Wednesday, October 1


i am still doing crafty nerd things.
in fact,
i'm actually doing crafty nerd things SO HARD!
taking all of these toy guns i get,
and activating their inner anachronistic expertism.
because too much is the right amount,
and overdoing it is even better than doo-dooing it.
that's real.
my latest creation?
a super-bass-boosted subsonic percussion revolver,
with all the rivets and twice the brass finish.
check the steam-boiler-bullet-blaster-type teleport:
and of course,
it's asymmetrically sexy:
that's pretty cool, tho, no?
oh, stop it...
i know it isn't a cupcake.
i mentioned that awareness last time, didn't i?
that's right. i did.
so many parts, piecemeal and patchworked,
a compressor elbow,
bottlecaps, a laptop stand ends, pvc for days on end,
wires, and spools, and tire valve caps, large air hose adapters,
and even genuine ar-15 magazine baseplates.
i especially like the trigger guard.
a big ol' circle makes it look exxxtra dope.
at least, i think so, anyway.
it still shoots, too.
rubber bullets.
and that's pretty rad, as far as function and form are concerned.
that's it.
so, yeah, i made something into something better.
that's kind of my thing,
when i'm not too busy making it all much worse.
i can't decide which i prefer,
so i do an awful lot of awfully good,
and a whole lot of blessedly awful,
and i do it all to eleven.
that's the only way it even ever works.
falafels, and cake, and rivets and wires, and tattoos, and books....
every day is full of itself,
and every day is too long and too short,
and it's all too much.....
that's how you know it's going the way it's s'posed to;
never quiet, never soft..... 


happy october, neighbors!
and happy albier'ocktoberfest to you, too!
y'know what i did this morning, first things first?
the same thing i do every morning when my eyes open up,
and i roll up and shake the sleep out of my bones.
that's right.
i said the magic F*ing word.
because that's what's done when the calendar flips over another 'nother page.
that's a thing, no question.
well, obviously, i said it out loud, and out VERY loud at that.
who am i worried about waking up?
don't be dumb.
i've been up since forever and ever ago.
and when i popped my peepers on the dark skies,
and clocked the clock at today o'clock?
that's when i said it:
rabbit, rabbit!
uh huh.
y'gotta spit out the good luck garnering ultramagnetic coincidence collector.
i know the rules, duders.
i was right there when they were decreed.
(out of my own mouth, just like that hare-echo jauns this mornin')
i did it, because i doo-doo that first-of-the-month 'hood sh!t.
that's a fact.
it's documented, i meant it-
and now,
it's october.
albier'ocktober, as a matter of fact.
that means ALL the loud fresh hardness is right here,
in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
in the woodsly goodness,
in the white mountainous autumn heights,
for your mutha-'ucking face.
you might wanna come get some.
there's plenty for everybody.
baking stuff with pumpkin.
because that's NOT what happens in september, y'all.
october 1 is a full-steam-ahead go-time rock-out bakery treats explosion.
so keep those peepers peeled,
because there are epic orange-colored, nutmeggery, spiced-up
squash-flavored expertisms headed your way.
y'know somethin' else?
they may even be in the oven right now, as i sit here typing.
true story.
real life unfolds along the creases and crisp cut edges of an origami blueprint.
it's not predestined,
it's just plotted loosely,
and the rest is improvised.
like my recipe creation;
like my crafty art-makin';
like my motormouthed ad-lib activation.
it's ALL really happening,
fast and loose and slow and steady at the same time-
counterbalanced wrenches, turning it up and down, in and out,
off and on, forever and ever and ever.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, September 30


you know what's up, right?
that's right.
more fair.
more falafel.
i mean,
work was a tired old slow lazy mess of a butthole, anyway.
and that's always a bummer.
going to a place you aren't psyched on in the first place,
because there's somewhere else you'd rather be,
and then being unable to make the best of it,
when nothing good even walks in through the doors all day?
SO lame.
that meant closing shop early,
and terrorizing the afternoon away with great treats for my bellyhole.
what happens when you ask for no beets,
and the falafel wizards conjure it up anyway?
you get another 'nother free exxxtra one.
check the triple-threat-goodbye-to-september-type teleport:
that's the universe trying to fatten me up with freebies of frighteningly good mojo.
and luckily, for my mouth,
the beat-A* beets one went down so smoothly, regardless of the red pulpy poop on it.
i LOOOOVE falafels, neighbors.
and once those clankers sank into the sarlaac in my stomach,
there was really only one thing left to do.
you better believe it.
apple goobieblop-topped, maple-icing-drizzled, powdery-sugared fried F*ing dough.
being a shark-glutton is good for you.
it tastes good for you, at any rate.
september, friends.
all gone now.
bye bye.
next up?
i'm ready for what's next;
never quiet, never soft.....

there is only one truth...

...and that is falafel.
check the teleport:
the one on the left has babaganoush in it,
instead of hummus!!
that was yesterdays's especially special.
and it sure was especially special and supremely delicious.
so that happened,
because rules is rules, after all.
and the fair is for eating.
i've been twice so far, and i haven't looked at a single animal.
i might not even at all this year.
i mean,
honestly, true stories are what i tell, so here's one for your face-
i don't give a F* about farm animals.
at all.
like, AT ALL, at all.
poop and wool and poop and sausages and poop and leather and poop and steak.
that's pretty much what they are made out of.
it smells bad and looks worse and feels terrible to be around them.
i'll probably skip that whole section.
that leaves me way more time for fried dough dessert moments.
(steer buttholes, while enormous,
just aren't very good for inspiring maple-icing apple-pie treats.
too many sour beige splats ruin the idea of sugary beige splats.
that's real.)
september is just about done for.
but falafel is still going strong.
the bust times at work are over and out,
but i'm still showing up and fighting the good fight.
now i bring craft supplies with me, too.
effective time usage is becoming more and more important.
as i close out yet another 'nother month of hard styles and grim prospects,
i'm grinding away at those movie checks,
and i'm dreaming of treats.
i do what i do because what else is there?
other things?
that's dumb.
the big action of the best month is hours away.
that also means i've only got thirty days to wrap this costume up. too.
long nights, hard times, rough patches, and dreams of castles with ghosts,
that's what's really happening.
all of it,
in chick pea-induced hallucinations,
and iced tea-related glycemic elations,
and interwoven commiserations-
today is the day.
the last one in september, even.
but the fair continues, and so do i.
i a grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 29

it is that time of year again.

if you aren't up in the woodsly goodness right now,
you are seriously F*ing up.
like, SO hard.
because the very best time of the year is in full effect,
and it's positively affecting every last one of us.
that's real.
do you even understand what i'm saying to you?
check it out.
right now, and for the next week,
the FRYEBURG FAIR is blowin' up the mountain vale with
expert next level Folk Life rural righteous really real hottness.
wordimus prime.
and the fair means a lot of things to a lot of people,
but for warrior poets of the truth and the consequences thereof?
it means just one thing.....
check the ultimate-activation-type-teleport:

that's the whole point of the whole thing.
the best falafels for eight straight days, in a row, down the hatch, for your face.
longtime readers will know that this sh!t is no joke.
three of 'em, day one, right down the hatch.
because too much is the right amount, for sure.
fried up chick peas;
smashed and spread out hummus-y chick peas;
pickled stuff;
v.h.s. (very hot sauce from habanero peppers);
salsa, lettuce, tahini, and that bread, y'all.
this is all that matters to me for the whole week.
i hope you weren't hoping for any meaningful conversation,
because the only three syllables i wanna hear?
if that's not what you're sayin',
then i'm not listening.
this is it.
all the days.
today, especially.
big action, in my mouth,
big bellyhole stuffin' in my life.
i love this part;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, September 27


i put my mack-hand down hard on treats, neighbors.
because i know what time it is-
coconut o'clock.
that's right.
don't think so?
you might be an A*-hole.
in fact, you'd better check your timepiece,
i told you.
coconuts for your butts.
check the early-a.m.-activation-type teleport:
all the shredded coconut flakes,
in fancy rich person unsweetened sexiness,
with coconut, wheat, and tapioca flours to bind it up,
a little raw sugar,
a lot of maple syrup, vanilla,
and maple extract(which has all the power in it, kids).
all together, moistened up with coconut milk.
that's the big action right there.
because too much is the right amount....
i ground up some vanilla beans, and melted them into some dark chocolate,
and hit all of it off with a splash of coconut milk,
and drizzled that ropey dopeness all over their F*in' flaky selves.
i took it to eleven because i'm expert.
and that's no joke.
there are still a few left.
if i see you, i see you, and whatever happens happens.
it'll be macaroon snack-attackin' solidarity,
and not a mack-hand backhand for your face.
life unfolds like a fist into a slap;
never quiet, never soft.....

parts of a whole.

too many little plastic nubbins.
that's what's rolling around all over my floor,
and falling off of the counters,
and sticking into my stocking feet when i wander around in the dark.
i know the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress pretty damned well, duders.
for real.
so i can navigate without lights through the twists and turns and doorways
(there are SO many doorways)
without smashing my face on a jamb.
little bits and sharp pieces are always around these days.
and i find myself trepidatiously tippie-toeing in the nighttimes.
believe me,
i'm glad it's dark out while i doo-doo that ballerina business,
because i bet i'd look really dumb if anyone could see me.
my summer-feet are still tough,
but these craft scraps and steampunk shrapnel shards are murder on my insteps.
it's just that i want to make cool stuff.

and instead, i tape and epoxy everything.
details are the worst, and the best, and the most time consuming.
without 'em, the things we make look like sh!t.
of course,
even with 'em,
the finished product looks great, but nobody notices
the little stuff it takes to make all the small pictures into one bigger better one.
i guess that's a thing.
like salt in bread.
you especially notice it when it's NOT there.
so i'm treading lightly, neighbors.
and i'm getting ready.
y'gotta be prepared for anything,
and up for everything,
and watchful for cool tiny glimpses of what could be.
salad bowls are photonic refractors.
vanilla bottles are vapour regulators.
sewer caps are cast-iron woodstove grates.
it's all what you're looking at,
and more importantly,
HOW you're doing it.
this is how i'm lookin':
askance and old and busted,
with new views on established artifacts.
it's ALL really happening.
because we're taking what is, and making it what we want it to be.
that's active participation,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, September 25

sweets for your bitter self.

dried cranberries?!
they're delicious.
y'know what else is pretty good?
chocolate chips.
y'know what's even better?
chocolate CHUNKS.
and when you throw in a burly dose of chopped-up walnuts,
and add even more of 'em as sprankles,
what you've got then is a big ol' batch of being expert.
check the teleport:
y'wanna know a secret?
i eschewed the orange,
and supplanted lemon in it's place.
holy sh!tballs, neighbors-
that was the best choice i've made in ages.
i mean,
everything lemon is dope,
and walnuts and chocolate are both in love with lemons,
and cranberries need lemons, too-
like double-bitter brothers from other mothers.
that means i did something triple good.
and very proud i am at the results!
breakfast for my face is what i've accomplished,
but then again,
burly barbarian bakery business is what i'm all about.
so, gettin' over on that first-meal magic is fundamental,
but bringing the thursday thunder to the oven was gonna go down anyway.
so, really,
when you think about it like that-
expert is as expert does in this Folk Life & Liberty test kitchen.
word up.
a slice is nice, surely, but two plus two equals foremost activation.
overdoing it on the slabs of sexiness is the way to go.
and my mouth is en route to that destination, too.
i love eating treats,
and i love baking treats,
and i'm in love with this morning.
tea and fancy slices make for all good things until noon.
it's not optimism if you stack the deck in your favor-
it's logistic predetermination.
that's today.
cultivating all the big fun and better times.
that's a thing.
today is the day,
and it's destined for greatness;
never quiet, never soft.....

making it nicer.

the air!!
it's warm.
it smells like leaves and woodsmoke.
it's sunny outside, too.
it's a Perfect Fall Day.
and that's expert.
wordimus prime.
i love pumpkins, and i love fall.
i also love the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
y'know what that means?
that means i need ALL of that all at once.
that's what's up.
check the entrancing-pumpkin-lined-entrance-type teleport:
so crackery.
that's how you know it's good.
ALL the kinds, kids.
you know the rules-
too much is the right amount.
nothing else is even close.
believe me,
there's more where that came from.
so, hey, if you're thinking of coming over,
maybe bring a pumpkin with you while you're at it.
we can add it to the collection,
and keep all the real hottness turned up to eleven.
Folk Life is all about that autumny sh!t.
no doubt about it,
that's the real rural woodsly goodsly truth.
i'm grateful for this place i call home,
and i'm doubly grateful for another elite seasonal explosion therein;
never quiet, never soft.....

plasma-powered nerdcraft.

you need a plasma power-cell if you've got mechanical parts,
and you're a steampunk aetherqueen, or somethin', right?
i think that might be true.
here's what i know-
my daughter is gonna have an expert costume,
or, at least, expert parts of her costume,
courtesy of my big dumb old mangled strangler's hands.
that's a thing.
i had a day off yesterday.
i mostly just got crazy in the kitchen in the a.m.,
and crazy on the kitchen floor in the p.m.
no, i mean it-
sawing and slicing and gluing and painting and staining
all across the bamboo and the carpet.
what do i have to show for it?
i built a box.
big deal.
i based it on the bigger, better nerds out there in the universe,
who were kind enough to post pictures of their own plasma boxes.
neighbors, those guys take their st'punking very seriously.
like, rivets and leather and anvils an' sh!t.
i get it, but i'm not about to start tanning hides anytime soon....
without a plan, any know-how, and very few skills,
i skipped the hammer-and-nails carpentry altogether,
and super-doomsday ultimate-high-temperature-hot-glue-gunned all
the crafty wood i cut up for the occasion.
check the teleport:

pleather, old shredded craft leather, wire, rivets, a touch-up woodgrain marker,
tea lights, screws, beads, spools, a pin, brads, and some fancyish buttons.
that rubbed-down and buffed-up pvc 'boiler' on the bottom.
y'know- to generate the juice necessary to spark the plasma activation!
i'm just SO like that.
but seriously, just look a it:
i'm into it, kids.
wanna see more?
have a peek:
and this, too:
...aaaand that's what i did yesterday.
or what i completed, at any rate, among other crafty, yet unfinished, endeavors.
this stuff takes a while.
all the rivets and base coats and drilling,
and all the sanding, too.
so much sanding.
so much dust.
so much of all of it.
there's an awful lot of effort that goes into combat against awfulness.
tricky little situation that begets, i'll tell you hey-what.
back to the grind today, though, friends.
tattbombing away on all the big dumb dudes who love big dumb tattoos.
i s'pose that's not a bad thing, overall.
i mean,
c'mon, big dumb dudes spend big dumb movie checks on all their big dumbness.
so i guess i'm gonna half-full this one,
just this once,
and take ALL the money for ALL the zipzappin' crap on the schedule.
that's how it goes;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, September 24

pump' it up.

Perfect Fall Days.
those are what i want,
and that's what i'm chasing after.
check the teleport:
spanning time, even when there really isn't a single moment to spare,
that's called taking time out.
and we doo-doo that temporal epheme'reality.
hazy ghosts of the future, taking shape under cover of clouds and golden light.
the idea is that by redirecting our energy and ideas,
we have managed to making those stolen moments matter more.
that's a thing.
more pumpkins, even:
patchin' our way through the afternoons,
indian fooding our way through the evenings,
and crafting all kinds of artsy farting blasts through the darkest hours of the night.
it's all really happening.
that's the whole point.
i'm utilizing my time wisely.
i'm investing it.
this is the way things are supposed to be...
profitable in some way, regardless of the monetary influx or expenditure.
real life unfolds along the vines and lines of the gourd hordes we're gallivanting through;
never quiet, never soft.....