Saturday, January 24

white mountain white girl.

hey guys!
i made midsized cupcakes.
i didn't just get cheap with the batter,
and underfill regular-sized cupcake tins.
i didn't cheat and overfill miniature muffin pans, either.
take it easy.
i actually found some new hottness for my Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
in the form of stepped-up cups that split the difference
between mini and traditional.
two bites, compared to one for the smalls,
and four for the full-sizers.
i had some mint sitting in the refrigerator,
and i had some chocolate chips,
and i needed to test-drive the new baking tools,
so i put all of that together,
and came up with some good stuff.
check the white-girls-from-north-conway-style teleport:
here's a little snippet from my daily conversational regiment-
when i'm at the studio,
tattzappin' whatever unpinteresting poop that the screen of
somebody's mobile phone has revealed to me as a mandatory fresh original idea,
i ask all the ladies what their favorite ice cream flavor is.
every. single. one.
i'm like that.
and more often than not,
and by that i mean, overwhelmingly so,
the answer is mint chocolate chip.
i guess that's just a thing up here.
it goes great with en masse college girl tastes.
(like zebras,
you're safer if you're indistinguishable from similarly patterned individuals,
thereby no longer being a single entity, but a collective non-mind,
governed only by the instinct to become overtly visible,
yet completely camouflaged by quantity)
too much is the right amount?
the thing is,
mint chocolate chip stuff is good, neighbors.
and therefore,
flying in the face of my anti-popular contrarian infinite anti-infinity symbol nature,
i activated that style of cool refreshment in lovey-dovey cakey cuties.
mint and chips and cake,
and ground chocolate and mint in the frosting,
and shaved chocolate sprankles,
and a sprig of nature on top,
for extra-special added leafy expertism.
it worked the way i wanted it to, too.
they are just-so wispy with illusory cold-to-the-tongue minty mystery,
and the precisely-right balanced blend of delicious chocolate in, on, and around
the slightly-crsip-topped soft crumb on the cuppy cake parts.
the flavors are complimentary,
not competitive-
and i really love it when that sort of sh!t starts dancing around inside my mouth.
a cold winter saturday in the woodsly goodness?
that's it.
what else would there be?
today is the day.
another 'nother one.
as time slips past us,
and january jets into the future,
i can't help wondering aloud where the big fun and fresh-to-death action is hiding?
i mean it.
it's not even that there's all work and no play.
play is lessened by the minute,
but there's not as much work, either.
more free time, and less accomplished?
whoever thought of that is probably an A*hole,
and they can't come over, kids.
i'm mostly solo inside my castle,
carving and cooking and being a fat weird hairy/not-hairy hermit.
it takes some getting used to, sure-
but it's been years already.
there's that time-ticking waste-away war-torn world-weary passage
to there, through here, from there, all over again.
more of it, and less of it, and none of it,
while all of it is really happening.
a little,
but it's a true story, and that's all i ever have for you;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, January 23

twice as much dinner for one.

two pizzas?!?!
after an unimpressive and underrewarding day at the tattbombin' zipzap shack,.
i desperately needed to do something especially expert
to rinse away the lame elapsed ellipse eclipse that lengthened
the languishing anguish of the weakest workday in weeks....
....and i also needed some dinner.
with lots of time on my hands,
and also lots of lines to cut out of my cork pad coelacanth,
i preheated the heck out of my oven,
with the hearthy heart of a pizza stone sittin' and supercharging inside it.
sourdough rising for circles of sexy crust on the counter,
ingredients preheated and prepared for toppin' 'em off,
and ruts being gouged by my tools along horizontal angles while the
hotbox got extra-exxxtra hot.
i like a crusty pie, neighbors,
and i got that convection connection circulating the superheated air in patterns
withing the appointed place for pizzamaking perfection.
y'know what i'm talking about?
word up.
once everything was ready,
and the dough was rolled,
and the underchee' was spread, and the sauce was spooned in a spiral overlay?
check the pee-eye-zee-zee-ayy-type teleport:
i love pizza the best of all.
and that's no joke.
i especially loved this one, until i bit it into oblivion.
the topping situation was exactly what needed to happen,
and it happened to be exactly enough for a disc of dough
to be deviantly devoured in defiance of my overall well-intentioned waistline.
what's the story with it?
there are lots of things on it,
and lots of each of those things, at that.
rules is rules, as you all already know.
in this instance it started with well-browned thick mushrooms.
and a panful of seared brussels sprouts.
with bitty baconical bric-a-brac.
and a handful of daiya(rrhea)chee'.
that's what's up-
all at once, on that puffed-up circle of crispity crawnchiness.
i ate it all up,
because i'm a growing boy.
of course, i'm only growing outwards not upwards,
in a blarpity bloat of bread and beans.
but, wait,
there's MORE.
i said two pizzas, didn't i?
that's correct, kids
check the even-filthier-type teleport:
chili chee' pizza???
whatever didn't make it onto those jacket potatoes the other night
found it's way onto this underchee' and spinach layered beast.
holy sh!tballs, y'all.
eschewing traditional sauce for a stew of super-explosive masculinity?
i think i made the right choice.
at least,
it was a good idea to make this particular pie for my eye,
especially with those scallion sprankles.
that's what took it to eleven.
the idea that two pizzas was better than one?
that's dedicated self-destruction at it's most determined.
it meant that i felt full for a few full hours.
then i had some cookies.
awwww, man, i KNOW.
too much is the right amount, isn't it?
that's just the way it is.
inside my raging stormswept savage cage of animal activation.
i got it like that.
not just anybody would spend over an hour making pizza time,
when pizzas only take eleven minutes to bake.
i invest my time in being expert,
because that's what warrior poetry is all about,
tons of training for bursts of battle.
it's a thing.
and it's what i'm doing when i'm home all alone.
it's all building towards something,
each action is a piece of a bigger big action activation sensation.
if you want more, you've got to DO more.
be dope, duders,
even when you're dining all alone.
you deserve it from yourself above all others,
or you don't deserve it at all;
never quiet, never soft.....

too many fruits.

and strawberries?
damn, neighbors.
that's a LOT of fruits.
and when you add in half a lemon's worth
of extra tart and tangy zest, too?
breakfast gets pretty flippin' expert pretty much immediately.
check the large-and-in-charge-type teleport:
oh, yeah!
the only downside to a crunchy crusted loaf of very burly breakfast bread? tastes like a fruit punch biscuit.
awwwwwwww, man.
don't get me wrong, kids-
i still love it,
and i've been positively destroying it with my extra big mouth.
it's just that it has so dang much dried berry business inside of it.
it's borderline distracting, really.
the crumb is buttery and soft,
and the outsides are so dang crisp,
but every bite has about a billion bits of berry and cherry,
and honestly, it's almost too much of too much.
that's not a thing.
too much is the right amount,
i'm bound by the rules,
and so,
we can rest easy, if a bit queasy, because i'll be eating it up until it's all gone.
maybe i should make another one?
with chocolate chips, and maybe just blueberries?
who knows what the future holds?
i mean,
i've got a mixing bowl, a bag of blueberries,
chips of chocolate, and a piping hot oven full of fire.....
all i need is the initiative, and i'm actually too full of the original jauns
to consider making that mix of wholemeal and fruit.
the thing about baking all this stuff all the time
is that i really do have trouble reining in all my completely all-consuming
consumption-oriented actions.
i just want all the treats, guys.
sure, there's other stuff going on all the time.
i'm not lazy, nor am i unimaginative,
so making moves in creative and constructive ways isn't an issue.
denying myself another 'nother 'nother bite of some sweet new delights
is pretty difficult to do,
when there's a whole luscious loaf of edible excellence sitting next to my art stuff.
i have to have it.
and i get it, and i've got it,
and now i'm a bellicose bellyaching barbarian battle-beast for the rest of the day.
today is the day.
full of fruit,
and citrus,
and cakey bready slices,
with furrowed brows,
and feisty feelings,
and sharklike gluttony,
and harder and harder styles by the minute.
it's all really happening,
and that's really the reason i'm here;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Thursday, January 22

be wary of overfeeding.

more food.
that's all.
last night i dominated another 'nother meal.
yes, i did.
jacket potatoes.
giant tubers, busted open, and filled with everything expert.
that's real.
i had a chance to work on my timing,
because food, like comedy, relies pretty heavily on precision clockwork,
waiting patiently, setting up all the pretense,
for a wholly enjoyable consequence arriving right when it's most appreciable..
no F*ing joke.
get it?
oh, c'mon!
potatoes take forever to bake,
but that's actually the good news.
i had plenty of minutes to meal plan on the fly,
and fry up all the fresh sh!t that we stuffed up in 'em.
check the my-evening-jacket-type teleport:
a bed of arugala garnish makes eveything better,
and that is almost inconceivable in regards to this herculean meal.
so what's it all about?
i'll be more than happy to spout off on the individual merits of what
my sarlacc-style bellyhole is digesting as we speak...
on the left,
inside of a rightfully righteous idaho russet,
blissfully buttered along the burst seams of it's jackety skin-
there are brussels sprouts, lightly browned on one side;
sauteed mushrooms, thick and juicy,
but without the slime or the dryness that come from improper preparation;
black-pepper-fried tempeh strips, steamed first, fried later,
and peppered to pieces on their golden browned flax-seeded sides;
and a parsley garnish because that's some crackery-A* stuff to put on a potato.
like i said earlier- expert.
and on the right?
total all-american filthy glutton-style yankee food indulgence.
another big ol' 'tato-
but this time with slow-cooked tempeh and roman bean chili,
over nootchy vegan chee' sauce,
with exxxtra-turmeric for that doo-doo buttery mellow yellow glow.
that's important. if it isn't bright, you're doing it wrong.
chee'sauce is s'posed to be borderline unnatural.
that's how you can be sure it has all the nutrients.
i think that is a real thing?
caramelized onions, a little overcooked, on accident,
which only added to the elite tastiness of the overall display;
and bacon-style brick-colored strips of smoky vegetable protein;
and scallions for garnish like a proper bacon-and-onion chili-chee' bomb.
i done already told you- expert.
that's what's up.
the thing is, kids, i can't stop eating.
i mean it.
there's so much good stuff waiting for my teeth to chomp down on,
i'd feel lazy and stupid if i let it pass by.
i hope you do.
i know it's all really happening, and i know it's all really right there,
i've got means, i've got opportinity,
and honestly i've never lacked motive, nor motivation,
for sharkbite feeding frenzies whenever there's vegan hottness
in the fridge, on the stove, in the oven, or anywhere, for that matter.
i had about a pound of leftover baked macaroni for lunch,
i needed fridge space, and then, a few huge bites later, i had lots and lots of it.
a man pan of penne is no small rectangle, y'all.
the extra room was put to good use in preparatio of potatoes, too.
even before that,
i started off my day with style.
i got up, i got busy, and i terrorized a fat stack of these:
so many panniecakes.
inside my body, there is a war being waged.
my metabolism is stoking all the flames that fuel the boiler,
and fanning the fires in my furnaces,
and trying deperately to devour the calories i'm consuming.
i don't want to be a big gross fattie,
but i also don't want to miss out on all this good stuff.
conflicting interests are never what you want to feel
when you're filling up your face with bite after bite of deliciousness.
i mean, buyer's remorse is better than waffling over whether to eat pancakes,
that's for sure.
of course,
the half a homemade pizza, after a cookie,
after a muffin for dinner wasn't helping my brain decode the destructive impulses
of intake versus exercise versus more and more and MORE and MORE..
neither was this:
a surprise day off means extra treats for the exta time, obvi.
two days in a row of decadent devouring.
like the fenriswolf, except i wouldn't bite the hand that feeds me,
for two very good reasons-
first, it's my own hand, so that's dumb,
and second,
my hands have teeth, and getting a bite-back b!tchslap from myself?
that just seems like a terrible,idea
but i'm STILL so F*ing fat, on the inside.
and i've always heard it's what's inside that counts.
almost exclusively by the unattractive creatures who would prefer to be judged
on something other than the lack of effort they've made
to activate a little personal style for offsetting the weakness of the raw materials.
holy shallow sh!thead, huh?
i'm not saying i don't get it, or that it's fair, or that it's nice.
but if you're busted, you gotta try a little harder,
or accept that inactivity doesn't make you better at anything but being inactive.
i just said i'm so fat on the inside,
and that might be what counts.
take it easy.
that means i'm very likely just as ugly on the INside, too.
awwwwwwwwwwwww......... .
regardless of the interior renovations,
or the exterior undesirablility,
i STILL dominated another enormous diaper-monster,
and i devoured it in record time.
i guess i practice what i preach, princess.
a. you can never go too far.
b. life is pain.
c. too much is the right amount.
d. stay ugly, stay dope.
that is all there is.
what else?
stuffed full of stuff, and fit to burst.
ranting, raving, and ravenous;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, January 21

surprise day off!

what happens when there's nobody going to the studio,
and there are no appointments left on the schedule,
and it's a sunny day,
and you've got a list of stuff you need from somewhere else?
you go to that somewhere else,
and you don't even think twice about it.
i had surprise day off, and it was expert!!
not working when you're not at work is a pretty cool thing,
especially compatred to not working at work,
which is a sh!t-salad sandwich of suckballs.
instead of wading through the hours at the empty tattbomb shop,
i drove downeast to portland,
and got my art supply shoppin' done.
that's right.
and the i stopped at the crystal magic wizard weirdie spot,
and i got some nature-style refractory prism earth node stones, too.
check the facinating-facet-type teleport:
pretty flippin' cool, huh?
i know.
and that's not all, y'all.
i've been wiring 'em up, in full-blown big nerd crafty fashion.
i even got some weird braided wire,
and some brassy barbarian chains, too.
whatever, man.
you can't hang out with earth elementalism?
well, maybe you just haven't really embraced nature's winning ways.
how about this one?
it has a phantom quartz living inside it, AND it's from tibet.
that's that wu-TANG/shaolin sh!t, and that's dope.
i'm cultivating coincidences with convergent overlaps,
spirographic ven-diagrammatically-correct style.
i think that's real.
maybe not.
i'm still doing it anyway.
just a brief little bent-wire sidebar from removing strips of block,
so that printing can finally get poppin'.
you might be a bit worried right now...
and have a few questions for me.
let me preemptively answer a few.
i'm not going to turn into a hippie.
and also no,
i'm not going to go full hemptard.
i like showers, and violence,
and ambition, and resentment way too damned much to indulge
in tolerance and pacifism and do-goodery like a b!tchA* diaperbaby...
there will be sage,
but in my food,
not in smudgeclumps, or whatever the F*.
i got some crystals, friends,
because rocks are dope.
take it easy,
and wait for further instructions;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, January 20


more butter,
more bits and pieces.
that's what i wanted,
that's what i did.
i made some seriously sexy sweet softy cookies.
that's right.
two and a half dozen super-soft, chewy, gooey discs,
all the way expert,
and also all gone already.
that's how you know they were dope-
they didn't even last through the whole day.
that's a testimonial to their incredible edibility, no?
you bet it is.
check the teleport:
cranberry almond chocolate chip activation!
slivered almonds, and almond extract, as well,
insinuated into the vanilla juice...
that really made 'em smoothly flavored.
the crawnchiness of the almonds added body to the batter,
and complexity to the texture, too.
i chopped the sh!t outta those dried cranberries,
and i ham-handed a big ol' honkin' heap of those red-getters right in there.
i put an overdose of all the add-ins.
a ton of those nuts,
and a ton of the tiny mini bitty baby choco-chips, as well.
extra extras make the doughy bonds SO smiley-face-style happy.
and that, in turn, makes me happy.
i love it when it all comes together.
of course,
the overdoing it is what makes it work.
i guess that's the secret, though, isn't it?
too much is the right amount.
it's just the way it is...
i mean,
whenever i apply that science to practical procedures,
the results are better than best,
and that's turbo-reliable, each and every time.
those were some very adult-tasting cookies.
the brown sugar in 'em made the outsides firm,
the regular sugar made the insides sweet,
and the exxxtra butterish pats made 'em stay so blarpity,
but in a good way.
not bad for throwing whatever was near enough to grab in a bowl
and bashing it around until i had something to write home about.
that's it.
i'm also still carving cork.
it looks like a heart,
that must be because i loooove it.
so cute!
it takes a lot of labor-intensive time to make it the way i want it.
but i think that's probably a good thing?
i'm just sayin',
the singular focus required to remove the correct scraps and scrawls,
and still end up with a very rough-looking Folk Life freshness,
all scratchy and coarse,
but with all the right details in all the right places,
is some very meditative pressure-point awl-and-gouge exercise.
i'm doing things.
it's really happening.
i'm loud, and i'm fresh, and i'm hard-headed/hearted/styled.
that's real;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, January 19

the catch.

i'm reppin' all the treats, all the time,
there's a catch.
days and days and days of treats on treats on treats on treats,
and then sometimes,
i can't think of anything to make.
baker's block.
is that a thing?
it might be.
oh, for sure, neighbors.
there are long stretches where i can't NOT have molto molto ideas,
and then, in a flash, all of a sudden........nothing.
and i don't wanna just mine the archives for some previous hottness.
i mean it.
so, instead, i'm sittin' here.
and i'm wishing i had a set of silicone dinosaur molds
to make a batch of triceratops-shaped chili chocolates.
that's the truth,
because how cute would little dino-choxxx be in the frosting of some cupcakes?
i'm coming up short on that sh!t,
so it's more lament than advent.
i'm not just sitting here.
i'm also carving little lines of cork out of my block-rockin' albie rock block print.
there are ribbons of beige block everywhere.
i make messes, and i make mistakes, and i make moves,
and usually, they all show up simultaneously,
that's sort of my thing.
being expert and effective and effulgent in my effluvial enterprises.
i get rad when i doo-doo my freaky sh!t.
i couldn't stand it.
check the teleport:
i left my computer for a bit,
wondering aloud and wandering around,
and before too long,
i found myself back in the kitchen above a bowl of brown sugar and butteryness.
word up.
i got activated, and i got interested,
and then i blasted up a batch of battery barbarian cookie monstrousness.
i mean,
i'm NOT an A*hole in real life,
i just portray one for most of the day.
cookies are happening,
and i feel better about this morning already as a result;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, January 18

carving out a spot in my day.

block prints are cool.
i mean,
i like 'em a lot, anyway.
backwards and opposite is a good way to rearrange your
hand-eyeball-scoop-and-gauge coordination.
everything you do isn't there,
everything positive is negative,
and vice versa.
that's expert,
because it's the reverse of what's normally happening,
and on purpose, which is the important factor to consider.
flippin' out in
making art by removing stuff is a welcome change of pace for me.
in this case,
i'm using old style printmaking business to make an old-timey image
of an even-older-timey fish, swimmin' around doing what it does best.
check the teleport:
can you even see it?
i dunno.
i'm still all about those coelacanths, kids.
once the prints are produced,
this one will be looking back,
and dealing with whatever comes his way....
just like it's always been,
for about the last 65 million years.
that's the good stuff on this sunday morning.
underwater, deep and dark, without anybody looking,
for longer than there've been people to even notice.
that's my favorite sh!t.
just be dope, or F* right off,
even at the bottom of the ocean,
rules is rules.
that's it.
so much cork removal is in my immediate future,
but i like to scrape away that stuff,
and create through destruction.
it's healthy, probably;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Friday, January 16

complicate it.

keep it simple?
i like it when there are more fancy pants flavors than my face can handle.
when i'm up early,
using my tart press barbell to blow out not one batch,
but two,
of the cutest little bitty creamchee' puff pastry cups.
that's right.
a double dose of dopeness,
which, with the frequency that i overdo it all,
should probably be considered a single doe, by now.
forty-eight mini-muffin-sized scoops of dough,
flaky, buttery best-case bases for some new stuff ive been thinkin' on.
yeah, neighbors.
i wanted somthing less cakey, and more pastry,
and i did exactly what i set out to do.
i'm not bragging.
this is real life, y'all
and i'm just relaying what happened when the kitchen got heated.
on the ones,
check the baby-bites-of-titanic-tightness-type teleport:
chocolate cream pie filling,
sorta puddingish, but packed epic density,
and so much richness, not to mention protein.
it's got that nutrient-packed power, kids.
a scoople of that, set up and chilled out, would've been enough.....
....if i was a F*ing A*hole.
and i'm not about to settle for enough.
(there's never enough, is there?)
on top of those completely expert tartlets,
there's espresso frosting, expressly whipped to a firm,
and semi-gummy glossy glaze.
too soft and it wouldn't have the heavyweight credibility to hold it's own
against the richness of the crust and the custard.
balance is key here, kids.
we got ourselves that sweet chocolate mousse mastery;
we got bites of the buttery base, crumbly but not brittle;
we got shots of that heavy-creamin' coffee frosting.....
we  just needed that little something to take it to eleven, didn't we?
i know.
i wonder if you guys understand how much of a F* i actually DO give about treats?
because i do,
SO hard.
that's why i hand-dipped a hundred pretzel sticks in melted dark chocolate.
recognize the effort,
because it makes up what matters in the end results...
salty, crunchy, chocolaty elitism, just to make each bite that much better?
rules is rules.
and the very first rule of treats?
too much is the right amount.
it's not like i'm busy sleeping,
and i DO love a fancy pretzel,
and i'm sure you do too.
overdoing it?
that's really just doing it correctly.
i'm doing it correctly.
and there are plenty of 'em for you to share.
you could come visit,
but you won't.
that's fine with me,
because that means i get your share of the treats;
never quiet, never soft..... 

with lines.

mini penne rigate?
they GOT they!
baby-sized 'ronis, bias-cut,
and etched with sauce-catchin' stripes incised to exercise
maximum flavor retention along their perimeter.
surface area texture increases adhesion of the other other stuff too.
an when you boil 'em up, past the to-the-teeth point, in super-salty water,
and add 'em into a bigger picture puzzle of pasta-style oven-ready hottness?
that's what's up neighbors.
the miniature size means more macaroni by volume,
and it pumps up the volume of all that molto molto italiano machismo
reverberating with rigate raybeams inside my mouth.
well, yeah, man, that is definitely a thing.
baked with all the good stuffs, you get that expert jauns.
check the they-GOT-they-type teleport:
damned right, duders,
i doo-doo that blarpity block of rockin' 'roni style sh!t.
word up.
custom soft chee' blend?
you know it.
silken and superfirm tofu, a punch of daiya(rrheally) for texture,
nootch, g.p.o.p., black pepper, crushed red pepper,
oregano, basil, parsley, scallions, and sauteed garlic by the bulbful,
slathered with olive oil and activated with a sprinkle of sea salt.
and into that, i beat it up properly with sausage-style seitan crumbles,
seasoned with soysauce and smoke,
fennel and sage and thyme,
nootch, garlic, red onions, oregano, and basil, and rosemary,
and coarse black peppery power.
and before i added that magic marinara to meld 'em both to the macaroni?
it's a veg-e-ta-ble.
real talk.
garlic kale for more and more bad breath brutality,
and ethnic siciliano stank on my tongue?
i'm not afraid, friends.
oh, yeah.
those are pan-browned seared mushrooms,
with a basil-garlic-cashew-parsley pesto bringing that spicy hotness to bear.
i'm not trying to be a stoopid little diaperbaby about dinnertime.
i mean, that's just not a cool way tp behave, man.
for serious,
i'm a worthy warrior poet, and i won't stop until the job is done.
(the job is done when you're too full to move,
and your mouth has that foggy fugue like genoa)
italian cooking is in my blood,
and my manipulative prestidigitators
are al dente the way hands having teeth are supposed to be.
therefore, when it's time to get busy, i'm halfway there before we start,
and i'll travel the full distance regardless.
that means i'll go too far,
but we know that that's NOT a real thing,
so it all always works out the way it's supposed to.
more 'ronis than the pan could handle?
for sure.
more 'ronis than two pans could handle?
that'd also be a big fat yes.
too much is the right amount,
and now i'm set for a few days with ALL the mackin' macs.
overdoing it is the best way to do it.
half measures are about as lame as measuring is.
i'm guesstimating at twice the normal numbers,
and then i'm adding eleven to THAT.
there needs to be more.
there always needs to be MORE;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, January 15


coffee cake.
four layers of super-elite deluxe dominant coffee cake.
i mean,
i like it,
you like it,
we all like it.
and when there's four different distinct tastes to enjoy?
that's expert.
check the you-are-my-sunshine-type teleport:
oh, c'mon!
with that spectral spectrum of rainbow sparkle magic?
that's that wu-TANG jauns.
oatmeal cookie bottom base-level powerhouse platform performance.
that's good for you, and it soaks up any excess juice from the next tier
of terrifically tremendous taste and texture.
juicy, tart granny smith apple pie-in-your-eye-style goobieblops,
oozing and activating and bringing more delights to your tastehole.
that's just the set-up for a spike off the charts on new hottness.
vegan sour cream, and plain unsweetened soy yogurt, together,
in an initially dense crumb cakey level of real jewish grannie tang.
that sounds weirder than it is.
trust me.
it's got that flavor component game going to eleven.
that's what i'm talking about.
and streusel, too, neighbors.
brown sugary oatfloury, ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon'd-up,
and melty butterish crumbles of that tippity-topping dopeness.
that's right.
because without streusel,
what the actual F* are you even wasting my time with?
that's no joke.
lucky for us,
i'm about that fourth dimensional sh!t.
the mystic added something extra that brings the noise.
it makes it all happen, louder, fresher, and harder-
for serious.
so my breakfast is more awesome,
and my body is more full of nutrients,
and my whole old dumb face is psyched for as many bites as it takes
to disappear a proper slice of superfancy unnecessariness.
and now,
there's a whole thursday's worth of stuff to do.
it's all really happening,
and i can't imagine how there's ever even anything else;
never quiet, never soft.....