covering up.

we're sittin' on the brink of the thunder moon, neighbors.
uh-huh.
the thunder moon, for serious, is what's poppin' in the night sky.
which just happens to be a whole lot less dope than it sounds, for sure.
the full moon rollin' up on us gets the fresh name,
but only because statistically,
there're more lightning strikes an' that during the month of july than any other time.
lightning-striking viking full-moon battle beast werewolfen berserker fury
should, therefore, be in full effect, right?
right.
the thing of it is-
nothing is all that thunderous over here at the moment.
perhaps that's the signal to bring the thunder our own damned selves?
.....i'm gonna.
 the activation is set to start before work,
with a little bundle of brunchly business with my buddy todd,
so we're fueled and fired and fed up before i start to tattblast a bit,
on his shiny shinny shin-shin.
ouch.
that's today.
but yesterday,
a damned damsel in s.o.s. distress needed to get a tattoo covered up.
like,
she decided it was time,
and did some girlish pleading to remove a novel's worth of words
about-and try to conceal your mortal shock and surprise- her ex-husband.
the jinx is real, even after fifteen years,
as she learned the hard-headed and heavy-handed way, recently.
so,
it had to go, as far as she was concerned.
so it went.
check the what-are-words-for-type teleport:

bye bye.
one of these days, i'll actually take a good picture of a tattoo.
(no, i won't)
the important part of it all is,
the old tattoo carried a lot of personal pain and miserable meaning with it,
because it really is terrible luck and a worse idea to get love tattoos.
i mean,
rules IS rules, y'know?
oh,
wait-
the most important part, as i was saying-
i had a space in my busy day, and i filled it with money.
expert.
molto important jauns get provided for by the secret universal plan.
and also,
full moons.
and also, thunder.
and also,
brunch.
and also treats.
it's ALL really happening,
and i wouldn't/couldn't have it any other way;
never quiet, never soft.....

babies.

four years, neighbors.
four flippin' years.
that's how long i've waited.
i planted all kinds of twining viney hottness,
and mostly,
they fell short of my expectations and kinda sucked, really.
until this year.
this year,
they look like what they're supposed to be-
and what've i got to show for it?
ten tiny green circles.
that's a lot of leaves for so few globes of juiciness.
ah well,
at least i can finally say its working out.
sorta.
uh-huh.
check the teleport:

those jauns right there?
...yeah.
the actual grapes of wrath.
that's real.
at least,
i'm pretty furious about 'em at any rate.
you know they're sour grapes, too,
because those're the only kind i'd have.
word up.
***********
so,
my grapevines look pretty good,
but the productivity they're lacking leaves a lot to be desired...
however,
i've got fearless phoebes hanging out above my door,
and they're doing it right.
teleport:

mmmhmmm.
stay ugly, stay dope.
baby birds know all about that.
eatin' barfed-up bugs and sprouting feathers slowly, but surely.
that's all they've gotta do,
and it's all they even pretend to do, too.
i like 'em anyway.
the little guys guard my entry.
sentries at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, paid in puke and flies?
that's expert.
and that's the way i like it.
there are all kinds of growth going on around here,
and life is unfolding,
outwards and upwards,
overlapping and echoing,
in spiraling circles that resemble bunches of grapes-
satellites of spirit and memory branching out from the center of all of this.
that's sort of a big deal;
never quiet, never soft.....

black elvis.

yeah.
that's right.
check the teleport:

black elvis.
you don't get it?
you might be an A*-hole.
you get it but you don't like it?
probably an A*-hole.
you aren't gonna come get a slice?
definitely an A*-hole.
that's a thing.
chocolate peanut butter banana creme pie.
crushed peanuts and miniature choco-chip sprankles.
chocolate peanut butter creme frosting.
cookie crumb crust.
expert.
*
more of all of this,
and more often too....
too much is the right amount,
and that's how much i put inside my pie.
now you know;
never quiet, never soft.....

moroccan monday.

that's right, kids!
moroccan monday.
yeah.
because.....
i'd already had mexican on sunday,
but i still wanted to munch up on more cumin on monday.
that's a thing.
a new thing.
and a damned good thing, too.
neighbors,
we'll talk all about it,
but first check the teleport:

c'mon!
no.
i mean it- C'MON!!
all kinds of blops of brownish reddish orange hottness for our faces!
wordimus prime.
our buddies lemon and parsley made appearances throughout the evening.
i mean it.
all over the place, me and the flat leaf and the citrus were killin' it, softly.
there's aromatic chick pea and olive salad up top.
that's chopped tomatoes over red onions and tons of garlic,
with parsley, hot pepper, black pepper, smoked paprika, allspice, tarragon,
lemon juice, olive oil, g.p.o.p., and chick peas and olives, obvi.
yeah.
duders,
it's so good. and it made the whole house smell expert,
right up until the tajine started simmering.
tajine?
yeah.
tajine, like i said.
slow cooked sexiness, full of the most elite smells and flavors.
friends,
first i toasted up some already roasted cumin, and some turmeric,
and some cinnamon,
and a little coriander (just a hint), and some ground mustard seeds,
and g.p.o.p., until it all smelled so incredible,
i had to have it settle down a little tiny bit.
to that end,
i added some onion, and some garlic and some oil,
and let that hang out for a minute,
while i pureed a carrot, and some tomatoes, and a whole other onion,
and some bouillon, and much garlic together into a burly paste.
then i put that in the pot,
with some lentils, and some sweet potatoes, and some liquids-
like broth and lemon juice,
and once that cooked down to a succulent sauce,
i hit it with a punch of parsley and a slap of cilantro,
and let the activation carry the day.
that got plopped atop a home-fried flatbread, with two kinds of yeast,
fired up on the hottest skillet i had handy,
for that extra crispy outside,
and that soft cracked-peppery crumb that melts in your facehole.
yup.
i get it on.
and i get it going.
...and my buddy beau helped, too.
seriously.
he was the head mixer in charge over here, and that's no joke.
that's why the grain portion of the plate looks so rad.
wait....
is that couscous tabouleh??
it sure is, guys.
couscous is expert on it's own,
but when it gets taken to eleven,
and is used as an essential building block
of something even better?
uh-huh.
then the loudest freshest hardest action is underway,
and it all happens right here, in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress kitchen.
soooooo good.
toasted almonds,
cukes,
so much parsley,
scallions,
lemon zest, and lemon juice, and olive oil.....
basically,
it's perfect.
and it meant that moroccan monday was a success.
***********
the small parts.
y'know?
they make the biggest impact.
i did six tattoos yesterday.
families,
all together,
all staring at me,
all staring at their peoples gettin' zapped on.
it was a lot to stay focused on the ,
and work the room,
and plan a meal,
and get the heck outta there before yet another 'nother crew of whomevers
wanted a whole other complete set of familial skin zips to tie them all together.
jeez.
monday night took forever to show up,
and then the grocery store took even longer to get through,
and by the time i got to where i needed to be?
it was dark out.
and in the dark,
the rain came, hard.
and when it's rainy and dark,
i'm asleep, hard and fast.
so,
the evening ended abruptly in the embrace of oblivion,
and i guess that's the best i could've hope for.
at any rate,
it's the best i got.
more of most of it is all really happening, again, today.
there's just so much;
never quiet, never soft.....

panniecakes.

chocolate chip panniecakes,
with all the usual hottness,
all by my lonesome self?
mmmhmmm.
teleport:

neighbors,
i haven't been grocery shoppin' in forever and ever.
i know, that seems a little lazy.
but really, that isn't the case....
it's just that being at work all day,
blabbing and gabbing and zapping and crapping out
takes all the end-of-the-day motivation directly out of my bones.
and i mean each scrap and shred of do-something drive is beaten down
and driven out by the brutality of non-stop doo-doo butter slogging through
the sh!t-salad swamps of sadness that compose my coworkers and our clients.
that's a hard style all on its own,
but,
there are also no breaks for my hard-working hands and teeth,
unless it's to pee a gallon of coffee right out of me
somewhere other than into my undies and down my legs.
that's a thing.
and when the only gaps in the grindin' are to take a whizz?
....exactly.
i drink so much more, of all those tasty fluids,
just to get a chance to get up once in awhile.
anyway,
that's the way the day goes, six times in row, every single week-
when i'm not zappin' i'm peein',
and when i'm not peein' or zappin',
i'm flippin' leavin'....
and when i'm leavin'?
ugh.
yeah, kids, you guessed it-
i just head straight home,
to where the heart and the house and the empty F*ing refrigerator are.
the open door and open arms of my own private woodsly goodsly
Folk Life & Liberty Fortress are where i want to be,
the very instant i turn right out of the driveway into A*-hole traffic.
yuck.
i live far enough away from everybody that i have to navigate amongst
the imbecilic motor-vehicle operators that all occupy their vacation times
clogging around, rubberneck-gawking at the fast-food options along the roadways
of my otherwise majestic mountain valley home.
that said,
supermarket space-sharing with those people iss more than i'm up for most days,
or at least,
more than my temper can temper,
and as a result of reining in my raging savage viking fury?
i ran out of bread for toast times
womp womp.
but i fried up some cakes, instead.
i'm fired up on man-cake fuel, now, though.
so,
today is once again a big busy day,
and i'm all nutrient-activated with metaphysical eagles' egg powers an' that.
that's no joke;
never quiet, never soft.....

secret sunnyday.

so,
here's the thing, neighbors-
there's only ever the extreme ends of the spectrum that show up
while i'm at work.
really great folks,
or at least, nice folks who laugh at the right times,
and don't get too picky about the irrelevant details,
or the conversational topics,
always seem to be the ones getting the worst tattoos.
covering up a cover up?
uh-huh.
i can do it.
i'm doing it, even.
but,
it's lucky for me ghat i can chat and joke with my clients,
(often whether or not they like it... but, they need to learn to like it)
because there's hate in my heart for all that extra sh!t-salad i've
got to try and disappear into the new hottness.
i get grumpy when it gets lame at the studio.
i'm grumpy a LOT.
ummm, yeah.
yesterday was another 'nother case of
'you need solutions, therefore, i inherit your problems'.
and i'm in charge of all the total poooooop gettin' transformed (hopefully)
into fertile ground for something better.
its too soon to tell if it is gonna work or not,
but it made the first half of my workday a total pain in my A*-hole.
ouch.
*
and then i did a firefighter tattoo.
...with fire in it.
that's always confusing.
like a straight-edge dude getting a pot leaf,
or a lesbian getting a tattoo of a hairy wiener,
or a racist getting portraits of great ethnic leaders-
its counter-intuitive and it just doesn't make any sense to me.
yet, firefighters never get tattoos of water or fire extinguishers...
just picture after picture after picture of the one thing
they spend all day trying to eliminate.
maybe they secretly love it?
probably.
aaaaaand that was the way i spanned the second half of my workday.
it just seems to take forever and ever to get it all over with,
and i was a hungry skeleton body by the time we closed the doors.
*
the third act, though, kids.
uh-huh.
that was the big expert activation,
and it made the turdtumblin' 'tardation of tattoo time disappear.
check the teleport:

mexican dinnertime,
just waiting, all hot and delicioso, right there on the table when i got home?
mmmmmmmmmm.
cilantro lime rice,
and refried beans,
and guacamole and salsa and ships,
and piles of soft tacos with spicy tofu and tomatoes and salad???
yeah!
i ate so flippin' much, so quickly,
that it seemed like the only way to go from there was to do this:

ugh.
so fat.
sorbet with sprankles,
and a cigar ride with the woman who made it all really happen?
that's the best big business i could've even asked for,
without ever even having to ask-
and that's was more than i deserve, really.
the days are so full of work,
and the nights are so full of strangely cold weather.
the dinnertimes,
and the friendtimes,
and the funtimes,
in drips and drabs,
trickles and tickles,
are the only bright spots, and they are fleeting and far apart.
but i have 'em, and it'd suck all the balls without these kindnesses,
and togetherness of participants who really make the glimpses of goodness
clearer than if i was left to do all that on my own.
i am grateful for the time i have been given,
and for the ones who matter enough to make 'em with me;
never quiet, never soft.....

washed out, washed up.

awwwww, man.
hey, neighbors-
i'm wondering how your firework activation went.
i didn't have any....
hmmmm?
that's real.
it rained so flippin' much up here in the woodsly goodness.
all the american A*-hole celebration jauns were underwater,
and totally rained out and generally unpleasant in most ways.
that meant that all dang day,
every single open-for-business establishment in the mount washington valley
was absolutely crammed full of folks who just didn't know what the F* to do
with themselves in the rain in the north on the fourth.
that's some seriously disappointing sh!t, kids.
no imaginations were invited, i guess.
i watched fat dummies loading cases of soda pop into carts
faster than the store could restock,
and it was twice as fast and a hundred times as lame in the beer section.
so gross.
but,
there has to be a mortal terror of interaction on any sort of excellent level,
without distractions,
to make it so imperative that family togetherness should never ever unfold
without the lubrication of semi-senselessness via libations.
yuck.
b.t.w., in case it never occurred to y'all-
it's (still) okay NOT to drink.
and that's not just on holidays;
and twenty-first berfdays;
and nights after hard days;
and get-togethers;
and getaways.....
but,
i know i'm very nearly on my own in that position.
...bummer.
ugh. i'm sure you care.
anyway-
there was so much traffic, and no parking.
looking into lots that hold a couple of hundred cars
flooded with family vans all the way onto lawns and into the streets?
jeez.
y'know what that meant for those of us who live here year-round?
it meant that all financial predatory purveyors of goods and services
had a glut of big fat sweet moolah stacks pouring into our pockets
while the rain poured down on all the rest of the y'all.
since my family isn't around these parts,
and there was no reason NOT to get to work,
i zapped it up all dang day on all those duders who love 'merica,
but couldn't figure out what else would've been better to do with their time, either.
yuuuuuup.
luckily,
my buddy beau went and got my spare grill,
and he cleaned it off, and hooked it up,
and brought it to the studio.
yeah!
i prepped a bunch of peppers and onions,
and supplied some expert pasta salad,
and two kinds of buns,
and three kinds of sausage-style beige bits of protein,
and he fired it up, in the rain,.
while i zip-zapped the day away indoors.
yup.
we made our own time,
and we did it out back.
just for us,
that's just the way we do it.
teleport:

we even closed a little early,
and crushed a few beers while we kept those coals busy.
oh, c'mon.
i'm not an A*-hole.
i obviously mean root beers.
don't be dumb.
anyway,
we did a little makeshift pan-frying,
and even more makeshift deadwood smoker activation,
and overall,
we got involved in our own wet good times.
that's all we really needed,
and that's all that really happened.
maybe there'll even be rain-date do-over fireworks tonight;
never quiet, never soft.....

american berfday time.

patriotism.
flags, waving.
bombs, bursting.
grilled dead stuff, preferably in ground-up pink tubular form.
shirtlessness.
sunburns.
drunkenness.
fireworks.
a warrior poet craves not these things.
however,
it is raining up here in the mountains,
and that makes me somewhat happy.
i know,
that's super douchey, for sure,
enjoying the idea that all the regular folks out there
will be underwater,
instead of rippin' lite beers and burning burgers and getting sunburnt.
i'm a jerk.
i admit it freely, and with no shame whatsoever.
i'm working, anyway.
yep.
american capitalism at it's best,
in honor of the american way of life.
gimme s'money, all you rain-soaked ruined-plans party people.
i want it.
oh,
don't worry,
there will be a grill at work with me up at the white mountain tattoo studio.
i'm not a gosh-danged monster, after all.
hmmm?
oh.
well,
i'll be grilling soysages and peppers and tofu pups.
c'mon.
i'm not a monster,
but i'm certainly not an A*-hole, either.
and speaking of non-A*-hole activation-
check the partycake-type teleport:

america!!!!!
hahaha.
awwww.
that's a big ol' burly bodacious cherry chee'cake, neighbors!
simmered slices of pitted red hottness, with sugar and lemon juice and vanilla,
on top of my tried-and-true proven expert vegan recipe for creamy creme pie,
without the curdling fermented milk vomit-sauce bite of the real thing.
it's way better than the original,
and moreso for not having any of the normal ingredients up in it.
wellll,
except for the cherries, obvi.
don't be dumb.
***********
so,
i'll be at work while everybody else is indoors out of the rain.
but,
it isn't gonna be all tattbombs and weak sauce, tho, y'all-
i'll still be doing stuff to make the day matter a little more than just dollar amounts.
rules is rules, after all,
and berfday times and holidays still get special treatment.
that's a thing.
we are our own explosions,
and our fuses are shorter than ever.
the balance between being busy and resting,
working and relaxing,
celebrating and suffering through the work and the weather
is precarious, but not perilous.
we aren't in any immediate danger of doing it wrong,
and therefor,
it's bound to get at least a little bit rad.
besides,
there are gonna be other folks around,
so i'm not doing it all by my lonely.
spanning time amongst people who participate is good for you.
i think that might even be the most important part.
the fire and the grill and the making it work at work,
and the buns and peppers and onions and whatever are all
really happening,
no matter what.
rain or shine,
expert recognize expert,
and that chee'cake isn't gonna eat itself, either;
never quiet, never soft.....

scones.

black cherry and black walnut.
that's that double-black-on-black big business.
yeah.
and we're staying black at breakfast time over here.
really.
nuts and fruits,
no pits, and stained fingers from all the slicing,
makes for activation of the first order,
for first thing in the morning flavorful freshness,
directly out of the oven.
the way it has to be-
that's the way we do it in the woodsly goodness.
and MY scones are too dry, or suckie,
because i employ the ingredients to their fullest potential.
i fold in a little vegan sour cream,
and a little cream chee',
and the buttery-type stuffs,
and i fold and turn and fold and turn and fold and turn
over and over and over and over,
because if i'm gonna be eating scones all dang day,
they'd better be turbo mutha-flippin' expert.
makes sense, doesn't it?
just sayin'-
if you've got creative control,
and you only halfway do it to it,
instead of way overdoing it,
then you pretty much basically deserve to eat the sh!t.
right?
i mean,
if you aren't activating your jauns all the way to eleven,
you must be the kind of A*-hole who doesn't understand
the very basic principles of warrior poetry.
too far is not a distance you can ever reach;
too much is the right amount;
and when it's all really happening, it'd better be loud, fresh, and hard.
that's no joke.
just check the teleport:

mmmhmmmm.
lemon zest and raw sugar sprankles,
and all those layers of super-sexy moist new hottness.
cherries get better when they're baked.
i think that's real.
the nuts are plentiful,
with that perfect hint of acidic bite,
and the lemon makes them taste even summerier than the cherries.
i cheated and put a punch of sugar in 'em,
but, i mean,
c'mon.
if i gotta get it going on,
i'mma get it poppin' like i'm s'posed to.
and i did.
and they are.
and i'm always flattered when they start disappearing as soon as they're served.
the faster it's all gone,
the better it probably was.
fairly sure that's correct.
***********
portland happened the other day.
in the winter,
the weather is bitter and biting and brutal and bad in general.
so,
sightseeing is at a minimum because it's too terrible to try and look around
in the coastal winds and sh!t-salad storms that comprise the city
for about six months.
the thing of it is-
when it's nice outside,
and the sun is shining,
and the buildings are looking good,
and the trees are providing shade and windbreaks,
and everything is light, and airy, and busy, and beautiful?
ugh.
that's when ALL the filthy peepee bums are out in full force.
carriages full of cans,
mouths full of cavities,
body cavities full of skankiness,
and all of it swirling around in an miasmic reek that blends
in with the summery stink of hot docks and old fish and worse dumpsters.
it all costs something, i guess.
sure,
it looks great if you're looking up.
literally.
but at ground level,
its all scabs and lice and liquor.
yikes.
i love the teeming city,
but mostly because it makes me miss the mountain hermitage
i chose as my harder, smarter way.
i'm grateful for the trips i take,
and for the moves i make,
and most of all for the place i rest my head.
here and there and everywhere,
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

mexicano martes

so,
we still had delicious mexican food,
but we waited until tuesday.
no big deal, duders.
and,
we had company.
that's a big deal.
another 'nother worthy warrior poet,
all up in our area,
breaking bread and hanging out,
and getting the obligatory introductory tour of the labyrinthine lair i call
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
uh-huh.
burritos were on the menu,
and amber and beau were already here,
and we added our friend travis to the mix.
and he wasn't just punctual as promised,
he also even brought some expert chunky homestyle guacamole with him.
participating and contributing,
his very first time out of the gates amongst us gluttonous gargoyles?
that's some real life responsible grown-up sh!t.
mmhmm.
guac',
and super-activated refried beans so compatibly complement
a blowout bombin' dirty diaperload of stuffs
stuffed inside a purportedly healthy luscious lavash wrap.
yes.
that's a thing.
now check the teleport:

yeah!
that's a homemade tomatillo-type peppery garlic stewed tomato sauce on top,
and it was cooked with so much garlic, and spices, and cilantro,
and the proper proportions of herbs an' what-have-you's as well.
what's in the burritos?
lentils,
with diced tomatoes,
and red onions, and garlic,
and green bell pepper, and garlic,
and poblano pepper, and garlic,
and jalapeno pepper, and garlic,
and fresh basil, and oregano, and mustard seed, and g.p.o.p. (obvi),
with liquid smokiness and punches of smoked paprika, and roasted cumin, too....
all of that,
sizzling in a splat of coconut oil, gettin' all fried up together,
and hanging out as our ultimate protein flavor explosion.
i steamed up some jasmine rice, too- for representing those fancy jauns.
and there was cilantro everywhere, in everything,
and refrieds in the wraps,
and spring-style mixed lettuces and pea shoots,
and scallions, too, just to sharpen it all up just a hair.
burritos that weigh a ton?
so good.
people that are worth a sh!t?
double good.
spanning time with all sorts of folks is not my thing-
spanning time and sharing sustenance with really real experts, tho?
that's all i ever want.
food with people.
seems simple enough.
but,
great vegan food, prepared with intention, and focus, and attention,
and presented with pride,
and enjoyed as much as the talks and laughs and stories we share in equal measure?
well,
i mean,
c'mon, neighbors.
there's no sense in settling for doo-doo butter when taking it to eleven
is something we all already know exists.
too much is the right amount,
and when the time is right,
and it all lines up the way we want?
that's all there needs to be;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit-rabbit! ! !

julyyyyyyyyy!!!!
it's the first of the mutha-'ucking month, kids.
the big hot crazy wet and wild humid lurid livid living summertime
heat wave activation is totally all the way underway,
and it's the number one day on the new damned page of the gosh-danged calendar.
a whole other new 'nother month of magic and melee and melodrama
and massive mammoth marauding of the hours and the days and the times
we're all gonna span across this whole entire sweltering space,
fully in bloom,
fully entrenched,
and fully in full effect of affectionate animal instinctive battle-beast summer time.
that's a thing,
and it all starts right now.
waitaminit.....
what's that, now?
are you serious?
did i say it?
c'mon.
what am i?
an A-hole?
of course i said it.
i doo-doo that repetitive self-serving superstitious monthly chant-style sh!t-
after all,
i want all that fortune has to benevolently bestow on those who
have the awareness to name it and speak it and summon it up-
therefore,
at the stroke of midnight, as it all changed over,
and again when i awoke for the first time from the sweatiest nights sleep,
the magic words fell out of my loud, fresh face, so hard:
rabbit rabbit.
duh.
that's what i spoke.
and it's done.
and now july can really begin, under the auspices of my cultivated coincidences.
yeah.
that's smart.
*
i had a great night, neighbors.
seriously.
after a less-than lucrative stretch of tattblasting at the studio,
i came home to this:

^nice, huh?
fruit smoothies,
and roasted veggies on a tasty bed of baby greens
and tofu-curry-salad sandwiches,
and flowers!!
awwwwwwww.
seriously,
it was all super expert.
teleport:

see?
coming home to good care being taken is the best.
and that's no joke.
dinner and a short jaunt through the scenic sunset spots of the woodsly goodness,
a couple of sweet stout stumps for stinking up the space we occupy,
and then a special little end-of-june treat, too.
hmm?
check the teleport:

sorbet with cotton candy sprankles.
why is that a thing?
i dunno,
but i couldn't not try it out.
and so that was the way it went.
sugar rocks in blues and pinks, and cold icy sugarwater to beat the humid fury
of the last day of last month.
yep.
treats and treats and treats to send june packing into oblivion.
its all really happening,
and i'm feeling a little tiny bit lucky that i'm not witnessing it,
and spanning it,
and wrenching around in it all by my lonely;
never quiet, never soft.....