hot fire!

saturday night activation!
it is always better with that furious fuego
blazing inside the stone ghost circle in my
heroic natural open-air warrior arena
at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's a real thing.
i had a whole bunch of duders over after dinner,
and we let the conversation flow,
the smoke billow,
the wood combust,
and the light, heat, and power exchange forms
as the potential was converted to the actual.
yeah.

uber-dry kindling throws those BTU nutrients like
a towering inferno of searing sexiness.
i'd been saving it special for just such an occasion.
todd, ted, thatcher, autumn, and me-
staying sweaty, roasting and toasting on a brisk
august evening of hard styles and clear skies.....
neighbors,
are you getting it?
hot fire and fusiliers bringing it all back together?
that's the way it should pretty much always be.
*
so,
i'm about to reactivate and maybe even overreactivate
some extra-empty lonesome long weekend wizardry.
what?
oh.
that means that nobody besides me and olive the dog
are currently occupying this massive and expansive manse.
uh-huh.
it's only for a little mini-minute, in the larger picture,
but we're back on that tag-team werewolf sh!t
for the next few days and nights.
me and my very own battle-beast,
hangin' out, eating sad sandwiches, watching bad televison,
riding big, sexy bicycles inside the living room/great hall...
y'all,
are we about to get expert?
c'mon.
what are you?
an A*-hole?
don't be dumb.
you already know we doo-doo that fully-immersed, enmeshed,
intermingled and interwoven allegory of man's best friend
as a literal and figurative disappointment-type jauns.
suckie dog, suckie dude, suckie times.
it's all really happening,
right here in the woodsly goodness.
you don't agree?
really?
then who's coming over to keep us company?
you?
oh, right, you're busy....on a sunday night.
uh-huh.
cool.
***********
these mountains?
dope.
i'm looking around,
and everything in sight is pretty flippin' rad.
there's a place for us.
a time and place for us.
somewhere.
here?
i think so;
never quiet, never soft.....

expert manliness.

duders,
i left work early.
true story.
i figured that after the bulletproof buttcheek i tattblasted;
and i mean, seriously, so round and magical,
with my usual expert touch, no less-
i couldn't do much better for myself
during the remaining time in my workday-
so with nowhere to go but down inside the building,
i headed outside,
and went to the shooting range
to get fully activated with full metal jackets, y'all!!
yuuuuuuuuup.
there's something about that hot lead fireball sh!t that gets it IN!
word up.
it looked like this on the bench:

c'mon.
that makes your beards and body bits thicker, doesn't it?
you bet it does.
look-
i brought along some friends:

the once and future Folk Life & Liberty Fusiliers;
taking shape, taking aim, taking it by storm.
thatcher got his man pants merit badges in bullets and beards,
all the way from novice to worthy warrior in a couple of hundred
expended expanded grandiose gunshot rounds of rounds
of manhandling triggerman handling.

...and teddy looked like a cop.
*
i personally touched off a whole mess of magazines,
and even got ARetarded like a spider monkey of poor form,
and berserker barbarianism in tight shirts:

see?
half sitting in a creepy crouch, on a bench, over a board,
with my spaghetti noodle arms stretched the F* out?
i'm pretty much a pretzel of flippy-floppy freshness and
comfortable, yet safe, recreational gunplay.
sooo, what was i trying to hit?
the ground, eventually!
neighbors,
shooting guns in a sunshower goes all the way off the charts.
rainbow steamy skywater thunderstick slickness,
big bore battle beast blasting in the woodsly flippin' goodness?
you know.
...it definitely redlines at eleven, kids.
so good.
***********
we had a pizza party afterwards,
celebrating the success of a blown off day and blown up bullets
and bubblicious buttcheeks.
i needed it.
i got it.
i doo-doo that special day rewards-type action, son.
and you know it wouldn't be the best
without the most important part, right?
after rainbow rimfire and colt .45 flamethrowing,
we had to get nice with it, my ninjas:

c'mon.
you knew it was coming.
and here it is.
spranks.
today is the day,
but yesterday holds the title,
for now;
never quiet, never soft.....

The Rogues.

the theater in the wood is made out of plastic.
that's real.
like heavy vinyl tarp-type sh!t.
and for really real,
it's out in the woods, too.
it's aptly named like you read about, y'all.
and it has some weirdie shapes an' sh!t to make sure
your experience is totally visually expert,
before the first sounds are sonic-boomed within it's
pool-lining-style insides...
teleport to the goodness:

weird secret up-here dopeness?
yuuuup.
it looks like this when you walk behind the joint, too:

yuuuuuup.
anyways,
it's pretty dope here.
and not just on the outside, either...
*
neighbors,
we went and saw america's celtic band,
60% of which was from canada.
(maybe they meant north america?)
The Rogues.
were they dope?
c'mon.
they had each and every necessary ingredient-
ballbagpipes!!!
so much of drums,
an electric fiddle,
and twenty hundred kinds of fast, loud, fresh, hardness,
with steppy dancer lady time,
even an accordion, my ninjas!!
...and a mos def lookalike on bass guitar.
(black irish, i presume?)
i'm just sayin',
these mutha-'uckers tore through two FULL sets
of piping and stomping and lightning-striking fiddle fury,
with warcries and all kinds of other other rad sh!t.
thursday night in the woodsly goodness got it IN, duders.
that's real.
warrior poetry?
yeah!
kilts and thunder and barbarian harmonies.
we got ALL that sh!t, and more,
all in one place,
all at one time.
...yep.
sometimes,
something good happens.
i shudder to think of what today's comeuppance has to be.
it all costs somethin', yo.
good for bad,
tit for tat,
bitter for sweet.
it's the way it works,
and it's all really happening.
like it or not,
ready or not,
here it come;
never quiet, never soft.....

shelf life.

haha.
i'm telling you, duders-
nature wins x infinity.
no amount of nurture is gonna replace the
spontaneous sporefruit germination activation
of wet weather, and long cold nights,
combined to induce the sweet mushy roommates
ruminating on the sides of this dead-A* tree.
aaaaaaaaaand what?!
check the teleport,
and see for your own damn selves:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
nothing is more dope than the overnight surprise
that mycelium sends up to the surface.
white gross underground stringy moldy crap
that gets cold weather nutrient triggered and
then big-up blossoms into way bigger
white gross flat spongy moldy crap?
c'mon.
if you aren't getting expert like that,
you might be an A*hole.
fact.
*
seeing as to how i currently have accrued a whopping
cumulative ZERO F*-giving attitude of berserker barbarism,
brutishly barreling my way through each day with little regard
for the feelings and physical well-being of other other ninjas;
and certainly with no interest in my own personal safety-
i may just fry up a big batch of those slimy slabs!
grilled possibly poisonous polyps of pure-being,
delivered direct from the stinky stump in front of the Fortress?
that goes to eleven on the bad idea list, for sure!
huh?
no.
diarrhea?
really?
oh.
well,
doo-doo butter and weak-sauce have frequently
been known to go hand in hand from inaction to indigestion.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man!
umm,
i think we just had a whole imaginary conversation, neighbors.
thanks!
*********** 
woodsly goodness!
it's cold this morning,
and the mushrooms are poppin' off like mouldering
mountain explosions of turbo-dope life & liberty.
'shrooms don't care about sh!t.
i think they may even actually like it.
it's all really happening, kids.
fruits from the dirt,
better than apples of the earth,
but less likely to keep the doctor away.
...true story;
never quiet, never soft.....

refocusing.

distractions,
diversions,
misdirections,
pitfalls,
snares,
snags,
snafus,
false trails,
covered tracks,
eaten breadcrumbs....
you know the way it goes, neighbors.
the path is obscured,
the road is closed,
the maps are out-of-date.
a trip to massachussetts and back again,
a drop off of those kickass kids of mine,
and all of a sudden the veil has been lifted-
what's the big reveal?
oh, you know-
it would seem that in the throes of family togetherness
and fatherly full-on 'knows-best' intensive interaction,
i've kind of lost my way a little teentsy tiny baby bit.
jeez.
the attentions i pour into those ladies are super-concentrated,
especially in lieu of the other alternatives to fixate on...
but, duders,
there's also about a hundred thousand things i've
still got to get busy on that won't finish themselves.
awwwwwwwww, man.
my whole world has taken the week off with me.
from responsible adult chores,
like firewood splitting, stacking, and sh!t,
or waist-high weedgrass lawn mowing in the gardens,
all the way down the line to artistic endeavors,
like lining, shading, drawing, designing, and creating....
when the little red hen goes on vacation,
nobody bakes the bread, y'feel me?
and since i don't have a body-double doppleganger
to pick up the slack and go on the attack,
well,
there's not much to show for the last eight days.
we ate all the treats,
the big bags of supplies and school clothes all went home with
harvest and maple, obviously-
and the movie checks in effect have all been cashed.
broke, broken, busted, beaten, misbegotten and woebegone.
that's what's up.
mostly, though,
here in the woodsly goodness,
in the rain,
under the silver spun-sugar woolen skies,
squeezing out the sponged up humidity from up above
and rinsing out and away the lameness of
being alone in a group most of the time,
well,
i steadily, readily find myself bebothered instead of progressing.
running around at a standstill,
biking in place at a sprint in stasis,
and sweating away my actual self up, up,
and all the way away into these stormy skies.
yep.
i'm rain dancing in ellipses with my knobby knees
to a backspinning stationary satellite....
cloud seeding with my own salt sprays?
that's real.
gray lugubrious lubricants across the mountains,
steamed and smokescreened foggy bottoms and tops,
courtesy of my own desire to disappear.
i guess i'm just on that delayed reaction
overreactive participation jauns.
huh?
oh, it's real.
i promise.
it takes a minute, but i blow up and out and combust my
caustic sauces all over the flippin' place,
like a depth charge of shallowness or something.
i dunno.
***********
so much that needs doing.
so many action items and priority set lists.
it's all waiting to happen,
even as it all unfolds according to the script.
there's a plan in there somewhere,
but it's secret.
shhh.
*
no pictures?
sorry.
i'm repping picturesque speech,
instead of speaking in pictures;
never quiet, never soft.....

b breads.

rainy road trips to the worst places.
that's what happens when you have had too much fun.
for serious.
it all costs somethin', neighbors-
and that's the price tag affixed to the freshness
we've experienced over the last eight days.
yep.
drivin' and cryin' along the interstates and turnpikes
down to the dreaded and dreadful doo-doo buttery
weak sauce waterbaby b!tchbaggery of asscrackachussetts.
awwwwwwwwwwww.
duders,
my little girls aren't so little.
growing up and getting big and branching out and moving on.
that's a thing.
no jokes, folks-
i miss 'em already,
and they're still here, and still asleep upstairs.
it's just that there's never enough of it all;
times and places and things, with them, it's all better-
but there's only ever more of some,
or more of less of others.
but i haven't ever had that perfect baby bear amount.
y'know, like in goldilocks......
uh-huh.
seems like kind of a bummer, huh?
well, i may not have any equilibrium when it comes
to family togetherness,
but what i do have, is the perfect razor's edge of balance
between crust, crumb, filling, and sauce!
you know what that is?
yes. 
.....expert culinary skills!
activated with a booster shot of semolina flour
and a splash of pure wheat gluten for blowout-proof dough, yo.
what?
oh, F* yes, my ninjas.
i may be sad about the nest emptying out again,
but i am never ever EVER gonna let that diaperbaby bullsh!t
stand in the way of top-notch super-rad active participation.
we rep a hard style up in here.
believe it.
in fact, check the mutha-F*ing teleport:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
sequential in-progress-type jauns?
okay.

dough under cover,
brox in that cast iron deep dish sh!t, sauteed like what!

rolled up and waiting....
that's that next-level flippin' broccoli bread, kids.
we doo-doo that chewy gooey green blarpity blopfest
for so many faces it isn't even funny.
holy stromboli for all the A*holey butts in the whole wide world.
one loaf of just be dopeness?
c'mon.
we're from the future, y'all.

five loaves of coiled up florets and cheeseyish yellow stuff,
packed with mucho nootch,
and oh! so many garlic and onion variants,
both fresh and powdered.
flavorful?
to eleven, son.
you know it.
traditional Folk Life & Liberty Fortress farewell feasts, duders.
we offer up a meal in the spirit of family togetherness,
with gratitude and generosity and all the good things we believe in.
it's what you make of it, friends.
we make the most out of the least,
and even more out of anything else.
harvest and maple and albie rock,
with some other other ones on the periphery,
participating and practicing what we preach.
each one teach one,
like a worthy warrior warren of the woodsly goodness.
...indeed.
**********
we also had a slab of this big baby b!tch for breakfast.
you can't see the tiny specks of coconuttiness,
but the flavor is a secret kiss from the future for your face.
teleport to the here and now of yesterday:

banana bread, bro.
yum.
we can't be wastin' those nanners, right?
right.
from the first to the last of it,
delivery is passionate.
the whole and not the half of it!
it's all really happening, y'all;
never quiet, never soft.....

nourished.

duders,
imagine my surprise.
it's been a long time since
i got the fattie-boombattie meal-plan
served up to my face!
just sayin', i haven't made dinner every night,
and i haven't been the only one cooking by a damn sight,
but after a whole day of getting sad
about the dearth of radness happening all around me, all day?
i came home to a steaming plateful of all of this:

uh-huh.
fancy dinnertime activation,
extra-summery-style, with freshness,
and extra-firm tofulery, and cukes,
and sweeter'n sugar corn, on the cob, even!
i guess that a beach-side river day did wonders
for the hearts, minds, and stomachs of the ladies
and little ladies who reside and abide in the
Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
yep.
womenfolk making dinner-type jauns!
wow.
lucky me, huh?
and did i deserve it?
sorry, neighbors,
but equine dentistry is not my forte'.
i mean, sure,
all i did was tattbomb like a juggernaut of unstoppable
arthur-disregarding hard-style pounding of the skins
and spirits of generally disinterested mutha-lickers,
all flippin' day long, underbooked and overtired and pretty much
repping a frustrated flurry of color commentary
about my various orientations.
for the record,
i'm facing due west.
whatever that means...
but, damn it, my ninjas,
it sure felt good to power down that pile of eaty bits
and serve up a second helping a second later.
shark gluttony may no longer be the first function
of my massive maw of enameled tombstone chompers,
but i sure as sh!t didn't forget how....
c'mon.
***********
the last day with my daughters this time around is today.
today is the day, y'know?
it always is, but it isn't always the last one.
i've got it going on, with a whole day off,
scooping up school supplies,
setting up shop for some banana bread for breakfast,
maybe even activating some broccoli bread for dinner.
if you don't know, ask a friend, they'll fill you in,
and we'll fill it up.
the final few hours of expert active participation.
we choose the wrench,
and we're turning it up,
to eleven.
more and more and more,
right this very F*ing minute;
never  quiet, never soft.....7x25!!!!!gross.

grown.

get some of this:

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.

you know what all that is don't you?

uh-huh-

...expert;

never quiet, never soft.....

a sense of scale.

so big.
that's word.
check the teleport:

that's a big head, neighbors.
and comparable flavor was contained therein.
but what about big things in small packages?

yuuuuuuup.
so small, y'all.
but with twice as much flavor compressed inside that sauce!
there's a lesson there, somewhere.
or maybe not?
i don't know, yo.
but i'm just sayin'....
*
there are so many secret hottnesses hiding out in that spot.
like this:

c'mon.
and this:

yup.
and this, too:

everything is fine?
facetious, much?
i think so.
it's all good, even when it's busted and old.
fact.
and let's all absolutely recognize the freshness of this one:

awwwwwwwwwwww.
that's no foolin' either.
he loves, and he loves and he loves, and he loves....
actually,
i love.
active participatory actions speak louder and sh!t like that.
it's all real,
it's all happening.
yesterdays and todays, and probably tomorrows too;
never quiet, never soft.....

thirteen unlucky numbers.

bread & puppet theater
again?
yuuuup.
again.
sunday, all day,
on the other other side of the mountains.
back here in the woodsly goodness,
to the east of the heart of the beast's big baby daddy,
it was old and busted, rainy, muggy, and beat-
but over in that secret cellular-dead-zone's
natural amphitheater of excellent activities,
clay-tubs, ducks, and epic leftie weirdness?
you'd better believe it was one hundred percent EXPERT.
the Folk Life & Liberty contingent
was bringing that family togetherness jauns
in mutha-flippin' full effect, too, my ninjas.
check, please:

teleport!
perfect weather,
crusty stinkbomb creatures,
puppets, pageants,
and whole lot of interactive audience appreciation.
hell yes, y'all.
it was a perfect extra day-off of elite action.
sunday in the park, b!tches.
way better than bombing those tatzaps like a nerd,
we got sunburnt and vitamin D nutrient activated!!
and,
i'm pretty much positive we brought along the
only young republican in attendance there.
haha.
i don't know if he was all-the-way ready for how much
of all of it there was gonna be,
but from the jump-off he was neck-deep in super-strange
car-dwellers, face-tattooed rug-wearing filthy freaks,
and bus-house berserkers of sloppy physical hygiene.
no jokes, though.
check the teleport:

teddy!
poooooooping in a dirty sh!thole under a shed?
i hope not.
it sure wasn't the mount washington valley, however,
and that great big world of wide-eyed strangeness
exposed us all to some really real duders doing
really real things...
like these:

c'mon.

dope.
'if' love and a waving white flag?
true stories told truly about real sh!t, son.
i hear it,
i feel it.
i am still thirsty:

even doper.
get a sip of that powerful sauce, suckas!

dopest.
dead guys!
so rad.

and then even more dopeness!
stand up comedian?
everything is the blanket, y'all.
you should've been there.
the origin of all mass happened like a large hadron particle collision!
and some mexican lady puppets got
disappeared by nafta monsters or somethin', too-

represent!

so fresh.
zebra stripes and battle-beast brutality,
coupled with hundred degree temperatures,
and so many old lady hats in our way, everywhere.
what could possibly save the day for us?
how about uncle sam on stilts?
we'll give it a shot-

tall as F*,
older than F*!!
neighbors,
there's so MUCH hottness on that farm!
so many beards,
some inside of women's armpits.
i shudder to even imagine the downstairs shrubbery.
welcome to the jungle, an' that.
speaking of:

no lyin', just lions?
oh, stop it.
*
we had a great day.
hell,
mother earth embraced us all, y'all.
that really happened:

seriously,
i am grateful for the time,
and i am overjoyed to span it,
hand in hand,
right alongside those gleeful girls i helped make,
shape,
and steer into the beautiful young ladies
i activated the whole day with.
just be dope?
we doo-doo that;
never quiet, never soft.....

ELEVEN!!

yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
today's the eleventh.
fact.
that means we've got to get it poppin' like
it's the hottness from the future.
i'll be honest (i always am)
it's not gonna be easy.
at all.
but,
i've got a pair of fair ladies with me as backup,
and i've got a sense of fatalistic determinism
working in high gear to impose free will on the
secret universal plans of the spirits and memories
of the world at large an' that,
and it's ALL about to really happen.
i think it may all actually BE happening.
i think that's the whole point.
we're part of it,
and we're actively ;participating in it,
and no matter how wet, humid, close, dense,
dismal, dreary, and lugubrious the anti-salubrious juices
seeping like sh!tty b!tchsap sauce from the atmosphere gets,
we'll fear it not, and doo-doo all that
just-be-dopeness regardless.
we'll call a grand total of zero forfeitures due to rain.
y'heard?
we may get wet,
but we'll stay expert.
recognize.
we've got treats to power-up our bursts of berserker fury.
check the teleport,
and lick your mutha-'ucking lips, my ninjas:

F*ing right.
strawberry-powered chocolate-chip injected cupcakes,
that's right...
pulverized dried strawberries added as flour to the mix!
with pudding infused into the moist mix,
and chocolate fudge frosting,
with multiple kinds of that most excellent of finishing touches.
you know it, neighbors-
sprankles.
uh-huh.
i got naughty in the kitchen,
and got nice with those treats!
that's what's up.
baking up a big batch of big business for all my
super-duper sweet honey babies,
because i'm kind of like that.
the going's been molto tough,
but that just activates the savage stormswept
wrenchy nutrients,
and motivates real warrior poets
to get it together, get it going on, and going off,
and take it up a notch or two beyond what's reasonable.
that's because we don't want reasons, son,
we want results!
sure,
i slammed some bowls,
and shouted a cornucopia of swear words,
and even shook my head in disdain, disappointment,
and disgust....
...but then those cuppie cakes came out of the
hot box and everything got way better way quicker.
you coming to the tattzap shop to get one?
you'd better.
i made 'em for ALL my sweet honey babies.
that includes you, stoopidhead.
word up.
***********
long days and longer nights,
shopping until i drop,
getting resurrected, wrecked, and repeating it all
like a haunting, over and again,
restless and without refuge.
i refuse to lose, though, yo.
tired, weak, broken, ugly, busted, and brutalized-
it's all really happening,
but it's a better fate than death, y'all.
that sort of sh!t awaits us everywhere.
i'm grateful for each and every minute,
a full sixty sh!tty seconds of first place,
worst place, finish line failures.
awwwwwwwwww, man.
never give up, never give in;
never quiet, never soft.....