beware the ides.

backstabbers,
sneaks,
plotters,
liars,
all sorts of shifty, shady, suspect and questionable characters.
y'know?
being ware of the ides of march, in the caesarian sense,
traditionally means to watch out for yourself,
because those types of stink-nuggets are planning your downfall,
and most likely, your untimely demise.
damn.
that's a hard style.
and today is the day.
but,
what i'm most worried about is that the cracked red-leather riverbed
my entire skin has become, complete with hives, welts, and blisters,
is gonna actually do me in way before the hinky haters ever do.
i've got new medicine,
since the working theory is that the old medicine only made everything worse.
uh-huh.
beware, for realsies:

hopefully whatever this is kills whatever i've got,
or,
failing that,
at least kills me with an accidental prescription for peace and quiet
a la the oblivion of adult-onset allergic reactions.
i'm pretty cool with whichever.
the alternative to potential relief is really-real reality,
which just happens to be persistent worsening.
it always gets worse.
if there's any comfort to be taken,
it's that it won't be better tomorrow,
it'll just be different.
ugh.
this isn't any fun, at all.
i mean it, no jokes.
oh, and the meds?
and they come with red label warnings, too.
'these will hurt your capacity for expertism.'
great news?
i remain doubtful.
i remain wary.
i remain here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
eating little green capsules of antihistamine anxiety blockers,
and wishing i didn't look and feel like a such a
damned dirty diseased dehydrated and dessicated icon of defeat.
gross.
***********
i know,
this year, thus far, is a real A*-hole.
two and one half months of bad news,
hot on the heels of two and a half years of the same.
the reliable consistency is appreciated, surely-
but a plot-twist 180 back towards goodness
and not just this up-here woodsliness,
would be a warmly welcomed change.
there's nearly no firewood left,
and the temperature has been negative for days and days.
nature has made promises to stay that way for some time to come.
we're five days away from spring,
but for three more months, we'll still be shivering.
beware the ides,
beware the kalens,
beware the days, on either side of both.
hard times and long nights and every single thing that makes you feel tired?
it's ALL really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

breakfast bombing.

fruit and grains and sweets and treats?
yeah,
i don't mind if i do, duders.
because after all,
i doo-doo that bakery activation-style sh!t.
really.
check the fresh-out-the-oven-type teleport:

yeah!
neighbors,
it's hearty cornbread,
and it's also got oat flour in it,
because oats are my all-time favorite grain.
no joke.
and it's moistened with soy yogurt,
and sweetened with real maple syrup,
and a pinch or three of black strapped molassesy brown-style sugar.
but,
just to take it to eleven,
there're toasted pecans all up in it,
and raspberries, too, kids.
yep.
raspberry pecan cornbread is in my mouth right now.
expert.
with brown sugar and pecan crumble sprankles, too?
yeah, friends,
it really IS what you need for your faces.
a full happy bellyhole is never a bad move, either.
it helps to make the morning suck a little less hard.
i'm on it.
i mean,
what else is there?
snow shoveling?
ugh.
i'm all set with all that.
several times over the last several days,
i've been gettin' busy with the big business of swinging that sludge
into heroic heaps and mighty mountains
that may not melt until mid-june.
it's all really happening,
but all the in-betweens from main events into milestones?
it's all been a really real sunovab!tch.
damn.
it stays hard in the up-here styles.
the woodsly goodness is a misanthropic mistress,
and these mountains make for long nights and hard times
and cold beds and steep climbs.
it's always uphill,
even on the downside.
ugh.
and we're creepin' up on those ides, too.
i'm wary,
and i'm weary,
and i'm worn out.
this is real life.
today peaked early,
without the sunlight so much as even peeking out;
never quiet, never soft.....

shovelfuls.

getting up first thing and shoveling?
lame.
having a stoooopid metal roof that dumps warmed-up heavy snow
all over the walkway every other hour?
even lamer.
having heavy snow blow out the power,
and spanning the night in the dark?
actually,
that was expert.
haha.
reading by candlelight felt pretty relaxing,
for all the flickers of the orangey glow.
yeah.
oh,
and it got crazy cold again,
of course,
so the snow that accumulated yesterday,
all slushy and soggy and sticky?
uh-huh.
it's frozen.
great.
snow day 'anythings' are more like 'nothing-goods'.
y'know?
sure, anything can happen.....just as long as it sucks.
awwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
...and it just keeps snowing.
like,
we're still getting pounded by snow day magic.
and it kinda eats balls.
i mean,
yes,
it's beautiful:

c'mon.
but it's also a gigantic real-time real life reminder
that the natural world is here to kill us all.
we'd be buried alive and frozen to death if this winter had it's druthers.
on the realsies.
***********
and it's not like this is making anything any better:

tattoos are, no foolin', wrecking my days.
now,
i am totally not saying i hate tattooing,
i'm just saying that what i'm looking for i haven't found yet.
it's out there,
waiting,
hiding,
evading...
i'll catch it, or i won't;
but i still get discouraged in the in-between times when i'm
just grinding away and spanning time and not moving forward.
quitting isn't an option,
but enjoying the journey isn't either.
i've got destinations and deadlines that simply don't allow
for any of that bullsh!t hippie malarky, y'heard?
i may be losing the good fight, neighbors,
but i'm still swinging and slinging and singing,
until the inevitable bitter bitter ending;
never quiet, never soft.....

snow day treats.

hey neighbors,
i like it when there's a lot going on
inside of one fluted paper cup.
check the teleport, then we'll chat:

yeah.
what's that that's poppin' on this snow day?
chocolate fudge cupcakes.
expert.
caramel pastry creme filling.
expert.
caramel frosting.
expert.
chocolate-caramel-style turtle sprankles.
expert.
chocolate double-bubble-butterycreme goobieblops.
expert.
yep.
that's all.
just layers of brown on brown on beige on brown on beige on brown,
and all in one concentrated area.
they're delicious, if i do say so my damned self.
....and i doo-doo SO say so.
***********
there's a lot to be said for just doing what you do.
baking is sort of my thing still.
it takes a lot to get psyched on art,
it takes even more to get psyched on people,
but treats?
treats are straightforward and very very rewarding.
i like that.
a lot.
i'm putting pieces in order,
procedures in place,
and cookie crumbs on top.
baking makes the most sense sometimes.
proportions and pace, recipes and results.
you get back what you put in,
and you always get what you deserve.
snow days mean that anything can happen,
but hot ovens are a lot more reassuringly predictable;  
never quiet, never soft.....

the garbage man.

awwwwwwww, man.
grocery shopping.
y'know,
responsible adult activity,
a necessary chore-style exchange of currency for ingredients,
and all of it on a day when it's supposed to snow even more?
ugh.
the worst thing about a double snow day?
grocery stocker-uppers.
that's a thing.
you know the mindset-
milk and bread milk and bread milk and bread.
quick, in a hurry, gotta gotta get it or else we'll never survive!!!!!
hahahahahah.
so dumb.
snow shoppers are panic shoppers,
and panic shoppers are moms,
and moms make the grocery store terrible,
because they bring the accessory that qualifies them.
got it?
yeah.
kids.
and a grocery store full of moms and kids is the WORST.
so,
i opted not to.
hmmmmmm?
what?
do i have to go and do what everybody else does?
no way, neighbors.
not once, not never ever.
instead,
i used up all the random bits and pieces in my refrigerator,
to make something that was expert anyway.
real talk.
check the garbage-can-type teleport:

yeah!
tacos de trompo or somethin'.
brussels sprouts, collard greens, shallots, two kinds of mushrooms,
little colorful bell peppers, garlic, one soysage, a bunch of seitan,
nootch, g.p.o.p., and black pepper everywhere,
with pea shoots for dressin' 'em up in fried corn tortillas,
with marinated grape tomatoes and cukes on the side.
whatever i found, i used.
my buddy beau appreciates food, and appreciates creativity,
and it's so much nicer to cook for two than it is for one.
eating alone is pure crap, kids.
breakfast is bad enough,
but suppertime is definitely for friendship not loneliness.
i guess i lucked out in that regard.
**********
plus,
instead of helping cook,
he helped haul in firewood!
double the dopeness for my face,
and twice the wood in half the time...
which is even better news since it's snowing already,
and promises to continue until tomorrow.
too much is the right amount,
like it or not.
we accept it, friends, because there's no use faking reality.
nature is gonna win.
we'll still fight the good fight,
and shovel the deep powder,
and slog through the sludge, for sure.
but,
hard hearts are gonna break, always.
the toughest materials explode into the deadliest shrapnel, tho.
the more there is,
the longer it takes,
the greater the forces exerted onto us,
the more explosive the eventual overreaction, y'know?
keep snowing, sky-
keep blowing, wind-
keep freezing, Fortress-
keep sucking, waterbabies-
it's all always really happening,
until it isn't...
there's an opposing force holding it all together,
but only nature is infinite, so only nature wins;
never quiet, never soft.....

three inches....

duders,
three inches counts, right?
huh?
oh, c'mon.
stop it.
three inches is enough to qualify today as a
snow day.
i mean,
if i've gotta pay the plow guy,
and clear my walkway,
and sprankle melty magic rock salts everywhere?
yeah....
then i fully expect to reap the benefits of a snow day, too.
i'm just sayin',
anything can happen on a snow day,
and that's expert.
what's happening?
ha.
not much, yet.
there've already been cupcakes in and out of the oven.
teleport:

but that really just means it's tuesday, y'know?
yeah.
oh.
and i ve been rewashing every single article of fabric in the entire
Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, too.
neighbors,
when you've got the super-itchy skin-destroying, time-consuming,
flesh-shredded, concerned-and-consternated-furrowed-brow and
claw-nail-marked-troughs of a tough rash situation?
well,
if you've got that,
and if you're a serious active participator-
you'll do every/any/all-things to proactively attack the irritants.
that's real.
because no jokes,
this itching and itching and itching is driving me crazier and crazier.
the 'roid rage of medication has run it's course,
and i'm left with the lingering effects of affections' endings
and animosity's aggressive escalation.
y'feel me?
no?
oh.
let me elucidate-
when something is hurting you, you must eradicate it.
that's it.
because rules is rules.
and when it's all boiled down, triple-distilled, and concentrated, kids....
you know it-
nature wins.
so,
if anything can happen,
let's hope the first order of business today is to stop scratching,
and start mending.
uh-huh.
is today my day off?
well, officially, yes.
am i working?
you bet i am.
making money requires me to earn it,
and earning it requires working,
and all of it is no kind of fun,
but all of it is on the schedule today.
today is the day......
......but is it really?
the snow day chaos theory seems overly optimistic if you ask me;
never quiet, never soft.....

plans.

off the cuff,
doing it live,
with marky-markers and time to kill,
and sometimes i think killing would be easier.
huh?
i mean,
c'mon,
there's only ever more of all of this, y'know?
and it doesn't get easier,
or better,
or improved much,
for all the time spent doing it.
hmmmm?
oh.
i'm talking about tattbombing, kids.
take it easy.
working in the woods means taking many things less seriously,
and paying for the privilege.
neighbors,
just check the yesterday's-news-type teleport:

ouch.
making it up as i go?
yeah.
i'm like that.
is it any good?
well,
there's sure a LOT of it, at least.
jeez.
like i just said,
there's only ever more.
this is just the beginning,
but it feels like it's ending me,
one day at a time;
never quiet, never soft.....

teleport.

so,
we're in the future again.
you and me and everybody,
well,
everybody who does that sort of thing.
we're saving daylight by losing an hour,
and while that seems counterintuitive,
it sure is bright out.
anyway,
since sleep seems to elude me every time i'm
all by my lonley,
i was up and at 'em at two a.m.,
except, as the clock struck,
and the digital readout seemed poised
on the precipitous perch of 1:59 to make the natural adjustment,
i leapt forward,
live and directly into three a.m.,
and now,
here i am.
an hour short of time,
and a whole night shy of well-rested.
luckily,
i've got these pink powerbombs to push me over the limit.
huh?
these:

rash decisions, neighbors.
that's SO a thing.
oh, and prednisone makes me rep the 'roid rage, kids.
nooooo, c'mon-
i mean, i get a little fired-up,
and a lot of motormouthed unfiltered furious fuego spits out
of my F*ing face as hot fire and talked-sh!t.
yikes.
that's what living in the future starts out like, i've heard.
yuck.
so,
here we are.
and here i am.
i'm turbo-charged,
and underslept,
and overreacting,
and underimpressed.
it's all really happening, again, or still,
and we've missed out on sixty minutes of reactivation.
time to get louder and fresher and harder in a hurry, i guess;
never quiet, never soft.....

quiet times.

shhhhhhhhhh.
friends,
i get up EARLY,
and that's no joke.
like,
before it's even bright and early;
before there's early birds hunting worms;
before the dawn's early light....
you know-
EARLY.
and as such,
i get a lot of quiet times before anyone or anything else
deigns to rise and/or shine with the morning's onset.
uh huh.
i'm one of those people.
i go to bed whenever, at dusk, dark, midnight, or later,
and i'm still up at the crack, neighbors, regardless.
yeah.
i wake the F* up.
immediately.
i can't help it, either-
it's in my infinite nature to be a wrong-side-of-the-bed
springing bedspring bouncer before breakfast.
it's what i do.
i'm up first, every single time and every single place,
making Tea'N'Toast and typing away at notes and ideas
and doing all my dirt all by my lonely.
the thing of it is,
it IS a little lonely,
lurking around the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
as much as it is also comforting to be the kindly king of my own castle.
kindly?
c'mon.
don't be dumb.
but,
being a despotic tyrant can be tedious, too,
without anyone to tyrannize, or terrorize.
y'all can just take it easy,
since either way the point still stands.
it's just that, on the one hand,
it feels like i've got a whole day to myself,
before day even breaks,
without all the creepery creepiness of being a night owl.
that part is good, for sure.
but,
it also feels like i'm the only one around,
even when i know that i've got company.
y'know?
i'm up and at 'em,
reading and writing and cooking and stretching,
hours and hours before i have any contact with the waking world,
and not because i'm dreaming, but because they are.
jeez.
but really, anyway, who am i gonna call at 5a.m.?
nobody, if i know what's good for me, right?
uh huh.
so i'll let the zzz's get caught by someone else,
and i'll ponder the point of all of this,
in ever increasing illumination, without any light shed on the subject.
yeah.
anyway,
i don't mind keeping my routines,
and it's cool that most e'rybody else prefers coffee to tea,
because i like grinding beans as much as i like steeping leaves,
and i like having the implements and accoutrements of
an expert morning ready and waiting for all y'all.
the makings of a great host are having what you need before you
know you need it.
that's always been the case,
and always will be.
gratitude and generosity aren't time sensitive, either.
so,
i'll be biding my time,
and brewing some hot brown beverages,
and waiting and waiting and waiting for business hours to begin.
it's all really happening, guys.
always;
never quiet, never soft.....

six years.

today makes six years.
of THIS.
y'know-
real life documentarianism.
blogging, even.
ha.
i can't say it's as rewarding or urgent as it used to be,
but i also know that less is never any good.
it's a tough call,
writing about nothing, a whole lot of it,
and very often,
or,
just stopping it all,
and freeing up that time to do something else.
sure,
writing about cake is great, neighbors,
don't misunderstand me...
but,
it seems like day in and day out,
it's a whole lot more of red spikes, winning,
and a whole lot less of really real life, living.
that's real.
harder and harder and harder get the styles,
and i couldn't be more tired of all of that noise.
i have no good news to report anymore.
but,
rules are rules,
and secret plans aren't ever fully-revealed until the end.
so,
i guess it's just got to be more as the main objective,
and not the biggest nor the most beautiful.
awwwwwwwwwww.
so,
i guess in the spirit of keeping up with keeping on,
check the burly breakfast-type teleport:

oatmeal raisin maple walnut brown sugar cake,
with rolled oat sprankles,
and cinnamaple icing drizzled across the knobbly surface.
yeah.
i bake things,
i break things,
i'm broke,
and i'm broken.
six years worth.
it's all STILL really going on,
all of it,
red spikes beating down the will of warrior poets,
and those same worthy wordsmiths never giving up.
the dose of poison is incrementally increased
according to built-up immunity to it.
it's iocane, this damned dirty blog,
and it's gonna keep going for now,
into the inconceivable unknown for the forseeable future;
never quiet, never soft.....

but do you REALLY like waffles?

because if you're all about waffles,
then,
you'd best be loving 'em in all shapes and sizes,
sweet or savory or spicy,
and for any meal of the day.
any less and you're fibbing at least a little.
neighbors,
i'm all amped up on prednisone,
no jokes.
because i'm so flippin' itchy,
i'm clawing off all the outsides of my body,
so they look more like my gross wet insides.
'sgusting, for sure.
that means i gave in to my discomfort,
well,
once i finally looked the worst i've ever looked...
and that's sayin' something.
anyway,
i'm gonna toss as many pills down my neck as i have to,
but i suspect that there are stress-related triggers activating\
this mummy-rot woganowski jauns....
but,
for all the edgy, angry, irritability that being itchy casuses.
the steroids do even harder, but without the itch....
the thing of it is,
these pink pills are making me HUNGRY.
uh-huh.
and when a real deal shark-glutton and professional quantity increaser
gets obsessive about disregarding portion controls?
well,
this happens:

c'mon!
cornmeal and semolina and soy flour and smoked paprika and g.p.o.p.
and black pepper and sage and thyme and olive oil and vegan sour cream,
all mixed into a mash that we stamped into circles with squares in/on them.
yeah.
and minced and sauteed shallots and red winter hardneck garlic
stirred over high heat with shredded collard greens!
why?
because we got dirty dirty southern-style on dinner, duders....
sriracha, sweet onions, and blackeye peas on top,
and a custom-roux mushroom gravy, nootched up, and thick,
over all of it,
because expert food goes great with torn-up guts and torn-worse skin.
hmmmm?
roasted carrots and asparagus?
sounds great.
in fact,
i'm way ahead of you there, kids.
too much is always the right amount,
and i powered down each and every last morsel,
gravy globs and blarpity beans and all.
my appetite for self-destruction is at an all-time high,
and my resistance to maladies has never been lower.
a perfect set of circumstances, if you ask me.
today is the day,
just like every day,
but maybe even just slightly moreso.
thor's day thunderbolts are coming to work with me,
and we're gonna lightning-striking viking berserker barbarian ball-out
until this course of medication is done coursing through my body;
never quiet, never soft.....