Tuesday, September 2

just give me enough glue.

i've been working on these props for a little minute.
and now i'm lookin' to get some props for 'em.
like, due and proper kudos, an' that.
i've still got plenty more work to do on most of them.
oh, yes.
i've got a whole bunch of toy pistols and waterguns and pipes and plugs.
there will be variations and extrapolations on the theme for a bit to come.
that's no joke.
i don't really see the point in doing something one time just to try it.
if the first take doesn't suck balls,
the next bunch of 'em should be turbo-elite.
i'll keep working on taking another 'nother new nerd skillset to eleven,
adding it to my ample reserves of unmarketable talents and abilities.
awwwwwwwww, man.
before i bum myself out thinking about the time i span doing projects
just for the sake of doing interesting things with my brain and hands,
instead of doing things that might be more profitable and productive.....
let me at least show you the fruits of my most recent sleepless night.
check the pulse-point-pistol-type teleport:
and the reaction-hand-side, too:
i'm excited.
the little bits and pieces are what's up, y'all.
every extra tube and screw makes it cooler.
next time,
there will be way more rivets.
rivets are expert.
the only problem,
as i can foresee but not forestall,
is that my nerd-brain starts engineering reasons for the add-ons.
i'm not kidding.
stratospherium converters,
and sonic inverters,
and all sorts of mostly-pretend elements and places and powers.
a lifetime of science fiction, fantasy, comics, and roleplaying dork sh!t
has poisoned me down to my deepest core.
that big lame teenager oozes out if he's given even the slightest leeway.
...so now this is what's going on.
there are cut, chopped, lowered, louvered, cantilevered halves and wholes,
all needing more and more and more of this polyvinyl mad-scientist activation.
there are worse things, certainly.
i could be memorizing sports stats,
or learning the lyrics to pop-country music...
i s'pose i'll take some small comfort in creating something from something else.
making more.
that's the thing.
and it's the center of everything.
more action, more adventure,
more creativity, more money,
more time.....
making more of it, and making what you've already got matter more.
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

lightning striking viking.

what happens when you mix styles?
they get harder.
they're like two-part epoxy in that.
when it was time to terrorize matt's chest,
we made sure to take his drawings and my tattooing,
and mix them together in a modified hodge-podge hegemony
of lightning-striking comicbook ghost-face barbarianism.
ten years of punishing this guy with hot lasers of pain,
and he still keeps coming up to get his lumps.
sometimes i use a tight three needle grouping for extra bikery norse details.
check the teleport:
sternum beard!
so many lines.
too many lines.
the right amount of lines.
unless you're his xiphoid.
then that up there is waaaaaaay the wrong way to put hair on your chest.
we spanned a whole lot of time together, he and i,
and all of that is what took up a big ol' bunch of yesterday.
so much for labor day.
and yet, labor was what i seem to find myself doing a lot of all the time,
and labor is probably what he felt like he was in.
the thing is-
labor day is always just another workday.
sorta like every other three-day holiday since forever ago.
no breaks for me since the nineties with that sh!t, neighbors...
fifteen years of labor days at work?
that's a thing
it's been one heck of a summer.
nonstop hustlin' and grinding.
six-day work week steady hard-style pounding away at that flesh.
so gross.
and now?
it's also time for chimney sweepin' and firewood stackin',
and before too long, fairs and apples and pumpkins, as well.
the little window into new englandy hottness is open just a crack,
and i'm peering into it.
it looks good to me.
i s'pose we'll see about that;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 1

rabbit rabbbbittttt

the first of the month.
a last day, extra day-off long weekend finale.
americans are celebrating labor day,
by NOT working.
nomenclature is not invited to the barbecue, apparently.
they should maybe call it lazy day, then,
if sittin' and sippin' is all that's going on.
of course not.
don't be dumb....
i'll be at work, neighbors.
you know that's a thing.
it's what i do.
...and speaking of what i do-
another 'nother thing that today is all about is magic.
those magic words.
word, really, but twice in a row.
of course i woke up way too early after crashing out waaaay too late,
rules is rules,
what had to be first thing to sound out loud from my morning-breathy lips?
rabbit, rabbit!
i'm on it.
y'gotta be, unless you want that weak sh!t running rampant.
and because i'm summoning the spirits of cultivated coincidence to my house,
the woodsly is going extra heavy on the goodness.
that's right, kids.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a focal point for the loud fresh hardness
from now until november. even.
that sounds good to me,
we'll see what happens.
i'm starting this day with lots of nerding out before work.
that's real.
spark that teleport:
dips and dots;
sanding without eye protection;
epoxy fumigation;
and metalliv wax rubbing are the priorities before i shower.
there has to be progress.
there HAS to.
forward momentum will produce results,
but consideration and pondering and musing will not.
i'm just doing sh!t as hard as i can,
as much as i can,
and in as many different ways as i can.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point.
i'm doing that, too.
all day tatzappin' is going to try and halt my toy-gun prop jauns.
(it won't work)
belabor the obvious day.
that's what today is all about.
the first of the ninth of the fourteenth.
today is the one;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, August 31

see you in september

i did three portrait tattoos on one dude today.
that's too many.
normally that's the right amount.
i actually don't care for portraits.
i mea,
i DO 'em,
but that's because i'm a goddamned tattooer
and i don't pretend i'm here for myself.
i'm there at the tattbomb studio to garner all the movie checks in the building.
and that means that i doo-doo that kids' faces sh!t sometimes.
i had zero fun.
the thing is,
they kept getting better and better,
so by the third one,
i was on fire.
and that's great news for the kid who got tattooed,
and i suppose that's good for business, too.
in my private life,
i was vastly more fulfilled by making prop weapons for no reason at all.
real talk.
i took the sh!ttiest plastic pistol,
and turned it into a teslonic reactivation blaster.
plastic tubes and wires and the end of a recorder.
hot cross buns, neighbors, in F*ing full effect.
no, really.
check the dress-up-to-mess-you-up-type teleport:
want more?
i'm taking my nerd to eleven,
and there's plenty more of all of it slated to get created in the near future.
in fact,
there's no time to blog about it,
because i'm about to go BE about it.
that's it.
bye bye, august.
short, sweet, busy, and barbaric.
now let's see what the autumn season has in store;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, August 30

building up steam.

hey neighbors-
i'm making things.
i'm not sleeping well,
and i'm eating less,
and i'm very distracted whenever i'm not tatooing.
(i'm still paying enough attention to THAT, at least)
i'm getting just a little bit makey,
and i'm staying a whole lot of lame.
there is an awful lot of drilling and sawing and sanding, too.
turns out,
crafts are a huge pain-in-the-A*.
that's no joke.
there are bits and pieces and components an' stuffs EVERYwhere.
i'm slowly bending wires and gluing toys and epoxy-rocking wood and glass-
and the results are sort of encouraging.
if the constituent elements are expert,
the whole of it will be too, yeah?
that's the premise of my latest endeavor, duders,
and i think i'm getting the hang of it.
check the world-according-to-larp-type teleport:
but, but...
its technology from the past, turned into the way of the future,
just for the sake of doing something artistic,
but that isn't edible for a change.
i've been stacking stuffs on stuffs on stuffs all up on itself,
and gluing all the best roundies and nibs on all of it every day.
so nerdy.
that's what i've been up to.
costume party projects, with no party to speak of.
i don't even like parties.
i love playing make-believe.
a quick scan over the past would lend itself towards that being realllly obvious.
tricking and treats,
but no treaties, because compromise is for losers.
all out war on sleep;
nonstop onslaught of crafts;
rub'n'buff brouhaha of simulated science-
it's ALL really happening,
and that's the best part of this whole week
(besides all the pizza).
i am deep into the pseudo-science of inventive non-invention.
i'm making it up as i go, but i'm moving pretty quickly;
never quiet, never soft.....

chocolate is good for you.

i didn't have pizza last night.
nor the night before.
in fact,
i didn't even eat dinner the last couple of evenings.
i've been obsessing over bits and pieces of plastic,
and trying to make them look like metal.
so many foul substances,
so many toxic fumes,
so many off-gas irritants an' that....
too much is the right amount,
and that's true even when it's bad, i think.
in-between these prolonged bouts of petro-chemical warfare,
i also took some time to activate that expert bakery business.
i needed to huff some tastiness in amongst the noxious jauns.
that's a thing.
and tastiness abounded immediately.
i mean,
you know i can't slack off on treats, neighbors.
after all, what do i look like?
an A*-hole?
stop it.
and when you're finished stopping it,
check the squares-type teleport:

golden cake.
raw sugar and plain soy yogurt are the secrets to these crisp-topped b!tches.
you like individual squares of baby chocolate-chip chocked chunky mini-cakes?
me too.
the crumb has all that mellow brown sugary subtlety,
without the molasses overdoing it.
i think about these things while i'm drifting off to dreamland.
especially after an addled iron-lung stupor from gluing and epoxying.
double the amount of cocoa for twice as much sugar in the frosting.
^ that's a statement.
it means that the double-fudge creamche'' frosting,
is in reality quad-choco fatty boombattie blasted dark brown hottness.
that's a lot of everything in one cube of cake.
i doo-doo that overdoo-doo sh!t, kids-
because i know what the rules are.
the days are whipping by,
and the nights are, too.
the darkness is encroaching,
but not on my outlook.
i'm all about this bakin' and craftin' and tattooin'.
i mean,
everything else is just for regular people,
and i can't hang out with that.
everything expert, that's the way it has to be.
and nothing that is worth doing isn't worth doing harder.
this day, and this night, are all about going to eleven;
never, quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, August 28

doing even MORE of it.

there can't be pizza on the menu again,
can there?
ummmm, well, i mean, yeah.
pizza doesn't get any less expert after weeklong love affair, kids.
don't be dumb.
more pizza is the way it is.
check the teleport:
three more pizzas.
so good, because there's just so much:
underchee'-stcked, extra-heavy on the brussels,
and a little dark leafy spinach.
and then another one:
over-the-top tofurky tubes and onions.
because beige circles never get boring on a pizza. neighbors.
that's a thing.
and then afterwards, there was another 'nother one:
overchee' tomato baconic-bitsies and more onions.
i did it with the overchee'.
spoondrops on the tops.
sometimes, you need to freak it off a little bit.
and if i already activated that concoction of cashews and tofu and nootch,
then i'll disperse it wherever i damned well please.
believe it.
i spent most of yesterday underpainting toy guns.
that's the truth.
and gluing and epoxy-dabbing,
and dismantling,
and arranging,
and all sorts of planning.
the thing is,
i didn't really get very much accomplished,
but i did get excited.
and excited has been in short supply creatively in recent times.
even if i'm building props just to get props,
and not to be featured in a science fantasy film,
i'll take it.
in fact,
i'll make it, and then i'll make the most of what i've made.
every day, i'm basically playing dress-up anyway,
why not take it way over the top?
too much IS the right amount, after all.
i guess that's the plan, for today;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, August 27

nature wins, but today she's on MY team.

$13 a pound.
that's what the mushroom tards get for wild foraged fungi.
the rare sexy ones, i mean.
i'm not saying i'm a cheapskate-
far from it.
it's just that you almost never ever see those especially elite ones at the grocery spot.
when the woodsly goodness surrounding the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
offers up a special present out fo the cold nights and dewy mornings of recent memory,
i'm certainly not gonna shun that uncharacteristically generous gesture from ma nature.
it may not happen again anytime soon,
so i'll always get whilst the gettin' is good.
the big ol' busted long-felled mostly-mouldering compost-pile abutting birch tree,
of epic girth and heroic nitrogen-activating decomposition has done it again.
every once in a while, as in- not reliably, not predictably, and not even every year-
but only when conditions are perfect,
she does come up with a grand gift from the mycological kingdom.
check the six-pounds-of-orange-hottness-type teleport, baby:
the good ones.
and it's fresh and direct, live from my literal own flippin' backyard.
if that's not expert, then nothing is.
i'll be butchering it up,
and packing it away,
so that i'm reppin' extra-radness throughout the next few days.
i love when nature is on my team.
i do so enjoy getting a rare win.
it's all really happening,
and i am grateful for the windfall of wild woodsliness that cropped up
because of the beat-A* weather of the last two weeks.
thanks, ma nature,
i'll be sure to put it to good use.
expert recognize expert.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

mornings are for treats.

when you wake up thinking about apples,
and you go downstairs,
and there are totally apples hanging out on the counter?
it's a lot like when life hands you lemons, neighbors.
i had apples on my mind,
and organic fancy ones in my kitchen,
so i did what anybody would do-
i peeled and cored and sliced and diced and simmered the sh!t outta those
little red F*ers, with maple syrup and cinnamon and salt and a pat of butterish.
because that's the way you make 'em soft and succulent in place of other
liquids and leaveners inside of breakfast bombs.
breakfast bombs?
you read that right.
the big muffin cups got shaken out of their retirement,
from the way back of the baking cabinet to the front rack of the oven.
that's when you know it's serious.
giant apple cinnamon muffins in the morning is where i needed to take it.
and it got taken there, and then some.
check the teleport:
a little soy yogurt, and a cup and change of demerera sugar,
vanilla, and maple, and cinnamon, and a stick of butts,
a dash of salt, a few tea-style spoons of baking pow-pow,
and a tsp. of baking soda, for good measure (that is a big muffin tin, after all)...
all of that,
plus a little tapioca, a lot of oat flour,
and even more real grown-up flour-
and the juiciest warm wet apple filling, too
that makes 'em soft, and spongy, and cakey, and dope.
the icing?
since i wasn't using streusel, or sprankles, or nuts,
that meant i had a small problem-
i needed something super-sweet and sexy to amp 'em up another step or two.
cinnamaple honeybun-style icing was the obviously the only right answer.
that's the key.
thick and aromatic.
the whole house, and the whole tattbomb studio,
all smell like autumny activation.
that's real-life air freshening.
wherever me and my muffins go,
we're instigating big sniffs.
because that good-air-stank is what we provide.
if you think they smell ghood,
wait until you put one in your mouth, friend.
i mean it.
the apple awesomeness of the seasonally-appropriate tree-ripened early reds
sure as sh!t make it all even more expert.
giant cakes in cup shapes,
with all the best in copious quantity?
too much is the right amount.
that's it.
we do what we do over here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
super-concentrated folksy vegan woodsly goodness is all that there ever is going on,
but that's more than most can handle.
dreaming it,
AND being it.
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t;
never quiet, never soft.....

there can't be MORE pizza?! or can there be?

i have been destroying myself with pizza.
because creative destruction is what i do,
once i'm done with my destructive creations.
cause and effect and effective causality.
all actions are caused by entities.
i'm the entity in charge of pizza, i guess.
it's all about pizza.
pizza all the time.
pizza forever.
and i'm not even kidding-
when i didn't feel like firing up the oven?
i went out and got pizza at a restaurant...
but that wasn't even close to the expertism i activated yesterday.
pizza pizza pizza,
triple pizza magic for my face!
check the teleport:
all the pizza!!
look at these jauns, y'all:
with those red onions,
and andouille soysages!
and this other one:
with spinach and canadian-style bacon-style bits!
and this whole other other one, too:
with smoky beige circles and under-onions over the under-chee'!
pizza, kids.
so flippin' much pizza.
sourdough, tossed and stretched and chee'd and nootch'd and taken to eleven.
if you are overdoing it,
you aren't doing it right.
that's a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, August 24

more pizza?

too much is the right amount.
you know it.
i know it.
they know it.
even the pizza knows it.
when there's still some dough cold coolin' in the fridge,
we gotta activate those circles of sauce and chee', don't we?
don't be dumb.
i just led into this by saying it's obvious.
i LOVE pizza.
and that secret cashew-tofu-nootchie underchee' jauns is going crazy.
i mean it, neighbors.
the base layer adds eleventh-level expertism every single time.
and that's no joke.
i guess when good times are being crushed by the lack of time for anything good,
the only real viable solution is to make time for what matters...
and what matters is pizza.
a man has got to eat.
and if i gotta, i gotta do it like i'm on a suicide mission to a vegan valhalla of melted mozzarella.
that's real.
what i'm saying here is that every day is too full of sh!t,
so i'm just trying to fill myself up with pizza until i sh!t.
i just want a lot of delicious pizza to smother the rest of the day.
those hand-cramping back-tensing motormouth hours and hours
of nonstop working on big dumb underrewarding tattoos every single day?
they're practically begging for stuff on a sauce-covered crust to crush them into forgetfulness.
i achieve oblivion with beige faux meats.
real talk.
check the pizza-party-on-again-type teleport:
twice as many toppings?
you know it.
we'll overload 'em when there aren't other people around.
if you've got enough bits and pieces for four pies,
but only enough dough for two?
two times the treats on half the eats is clearly the answer.
and like i just told you,
we had dough for two of 'em.
all the slithery slipperiness of wet stuffs on sweetened salty sauce,
on a crusty whole wheat disc.
daiya('rrhea) on top makes the meltiness seem slightly more believable.
i like that.
the real flavor is that spread underneath, anyways.
the thing is,
the only good thing is pizza.
everything else is just catching up to the baseline.
too much pizza i can handle,
not enough time i can't control so much.
i fight to win, and i win where i can.
in my oven.
it's all really happening,
mostly tattoos and pizza,
but all of it is going down all around me;
never quiet, never soft.....