Friday, February 27

to grandmother's house.

hey, neighbors!
i'm coming out swinging,
and i'm gonna kick your grandma's butt right off of her body.
listen, man-
i'm on some time-travel future new hottness sh!t,
and i'm not trying to hear about that old busted jauns.
oatmeal cookies.
that's right.
oatmeal cookies.
the province of nanas, and babas, and grammies, and nonis,
and bubbies, and whatever other other old mama noisetalk you got.
i'm about 'em,
and i'm doo-dooin' it better than ever.
i realize that's a bold statement,
but allow me to explain.
chunky snickerdoodle-do doo-doo butterballs are the old guard.
i know, i know, i KNOW you love that cinnamony fresh-baked stuff
you remember.....
this time, this stuff, right here and now?
THIS is truth.
check the teleport, then i'll tell you all about it:
fattie-boombattie knobbly nubs of love!
what's the plan that makes these so 'schuan?
i'll tell you right now, buddy-
crushed vanilla-bean, oats, and vanilla soy yogurt,
steeping together in one bowl, so everything gets soft;
and butterish butts creamed up into a blend of raw sugar, cane sugar,
and brown sugar in another,
with a splash of vanilla, and some whole wheat flour, too?
that's smart.
good eyes on you!
there ARE raisins in there.
that's not enough to dazzle my razzlers, y'all.
so i added chocolate chips, too.
too much is the right amount, every time.
the yogurt, unlike applesauce or some other egg-replacement,
stays moist,
so the cookies stay soft,
and when you've got oatmeal softies on the inside,
and a delicate caramelized sugar crusty crunch on the outside?
yes, indeed, that is some BOOMfire right there.
the thing is, without cinnamon, they ain't sh!t.
that's why i activated a double stripe of drizzly cinnamon-vanilla icing on top.
          dear grammie,
                    your sh!t is obsolete.
                                             love always,
i'm like that.
so what?
i've got my cookies,
and if you've got the appropriate orifice in place,
they are for the eatin'
i'll share 'em, too.
i'm not a jerk,
i'm just a blowhard.
there's a difference;
never quiet, never soft.....

chocolate? CHOCOLATE!

hey guys,
i've been thinking about chocolate.
a lot.
actually, i've been thinking about a lot of chocolate a lot.
how much chocolate, in how many different varieties,
can i blast into one brick of baller-A* barbarian beastmastery?
that's real.
i've been busy, gettin' busy,
and mixin' in ALL the dark brown blasts
of cacao-derivative dopeness directly into the batter.
and that's the truth.
i tried out a new technique,
using less tapioca, for a less fudgy cake,
and i also added in more baking powder and soda, too.
the results were fantastic, neighbors.
the batter was whipped into a frenzy,
but all the cocoa held it firm in place.
the lightest, airiest cakiest new hottness was the result,
and that's no joke...
the thing of it is,
i also added chocolate chips to 'em.
tossed right in there with that superloft fluffiness,
there are turbulent treats breaking up the smoothness
with a little semi-sweet semi-melted hard-style pebbles of deep, dark
melty buried candybar-barian awesomeness.
so expert.
actually, don't just read about it;
go ahead-
check the super-chocolaty-type teleport:
there's just SO much that it's too much,
and that's great news,
because that means they're perfect.
too much is the right amount,
and that's roughly the way i measured out the ingredients.
we've got the chcocolate chocolate chip cake,
and in the middle?
belgian chocolate creme filling.
dripped over the top,
that's dutch chocolate ganache, drizzled in a grid, on lock.
it firmed up, but stayed soft.
no hard chocolate stalemates on my sh!t, y'heard?
and then, on top of that?
cocoa frosting swirlyblops,
really aerated and super soft on the tongue.
that's that melty jauns, and that's good for you.
but, that's not all, y'all.
shavey german chocolate sprankles take it to eleven.
that's how it's done,
and that's what we do.
and by we,
i mean me.
i'm all about this creative bakery treat makin',
and i'm still excited to fire 'em up whenever
i've got two spare minutes next to each other.
it's nice to know that there is always a place for creativity in my day to day life,
even when my career has become a job,
and my hobbies have become the focus of my inspiration over my vocation,
and largely that's due to the site-specific location.
i'm busy,
and i'm doing what i do,
and i haven't once tried to slow down or step off-
being delicious doesn't matter if nobody is hungry,
if you catch my drift......
you're only as expert as your audience knows the difference.
styles stay hard,
and life is pain, princess-
anyone who says otherwise is definitely an A*-hole;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, February 25

in the nood(le)

i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
simmering soy sauce and rice wine vinegar,
and g.p.o.p. and ginger and black pepper and sesame oil
all in one bubbling pan, thinned out to a manageable consistency with H20?
i flash-fried some vegetables,
and by some,
i mean,
a big fat F*ing bucketful.
shishito peppers?
celery, and bok choy, and carrots, radishes,
mushrooms and huge discs of garlic, red onion,
mung bean sprouts, snow peas, and cucumbers?
you'd better believe i seared those mushrooms first,
and i blistered the peppers, too.
a light caramelization on the onions and the garlic,
a quick deglazing splash of broth and the carrots got coated in the remaining oil,
and all of that went into the big pot,
along with the bok choy and the celery already swimming in it.
i love this kitchen,.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is my home,
but it's much more than a free-standing grandstand
for expert woodsly goodness.
for realsies.
it IS really flippin' rad,
and i'm really perpetually propelled by my love of it to work harder,
try harder and do more to make it the best home i can imagine....
it's the place where i make my magic happen.
word up.
there's all sorts of sorcery spellcast across the surfaces of this place.
and when it's wu-TANG wednesday,
there's world cuisine to activate, kids.
and i can't disregard that sort of standing tradition.
rules is rules.
that's a thing.
with no time to spare,
and a hungry bellyhole awaiting me,
i assembled an avenging epic meal of
pan-asian one-pot noodoo bowl-me-over gluttony.
check the deep-deep-dish-type teleport:
what's up with the scallions and the cilantro garnish?
oh, you know-
just being exxxtra expert,
alongside the coolwater crunch of those radishes and cucumbers and sprouts.
(it makes the hotwater heat of that broth even better)
oh, yeah.
there are huge ropy udons underneath all of that.
it wouldn't be a noodoo bowl without 'em, dummy.
too F*ing right, kiddo.
sweet and tart and awesome,
and y'know what else?
with a squeeze of that lime wedge and a bite of radish?
das IT.
that's not all, is it?
i know you saw it.
i know you like it.
and if not,
you might actually be an A*-hole.
veggie dumplings on top???????
a heroic hole filled with awesome needs some pouches of perfection
sittin' all sexy an' that all up on the tippity-top.
if it doesn't go to eleven,
it just doesn't work.
too much is the right amount.
that's all i had got left to say;
never quiet, never soft.....


panniecakes, panniecakes,
eat so much i get a tummy ache!!!
i love 'em.
i'm psyched on pancakes every single time i make them.
and i make them often.
y'know why?
because that's woodsly goodsly griddle grizzlybarbarianism.
i worked all day,
and i hung out with my buddy todd from across the mountains.
he's good people,
and we have good times,
and he gets it.
that's valuable to me.
he got tattzapped with some fun and interesting imagery,
we ate indian food,
he gave me a book (expert)
and we drove around puffin' on cigars and talking sh!t for a good long while.
why was i able to engage in such social activities?
one reason, y'all-
brown sugary slippery ones, at that.
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
before anything else,
i'm starting my days with big burly business,
flapjacked and stacked like i'm serious about getting fat.
y'know what was the best part of THIS morning?
that's riiii-iiight.
are you getting it yet?
pancakes = awesome.
not pancakes = who cares?
too much is the right amount,
and apparently, too often is good, too.
i give no F*s about responsible consumption.
i know that for the time it takes me to terrorize a heap of those batter-beaters,
i am one with the entire energy pattern of an infinite universe.
c'mon, now.
all points converge on pancakes.
that means that yesterday and tomorrow are irrelevant so long as there are
circles of echoing excellence covered in real maple syrup entering my mouth.
i'm ingesting the essence of the unending transformation of energy,
and i'm doing it with my mouth open while i chew.
i'll take what joy i can, where i can.
and these days,
that's the product of active participation and a buttered-up medium-hot pan.
my world is shrinking,
my waist is expanding,
my wasted time is unrelated to the waste produced by overindulging in pancakes.
all of it,
is really happening.
that's how it goes;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Monday, February 23

frozen solid.

ice inside my window?
F* this day so hard.
a low-sloping roofline,
exactly one above-freezing day,
and three feet of snow melting just a little,
and then immediately turning to ice at the ends of the eaves
makes for a really sh!tty morning.
waking up alone in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a cold prospect
on even the sunniest summer day,
but on a blaringly blustery windswept slap across the wintertime
with icicle on my indoor parts?
oh MAN.
that's not cool, at ALL.
at six thirty a.m. i was a-hammerin' my thorlike fury out in battle-beats bursts
on shards of shattering ice fully a foot thick.
i mean,
i smashed,
and i bashed,
and i crashed across the roof like an icebreakin' berserker barbarian.
i like to bash stuff.
and sure, i got stabbed by shrapnel;
i got ice-melt in my mouth
(i'm pretty sure that's poisonous, but in the frozen face of this house collapsing,
i was definitely ok with it being my last meal)
and i froze all my bits and pieces into smaller less useful bits and pieces.
on top of my kids leaving, that was exactly the right amount of lame bullsh!t
to deal with before breakfast.
i love having a good reason to flip out and exorcise my hurt feelings.
beats bottling it up for an undetermined threshold of surprise explosive temper, no?
word up.
i ate too much, again, yesterday.
i always do when i'm feeling the separation sickness
after my girls go back to their 'real' home.
it eats a bag of crap, basically,
and then so do i.
check this out:
and this:
what do they have in common?
they're both ugly, and all wrapped up,
but pretty damned dope on the inside.
get it?
rules is rules,
and you know i love that stuff.
stay ugly, stay dope,
and make sure you overdo it, too,
because too much is the right amount.
i dunno, man.
this last week was faster than i'd have liked.
i'm not in a hurry to pass time,
but i am in a hurry to move on.
it's not easy,
but what ever even really is?
hard styles;
cold nights;
ice dams;
hot damns;
and missing pieces...
it's all really happening,
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, February 22

i might always hate goodbyes.

i might really truly always actually hate saying goodbye.
it gives me an unfinished feeling in my chest.
and today is another 'nother goodbye day.
i've got about five or so hours of road warrior roundtrippin'
before i go to work and do some tattbombin'...
and at the crux of that unavoidable oval recirculation
of time and money, spirit and memory, bitter and sweetness,
there's a great big fat dumb bye-bye hand-off.
i've got these two girls of mine,
and i think they're pretty rad kids.
the only problem is, there's never enough time together with them.
and this extra-short span of wintry vacationing is no exception whatsoever.
cut short,
and already over.
harvest and maple are getting taken to the heart of the weak-sauce,
and handed over for heading back down to the doo-doo butter of their homeland.
today is the day, and it's a bad-vibin' one, already.
awwwwww, man.
i HATE goodbyes, guys.
oh, sure, on the brightish side,
there are hours and hours of car-ridin' big fun,
good talks, pit stops,
and traffic attacks to get through first,
it's still all gonna be over and out by this afternoon.
and that's pure sh!t.
i'm trying to instill these virtuous viking values in these daughters i've got,
and that requires time.
to that end, i'd like a lot more,
and more often.
i AM grateful for the time i have been given.
fun vacation dad is hardly title i'd have chosen for myself, neighbors.
and i'm guessing it's the last honorific you'd bestow on me, as well...
it's pretty weird, considering how much fun i'm normally not.
i guess it really does depend on how you make it, and with who.
for example-
last night we needed a special send-off fond-farewell suppertime spectacular.
and even though we got some sub-sensational sorta-suck pizza pies for lunch,
we made our own extra-expert Folk Life pizza party deluxe when we got home.
the oven took forever and ever to activate the required level of hottness,
but we took that time, together, to laugh at each other,
laud our individual small awesomes,
lament our uniquely weird F*ing faces,
and laugh some more, at ourselves, our friends, and everything else, too.
and also,
that gave me a walloping wide window of ingredient prep time to activate.
we'll all be sad potatoes later,
but when pizza is on the menu,
we're too busy being dope.
check the teleport:
underchee' on a sourdough crust,
with simple-as-heck-sauce, daiya vegan-chee' melties,
little tofurky dawg discs,
and darlin' cute baby broccolini florets.
and that was just one of three.
two more, for me and mine to devour like wild animals.
there's an eleven minute window between pizzas,
eight to eat it up,
and three to make the next one.
it's a system that works,
and we know what to do when there's a tasty still-steamin' saucy circle
sittin' pretty right before our faces.
you know it, buddy.
we beat up this one in record time-
i had a whole extra minute to make another afterwards, even.
check the teleport:
pee eye zee zee ayyyyy.
trader joe has himself some dang lovely savory baked tofu.
that's what's so prominently featured atop this very red ring of awesome.
no foolin',
it was so smoooooooooooth, we pretty much sucked it right down
in the bare minimum of bites.
that underchee' is the TRUTH, too, btw.
for serious.
and then,
we saved the most beautiful and the biggest for the grand finale.
the object was more,
and this identifiably awesome object filled the role with flair.
too much is the right amount.
brussels sprouts make us scream and shout,
and caramelized onions are good for you, in a sugary slippery snakey kind of way.
if you're gonna have a pizza party,
and it's gonna take a while to get everything ready,
you're gonna need a three-pizza entry fee.
that's a thing.
we do what we do,
and that includes an abiding love of food.
my girls aren't vegans,
but they aren't diaper-baby buttheads, either.
they're vegan-friendly,
and they love to create in this Folk Life & Liberty kitchen.
maybe it's just for my benefit,
but the time we're spanning benefits ALL of us.
it's over already,
too soon, and not enough.
i hate goodbyes more than i love pizza,
and that's saying something;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, February 21

twenty seven oh one

i love when the weather report offers you some feelings.
y'know what i mean?
yeah, man....feelings.
the forecast says its negative 18 degrees fahrenheit outside,
it feels like negative 35.
so, now we're catchin' feels over here?
catchin' frostbite, maybe.
what do you know about minus thirty five degrees??!!
i'll tell you what i know, neighbors-
that's some irregular A*-hole-flavored bullsh!t.
and that is the fault of the wind.
the wind is the biggest jerk in the group,
and i'm steady stay-hatin' on it, for effing up
my wintertime family-style staycation.
awwwww, MAN.
there's so much 'sgusting, and just in the ambient air around us.
i know.
i know.
february is the worst.
it's just that i don't think anyone was challenging that title,
so i'm not sure why the whole month has been flexin' it's doo-doo buttermakers
as hard, as often, and as consistently terrible as it has.
that's just poor sportsmanship, no?
you're already winning, nature, so don't be a jerk about it.
that's real.
i guess i'll have to console myself with cookies.
gluten-free coconut macaroon snowballs.
what are those?
they're delicious, and they're treats...
what else do they even need to be?
check the impending-snow-day-type teleport:
anything can happen,
and anything includes cookies, kids.
coconut flour, coconut sugar, coconut flakes.
that's that winter-lookin' stuff that snow bunnies
and photographers love the most.
is that icy winter-white icing?
you bet your b-hole it is,
with those macaroon-fine flakes frosting it so soft and sweetly, too.
they melt in your mouth, like snow,
but without all the brain freeze and wet gloves of real snow.
i like little cute treats,
and i like coconut,
and i LOVE having the oven on in the kitchen.
(negative degrees aren't invited, man)
i'm loading up on calories, like a late-to-the-season polar bear.
i mean it.
i've been shivering myself slimmer,
and if the weather stays like this until april,
i'll have worn myself skeletal with shaky behavior under sweat-lodge layers.
the hardest part about letting my kids have a girls'-night?
i missed 'em.
oh sure, that's some sentimental sap oozing out right there-
it's the truth.
knowing that they're becoming their own future selves,
and that they're pursuing relationships with women
outside of my sphere of influence
and under the auspices of throwback family-style togetherness
is a timespan spanking that's tough to temper with good temper.
ummmm, yeah...
these girls of mine have their own views and opinions of the folks
who care about them, and i guess i'm s'posed to swallow a lot of personal opinions
in favor of their good cheer and good will and good times.
to that end,
they hung out with their exed-out stepped-off step-mom,
and i had dumplings at home instead.
that's allowed.
no, not dumplings.
those aren't just allowed, their mandatory...
i'm talking about hangs with my ex-wife.
i mean, not for nothin',
but they hang with their ma allllll the time,
and she and i have even less in common.
that's just it-
telling your kids to feel the way you want them too is a sure-fire way
to guarantee that they won't.
or worse,
they will,
and all that tells you is that they are easily manipulated and possibly dumb.
...that's not cool.
this isn't the weather report, friends,
even when it feels like negative a-million,
i bet it's probably a positive in the long-term prevailing patterns.
there's no point in prohibiting the presence of people who care about these kids.
they had their time,
i had those dumps.....on my face.

it's all really happening.
swallowing dumplings and wallowing in winter's cold clutches.
no big deal.
true stories, told truly,
and too much of all the hard styles, sore spots, cold spells, nasty spills,
and every other other sort of minor misfortune.
it's inconvenience, or it's nothing.
i think that must be a clause in my contract or something;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, February 20

coffee cup coffee cake

me and my dude,
my ace homeboy,
my ultimo expert hombre,
the cucch, collaborated on some elite treat jauns for our faces.
that's no joke.
when i've got extra hands on deck,
in the test kitchen of this Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
i make good use of 'em.
he creamed the butter and the sugar,
he mixed in the soy yogurt and the sour creamy stuffs,
he sifted the salt and poured the vanilla,
and he stirred in all the flour.
it was fun.
calling out ingredients and quantities on the fly,
and having a competent and capable cook keeping it real alongside me.
that's how taste explosions get poppin', neighbors.
no jokes.
and once we sprayed down some middle-sized muffin tins,
and he portioned the proper plops of battery business in?
we baked it up.
that's how it works, guys.
don't be dumb.
once they were all cooled off from that heavy metal hotbox,
i cinnamon'd and sugared a whole lot of creamchee' and butterish butts.
i did.
and i whipped it up into a super-elite and extra-sexy swirl
on each and every last one of 'em
check the teleport:
little grandma-style coffeecake cupcakes!
i'm tellin' you guys-
they have all that breakfasty taste,
but with enough sweet sugary activation to hold their own all day long.
crisp outer edges, soft, dense, moist crumbs on the inside,
and both-bites'-worth elevated and elucidated
by that cinnamon sugar goobieblop on top.
that's how it's done.
breakfast isn't always cups and cakes, kids.
it's pans and cakes, instead.
this morning,
i experimented with a little double-butter batter,
and a little macaroon coconut.
it traps the air in there, and makes the cakes double fluffed for fuller effect.
i mean it.
go ahead,
check the teleport:
'bout to EXTERMINATE that short stack.
yup, and yum.
i've got explosions of excellence,
flipped off on that griddle jauns,
i measured not one thing, just pinches and punches,
sprinkles and glugs,
and other imprecise portions and proportions.
i doo-doo it like that, just so you know it's really not a joke, jerks.
i use my eyes, and i use my own weird brainmaths, too.
so i use strawberries?
dudes, c'mon with the silly sh!t.
those are clearly straw-style berries up on top.
pow-pow-powdered sugar simple syrupy fruits are expert.
and so is real maple syrup.
and so is breakfast time in the woodsly goodness.
we're into it,
and we appreciate it.
maybe my girls are grateful,
but i'm a bit busy making all the magic happen.
i'll give praise and thanks once i'm finished with the dishes.
real talk.
twenty-seven hundred.
that's how many times i've sat down and typed up one of these.
they say blog is a deceased medium.
i think that might even be a thing.
all my favorite bloggers are now ex-bloggers,
and i seriously contemplate cutting this little ritual out of my daily routine.
i do.
i do what i do, and this is part of it.
the biggest problem with always wanting more?
there's no room for anything less.
i guess 2701 will show up sometime tomorrow, then.
you're welcome, or i'm sorry, or both.
this is it.
too much is right amount,
and the sinking ship of dear-dumb-diary-style social media hasn't hit bottom yet.
i suppose i'm run aground,
and staying on my grind.
there just aren't enough pancakes to placate that kind of faltering ebb and flow.
i'm shoveling shoals, and sh!t,
and the tidal waves of unsuppressible inevitability wash it all back to sea level.
oh, don't worry,
it isn't going to end anytime soon;
never quiet, never soft.....

dumps on your face.

it's been a little minute, neighbors.
i've been sittin' on all that plump dumpy dumplin' science,
and i was letting it fade away.
that's not cool.
dumps are the dopeness.
and the thing of it is,
it was a china-style lunatic new year,
all chappy goats and rammin' rams-
and my daughters are around,
and it's so flippin' cold all day and night that we need extra nutrients
just to keep from fading away into transparent steam ghosts in this
somewhat-windy-on-the-inside Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
that's a lot going on, all at once-
and when it's all really happening that hard,
and the hardest styles are even harder, because they're frozen solid?
we NEED dumplings.
and, really, when we see a need, we fill it.
that's the Folk Life family togetherness sh!t that really matters.
check the teleport:
on your face.
custom soyfire dippin' sauce,
with ginger and pepper and rice wine vinegar,
a little sugar, and sesame oil?
my fat little purses of activation have got it goin' ON, guys.
that's real.
a bit of radish, a bite of dumpling, a drop of sauce,
and you're having a new year's party before you finish chewing.
that's expert.
the only real drawback to all that pinchy pouchy paunchy pocket party time?
those F*ers take forever to make.
mini minced carrots and celery and mung bean threads, and cabbage,
and smooshed-up tofu, and so much onion and garlic,
before the g.p.o.p. and sesame oil, and the tamari,
and the ginger and mustard, and the rice wine deglaze haze for days.
it's an awful lot of effort,
but it's totally worth it, onve they're sittin' pretty on a plate.
the time involved leading up to the big reward is just such a laggin' drag, though.
and that's considering that i made the fill-in filling mix in the morning!
the simple dough was the result of a quick drip and knead when i got home.
that's the easiest part, really-
water, flour, salt, and a bit of stirring...
then it's roll-roll-roll-your-dough, gently at the seams.
merrily, verily a lot of glass and circles and stacking ensue after that.
i'm just sayin'.
y'make that filling,
then, there's the rolling out of all that well-rested warm-water dough;
then you gotta pack those circles,
and pinch the edges, so it's crimped on top, and flat on the butt,
and then you go right on ahead and rest 'em all over again......
and then heat up your oil and layer those flavor grenades right in there extra close.....
and when they start to sizzle, all pop and crackle and snap?
splash 'em with water, cover 'em, and let the steam absorb into their skins.
then, and only then,
have you finally got all that heavenly hottness by the lack of light of the new moon,.
the things i do to make a moment with my kids.
they just ate them, hungrily, happily, impatiently,
after a lot of laughs in the kitchen while i worked,
and they watched,
and we talked,
and time passed.
we span it, the time-
expansive, expensive, intensive, hypersensitive, all of that.
it's all really happening,
and when we're together,
it's the best part;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, February 19


happy chinese lunar new year, duders!
rams, goats, and horned fauns and satyrs, too, probably.
it's a new year (sorta),
and just to be safe,
i said what needed sayin'.
rabbit rabbit.
magic words for the chappiest goats and rammiest rams.
so weird, but also so necessary.
and also,
i made treats.
that's the thing that mattered even more.
after all,
treats are what we're all really here for, anyway.
check the teleport:
c'mon, now, neighbors.
you see the depth and strength on those jauns?
i know you do.
you into those stacks on stacks on stacks?
imperial biscuits, in triple decked full effect.
word up.
you 'bout that, or not?
hell yeah!!
that's correct.
you gotta be on that futuristic business, or what is even the point of you?
british empire biscuits are pretty neat,
but these are barbarian empires, y'all.
a whole bar of chocolaty truffle, ground down into shavey slivers,
and folded into the sugary cookie dough, extra gentle, so they stayed solid.
that's careful creation, kids, and it's worth it.
that makes 'em look a little bit banana-y,
but it's F*ing chocolate bar shards, sucker!
i'm trickin' your face, and treating your tastes, because that's what i DO.
the cookie portion is crisp,
but that creamy dream in-between is the TRUTH.
a little cream chee',
a little buttery butts,
a lotta cocoa,
and tons of whippin' whisky whirlwind activation.
that makes it so smooth, and creamy, and soft.
and that little top ghost circle of cookie baby cuteness?
they're new year cookies, man, so they need a baby new year moon.
i'm not reppin' that mincey nancypants sh!t.
no way.
ways and means.
that's what's on my mind this morning.
i got myself a few ways of doing things that work,
but i don't have the means to break away from where and what i'm doing.
tell me about it.
there's a certain amount of efficient proficiency that is appreciated,
but after that,
it's expected, overlooked, and often taken for granted.
that's a very hard style.
for example-
i bring in the treats i make to the studio.
i'm not trying to be a fat F* and eat 'em all myself,
and i know that my clients are all about that confectionary excellence.
my largely undeserving co-workers can have some, too,
as a gesture of conciliatory kindness from me to them.
provided they ask first, though.
i mean, before you assume it's all here just for you.
that's a principle that should be observed anyway.
and then a thank you would be nice.
that's called having manners,
mostly, though,
these one-way-streeters i'm spanning time alongside do the opposite.
helping themselves, or worse,
offering these little masterpieces to their clients and friends,
and claiming gratitude, and exhibiting generosity and viking virture,
by proxy, through false efforts and absent skills.
i am so serious when i say i SO can't hang out with that.
i do get it, in a way.
i'm not dumb, y'know?
nobody else ever makes treats or brings in anything....
because why try at all,
let alone try any harder,
to contribute and actively participate,
when the rewards of spectator wallflowering are so delicious and numerous.
i guess the message hasn't reached them yet.
that message:
just be dope, or F* right off.
i'm ready for the next big effort,
the logical ensuing push of hottness,
the more and bigger and better something else.
y'ever get to that point?
i've been ready to cut loose from the source of much of my anger and anxiety,
the unbalanced ballast that holds me down and holds me back.
where i live is fantastic,
where i work is not.
i have the ways,
i lack the means.
unless of course, you mean, the means, as in the not-nice.
i've got plenty of that these days.
this here is a true story, friends.
they all are.
lunar new year?
same as the old year;
never quiet, never soft.....

famished for fam'wiches.

hey there, neighbors!
it's yet another 'nother snow day up here nestled in among
the blissfully brutal now-you-know-why-they-call-'em white mountains.
that's pretty lame, all things considered.
i mean, sure-
harvest and maple, my still-a'sleepyheaded teen daughters like it....
...but they aren't gonna shovel a flippin' flake, so why wouldn't they?
i'm not being a babycake, here, either, guys.
i'm not opposed to the natural weather pattern for this part of the year, either.
shoveling, shivering, snot-drippin' chapeed-lippin' ice-slippin' is part
of the woodsly goodfellowship of worthy warrior poetry.
they simply don't have that in permamently-pleasant places, and that's no joke.
the thing of it is,
while february is predictably a crap month,
this particular arctic blast cut my super-secret extra-special visit short by a full night.
my very best buddy, now a utard, (or whatever utah folks are called)
is back on the east coast doin' some work for a very limited time-
and he commandeered a vehicle specifically for a jaunt up to these icy peaks,
to visit his peoples in these hills.
the cucch was here...
...and then he wasn't.
all thanks  to the buckets of stoopid snow that effed up the evening.
awwwwwww, man.
me and the girls got to visit with my numero uno hombre for an afternoon,
and make treats,
and eat treats,
and talk sh!t,
and get rad,
and terrorize some hello/goodbye sandwiches.
family dinner was between baguette, b!tches.
and it was expert.
check the fam'wich-type teleport:
don't even act like you're not about that boomfire, bro.
not-so-chickeny beige strips of pea protein,
seasoned and smoked and sweetened a scooch,
a pan-toasted heavy-duty mouth-slicin' demi-baguette,
apples and onions, caramelized, for a blended flavorful bite,
and with a few crawnchy jauns in there, too.
pickle staxxx, for sharpness,
whole grain dijon mustard shmears, to counterbalance those pickles,
and a slaw to activate your whole entire jaw, y'all.
flat leaf parsley, napa cabbage, celery and radishes?
crawnch, spicy bite-back, flavor, coolness, hottness, and everything nice.
i don't know how YOU get down with dinner,
but family togetherness calls for some big action around here.
we doo-doo that sit-down-shut-up-and-eat-style sh!t.
and we do it as hard as we can.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress was abuzz yesterday.
waffles in the morning,
sandwiches in the evening,
treats of all sorts in-between,
and peoples coming together to make it all matter and mean something.
i love that.
and i'm grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....