yellow sun.

berries.
berries and sugar.
berries and sugar and lemon zest and lemon juice.
and when i say berries?
i mean big ol' fisty-punchy handfuls of those little globes of fruity hottness.
and i don't mean multiple jauns of one variety, either.
no way.
i'm taking about blackberries, strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.
ALL of 'em, mixed together in a wildstyle harvest basket of ripened glory;
fired up in a pot and simmered to pectin-producing perfection,
in that lemony zesty juicy sugar syrup especially for placing in a prepared piecrust.
that's right.
y'know why, neighbors?
because it's linzertorte time.
c'mon.
check the teleport:

almond meal, and coarse-ground almonds, raw sugar,
blended with a bit of oat flour to smooth it out,
and bound together with lemon zest, lemon juice, vanilla, and butters.
tarts are for experts,
and expert recognize expert.
therefore,
if you're the type to bring the thunder and the lightning and the hot fire?
mmmhmmmm.
you should feel free to come and get yourself a slice of this tasty little treat.
yeah.
don't worry-
consider your active participation your backstage pass to tart-town.
you know i'll know you when i see you, if you get what i'm gettin' at.
word.
***********
by the way,
if we haven't met, yet....
i'm gonna warn you about a little something that happens
when i'm tattzappin' along every day at the studio.
y'ready?
ok.
i talk about buttholes.
a lot.
nothing especially graphic, necessarily.
but,
definitely that word: butthole.
it's true.
somebody recently said i talk about buttholes too much.
and, damn, man,
if that wasn't encouraging, i don't know what you think would be.
after all,
too much is the right amount.
yep.
that means i'm working my plan, i guess.
it'd maybe be nice to be known for some of what i'm actually adept at,
but i guess i'm the butthole guy.
turns out, i may be an A*-hole, after all.
just not in the way i thought.
my styles are hard styles,
because those are the only kind i create.
i don't want to talk about sports, drinking alcohol, television,
local gossip, celebrity gossip,
or the comparative joys of parenthood and pet ownership-
i will, however, talk about that wrinkledot with everybody.
i know what i know,
and i do what i do-
everything else is just window dressing;
never quiet, never soft.....

grill.

a whole lot of charred coals,
for just a wee little bit of foods.
hmmmm?
oh, y'know...
i'm just reminiscing about last night.
uh-huh.
i think about food all dang day long.
i wouldn't joke about that.
some sweet eats make even the least productive day a good one.
check the fired-up-type teleport:

yeah.
balsamic soy molasses glazed barbecue brussels sprouts?
yes.
and oiled and seasoned french bread, with that burnt black grill mark magic?
hell yes.
and grilled corn ears, post soak and peel?
mmhmmm.
oh,
yeah,
and salad.
because all vegetarian folk have to have salad every single time, right?
c'mon.
here it is, though-
with scallions and radishes and cukes and cilantro and baby kale
and tomatoes and celery and all the fancy baby greens-
drizzled with a tamari-lime-ricewine vinaigrette.
yeah.
those plates are packed full,
but only because veggies were all there was to eat.
i s'pose that makes sense, really-
what with being vegan and all.
there probably should be a heavy load of leafy jauns for munching up on.
yeah,
i know.
it looks like some sort of hippie business was underway.
i guess it kinda was,
but what the heck am i supposed to do?
grilling is dope,
vegetables are dope,
summer nights are dope,
and when you add in a cigar and some toenail painting?
yep.
it all really happens to be happening,
and when the circumstances allow,
it sure is kinda nice.
that's right, i said it.
sometimes, things are nice.
good is good, friends,
and bad is everything else.
so when something is good,
i gotta savor the flavor of it,
because there are enough bad tastes (including post-cigar mouth)
waiting to reside on the tip of my tongue.
maybe i talk so much sh!t because i taste so much of it?
could be a thing.
but,
grilled eats and soft spots for going hard towards easy nights?
that is definitely a thing.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given.
that's for sure;
never quiet, never soft.....

breakfast.

just recognize, neighbors,
that even when i'm all kinds of F*ed up-
operating on not nearly enough sleep;
doing too much work;
leaving me with absolutely no down time;
and yet also somehow even less money;
whish leads to being perpetually super-complainey;
blah blah blah.....
like i said-
ALL kinds of F*ed up.
even then?
i'm not F*ing around with my morning times.
check the teleport:

yep.
a big ol' vat of dark rich luxurious breakfast tea.
and a whole plate of scones for devouring.
that's right.
chocolate chips aplenty,
and crushed walnuts,
and lemon zest out the wazoo (which might be the butt?)
and flaky fancy coconut,
so that all the hottness is represented effectively.
plus,
i hit 'em up with those extra-large demerara sprankles.
sugar makes almost everything a little bit better.
that's a thing.
expert treats get activated when the situation calls for it.
and the situation always calls for  it.
too much, too often is the only way to doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
real talk.
i've got two six-way-wedge-style split circles of scone-type triangles.
that's eleven, plus one.
and that's how you know i've got my math correct.
too much is the right amount,
and more ingredients means more food means more winning in the facehole.
every bite is a victory.
mmhmm.
i think that's an actual fact.
oh,
and i'm only ever interested in that lemon zest these days.
preposterous portions of citrus sexiness-
i'm talking grated lemon optimism, guys.
it's like life handed 'em to me,
and i'm not that thirsty, so i'm skinnin' 'em alive to spite the charity.
yikes.
and, yeah, sure,
orange is nice enough-
but there's never enough, is there?
not if you're doing it right.
word up.
lemon, kids-
lemon is what's up.
and that's certifiably better.
we all want better, don't we?
yeah.
we deserve it;
never quiet, never soft.....

dinners are for winners.

hey.
i've got a new idea,
and it might be a good one.
ready?
alright- here it is...
i think i'm gonna get super gigantically fat and disgusting.
yeah.
like,
total blarp-out meat rolls and jiggles everywhere.
ok?
no?
oh.
well,
i'm gonna at least eat so much i should be enormous, anyway.
like,
there's a gluttonous gargantuan gut hiding inside my regular-sized bellyhole.
like,
i've got stretchmarks and elastic waistbands subtly superimposed over my midsection.
like,
there's a ghost who exists and occupies the same space and place as i do,
and he is a great big corpulent wallow-pig who only derives joy from eating.
and the echoes of that ethereal spirit of overconsumption possess me nightly.
get it?
the happiest moments of every day are the ones where i'm eating too much.
uh-huh.
that's real.
i know i need food to survive,
so i want to put enough in me to survive forever.
......that IS how it works, isn't it?
i mean,
bears do okay with that biological imperative, don't they?
i want to eat enough to sleep away the next six months.
awwwwwwwwwwwww.
fine.
but,
i DO love eating good food.
that's no joke.
the other night,
amber fired up some expert sweet potato quesadillas,
with spicy peppers and black beans and onions, and pesto and juices an' that.
the best part of sunday night was munching up that folded flap of hottness.
check the teleport:

see?
small joys on large plates are what i deal with hours of weak sauce for daily.
with those fancy side orders, y'all?
c'mon.
that's what i want all the time.
really.
last night,
i overdid it all by myself, even.
lentils and tofu and couscous and spinach and tomatoes and onions and spices.
teleport:

a big ol' pile of protein and fiber for extra-awesome next-day pooping!
gross.
the tastes and textures of all of it on it's way in was totally worth it, tho.
yeah!
***********
long days don't actually make summer seem to take forever.
and that's pretty dumb.
ah, well.
there's always too much food at the end of the day, at least;
never quiet, never soft.....

anniversaries.

five.
five long ones.
uh-huh.
five long years.
that's right, neighbors.
today IS the day.
the five year anniversary.
yeah.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress has been inhabited by warrior poetry
for half a mutha-F*ing decade.
that's expert.
berserker bonfires;
ferocious flowergardens;
nothing rooms and something rooms;
grand improvements;
grandiose destruction;
mummified human feet;
new beginnings;
whimpering endings;
small victories;
tragic losses;
and really real life have ALL unfolded,
and subsequently been documented.
there are true stories becoming history in this place every day.
...and that's the best part.
for five years, in a row,
through each and every brutal winter and fleeting summer,
and all the raking and mowing and shoveling in between,
i've called this place home.
this door is all that holds all of it in:

it doesn't seem strong enough to contain the amount of living
and dying that's gone on inside these rooms and halls.
maybe it's capable because most of the liveliness has largely
been the province of enduring hard styles and hard times,
and all the deaths have been petty metaphors.
that's just What Is.
the truth, like the rest of the place,
is pretty busted, but it's as awfully mighty as it is mightily awful.
stay ugly, stay dope.
that's what living these past 1,826 days has been a study in.
i might be doing it wrong, or doing it poorly, at best,
but i'm gonna keep doing it until the house collapses in on itself.
or i do,
and that's something, i suppose.
*
five years later.
that's a tough one, kids.
nothing is where it was supposed to be.
all the imaginings of this future were way off.
the big rewards of my five year plan have been postponed indefinitely.
the work required to achieve it has doubled every year,
and the finish-lines have run away faster than i can chase 'em.
the rough edges haven't worn smooth,
and the prospects of a last minute windfall of good fortune
are about as likely to happen as the rabbit rabbit spellcasting i spoke
this morning in the face of august's first light contains any real magic.
it's not what i thought it would be.
none of it.
and that's the truth.
it isn't pretty, but it is real.
like i said-
stay ugly, stay dope.
that's the new five year plan,
pending review of the assets and options.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is still where i am,
and i'll assume it is still where i am supposed to be.
five years later,
it's STILL all really happening.
that's the whole entire point;
never quiet, never soft.....

RABBIT-RABBIT!!

neighbors-
today is the day.
you know the one.
yeah.
the first of the new month.
good morning, august.
what?
oh, yes, indeed-
i said it.
the magic words that make the magic happen,
and cultivate coincidences,
and activate all the new hottness in F*ing full effect.
that's it-
rabbit, rabbit!
right out of my mouth and into the universe's secret plans.
mmmhmmm.
i doo-doo that mystic sorcerer space-pizza jauns.
why?
because i want all the good things,
and because i like repeating myself.
that's no joke.
*
august means we're staring down the barrel of the end of summer.
i know,
autumn isn't officially underway until september,
but back-to-school times cancel vacationy summer woodsly goodsliness
a well before labor day, anyway.
so,
we're looking at the end of the big action as it still unfolds.
awwwwwwwwwww.
i think that means we're gonna need some cake, huh?
for sure.
check the brown-on-brown-on-brown-on-brown-type teleport:

cocoa ring cake!
with teentsy-weentsy chocolate chips in it, for extra chocolate in every bite.
that's melted chocolate ganache drizzled all over the top, too.
i'm rarely fooling around when it comes to cake an' that, kids-
this is no exception.
oh, and yes, those are chocolate cream chee' frosting swirly-blops
surrounding the interior and the perimeter, so that there is even MORE chocolate.
yup.
i take decadent bakery sexiness to eleven.
i HAVE to.
i'm sayin'-
too much is the right amount.
and that's the truth...
even as the warmth and the light runs out of the season, and the year,
we can't afford not to celebrate, friends.
august may be the end of the busy business times,
but today is still the first day.
and that's the luckiest, loveliest one.
besides,
there is always room for cake,
and there is always something to be commemorating.
that's real.
***********
rabbit, rabbit.
that's the stuff.
i do what i do, duders.
routines are comforting,
and i like repeating myself.
i said that already?
i know;
never quiet, never soft.....

the blarps.

duders,
i feel like i might be doing it so right,
its starting to go all wrong.
hey!
i'm serious.
i'm sayin'-
what happens when the deliciousness lures you in,
and you can't escape?
overdoing it.
that's what it is that happens.
and i mean waaaaaay overdoing it.
really.
mmmmmm.
it just feels so right, because it tastes so good...
and then- UGH-
all of a sudden, with one last big barbarian forkful,
and an invisible line is crossed,
and it all goes from gluttony to self-destruction!
yeah.
what can we do, neighbors?
have less?
that's not a thing.
so self-destructive activation it has to be.
i guess i accept the conseuences.
after all,
i made all the stuff that's stuffing me full of feeding-frenzy fatness.
check the gravy-training-day-type teleport:

ka-BOOM!
all the fixin's for an effed up evening of shark-gluttony.
yup.
savory semolina and herbed cornbread waffles!
vegan-roast-conversion bacon-leek-black-eyed peas!!
seitan-and-potato hash!!!
garlic-seared kale-type dark leafy greens!!!!
gravy forever and ever and ever over ev'rything!!!!!
if you can't hang out with that expert new hottness,
you should probably go eat cereal for dinner with the other lazy stoners.
hahahaha.
really,
i make an effort because i know what's up.
good food is only good in proper portions.
i'm only ever gonna eat a disproportionately plentiful plateful.
too much is the right amount.
you know it's true,
and you like it.
***********
july was a real b!tch of a month.
in fact,
what i even remember about it isn't actually all that much.
i mean,
i only had six days off to do what i had to do,
and i ignored four of them.
yeah.
the best parts are all in my belly, digesting.
that's a little bit of a bummer, no?
that means that everything turns to sh!t, even the highlights.
dang.
hard styles are everywhere,
and they don't even get any days off.
i s'pose that real life unfolds the way it has to,
even when the results make the efforts seem futile.
it all ends.
july is on it's way out.
too soon, and not soon enough-
all work and no play makes me hungry,
and all my hunger for life is used up on supper.
every day is the last day of something,
and every last day is the worst one;
today is the last day of july.
that makes it the worst one;
never quiet, never soft.....

goodbye, july.

and another one is all done.
one more summer month,
lightning-striking flash-in-the-pan short-circuit haywire runaway days,
all over with.
this is it, kids.
the last day, again.
who'd have guessed that time almost goes even faster when you're NOT having fun ?
awwwwww.
yeah.
you know what i AM having, though?
cake.
brownies, really.
four-sided squares of crust-edges-everywhere chocolate chunk double-fudge jauns.
mmmhmmm.
check the teleport:

yep.
that is cream chee' frosting in there,
and up there,
and all over there.
y'know why, neighbors?
because cream chee' and chocolate brownies love each other,
and who the F* am i to keep them apart?
right.
i'm NOT an A*-hole,
so i let 'em get together, and get it going on.
huh?
well, c'mon now- don't be dumb.
of course those are shaved chocolate sprankles on top.
expert recognize expert, right?
yeah!
and also,
too much is the right amount.
wordimus prime.
i know how to do it, duders.
all you've gotta do is come get one before they're all gone.
that's it.
*
treats are good for you.
they're bad for your glycemic index, true.
and they're terrible for your wasitline,
especially if you're prone to blarping out....
but otherwise,
they're good for you.
like,
your sense of well-being, or something like that.
i'm not baking because i love nutrition.
ew.
i'm baking because i love indulging.
and i love creating.
and i love sugar.
i do.
i really do.
big ol' burly five-point-frosted four-cornered brownie bombs?
uh-huh.
all good things in one stacked attack of sweetness.
i guess i'm just gonna get fat.
that's exactly what's missing in my life.
a great big doughy middle.
yuck.
i'm not gonna not bake treats, though,
rules is rules;
never quiet, never soft.

...and miles to go before i sleep.

sometimes,
cool things happen.
yeah.
and it really helps if you notice them, for sure.
but,
they do still happen whether you're there to witness them or not.
that's the truth.
i try my hardest to pay attention,
and once in a while, i notice a little two second treat for my face.
what i mean is-
this cool thing happened while i was cruising around out and about
in the clogged streets of the woodsly goodness.
i just happened to be stopped at a sign,
and i just happened to see it right there glowing in front of my eyes.
mmhmm.
check the teleport:

numbers, neighbors.
i like when they're orderly.
and i love that i drive my car a ll over the flippin' place.
also,
i should probably go to get gas in the tank this morning.
yep.
***********
little tiny glimpses of goodness.
that's what we need.
i'm serious.
without those pauses,
the nonstop doo-doo buttery daily doings of working at working at work
are just gonna run us into the ground.
and i'm talking about deep into the ground.
piledriving six feet under the earth.
y'know?
working to death.
i'm gonna assume that's the way i go out, anyway-
so i'm especially fond of making little nothings into something.
those little glimpses aren't affecting any causes,
but they affect the effects i feel from everything else.
all my brightest spots are boring anecdotes.
my car has miles on it.
and i'm happy about it.
or,
at least,
for a moment,
i was;
never quiet, never soft.....

blueberries.

bundt cake is cool because it looks like a butthole.
you know that's why YOU like it.
it also is cool because it's a bumpy circle,
and the individual fluted mounds of crumb allow icing
to drip down pre-established channels and look so nice.
fluted mounds of crumb.
i thought that bore repeating.
anyway,
i love lemon pound cake.
that's a thing.
with lemon juice and lemon extract and lemon zest.
my version has a blop of vegan cream chee',
and a dollop of sour cream-style white stuff in it, too.
what?
what does that even mean?
it means it gets a bit smoother, and a lot fluffier,
and that's expert.
jeez.
take it easy.
oh,
and also, blueberry season is going off like a purple explosion around these parts.
so,
obviously,
because i know what to do when life hands me lemons,
and the blue balls all get full at the same time....
i made this:

blueberry lemon butthole cake.
hahaha.
it is already all gone.
if that doesn't let y'all know how good it was, you are dumb at knowing things.
awwwwwwww.
it will be okay,
but that bundt is still already all eaten up regardless.
damn, but that glaze took it right up to eleven, neighbors...
jam and juice and vanilla and sugar,
stirred into that drippin' hottness.
and then lemon zest sprankles, too, for good measure.
i had to shark-glutton big bite my way through a slice or three myself.
no joke.
i'm not gonna b!tch out on bundt day, kids.
i mean, c'mon-
i'm not an A*-hole...
..i'm a cake baking barbarian and a berrypicking composer of unscripted treats.
what better combination of active participation and amused musing is there?
treats are what's up, and treats are what's happening.
that's it.
***********
days off.
or,
what i should say is,
when referring to MY schedule-
day off.
that's today,
and it is already an hour later than i thought.
ugh.
there's not nearly enough time available,
but there's always more to do within those small hours.
i'm busy.
and i'm gettin' busier.
i s'pose i should be grateful that i get the one day to do all i've got to?
i'll give it my best shot, for sure;
never quiet, never soft.....

whose lime is it anyway?

friends,
after too many days of tattooing genitalia,
and longer hours languishing through sentimental tattoo stories,
and entertaining awkward teens and generic mom-type ladies,
i have to tell you the truth-
it felt good to come home to a meal on the table,
totally expert in intention, and doubly so in taste.
check the teleport:

uh-huh.
amber used ALL the limes, neighbors.
that's no joke.
plus,
she enslaved herself for hours to the suppertime spirits,
and lavished her attentions on the stovetop,
just so we could share a date-night after-work nighttime catch-up meal.
that's awfully sweet, kids.
i mean,
i got to eat citrus-slathered chick pea salad, with extra greenery;
and i tuned-up some radish-cucumber-baby greens salad,
and i terrorized so many forkfuls of brown rice and pink beans,
and i even had three of those avocado-lime-agave-sauce-topped
marinated tofu, tomato, red onion, and lettuce tacos, too.
if you hate food,
you are definitely an A*-hole.
that's a fact.
personally,
i love food,
and i love to eat too much of it.
i especially love breaking bread with such a lovable lady, too.
generous amounts of affection and appreciation are bestowed in both directions,
which,
i think,
means that maybe there's at least one good thing going on
before and after work in the woodsly goodness' tourist trappings.
i beez in the trap, y'heard?
yeah.
there's postcards and tax-free outlets and everything.
ugh.
*
i guess the thunder and the lightning that ma nature brought with her last night
were all kinds of disastrous to all the waterways and landfalls of the forest an' that.
floods,
and power outages,
and hail,
and property damage,
and real genuine weather-based mayhem, essentially...
i love when the savage stormswept berserker fury beats up the world.
nature wins,
and sometimes it wins by an actual landslide.
yeah!
there's still plenty of answers a'changin' and blowin' in on the wind, too.
my least favorite weather time is here,
and it is bringing new patterns along with it.
i'm ready for whatever,
but my fingers are crossed for more storms.
destruction is the fastest path to creation,
since nature abhors a vacuum.
right?
uh-huh.
see a need, fill a need;
see a void, fill a void;
see a hole, fill a hole;
find out what's missing,
and overload the whole flippin' area with too damned much of it.
there's a system in place,
not so much balanced ecosystem as mad scientist's lab.
overdoing it is what we want,
and now is when we want it;
never quiet, never soft.....