the greatest.

treats!
i got some new hand-thrown hottness yesterday,
from the tin mountain potteryworks,
and plans to obtain some new other other assorted hottness,
from hurricane mountain pottery today.
i've got that glazed look in my eyes,
all proper raku an' that.
i've got some loot, to cash us some clay.
muhammed ali? what? hold it...
you know, as in, the greatest.
the greatest collection of kickass bowls, mugs, jars, and crocks.
and what a crock it is, kids.
seriously, i've got a pair of 'em, and they're proper fresh, for real.
today's big affair?
i'm buyin' another bowl or two to hold my treats, ninjas.
be easy.
c'mon, can you blame a mutha-ucka?
i got a ragin' rocky top for that handmade stuff.
i mean,
i'm not hatin' on machine made bits and pieces, if they happen to hold some heat,
but there's no comparin' candlepower when up against the crafty crafted creations
of hands-on handmade treats.
that's word.

and,
today's the last real summer day.
and it's already got that autumnal accent liltin' through the leaves;
heck, it's not really even that warm outside.
come tomorrow, it may as well just be apples and sweaters.
labor day is mostly reserved for rednecks to burn burgers over blazin' grills.
and for college-age kidlets to practice getting drunk.
i'm workin' throughout all of that.
better off blastin' tatty-o's and commiserating with run-of-the-mill waterbabies,
than breakin' bread and hearts with the very same liquid infant diaperpants.
i'm sayin',
i've got run-of-the-mill zappin' to scribe up and vibe out.
you know it;
word to wood stoves,
i came to pinch loaves.
...on your life.
that barely even makes sense.
and yet i totally doo-doo that doo-doo,
it's a regular rear-ended three-day weak-end weekend.
so sit on back, have some oogey loogie potato salad,
with extra mayo, (to prove you're a proud american)
and enjoy this long range rovin' on weak-sauce work avoidance....
...and don't forget to stop by and gimme some money.
i'm at the fire, even when i'm not.

yard sales and old people,
traffic jams and elderberry jam,
tattyzips and steam engine restorations;
i'm grateful for the time i've been given.
every day,
not just on holidays;
never quiet, never soft.....

nature wins.

so we've got these hundred-year-old oak trees, yeah?
and we've got this snazzy metal roof.
full-moonshine love shack-style.
and do you know what you get when you combine those things?
pitter-pattery rain drips and drops, for one.
filtered and reflected sunshine, for another.
but,
at 3 a.m., by the light of the silvery moon,
far, far more often than not,
you get the bad dream wake-up call of assault weapons shooting at your face!
wait....what?
acorns, mutha-lickas.
i said it: acorns.
acorns come careening off of the mighty oaken branches like barbarian battle bullets,
ricocheting raucously off the roof.
staccato strafing fire, not sustained attacks, but still....
bumpin' moreso than grindin' my nights,
and things that go bump in the night,
excepting bumpin' uglies,
definitely hurt all my grinds,
except for my teeth, an' that.
word.
no jokin', it's the sound of the devil's pogo stick.
that sh!t is crazy loud in the still of the night.
maybe it's all the woodsly zombie preparedness i think on all the time,
maybe it's the soldier of fortune subscription i've been contemplating,
it could even be my last nerves gettin' frayed by all the steam cleaning goin' on,
but call me paranoid
(i'll answer, ya'll)
you ninjas already know i'm ready for duck-and-cover barrel rolls and return fire.
get busy time, indeed.

saturday.
busy holiday weekend wonderland.
the second-to-last hurrah.
pottery, farmer's markets, craft fairs, all of that,
is ALL really happening.
i've got a hearty hankerin' for a heapin' helpin' of my favorite sweet 'n' salty treat;
kettle corn is on it, like what's poppin'.
oh, c'mon.
and that big, hot, oily copper cauldron
is cookin' up kernels of crucial crunchiness like you read about.
i'm ON the mutha-ucka, yo.
after all,
what am i, an A-hole?
probably,
and you already know how corn treats A-holes:
never quiet, never soft.....

greyer than gruyere.

holy smokes!!
my little diaper-baby infant youngest sister,
anna,
turns 29 today!
that's ridiculous.
i mean, she's the baby of the family,
not some grown-up woman or anything weak-sauce like that.
what the F*, ya'll.
happy berfday, freaky-diki old-ass b!tch!!
weird.
hell,
jess's lil' broski,
robert,
hit the same milestone yesterday.
y'know what that makes your favorite berserker barbarian lawnmower man?
old.
i feel that sh!t in my osseous calcium sticks when i wake up, too.
and when i go to sleep, all early-like an' that.
and especially when i peep a peek at my mirror image in the lookin' glass.
i'll gladly take the gray hairs that're stayin' put
over the ones that're brown and still leaving my scalp for greener pastures.
nice.
not to mention, lest i ever forget for a quick second,
i've got hunin and munin sittin' pretty on either side of my facepiece, yo,
or at least their feetprints next to my eyes.
crow-footed squinty smile wrinkles, some would say, look distinguished.
c'mon.
laugh-lines my ass, mutha-uckas.
i think it may be more of a pyrolysis effect.
weathering my wan complexion with each licking tongue of hot fiery spit.
it's better to be bold and let the words, worlds, and worries wear well on my face.
the price of vainglorious narcissism, ya'll.
i can't help but stare.
even when it sucks.
ah well,
you miki-fikin' mutha-lickers aren't gettin' any younger either.
yeah, misery does love company.
it's so true.

okay, i'm really not that old at all.
maybe i'm just feelin' time creepin' up on me
well,
with the nonstop reality that i contnue to age,
in some places more gracefully than others,
i don't worry about having a screw come loose
or about problems with the plumbing.
my jawns is tight, ninjas.
that's yet another 'nother benefit of having the right tools for the job.
just one more reason to always choose the wrench, y'heard?
i live life, ya'll.
it's all really happening,
every single day in every possible way.
careworn and weatherbeaten,
worthy warrior poetry is written all over my face;
never quiet, never soft....

john henry would lose to this guy.

^^this lil' fella could be bumblebee,
y'know, from the original cartoon transformers,
the old school one,
before the chrome computery battlebotic business.
it sure works it's little snout off, though.
in just a few short hours,
we've almost cleared the whole room of old and busted doo-doo.
nice.
seems somehow fitting that my new futuristic bobotron machine matches my house.
elements of the past, and elements of the future,
combined to make something somehow not quite as good as either.
that's on that mighty boosh sh!t.
click that jawns and recognize.

so far,
this morning has the room lookin' a little less 'haunted house',
and a wee bit more new england hottness.
and yeah,
the roof, and the ceiling both pitch lower at the windows.
interesting rooflines?
F* yes, they are.
one room at a time.
one day at a time.
slowly, ya'll,
the incredible turbo-fresh woodsly goodness will prevail.
believe it.

all the little kiddies are all the way back in school up here,
and all their parents haven't any vacation time, or money left.
do you know what that means for the warrior poets at the tattoo shop?
uh-huh.
skanks.
old, rusty, white oldsmobiles chock full of 'em.
unemployed, a little bit 'tarded, high as F*....
who else has nothing better to do at 1p.m. in the woods in september?
nobody.
lower back tribal and asian language lettering, my ninjas.
keep 'em comin'.
i've got that mortgage death pledge to scoople.
gimme $ome money;
never quiet, never soft....

grillin' it.

whaaaaaaat?

yep.

dinner was so flippin' bangin',

i thought my ninjas should know of it.

act like you read about, ya'll.

deliciousness for your face.

that plateful of flavor had it goin' on and on and on.

clockwise from the steamed-on-the-grill baby bok choy,

we got the gardein protein slabs, and some mirin-glazed maitake mushrooms,

and also a vicious discus of vidalia onion,

and some burly burnt summer squash.

i had my charcoals glowin', all real lump wood an' that,

i got my vegetables marinating all early-like,

and i even sliced and diced some cherry-ripe cherry tomatoes.

what do you get when you take garlic, onions, basil,

olive oil, lemon juiciness, and tomatoes,

and leave out the bread that'd have made it bruschetta?

a little something called a bowlful of salad, yo.

c'mon.

don't all vegans just eat salad all day?

sure.

what's the proper way to aid digestion after a bellyful of tasty treats gets got?

you guessed right:

steamy bedroom business.

seriously.

the whole room is like a sweatbox sauna now,

after the savage stormswept power-steamin' we just handed out.

damn, ninjas wanna stick me for my (wall)papers.

that's enough work for one day, hey.

now it's cover-to-cover sheets of paper,

and paper-thin coverlets and comforters.

bedtime is a good time;

never quiet, never soft.....

elemental mentals.

lazy days off kind of rock it.
i mean,
crosswords and word jumbles and no jumbled cross words at all.
takin' 'er easy an' that.
y'know, proper easy for sure.
right up until it isn't;
we've got a wallpaper steamer.
man does not refurbish by scraping alone.
that's some 'find out the hard way' hard styles, my ninjas.
and that's why we've got the aforementioned hot water blasterizer.
for the record:
yes, i actually already have burned AND scalded myself today,
yes, i did get adhesive doo-doo butter on my shoes,
and yeah, suckas, i even managed to get a little tiny teeny spot of wall hooked up.
de-papered, scrapered, and glueless goo gone and all that noise.
i promised myself i wouldn't do any of the wall re-doo-dooin',
but the mellow yellow robobotic battle-buggy was way too cool to resist.

what can i say, i'm all about the bobotronic wizardry.

and woodchucks, too.
we've got a truly monstrous mutant marmot up here.
i spotted him today,
and actually thought someone had dropped a tree stump off across the street...
...until it started moving.
dopeness, kids.
that's woodsly warrior spirit type sh!t.
groundhog's day type sh!t
fuzzy wuzzy if i could chuck type sh!t.
and us barbarian types definitely doo-doo that kind of woodsly goodsly sh!t.
yep.
another fun-filled day off in the white mountains.
i bet all the granola heads are hiking and gettin' sweaty.
good luck to 'em.
but while they take it to the limit,
i'm hot and steamy, woodsly woodland dreamy,
and making the tasty pasty papers get all soppin' and creamy.
take a hike, indeed.
it's all really happening, even when not much is happening;
never quiet, never soft......

hittin' it from the back....

i thought all ya'll mutha-lickin' 'uckas might like a snappy one,

of our glorious, notorious Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.

it's yellow, for real, so don't worry, your monitor is perfectly fine.

that there is the westside backside sunroom/upper bedroom area.

yeah.

seriously.

times are being had,

styles are gettin' harder,

and in between all that we're slowly makin' these moments happen.

all of 'em.

really, really hard.

i'm practically sh!tting my pants about all the crap that needs to get gotten to,

but in the right here and now, my ninjas,

i'm feelin' pretty flippin' psyched....

dear secret universal plan,

i love you.

thanks for lettin' me blaze a burly stump,

and see the settin' sun shine down on the woodsly goodness.

for what it's worth,

i'm grateful.

xoxoxoxox,

a.

never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, RABBIT!!

more fortuitous freshness, carved and craved in the woodsly goodness.
good F*n' luck with that.
i called out my jinx-proof safety 'xclamation,
all early and still-dark-out an' that.
i awoke in my crisp sheets and warm jammies,
next to a beautiful sweet honey baby, and a dumb dog,
but the question remains:
do i feel lucky, punks?
a little.
probably moreso than if i'd hollered out "rabbi, rabbi", anyway.
the t's, ya'll, two of 'em, like in the hoTTness, are essential.
and should that have been challah'd out, as well?
speakin' of;
i may head over to bethlehem today to check out some super-sexy stick furniture.
be easy,
i'm talkin' about bethlehem, new hampshire,
poetry capitol of the granite state.
and home to some palace-time (not palestine) places to scoople up some luscious housewares.
if you don't know, you'd better ask some bunny....


firewood.
it warms you twice, as the old-timey saying goes.
it may even keep my temperature torrid a couple more times than that.
hell, on a hot day, it overheats the heck out of my face.
all that physical laboring, but with such studly results.
rich, firm, and fully packed.
in the interest of sharing my newfound masculinity,
i just had to snap a shot of the woodshed.
i mean, that is exactly what i'm talkin' about right there.
oddly,
the dark, dank woodhole was also exactly where i wanted to hang out.
and almost no spiders messed with my well-being either, happily.
nothin' erases that turbo-testosterone triumph like a nancy-pants scream
and the subsequent scurrying that a spindly soul-sucker incites in me.
earwigs, for sure, were scamperin' around with their grabby grab-assey asses,
but a crickety little pincerbutt is not gonna break MY stride.
not enough legs to kick it up to eleven, y'heard?.
same reason i don't get weird about sharks.
too tubey to care about.
word.

it's september, my ninjas.
get ready.
the ultimate epic dopeness is here.
three weeks to official Perfect Fall Days;
never quiet, never soft....

see you in september....

scandalous computer profile pic?
nope.
more like an early mornin' brainstormin' session,
complete with thinking cap, and three-pipe problem solvin' preparations.
(that's an a. conan doyle reference, act like you know)
rappin' with urban hip-hop photographer dan dealy
gets results like these.^^^
deep doo-doo, and inglorious calabash bashin'.....

as august slams shut, it occurs to me that it's really over already.

the summer vacation tourist season is done.

slow-driving semi-conscious sightseers are off the roads,

lines at the coffeeshop are short and sweet,

and perhaps most importantly.

little dinner-ruining youngsters are back in school this week,

and back at home for supper at night.

nice.

it's sort of sad to see the deserted chernobyl-empty mini-golf spots,

but no so much so to remember how far away the mincey, minky little putt-putters are.

hell,

even my own kids started the 3rd and 4th grades today.

that'll put a few more salts in with the pepper on my ever-greyin' dome.

the cool, crisp, bring-a-jacket night air over here is no joke.

i've got dungeons, dragons, zombies, and a thick comforting comforter

all bedside warm and toasty,

ready to keep keepin' me company,

until the bitsy baby bunnies of new month pop up and at 'em.

the slow season this time around seems packed to the t.t.balls with sh!t to do.

that's how it goes, ya'll,

even when it's winding down, it's revvin' up;

never quiet, never soft....

are they the answer?

a mere month into homeownership, ya'll.
that's the count on the calendar.
it feels like a lot longer.
(that's what SHE said)
we've made a little headway into house v. home status.
very little actually.
but,
the hot spots are SO hot.
magma and laserbeam lightning hot, even,
that they more than make up for the weaker sauces and doo-doo buttery bits.
like this mantle of manly monuments, for example.
hydrogen bomb explosions seem like b!tch-sap bang'n'snaps comparatively.
i mean,
antlers, pumpkins, thick woodsly goodness, british lime plaster stucco,
and a backplate of burly bricks?
'splosions of hottness, for sure.
on the left hand side of the picture,
the 1930's wildfowl of the white mountains ceramic tiles can be glimpsed.
that's hottness like the core of the sun or some sh!t,
i'm sayin'.
knick-knacks are for old ladies, ya'll.
barbarian battle-beasts don't collect tchotchkes,
we accumulate curios.
that's man speak for hoarding fresh treats and flavorful objects of interest,
more knack, less knick, or somethin' along those lines.
define it however you'd like,
but i'm still gonna fill that hearthy headway
with headless horns and hollow hallowe'en stuff.
why?
antlers are the answer, or so i've heard,
and in the interest of smarty-pants smart-assery,
i'd like to have a smart answer.
to everything.

the other other side of the kitchen spot is just as fresh as the windows and doors.

yes, those are 140 year old beams.

i know, that's some sh!t.....

we spanned the morning watchin' a truly impressive owl.

that mama-jama perched and preened,

sprayed some doo-doo an easy four foot distance,

and tried to snack up on or little chipmunk homeboy.

happily, our litle lucky rodent dodged, dipped, ducked, and dived for cover,

and the epic airborne predator missed out on snackin' up our buddy.

everybody was happy,

except the owl.

these times are happening.

hard.

it's really flippin' freezin' cold up here.

like some 'oh snap!' cold snap nordic-viking-winds-of-change-type business.

thanks heavens for those hot spots, ya'll.

i don't know where the rest of you are,

but i'm at the fire;

never quiet, never soft....

perfect moments....

"you can cover anything with a grizzly bear."
a grizzled grizzly bear of a tatblaster told me that once.
today,
i achieve a zenith,
and cover a grizzly bear WITH a grizzly bear.
that's like the sound of one hand clappin'
to applaud the tree falling in the forest with no one there to hear either.
a perfect zen smoke ring.
voltron fighting optimus prime.
i'm sayin',
it's not even the first time this kind of thing has happened,
but it's still sort of like a complete solar eclipse,
or a 1950's horror movie with carnivorous meteor shower monsters;
you can't look directly at it,
or you'll lose your mind out the back of your face.
believe it.

never quiet, never soft.....