Monday, July 27

that sweet treatsy activation.

i love 'em,
you love 'em,
we all love 'em....
and if you happen to be someone who doesn't?
you're probably an A*-hole.
and that's all there is to it.
treats, though, neighbors.
i mean, c'mon.
sugary yumyums for your mutha-flippin' FACE.
that's what i'm pretty much all about all the time.
there's no such thing as too many treats,
and no treats have ever made me bummed out by being too complicated, either.
i want you to check the so-many-expert-flavors-type teleport real quick:

chocolate peanut butter chee'cake!!
coconut cookie crumbs and graham crackery crumbles for the crust....
a heavy dense dope cocoa-loco layer of peanut-buttery creamchee' batter,
topped with mysterious secret chocolate chip hottness,
for a surprise chunky crawnch in the middlezone,
and then a second set-up of whipped peanut butter creamchee' mousse on top.
that's some serious sh!t.
smooth as heck, airy, light, and almost spellbinding in it's sugary perfection....
but, that's not it.
how could it be?
there's MORE, of course.
dark chocolate ganache drizzled in a diagonal crosshatch lattice
of luxuriously rich delicious dopeness,
...and then a whole mess of crushed and toasted peanut sprankles.
layers and layers of flavor,
all working towards one common goal-
to take our tasty treats situation to eleven.
we doo-doo that ultimate activated big action around here.
if you aren't about a treat this rad,
you're definitely an A*-hole.
that's a thing.
we're here.
eating treats.
that's the best we can do sometimes,
so we do it as hard as we can.
dessert after breakfast?
that's something we're doing these days.
i think we deserve it.
i mean,
we are the architects of our own edible edifices,
and there's always room on the blueprint for a pastry patio.
more is better,
superfancy is mandatory,
and real life is up to us to embellish with excellence.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

bread & puppet.

oh MAN,
it felt so good to take a family trip.
i mean,
for really real, neighbors, it hasn't been a thing for a little minute,
and the past-time well-nigh necessity of tradition being resumed
was right there for the taking...
and we took it.
bread & puppet theater,
and the overtakelessness circus,
in F*ing full effect,
affecting us on practical and provocative levels,
all day.
the thing is, nature always wins,
but once in a while, she also shows a little class and benevolence....
i mean,
it was a rainy sh!t-salad smearface of a day over here in northern new hampshire,
but westwards, up in the grassy reaches of the northeast kingdom of vermont?
they had the hot hot hot weather,
and the bright bright bright sunshine,
and the stinky stinkpits of a hundred hippies prancing and singing
like a troupe of aquarian-age advocates.
what is overtakelessness?
high-concept hippie jauns from the past, i guess.
beats us.
we were way too busy enjoying ourselves to overthink anything.
when there's this much expert sh!t to experience?
there's no time to sit and ponder like a ponce.
word up.
there ARE some people who think that thinking IS doing something,
and they're not 100% wrong.
yet, for all their the marginal accuracy,
it's just not doing something all that productive.
me and mine went over and out,
and had a heck of a good time.
i needed it.
that reminder that there is so much more going on, everywhere,
than the small and sour shoplife i've been living all summer.
there is value elsewhere;
there is good happening in places i can be;
there's even room for MORE fun around here.
(not today, it's still a rainy crapslap on OUR side of the mountains)
the thing is, friends-
i want more time.....but not so i can keep wasting it.
that hippie crap is top-secretly ingrained in my DNA.
if i think about it too much,
it'll be like doing nothing about it.
nature wins,
and nature creates losers,
but somewhere in between all of that,
it's all unfolding according to plan.
never quiet, never soft.....

truth telling.

you don't have to be a brementown musician to appreciate it,
but it helps-
real talk from the great northern woods,
brought to you by the cheap art craftspeople of glover, vt.
that's all;
never quiet, never soft.....

toast upgrade.

vegan french toast.
..i know, right?
you thought that wasn't even a thing,
but it is SO a thing.
and we did it, we had it, we ate it all up,
and felt fat and heavy and satisfied by those thick and luscious slabs
of english toasting bread.
i'm for real, english toasting bread french toast.
that's how i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
we went all out.
check the teleport:
if standard french toast is like toast being taken to eleven?
we took THAT to eleven, without question.
i sawed off several exxxtra-wide slices of bread,
let 'em sit out and stale up for a spell,
and made some wizardly breakfast alchemy in a mixing bowl on the side-
i got my almond flour, and ground coconut flakes,
crushed-up flaxseeds and a punch of nootch,
all stirred into a salt-pinched pour of vanilla-laced vanilla soymilk,
with cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger juicing it up.....
and we buttery pitter-patted down a piping hot pan,
and sizzled that drizzle into all kinds of brown.....
and then really got busy activating some savage stormswept gypsy hottness!!
sliced fresh bananas,
real new hampshire woodsly goodsly maple syrup,
and toasted black walnut sprankles!?!
so expert.
but, wait, there's a whole other 'nother other one,
and that one has some real real sauce-
mostly blueberry (with a few raspberries, too) compote,
with lemon zest and vanilla for fully-functional depth of flavor,
and a scoople of vanilla almond milk ice cream!!!!
because too much is the right amount,
and alllllll the nutrients need to get inside my mouth asap.
i don't know about what you guys were into yesterday,
but we had ourselves a super-elite morning munch-up.
an abiding and deeply-ingrained love of shark-gluttonous bite-and-swallow
food indulgence, founded by a powerful love of flavor...
we have a thing we do over here,
and a huge part of it is making ourselves something to eat.
the second half is savoring every morsel as it gets mashed into oblivion
by our enameled masticators while we talk with our mouths full,
in order to fill our hearts and minds at the same time.
this is how we bond, b!tches.
if you can't hang out, don't hang out.
we're here to eat all the treats, and talk all the sh!t-
it's all really happening, and i wouldn't change a thing;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, July 25

too literal a translation.

from the first to the last of it,
this friday was a real A*-hole.
grocery shopping before work?
dumb idea.
every vacation mom on earth was in the supermarket,
stocking up on hot dogs and sodas,
because the forecast is demanding a rainy weekend interrupt
the week's worthy woodsly goodsly sunshiny days.
 ...which means the studio will be mobbed with individuals
demanding we provide them with spur-of-the-moment satisfaction-
we're all booked solid, and that's no joke, so they're beat,
and so are we, in more ways than one.
rainy, crowded, busy business, with no time, less inclination.
and less desire to light a fire under my tattzappin' machines than ever before...
and now here's old and busted me, hurried, harried, haggard,
and with a whole house full of daughterly dopeness
that needs attention and attending to?
guys, yesterday is bleeding over into today,
and that's not so cool.
i tattooed my buddy thatcher yesterday.
a good idea, on a good dude, in a terrible spot, for hours and hours-
and while i was working on something and someone i enjoy,
some of my regular clients were jumping ship,
and getting zipped up on by my competitive, semi-competent coworkers.
three people, in one day, making some changes in 'artistry'?
that's almost a referendum, huh?
seems i'd better start saving my movie checks,
lest this become a trend.
work isn't supposed to be fun, i s'pose, and every good time comes with a pricetag,
namely, a week or two of hard styles, tough times, bad blood, and'or hurt feelings.
that's not even the worst part.....
the thing is,
a sh!tty day of work isn't even sort of a new experience.
i mean,
that's not gonna spoil family dinner, is it?
i'm just sayin'-
it was feel awful falafel friday,
and that's a highly anticipated super-yummy big deal over here.
both of my girls each got an exemplary edition of my famously fresh-to-death
falafel ball-out friday flatbread with each and every available fixin'.
after all,
you know i've gotta instill a healthy sense of awe in these impressionable teens.
the frying oil made some last-minute unscripted changes,
and after my kids got their eleven-style hottness,
the viscous venom got vindictive,
and dissolved every ensuing ball of chicky pea-pea into garbanzo goo.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww, man.
check the teleport:
F* me, am i right?
one fresh falafel sandwich.......hold the falafel.
the one bright spot i anticipated after a discouraging day became another 'nother
deep dark pit of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
womp womp.
oh, don't worry.....
i burned through all the remaining mix trying to salvage the situation.
(i ate a verrrrry fancy hummus sandwich, in the end)
after the discouraging day of wholecloth large-scale doo-doo buttery
starting-at-sun-upand-submerging-into-overcast-crappiness that preceded this repast?
i already felt awful.
and then i just felt even worse.
don't think i'm a quitter.
we went outside for a fire!
hot fire fixes a whole lot of sh!t-salad.....
.............or is it?
that's a combustible cardboard smorgasbord,
because i guess nature was taking umbrage at the idea of us tying the score,
it rained on us.
looks like nature wins yet again.
one order of cold, wet, buggy butthole-ish eventide for dessert
to finish off whatever was left of our collective optimism.
at that point,
we watched the newest hercules movie,
just to really wallow in the weak sauce of sucktarded cinema.
what a day, what a day.
there will be more of all of that, in one form or another,
all dang day today, too.
it's all really happening,
and lots of it is really NOT actually all that good.
now there's a true story to tell your kids, huh?
no gloss, and no great tragedy,
but no great success either.
it's just real life,
and that's all there ever is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, July 24


when you make nachos,
it's likely that all your sh!t is molto weak.
when WE make nachos?
get ready-
because from the tortilla chips to the topmost toppings' toppity-tips,
our berserker barbarian burliness is molto STRONG.
that's no joke.
we start with the big action, a.k.a. the exxxpensive fancy chips,
one whole $5 bag of 'em, spread heavy on the tray...
and then there's the custom refried beans,
poppin' with onions and cilantro and g.p.o.p. and nootch.
dropped in brown blops all over the place.
that's mandatory for fresh nacho hottness.
we grilled up some leeks with shredded house-made seasoned seitan strips,
drizzled with fire-roasted chile juice.....
which we drained from the fire-roasted chiles
that were mixed in with the black beans and scallions for the 'chos.
wooooooooord up.
that's two-part chile utilization,
and that's super-elite symbiosis,
and that is also expert.
in fact,
take a quick peek at the way we bring the thunder and lightning,
via the activated-nacho-libre-type teleport:
with daiya(rrhea) chee' allllll over it, in two tiers...
plus black olive sprankles,
and salsa verde, for just that little bit extra of those juicy jauns,
furiously baked in fuego,
for molto magic at dinnertime, in F*ing full effect.
so, basically, what i'm saying is-
what y'all'd probably call super-nachos,
we just call everyday nachos....
because rules is rules,
and too much is the right amount.
yeah, you do.
our way of doing things goes to eleven.
it has to.
or else how would we know we're indulging in luxury?
yeah. ...that's what's up.
family dinner is important.
especially when all-day work is ruining our otherwise awesome
big fun summer vacation times together....
there's more of that today, too.
there WILL be falafel tonight.
i mean,
it IS friday after all.
we pursue our own small joys,
day after day after day,
until our time is up,
and we're forced to once again span new minutes in old places,
without each others' company to fill in the blanks.
that means every moment matters more when we're here,
in the fresh mountain air, and summery breeze of the woodsly goodness...
it's all really happening,
and that's the best we can hope for;
never quiet, never soft.....


rice and oats.
sounds like dinner and breakfast, to me.
in this instance,
i'm talking about treats.
gluten-free cookies, round two, this week...
there's something about a crisp-edged soft-centered little roundie
that make me want to devour it and all it's friends all at once in a feeding
frenzy of cookie monstrous size, strength, ad savagery.
i can't help it.
i keep making lots of cookies,
because i keep eating LOTS  and LOTS of cookies.
that's for serious, neighbors.
it's almost as if when they're also gluten-free, they're not really cookies;
they're more like 2/3rds cookie, and 1/3 pretend.
that means 33% more cookies are allowed, y'feel me?
we're representing the mighty toasted walnut, with authority.
that's right.
chunks of toasted walnuts, all burly and brainy and slightly bitter,
bashed apart, and strewn throughout the dough,
for a chawnky, crawnchy bite, in amidst the squish of that wheat-deficient disc.
they're good.
don't be a baby.
check the teleport:
with lemon extract, and so much lemon zest,
and a walnut halved on top, for flair.
our treats are tremendously expert.
because if we're gonna eat 'em,
we better be able to enjoy 'em.
that's smart.
i like my sugary snacks to be fancy.
i like my fancy-pantsed baking times to be productive.
i like when it all comes together.
i like you.
most of that is true, anyway.
tonight's the night.
friday night.
me and the girls are gonna have to get rad,
maybe with some fire?
maybe with a moose hunt?
maybe with a bb gun and this damned baby bear,
who is back on the prowl, btw.......
nature wins,
and even when we're temporarily tied,
she seeks out sneaky, subtle, and unfair advantages.
it's ALL really happening,
tonight, tomorrow, forever.
with or without us.
we're part of it, for now, and that's something, for sure;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, July 23

spice fear.

maaaaaaaaaan oh MAN!
i had falafel on my brain yesterday.
i mean,
it's pretty much the sandwich that stacks up all the hottness
in every single tahini-slathered bite.
that's a thing.
my daughter harvest is missing something essential in her DNA,
and it's clearly not from my genes....
she offered suggestions by the mouthful,
for anything BUT. falafel.
well, i don't get it either.
however, i can cook other stuff,
and the rest of us will eat anything, as long as it's expert....
just this once, we let the kid pick what we made.
don't worry-
falafel can wait a day, duders.
instead of fried bean balls and pickles and flatbread,
we went molto italian,
and freaked off a fresh pot of pasta y fagioli.
check the beany-dream-type teleport:
shells of semolina, al dente and excelente,
with a sauuuuuuuuuuuce that rocks the party so hard.
it wasn't what i originally wanted,
but damn if it wasn't just what i needed.
slow simmered sweet onions,
quartered orange and red grape tomatoes,
four cloves of fresh chopped garlic,
and two more crushed ones added in at the end,
for even more super-powered nutrients from the earth!
we poured in a cup of vegetable broth, cracked black pepper,
g.p.o.p., nootch, and fresh picked oregano and rosemary,
a bay leaf or two, and a big ol' bunch of basil.
that's the stuff.
...for serious.
i used roman beans. (whatever those are)
for a serious, medium-skinned meaty protein punch.
i'm tellin' y'all-
i didn't want italian awesome sauce when i started cooking,
but by the time i garnished each rustic bowl with sprigs of oregano flowers?
i was right where i wanted to be.
and i'll give my daughter credit....she had a good idea-
despite her only stirring for about sixteen seconds in total;
she's convinced she actually helped.
ahhhh, kids...they're so adorable.
we're probably having falafel tonight...
nobody escapes all the way from the call of the chick pea.
you can postpone the inevitable,
but i mean,
it's inevitable.
so, it's coming our way.
maybe nachos tonight,
and a fury-fueled feel awful falafel friday tomorrow?
no matter what, however,
we're eating well,
and we're eating together.
family dinner is good for you.
that's real;
never quiet, never soft.....

gluten-free, but not weak.

i'm not a little wheat-wimp.
i love bread the most, even.
i want all the baked greats to be in my mouth all the time.
i'm not mean-spirited, even when i'm being mean.
that's really just more or less a by-product of a direct line of action
between my thoughts, words, and deeds.
it's like being a jerk by proxy, based entirely on theoretical principles,
put into practice as a matter of applied philosophical science.
oh, never mind.
here it is, in laymans' terms-
i make wheatless, meatless, dairy-free treats,
because i can,
because i don't really think most glu'tards know about what's expert,
and because super-fancy unnecessariness shouldn't be exclusively
the province of wheat and rye.
check the teleport:
i mean, right?
they've got a little bit of an earthy vibe rolling off of 'em,
but not so much that we'd imagine they taste like crap.
that's word....
i'm making the hottness to be enjoyed by sophisticated palates,
and also by my daughters and i,
the thing is,
i'm using rices, and seed hulls or whatever, to do it.
white and brown rice flours, held together with applesauce, and vegan butters,
and vanilla, and brown sugar,
with xantham gum and oatmeal combined to bind and bond all the bits into
one cohesive fighting force for full-flavored freshness in every dang bite.
and then we take it up a click,
with chopped coconut flakes, and crushed cacao nibs!!
all of that, all at once, is what makes soft cookies, completely non-gritty,
well, except for the mix-ins, obviously.
we treat ourselves with tight bite, sweet crumb,
and pulverized cacao niblet sprankles on top, too.
c'mon, y'all.
i'm making that hippie crap into crucial activation, totally devoid of patchouli fools,
and patchwork pants.....
one hand-rolled and flattened ball of dough at a time.
that bastard baby bear is back.
the little jerk.
i guess his love of scattered seeds
has overpowered his fear of fast-moving ball bearings,
for now.
although, a loud shout sent him racing away this time,
and no air-powered rifles were brought to bear on the bear.
lucky him.
a day off with the kids is anything but.
we got pots and plants;
groceries and niceties and amenities;
we made seitan from scratch (well, they slept, and i cooked),
and falafel mix, too!!!
all of it, all day,
repotting new leafy greenery;
driving through the mountainous new hampshire scenery;
eating treats and loaves and waffles and whatever else;
chugging bottle after bottle of fancily-flavored elite seltzer water;
burning cardboard,
watching movies......
i'm just sayin'-
we ran around and hung about and raced back and forth,
from the moment they awoke (hours after me)
to the moment we all retired to the beds that wondered what took us so long.
it all really happens,
in better ways, and bigger amounts,
when family togetherness is the foundational big action;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, July 22

more ivy, less poison.

all my orchids al simultaneously took a nose-dive into the depths
of despair, disrepair, and dystrophic entropy.
they F*ing all died overnight, duders.
do i want new ones?
i want the favorite flora of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
in abundance, and i want it now.
good news, neighbors....
i can doo-doo that sort of repotting action with not much in the way of difficulty.
that's a thing.
new dark soil,
old bark bits from those dumb dead orchids,
and a fresh batch of ready and willing new varietal vines.........
it's happening, already, and they're growing up and out before my very eyes.
check the teleport:
reaching, clinging, climbing tendrils of ambition are always invited
to the woodsly goodsly warrior poetic world of oxygen-rich righteous real life.
i mean, i'm pretty psyched about it all:
and my kitchen, home to several cuttings and clippings that've been rebooted
and rerouted AND rerooted,
has a new hanging jar of juicy leafy hottness looking axxxtra fresh, too:
we love it,
and it loves us,
and it's official the patron plant of warrior poetry.
we're our own ivy league up here,
with brick and cedar,
birch, mahogany, and bamboo, too.
this is where we thrive,
and it's where we let our grasp extend into the ether of our infinite natures.
more ivy,
more pots, more mulch, more of all of it, until every available window sill
is stuffed with cascades of spade-shaped leaves,
and the house becomes one collective living breathing entity.
that's expert,
and that's the sh!t that's going on around here these days.
we're growing, guys,
and getting bigger and better and increasing all the angles in every direction.
too much is the right amount,
and we're not just talking about it,
we're being about it;
never quiet, never soft.....

crushing the waffle scene.

i may be a C+ parent,
but i am an A+ waffle enthusiast.
that's at least halfway accurate.
after a tiresome exchange of liquids-
ink, blood, coffee, water, urine, sweat, etc.....
-i journeyed to the realm of the weak and lackluster lameness,
and deep in the heart of a sh!t-salad shopping plaza,
retrieved my darling daughters for a week of fresh family togetherness.
running late, weaving through traffic at marginally safe speeds,
texting while driving and while spitting hot fiery cigar-ash from my tongue,
after interacting overlong, and underbudget, with awful and entitled clients
is NOTHING compared to the seven minute wait for some chipotle.
real talk.
i mean,
harvest and maple are great kids,
and i rushed and raced to see them, for sure....
they don't have four different salsas for my face, do they?
that's what's up.
we got in late,
stayed up way later,
and while i was up at the same sort of early-shirley squirrely dawn's-first-light,
they slept in,
and got up just in time for waffles.
check the deluxe-luxury-type teleport:
wu-TANG waffle wednesday?
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
oatmeal coconut brown sugar waffles,
with vanilla and vanilla soy milk and vanilla vegan yogurt,
lookin' all sorts of extra-sugary-crispy and heavy.
i know what's good for us.
lemon zest, and a fresh-squeezed lemon, mixed in with vanilla beans,
and blueberries, and raspberries, and strawberries,
for a flavorful, citrus-activated tart and sweet compote?
a scoople of that OVER some real maple syrup is the TRUTH.
no question.
and just to take it to eleven,
we're reppin' toasted pecans sprankles,
melted butter and vanilla extract drenched,
rolled in confectioners sugar, cinnamon, and a pinch of nutmeg.
because too much is the right amount,
and we're mutha-flippin' expert,
from our first meal to our last.
family togetherness is sort of my favorite part.
everything else is just busywork in-between.
we've got a full house full stomachs, and full hearts.
it's all really happening, again,
and not a moment too soon.
this is it, and that's that;
never quiet, never soft.....