mountains are pulling a
Ph balanced tim leary tomorrow
(that means no acid, dummies, but extra dropping out)
-
leonard cohen is on the stereo,
deep, dark, and depressing.
the perfect lullaby to send us into the good night;
never quiet, never soft.....

sneaky peeking...

what's poppin' tonight, y'all?
linoleum.
uh-huh.
linoleum,
supports my head-
gives me something to believe....
that's me, duders.
it's friday night,
it's been a hectic week,
and i still haven't finished my newest block print.
but,
so far so good.
check the teleport:

yeah!
neighbors,
those little scrapey shovel-jauns take forever
to carve away and create the negativity that
becomes a picture for your face.
believe it.
it's not so much what you remove that matters,
but what you leave behind.
and i'm leaving a lot behind,
and even more to be desired.
february is kicking last month's A* right off,
and after the twenty pounds of bloppity glops
and globules we just ingested at the indian restaurant,
i'm making like february on my own A*.
ouch.
fun times, my ninjas,
to a steady rockin' soundtrack of DMX.
that's earl simmons to you, b!tches.
WHAT?!
what?;
never quiet, never soft.....

el dia de la marmota.

shhhhh.
hold on a minute.
do you smell something?
what is it?
pulled pork?
noooooooooooooope.
it's ground hog.
oh, c'mon, duders.
today is the da is the day is the day is the day.
get it?
groundhog day, mutha-b!tches.
el cerdo del suelo, son.
the same sh!t, on a temporal loop, forever and ever,
being commemorated more by a film than a marmot,
and prettty much deadeye representing the way it
feels to be a responsible adult in the modern world.
lather, rinse. repeat.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
maybe it'll be spring soon?
it's as cloudy as a fogbank all around us,
a Fortress in shadow, if you feel me...
but who knows what's poppin' in punxsutawney?
six more weak weeks of winter is what, ninja.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
*
y'know what today also is?
yeah.
nine years of dwelling on my dwelling
up here in the goodsly embrace of all things
woodsly, rural, and really real.
nine years.
holy F*ing sh!t, neighbors.
to think i woke up all those years ago
in the ancestral home of my forebears,
and got a ride to new beginnings in
new hampshire from my best buddy the cucchie,
(because i didn't own a vehicle).
that old house i ventured out of connecticut from
after a year's worth of regrouping and recouping
was sold off, when it's owner shed his mortal coil-
but i replaced it with the Folk Life & Liberty Fortess.
and,
i filled the position of eccentric, opinionated uncle
left vacant by my former landlord's passing....
sorry, duders.
i'm seeing shadows,
and i'm reliving the same day over again.
c'mon.
anyway,
i'm celebrating IX years of taking it to XI
in the northerly climes and cultural cul-de-sac
of the top half of the bottom of the barrel.
that's that new hampshire jauns!!!!
***********
what-whaaaaaat?
the albie rock day-off gut-bustin' glut-explosion scenario
has once again found a garderobe garden
for gastric gendarmerie.
huh?
a great big bunch of closets full of barbarian groceries.
no, for real.
i scoured the cabinets, consulted the cabinet,
and crafted a crucial crippling cabbagey cube
of brutal, raging, stormswept vegan A*blast activation.
what does that mean?
it means i made a pie the likes of which
the lion and the witch couldn't hold a spoon to.
try to follow along, kids,
it's complicated but i think you can do it-
shepherd's pie?
i think not.
groundhogger's glutton-bucket, more like.
check the teleport on this big burly pile of fattitude:

boo-YA!
that's what expert looks like, y'all.
believe that.
and when i rep my mashed up tubers,
i always keep the skins on.
because i hit skins like i was a drummer, b!!!!!!tch.
word up.
peas and carrots and cabbage and onions and garlic
and brown blops of pro-fessional-tein,
and homemade gravy, baby.
because i doo-doo that greasy globule-type sh!t.
that's 300 cubic inches of edible vegetables.
-
nine years of all of this.
no way in heck is that an enormous disappointment.
woodsly goodness,
Folk Life,
really realness,
hot fire, lightning, and warrior poetry.
it's all really happening,
today especially,
over and over again;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, rabbit.

word up, duders,
it's full blown february, SON!
you know what i did?
i pulled a rabbit rabbit out of my mouth
like a magically tricky treaty on good fortune
first flippin' thing as the clock spun and the calendar flipped.
heck yeah, i did.
it's the first of the mutha-ucking month, my ninjas.
i said my charming chant about bunnies,
and now it's time to tune up some Tea aNd Toast
before we begin some next level futuristic hottness.
what?
oh, y'know....
bass-boosted battle-beats and demonic drum thumping,
and taking it to eleven like pipers piping an' sh!t.
rowdy ruddy rudimentary hot rod ones, probably even.
yeah,
you're right-
it would've been marginally more appropriate to
redline at 10 like those lords a-leaping,
just like the year, y'heard?
...but only because we get to enjoy a twenty-ninth day
of this cold, bleak, stormswept savage gypsy wasteland.
awww, c'mon.
at least there's probably gonna be vegan chocolates
for our so-F*ing-in-love faces and hearts and parts,
and that's only a few weeks worth of spanning away.
yep. for those romance-type jauns an' that.
and just to let my rose-colored necktards know
what's up with B.H.M.,
we've got a nonstop loop of loud, fresh hardness
being pumped up at volume throughout the hills
and the dales and the dwellings of the
woodsly goodsly white mountainous northern extremes.
we doo-doo that 'hood soundtrack attack, kids.
***********
it's breakfast, neighbors.
no,
i already told y'all what we ate this morning...
i'm talking about the end of my abstinence.
remember?
yeah.
the material fast is over.
no more responsible expenditure-restraining.
that sh!t is over and done with, duders.
which means it's time to burn through
a few of those movie checks i made yesterday.
woooooooooooooooooord.
i might get a fancy toaster oven.
huh?
oh, F* you.
it's my money, and i'll do with it what i please.
that's right.
early starts and late nights
and only one day off to get rad on
all the big action i want to activate.
quick like a bunny,
and jacked like a rabbit-
it's all really happening,
it's all really february;
never quiet, never soft.....