BLUEBERRY DISTRACTION

cake.
because nothing makes sense, but ovens and ingredients make cake.
yup.
if i can't communicate well,
or at all,
i can express myself with edible excellence.
nobody is listening, but my guts are soothed by the sweetness,
and that isn't worthless by any means.
check it:

FLUTED PANS, MAN!
a greased high-wall tart tin is a good idea.
and an oven roaring at 350℉ is a better one.
what's the plan for this tasty bit?
it's like this:
-
*
BLOOBCAKE!
-
cream together:
1 stick vegan butter (8 T);
3 T vegan creamchee';
1/2 tsp salt;
2 T tapioca flour;
1 tsp vanilla;
1 cup brown sugar;
2 tsp cinnamon....
mix well, then stir in:
1/2 cup vanilla non-dairy yogurt.
sift in:
2 1/4 cups king arthur all purpose flour;
2 tsp baking powder;
1 tsp baking soda;
3/4 cup non-dairy milk-
stir it all together and add the completely well-mixed batter to the tin.
-
next up, in that same now-empty bowl, stir up:
1 cup blueberries;
1 tsp vanilla;
3 T brown sugar;
2 T powdered sugar;
1/2 tsp cinnamon;
2 T vegan creamchee';
1/4 cup unsweetened flake coconut;
add that all over the top of the batter,
and bake it up for 40 minutes or more, until the center isn't a wet jiggly mess.
word?
word.
delicious, soft, fruity, hearty, warm, comforting.
mmmmmhmmmmm.
there's darkness all damned day lately.
it was twenty freaking fahrenheit degrees during my dog walk yesterday...
that's F*ing laaaaaame.
it's barely a third of the way into november and now we're just frozen?
WHACK.
***********
y'know what i want?
i wanna LIVE.
i'm not really doin' that as much as other stuff.
i'm working.
i'm surviving.
i'm most definitely enduring.
but,
i'm not improving and i'm not thriving and i think that's some genuine bullsh!t.
there's more to do than i can wrap my head around,
and all of it feels so overwhelmingly unrewarding that my motivation is less than zero.
broken house, broken back, broken heart, broken path.....
it's mosaic puzzlement with no picture on the box to decipher it with.
i guess i'm making up the answers as i go,
with full knowledge that they can't possibly be correct.
...and also, eating heroic cake.
the cake is proportionately good to the inverse that is everything else;
neverquietneversoft.....

BODYSHOP

i redid a real bummer of a tattoo yesterday.
like, it came in like a bad news buffet,
but we did what we could to undo the doo-doo.
and after a while, it started to look like something much better.
check it:

i think it started as old tony c flash?
it definitely began the day as a genuine failure of execution.
i dug in and got down and zapped it up as per my client's request.
and at the end of it, i think we fixed it up pretty well.
is it the world's best tattoo?
it is not.
but it's a damn sight better than it was before,
and sometimes, that's the best you can hope for.
blown-out outlines that sorta looked like shading,
and some body parts that weren't ever found in anatomy ever before?
we don't want that, man.
so, now we're here.
and i think we can both live with that.
if it'd been a fresh start, without the blackened and blurry past putting pressure on us
maybe it's be a genuine all-original masterpiece....
that's literally what's wrong with every minute of my life-
there's tainted history underpainting all my pictures.
damn.
that's real talk.
it won't be as bad as it was, but i may never be fresh and clean.
great;
neverquietneversoft.....

PRETZ

these weren't even that good.

bummer.
i didn't use a recipe.
i didn't measure sh!t.
i DID toast the sesame seed sprankles.
those were good at least.
i boiled 'em in baking soda and salt laced water,
i baked them at 420 degrees.
i did the right things, but i did them wrong somehow.
that's a recurring theme.
not great pretzels make the morning kind of effed up.
for real- i reallllllly like pretzels, so thinking i had it nailed,
and totally NOT getting 'em right sort of derailed my morning.
no, it's fine.
that's what you get.
y'know?
you don't wanna use a recipe or measure anything and it doesn't work?
that's. what. you. get.
you wanna be a vegan A*-hole about holidays and nobody is happy with you?
that's. what. you. get.
guys,
i'm not a victim.
i'm just getting what i deserve.
be however you wanna be.
do whatever you wanna do.
but when the consequences come through, understand one thing:
THAT'S. WHAT. YOU. GET.
...at least it also snowed yesterday.
that's awesome.
did i get a snowblower yet?
i didn't.
did i sign up for snowplowing like i used to?
also, NO.
those muh-fuh'rs didn't do a good job even one time,
or a even a timely bad job, either.
late and terrible?
who do they think they are?
me?
hahaha.
awwwwwww.
but mid-november snow?
c'mon, duders.
is that lame?
F* yes.
look- if it isn't a hard style or the wrenchiest choice available,
i just ain't with it.
so it's fine.
i'm freezing anyway,
why not add some ice to the mix?
that's fun.
at least i also ate a whole bunch of subpar pretzels.
so that's cool, too;
neverquietneversoft.....

DAG

what do i do about this ten-thousand pound albatross around my neck?

y'all know about the albatross?

y'all know about the ancient mariner?

y'all know anything about that?

no?

well, it's been some time since anybody needed to know about those things-

least of all on dry land in the mountains away from the seas.

but, still, if you DO know about the bad luck that comes from killing an albatross,

or from keeping a shark-bullet battle-beast,

then you know that my pain-in-the-neck is kind of  a real thing.

crabtree is not literally an albatross.

however, he's the anchor weighing my days down,

and the bad luck curse of my optimism come to pass.

huh?

no.

that's real.

he's just a dog.

and he's more than that.

he's my constant companion, but he's not a good one.

he's the persistent nuisance that demands my time be split and divided

and the distraction that offers less solace than stress.

but, he's just a little dog.

and a willful, needy, greedy, recalcitrant, obstinate, deaf and dumb dumdum.

honestly,

i came into the care of this young milkyboi under the impression that

there would be help.

believe me, the bitter reflection of how that mirrors the rest of my life

is NOT lost on me at all.

i'm shattered by the limitless amount of attention he wants,

and his complete inability to amuse himself with any activity 

that isn't suicidal,

or destructive to his innards or my property.

and that's with literal hours of time spent invested in this little monster.

sure, he's sweet, sorta.

but i'm soured on the lack of adaptability and the total absence of resilience

in this incorrigible animal.

and every minute he needs from me is a minute i miss with everybody else.

and don't think there's not a counter keeping tabs on every one of those minutes, man.

there's actually a couple of tallies running concurrent.

i'm keeping track, and each minute is one off of my life.

i'm serious.

the stress of split-up worlds tears me up every day.

and i'm sure this whiny baby of a dog 

is so used to his routine of incarceration and repeat offenses 

that he wouldn't know what to do with a full day of my undivided attention.

-

....and he's not good enough to pawn off on someone else.

i mean, he's terrible at being around other dogs.

he gets bitten for his bad manners,

and while he isn't aggressive, he's annoying enough to elicit viciousness

in every other animal......and he NEVER learns from it.

plus he's half deaf.

that's a problem, bull terriers listen half the time.

removing half his hearing gives him half of THAT.

essentially, you're leashing a cannonball and hanging on for the ride.

and moreover, i don't want the burden, but it's mine to bear.

otherwise i'm one of those abandoners.

and if you can do it to a dog, you can for sure do it to people.

and i don't want to be the one to do that sort of sh!t him or them.

he's not a person.

he's not an asset.

he's not even a comfort.

in point of fact, crabtree is a handsome dog with a challenging personality,

and little regard for much beyond his own hunger and limitless energy.

the main differences between he and i?

i'm not handsome and i barely have any energy anymore.

-

at least he causes problems with all my relationships, too.

-

i was prepared to put him to sleep.

euthanize him.

pay to have him killed, really.

he was SO hurt, and SO pathetic, and SO out-of-sorts, i assumed the worst.

and the worst thing about me?

i knew that'd free up MONTHS worth of time every year.

overnights in alton?

no prob.

vacations? not only not a problem, but available with no notice.

mornings and evenings without running around forever and ever

and rushing home to let this little lemming poop, pee, ea, and run through the house.

happily, he's MORE than fine.

unhappily, i'm still tethered to this preexisting condition.

i hate that i love him.

i hate that i hate him.

i love that he's ok, 

but i'm sad for my time and for the people who want more out of me.

huh? 

sorry, vegans and pet maniacs.... 

i am more likely to skip thanksgiving 

because i might actually puke from looking at a turkey carcass

than i am to fake a spiritual connection to this little man.

he's cared for, and we walk for miles and miles, and he sleeps IN the bed 

at the expense of my own rest 

(the whining and freaking out and general cruelty of having a dog who is crated 

during the day AND night is more than my conscience can bear)

-

so,

i have a dog and it F*ing sucks,

but getting rid of him will generate enough self-loathing to ruin whatever 

obligation-free travelling i could then manage.

luckily, 

that causes that heavyweight megatonnage of strained human interconnectedness

to also crush me alive every minute of every day.

basically,

it's all the worst.

cool?

totally;

neverquietneversoft.....

COCONUT

i also made a cake with coconut everywhere.
i like coconut a lot, and i didn't make it for you, man.
it's rich af,
it';s soft, it's thick, it's decadent.
it has all the flavor you could ask for, if you're asking for coconut flavor.
and i am.
so i made what i wanted.
mostly because i couldn't sleep.
why?
because i was carrying crabtree and hurt myself.
now, he's on medicine to feel much better.
better enough, in fact, to resume being a disobedient battle beast,
and for my concern, all i got was a sore lower back and limited mobility.
sweet.
so, with these deep dark bags beneath my beady little maple-colored eyes,
i blearily and blurrily beat up some brown sugar and stuff,
and made a cake real quick to bury a few hard feelings beneath.
look:

CAKE WITH COCONUT EVERYTHING!
that's what i wanted and that's what i got.
the recipe?
here:
-
*
COCONUT THING
-
preheat the oven to 350℉
-
grease a 9" springform single layer pan
-
in a medium mixing bowl, combine:
2/3 cup sugar;
1/2 cup brown sugar;
1 stick (8T) vegan butter;
1/2 cup unsweetened medium flake coconut;
1/2 tsp salt;
1 tsp vanilla.
cream together, then stir in:
1/2 cup vanilla non-dairy coconut yogurt;
2 cups king arthur all-purpose flour;
1/2 cup coconut flour;
2 tsp baking powder;
1 tsp baking soda;
1 cup coconut/almond milk.
stir well, then spoon evenly into the pan,
and cover with 1/4 cup unsweetened dry flake coconut.
do NOT use the gross bag coconut that feels chewy.
that's what poor people do.
it's not invited.
bake that for 40 minutes or until a tester comes away clean from the center.
when it's cooled and no longer a steamy dream of warmth,
make some coconut frosting, too.
that's 3 T vegan buttter;
1 T vegan creamchee';
1 tsp vanilla;
1 3/4 cups powdered sugar;
1/4 cup non-dairy milk;
3 T fresh finely-ground flake coconut,
all whisked until fluffy.
-
and that's it.
cake.
just because.
*
ANYway,
i still HATE NO-vember.
it's the worst one, and it's proving itself as the least expert month as usual.
did all the no-show bummers all emerge this week?
yes.
how about the cranky indignant no-shows?
also yes.
and the bigoted bummery bam-bam harvesters?
on their way, i'm positive.
when you're feeling low, (and in my case, lingeringly unwell)
there's nothing like tattooing to make it SO much worse.
for every elite idea,
there's a bottom-dwelling butthole who wants MORE time and MORE energy
for far far fewer rewards as a result.
can't wait for three more weeks of this.
am i complaining?
i am.
why?
because the imbalance between the best job ever,
and the worst days in a row is extreme,
and it all really happens in the exact same place.
so, there's a see-saw flip-flop of fresh-to-death and pray-for-your-death
occurring in the precise same headspace and literal physical space.
if you think that's cool, you're an A*-hole.
so, assess, and reassess, man;
neverquietneversoft.....

PIZZA!

it's always pizza.
i mean it.
if i'm run down, beat up, worn away,
and generally eroded in body and soul,
i'm picking pizza to pick me up.
and i'm attenuated rather than attuned to the secret universal plan these days,
so i'll bet i'll need a LOT of pizza to even scratch the surface of my discontent.
it starts with one, though.
and the other night, i did the thing-

WORD!
i do make one good lookin' homemade pizza, man.
that deep crispy crust?
once again,
it's diastatic malt powder, from barley.
111% worth getting if you really love pizza.
a scoop of it goes a loooong way.
that's 2 cups of king arthur bread flour;
2 tsp sea salt;
2 T olive oil;
1 pkg active yeast;
1 tsp fast-actin' yeast;
1 cup warm water;
1 T malt powder.
kneaded in a manly mixer with that strongarm hook throwing it all around,
for 11 minutes, and refrigerated for 12-36 hours.
it doesn't matter if you go long, but you'll want a solid dozen as the starting point.
anything less is not enough.
the oven should be at least 480℉ man.
hottness is essential.
and i recommend a minimum of two pizza stones, but go wild, bro.
it's your oven after all.
...and yeah, it's a veggie pizza. obvi.
with cashew chee' and daiya mozzarella and crushed tomatoes,
and baby grape tomatoes and sweet mini pepper rings and spinach,
and caramelized onions and fried garlic sprankles
because rules is rules,
and fresh basil to make it exxxxtra fresh and tasty.
it worked.
it usually does.
pizza is where i shine.
it's everything else that comes up lacking....
*
so, here's the thing:
this blog has existed for a very long time.
from fractured stories about Folk Life with my old family down by the river
in the further reaches of the woodsly goodness,
all the way through a couple of relocations,
a set of overlapping garbage dumpster relationships,
the emergence into adulthood of my older kids,
and the appearance of a whole new family,
at breakneck speed and in record time.
somewhere in there, i added tattoos and foods, and then more food,
and there was a whole period (of, like, a YEAR)
where i wrote about the unfairness and injustice of failure and dissolution
as it relates to interpersonal relationships....
and so on and on.
this thing with my name on it has covered it all,
without a mission statement beyond: true stories told truly.
after a while,
i started writing down recipes for posterity so i could access them here.
and then it seemed like a sort of impropriety to still talk about my personal life.
and then, well,
i got older than i am by breaking apart ,more than the whole  somewhere in the mix, and the readership dropped off....
after all, how often can you hear about homemade pizza?
and how often are there cool tattoos happening that are worth documenting?
and just when am i s'posed to make MORE art to show off?
i'm just sayin',
even the one bright spot i used to anticipate all year was at best a 50/50 split...
for real, man.
hallowe'en tried to kill me with an acute attack of stress-induced system failure
and asleep-at-the-wheel night driving,
after the guilt of indulging in my most favorite costume-building activity instead of
doing all the other things that i'm regularly reminded of
that are expected and demanded of me by circumstance and situation.
so, like, What. The. F*.?!
yikes.
i think i keep writing only because i'm just not ready to lose one more thing.
i'm documenting the days less frequently.
i'm NOT making majestic meals and detailed drawings with regularity.
heck, yesterday i used stencils all day at work
and used one pot to make some very beige dinner in the deep dark of night.
that's not sexxxy at all.
so what's the right answer?
is blogging even a tool that is relevant anymore?
i doubt it.
however many years ago, maybe it was something cool,
but now i've got the same number of hours in every day,
but they go by faster with less inside of them.
if i'm not working i'm sleeping,
and that's a new one for me.
if i'm not a work, i'm driving to get a dose of family.
if i'm with family, i'm neglecting family.
if i'm at work, it's never busy enough.
maybe that's my issue.
i won't be satisfied.
ever.
with anything.
partly because the people and places and things i care about are as separate
as continents,
and partly because i'm totally unfocused most moments.
it's a blurry kaleidoscope of problems using half-empty glass lenses
to see the downside in everything.
and that's with a heavy duty dose of daily P.M.A.
ugh.
i'm serious.
i wake up and get ready to attack every day like i'm going to war with it.
kamikaze? not quite.
but berserker juggernaut, for sure.
so how much inertia does a day have to generate to stop and reverse a running start
every single time?
a lot, i'm guessing.
it feels heavy. i'll say that.

whatever, buddy.
i made a pizza and it was good.
i did a bunch of tattoos and that was better than not doing that.
i got my dog some drugs and he's feeling better, which is good for him,
and a weight lifted off my chest, with a larger and totally different weight
replaced onto my shoulders.
more dog sh!t.
more house sh!t.
more work sh!t.
and that's just the lonely burdens.
family on family on family weighs heavier and heavier and heavier on my whole head
and in my dreams
and on my mood and my mind and my days and nights....
the mission statement here has always been true stories told truly,
but mostly i've been wary of the readers personalizing MY discontent.
so i usually just describe a cake or whatever,
despite that barely being what's really going on...
it's still the truth, but it's only a small chapter in a day in the life;
never quiet, never soft.....

REMEMBER REMEMBER

guy fawkes was not good at terrorism.
nope.
he got caught right away.
and now, there's fireworks about it.
let's all give a clap for england and their sense of humor.
remember remember when that dude tried to blow up our government?
let's make explosions about it to mock his failure.
....and light effigies of his body on fire everywhere,
four hundred plus years later!!!!
ha!
i just made oatmeal about it-
for real,
i didn't have a nighttime bonfire,
instead i fell asleep at the wheel a little on my way home in the dark.
yeah.
not cool.
but i did start the day with a big bowl of breakfast cereal.
porridge, i suppose you could say.
look:

THAT'S V FOR VENDETTAGABLES, BOI!
cacao stencil activation?
got it.
candied praline pecans?
yup.
(that's toasty pecans with vanilla and powdered sugar)
agave-gazed toasted pepitas?
(the name tells you what's in there)
toasted coconut?
OBVIOUSLY!!
vegan mini dark chocolate chips????
yummmmm. such a good idea.
frozen bloobs and raspies?
dope!
real maple syrup is on there, too.
and the best part?
there's exxxtra-thick rolled oats,
steel-cut scottish oats,
AND regular oats in there-
that's 1/4 cup of each, plus one and a half cups of coconut-almond milk,
plus a splash of vanilla,
AND a handful of brown sugar,
and cinnamon,
and a little bitty bit of baby buttery vegan pats, man.
it's a thiccccc bowl.
i thought that'd be a good idea to start my day.
it probably helped.
***********
i spent the rest of the day with my favorite and the small ones.
off my phone.
for real.
just us hanging out.
there was dancing,
there was eating,
there were vaccinations (yes, my babies get those- shoutouts to science)
there was a LOT of driving and a ton of conversation.
so how'd that go?
....it sure did.
the phone part was actually not a problem, so i'm encouraged by that.
my personality was not improved by the oatmeal, it turns out.
oh well.
i also drank a gallon and half of coffee and still passed out twice on the road.
i dunno what it is about driving at night that puts me in a coma instantly,
and i'm not excited about it either,
but it is what was going on.
maybe it's driving alone?
probably;
never quiet, never soft.....

OATMEAL PUMPKIN MUFFINS

ugly af.
big, blarpity, blops of brown sugar and pumpkin and oats
and a whole lotta ugly.
look:

tight?
maybe.
delicious, certainly.
y'wanna know more?
really?
they're muffins, dude.
just like how you'd imagine.
but here's a recipe so you can munch up a few:
-
* 
PUMPKIN OAT MUFFINS!
-
preheat your oven to 350℉
-
grease up some muffin tins
-
in a medium mixing bowl, cream together:
1 stick (8 T) vegan butter;
1/2 tsp salt;
1 tsp vanilla;
1 cup sugar;
cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, ginger...
add in:
1/2 cup pumpkin puree;
1/2 cup vanilla non-dairy yogurt;
stir it well, rock some socks, get it sloppy, and add:
1 1/2 cups king arthur flour;
1/2 cup oat flour;
2 tsp baking powder;
1 tsp baking soda;
1/2 cup rolled oats;
3/4 cup non-dairy milk.
stir it up, get it all nicey-nice, then scoop it into those greased cups.
-
next up, in that same bowl,
cream together:
3 T vegan butter;
2 T powdered sugar;
3 T brown sugar;
3 T rolled oats;
3 T flour;
cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, vanilla......
get it all crOmbly, and sprankle it on top of those muffs BEFORE you bake it.
30 minutes later, you'll be eatin' all the tastiest pumplemuffs ever.
that's the truth and the order of operations.
the results i got are pretty freaking good is all i'm saying..
***********
in other news, crabtree has a hurt leg.
i don't know what's wrong.
it seems like it's his shoulder, though, which sounds expensive.
now here's the thing-
we will NOT be doing surgeries.
that's just not doable for my dude.
our time together is already attenuated,
and i can't imagine he'll be happier if he's hemmed up and incapacitated.
i'm broken up inside about it.
we'll go to the vet today if they'll see us,
and decide what we're doing accordingly.
my fingers are crossed and my heart is tight in my chest.
and that's legit only about 30% because of the dog.
november is hell on my heart,
and my feelings, and my eyes, and my time.....
all these gentle hearts out there.
and then there's mine.
it all feels like there's no blood anywhere left in my body.
exsanguinated by emotions.
that's new;
never quiet, never soft.....

HANDSOME TATTOO GUY

i'm just trying to have it be december already.
for real.
this grey, dark, cold, windy! bummer is really not the one, man.
real talk, the first week of december is another sandwich week.
i mean, c'mon.
november is gonna compete with that?
no way.
what've you got, no-no?
that dead-bird-based gratitude day where grievances surface
among estranged family members getting together
over a bowl of box-mix mashed potatoes?
nice try, bud.
that. ain't. it.
i hate november, and i always have.
fun fact. still hate it, maybe more than ever.
yeah.
sometimes, i do bigger tattoos.
sometimes, there's handsome clients who are very nice
getting tattooed but really not making anybody at AMPERSAND TATTOO
feel any better about themselves.
more specifically, jacob is just a lot better looking than most people.
he's nice enough, but maybe turn down the handsome just a few percent
when you're around the fellas.
like, be respectful of my business, bro.
ha.
anyway, he got a cool tattoo from some guy named walton ford
who is verrrrry good at painting animals.
jacob says he illustrates his favorite author's novels.
......of course, because jacob has a great big handsome brain, too.
hahahahahahaha...
but i did the tattoo on his back, and i think it is pretty cool.

right?
i dunno.
i like it. wish i drew it, but i'm glad i tattooed it.
so that's that.
november mostly sucks.
some tattoos are cool.
some days are slightly better than others,
but generally, there's more NO than vember for me;
never quiet, never soft.....

HALLOWE'EN !!!!!

every year i go SO hard on hallowe'en.
and every year i break myself and get sick by burning myself out
on some epic excellence and expert costume activation.
this year was no exception.
i made my first ever full head helmet, in three pieces.
i used magnets prominently in place of velcro.
i had a color scheme and a coherent theme and a plan.
and all of it fit together pretty F*ing well.
i took elements of some of my favorite sci-fi nerd sh!t,
and fused them all together in the form of an original character
that took the idea of warrior poet battle-beast robobtrons to eleven.
like if gundam and appleseed combined, and crossbred with district 9,
to become a star wars bounty hunter,
you'd not be too far off from where i ended up.
ANYway,
i did what i do, and with breezy's photo skills
and the pearson's greenhouses metal graveyard,
we captured the essence of the thing.
thanks to all those folks for helping out and allowing us to make
the culmination of my month long project come to fruition.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.
the symbol on his armor is the stylized OM.
he looks like a bug.
he's the omega cicada.
get it?
i made that shock-spear-blaster thing in half a workday just because
i was asked one too many times about what his weapon would be.
honestly, y'all are greedy.
i created and fabricated an entire personality and appearance out of nothing,
and everybody is just wondering where his weapons are?
i'm sighing on the inside.
if three people ask, thirty are thinking it.
that's the rule.
also, working men may not ever understand this sort of thing.
i mean, i have a creative job, it requires food for thought to work.
that's a fact.
i deal with ideas as much as tools,
and where a manly man may work with his hands to produce fruits from his labor,
i am not so different really, only in that i use my imagination more than sweat.
some folks might not ever put this kind of work into a one day thing.
i wouldn't put a single second into watching a sports game, so i get it.
this is something that sustains me throughout the year.
an outlet for all the restrained pain i feel
doing the same sh!t at work day in and day out.
costume making is an all creative, personally fulfilling
purposeful and empowered production of all those most excellent ideas
that ordinary individuals just aren't interested in.
i need it.
i've got eleven months to suffer for no reason,
and just one to suffer for my art.
non-makey people don't have to get it, but it'd be a lot cooler if they did;
never quiet, never soft.....

TRICKY TREATIN'!