Sunday, September 21

not enough chest candy.

awwww, man.
i just didn't have any red ones.
you may remember that i made all these medals,
for secret nonexistent societies and their imaginary honors,
when i was all finished,
i realized there wasn't any red.
or any purple, either, for that matter.
i got crackin' all by my lonesome,
and took time out on a cloudy, dowdy, doodiecrinkly saturday night,
and with the help of scissors and a glue gun and an old necklace,
i remedied all of that.
check the teleport:
when i get busy with gettin' busy,
i do it to eleven.
why am i like that?
because i'm LIKE that.
you know the rules-
too much is the right amount.
that's for sure.
i'm gonna need to start bench pressing heavy weights or somethin',
because i don't have enough pectoral real estate for all these awards.
hearts and crosses an' that.
those are the sorts of things kings and dukes and barons and sh!t give out.
in an imaginary world, it's possible i'm a hero, not a hermit.
eh, you're probably right.
this costume stuff should be a lot of fun,
if it all comes together the way i'm picturing it.,,,,
i love making stuff.
that's the truth.
i hate how obsessive and single-minded i become, though.
up late every night gluing itty-bitty pieces in place.
plotting and planning and matching parts up, to see if they'll fit,
or determining if they can be made to fit.
i'm doing what i can to impose my ideas on plastic made to appear as metal,
ribbon made to look like distinguished accolades,
and toys made to seem sinister.
duplicity is just one of the hard styles i'm reppin' these days.
and it's the last day of summer.
for serious.
the ley lines and orbital patterns are all converging.
spirit and memory, thought and action, gratitude and generosity.
all the good stuff is aligning to let us know there's balance for a little minute.
equal portions of light and dark.
equal doses of day and night.
a harmonious overlap of circles and circles inside of circles,
cultivating coincidences and capturing all the magic.
it's all coming together, for a little minute,
and sometimes, that's what we need.
goodbye summer,
   you were cold and short,
 and never really got started.
 i had high hopes for you,
 and you let me way down.
 now you're going away and i'm feeling cheated and unfulfilled
 by your passing into the passages of spanned time.
 just like always,
 the end isn't a grand finale, it's a nearly-unnoticed sigh.
it's always over before you're ready for it to end.
sometimes, though,
there are surprises just around the bend.
so don't be scared to go 'round that bend;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, September 20

saturday is for cake.

i don't know about you guys,
but i'm in the mood for something expert.
that's a thing that has to happen today.
after all,
it's not warm out,
it's not sunny out,
it's not a lazy end of summer weekend for me at all...
so i've got to  have a treat to activate this day,
or it's all gonna go straight to sh!t from the jump-off.
what to do?
what. to. do. ???
no worries, my worthy warrior poets and powerful valkyrie vixens-
i'm on it, from the wee small crack-a-lack of the morning hours.
i'm sayin',
for those of us with flour and sugar and an oven,
the tools were already in place to achieve maximum success.
expertism on a saturday morning involves a pastry bag, neighbors.
believe it.
i learned something these last few days,
or else there might not've been anything to show for my efforts.
that's real.
strawberries are slippery.
too slippery.
first, check the teleport:
strawberry-filled brown sugar cream chee' cake,
cream chee' frosting,
strawberry frosty fresh highlights,
and color-match sprankles.
like i done already said.
...the thing is,
version one of this concoted confection took a digger,
and biffed it hard onto the floor.
and an ill-fated escape attempt by those berries in the middle
that ended in use of lethal force,
administered without remorse by the floor of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
this time i baked 'em into the batter,
and they were securely locked down tight.
that's right.
i learned something.
imagine that.
i've been fighting the good fight, kids.
trying to combat falling temperatures,
failing light,
post-summer-tourist-seasonal economic downturn,
costume creation,
book writing,
book reading,
working and working and worrrrrrrking,
and making all of that come together into one cohesive really real life.
a Folk Life.
one that makes sense.
it's very nearly autumn.
it's very nearly fair season.
it's all really happening,
and i'm doing whatever i have to, and then some,
to be a part of it.
this is it, today, and everyday.
more of all things,
and less time for the effort;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, September 19

making tattoos.

i did a pretty cool tattoo on my old buddy larry.
i hadn't seen him in a little minute,
but we spent a whole bunch of tedious lining and shading together today.
he didn't really care what he got,
and that's e\xactly what i needed to hear.
i've had all this costume crapola on my mind lately,
and i just had to put some of that into practical application.
oh, yeah, and i love half-unstenciled unmarkered monster mash-ups.
i drew some out, i purple-inky-stinked some on,
and i made up a whole bunch with a tight tight tight little liner
after the concrete foundation was set up and started.
check the lovecraftian-dream-beast-type teleport:
crystals, armor, waistcoats, canes, top hats....
that's what i did today for a little bit.
lots of lines,
some simple and some complicated,
and all of it a welcome relief and respite from the hard styles and daily grindin'\
of woodsly goodsly post-labor-day straight street tattbombin'.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, September 18


legions and secret societies and royal orders and guilds.
oh, y'know-
just thinking about who would appreciate me.
no....not in real life.
really real life is always unfolding,
without mercy or remorse or conscience at all.
it just keeps happening, harder and faster and rougher.
that's not all there is out there.
the styles of daily developing ordure are our ordeal to deal with.
so while we're doo-dooing that responsible adult-style sh!t,
we might wanna put the imagination activation into effect.
that's it.
do you get it?
i'm talking about hallowe'en jauns.
backstory is always good for fleshing out ideas.
fictional accounts of that's a fact.
playing at playing pretend as hard as ever.
i mean it.
if you wanna play dress-up, you need to dress UP.
and that means gettin' super-fancily unnecessary in the details.
check the general-disappointment-yes-that's-a-pun-type-teleport:
because you gotta rep the order of st. cholmondley-on-pent!!
and don't forget the silesian cockatrice society!
jeeeeeeeez, i am a HUGE nerd.
i spent too long folding ribbons and hot gluing it yesterday.
a trip to portland, and several craft stores, fabric shops,
and a dirty bargain-bin-hole yielded up what i needed.
so many charms, and almost all of them on from the discard bins.
that's how you know you're getting that expert business.
secret stuffs are the best ones.
i'll be the highest-ranking imaginary steamcaptain,
and i'm pretty sure i'll also be by myself while it happens.
schedules are dumb.
and work is for suckers.
which makes me one unholy hellfire-furious dumb sucker.
i wonder if my daughter is excited?
i mean,
i made her eleven of her own other other medals and badges, too.
that's not all.
i'm on the lookout for two two-inch threaded brass grommets for her goggles.
y'gotta have the goggles, guys.
that's a rule.
i even got us some fancy magnifiers.
with the little bead-end upgrades on the ends?
i'm not gonna poop out on the little things.
i'm more of a ruining-the-big-picture guy.
i wish she and i were doing this together.
awwwww, man.
that's a high-pressure pipe-dream of the steampunkiest variety.
get it?
hard styles and sleepless nights and figuring it all out.
it's all really happening,
including the unreal, unrealistic, and surreal spans between daily doses of dolor;
never quiet, never soft.....


i've been trying this cool thing.
it's called "taking terrible photos of tattoos".
i'm getting pretty expert at it.
nothing is more disheartening in my day at work.
i mean it.
after tattblasting so many lame-A* jauns, day in, and day out,
for days and days on end,
taking a picture of some freehand stuff should be sort of fun.
no matter how confident i am about image quality, they always suck balls.
(yes, i DO check the shots while i'm taking them.)
i do cover-up tattoos.
almost every single day.
last week,
i did five cover-ups in six days.
that's no joke.
this week, i've only done one so far,
but i'm sure that'll change.
but enough of the mundane workings of my life and times at white mountain tattoo....
check the washed-out-because-i'm-washed-up-type teleport:
irish flag celtic knot tribal done at home?
not anymore.
now it's a skeleton king.
and in real life,
it actually looks pretty cool, neighbors.
there are even crystal shard things.
those are ioun stones, which you'd already knew if you' were in the know, yo....
that's why i don't take many photographs of what i do at work.
womp womp.
the trick is to really make the swollen parts look weak,
and the dark parts look overly contrasted.
subtleties don't translate to the technological null-zone that is my workspace.
that's a thing.
need a picture of a steampunk toy gun?
i got you, because we GOT they.
need a picture of a F*ing muffin?
we GOT they, too.
but tattbombs aren't cooperative.
it's as if life was trying to steer me in another direction.
secret universal plans probably get frustrated when they aren't heeded,
just like anything else.
spend a few hours making movie checks,
spend a few seconds ruining photos.
all i need to do to ruin a photo is appear in it.
i'm trying this out instead.
more today?
half sleeves and sacred geometry.
so many lines,
so much spirituality.
i might not be able to contain myself.
i might have to just eat cake and talk a little sh!t about b!tches and drink coffee.
that's the ticket.
harder styles and more of all of this.
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, September 15


some people loooove recycling.
it's true.
they get all excited about corrugated cardboard versus gloss cardstock,
and separate their newsprint from their magazines and all of that.
they don't understand how being expert works.
because all of those things are inflammable,
and that means all of those things aren't for recycling into anything
besides light and heat and smoke and ash.
check the cucch's-last-night-in-town-type teleport:
i had so many paper bags full of papers and bags.
now i don't have any.
conversion to energy is what we needed,
and that's exactly  what we made happen,
that's the best part.
with dizzying doses of big dirty giant cigars for our faces,
and good time hangouts for our everything-elses.
the cigars were so big, they're called the 'colosso'.
(that means big in cigar.)
amber and i got a little last baby bit of my best buddy
before he embarks on the big trans-american trek to the land of lawful weddedness
and cohabitational hottness with his wifey.
that's a thing.
the times are the best tinmes when we're all together:
we made the most of it.
(we always do)
and it was all we could do to look at the sky,
and look all around us,
and realize that it all really happens, whether we're ready or not,
and whether we're prepared to be apart or a part of it.
in a way,
i hope i never really see him anymore-
wait for it.....
because that means he's got things going right and well and according to plan
for his happy future west of the mississippi.
i mean it.
i miss him already, neighbors,
but i'd rather miss him while he's happy,
then get him all to myself at his most miserable.
real talk.
another whole chunk of time has been spanned to the logical conclusion.
we do what we do,
and that's it.
i have no questions about me and my ace numero uno homeboy.
brothers in arms,
brothers in all but blood, actually,
and i am grateful for our times together.
safe travels and best wishes and even better intentions are this morning's decrees;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, September 14

try to stop me.

that's right, friends.
spiced oatmeal raisin, to be more specific.
oat flour, regular wheat flour, a little tapioca for toothsome tenderness,
soy yogurt and sour-style vegan creaminess, raw sugar, and all the good things.
the great things, actually.
golden AND purple-type raisins,
thrown into the mix by the generous two-scoopin' handful.
and spices?
in a maple syrupy solution to suspend 'em in while i mixed 'em,
i added cinnamon, and nutmeg, and mace, and allspice, and ginger,
and even a dashing dash of cloves.
that's spicy, neighbors, especially in with those spongy soft raisins,
for all the absorbent big-bite barbarian business.
we all know that's not enough.
after all,
too much IS the right amount.
on top of that there's apples forever.
seriously, seven sexy, succulent, crisp, cut-up early season jauns-
in butteryish, sugared, cinnamon'd sauce,
slathered in a heavy dose of dopeness all over the top of the batter.
THAT'S expert.
check the teleport:
the white stuffs?
that's vanilla-sugary icing in between the slices, obvi.
the other other white stuff?
that's whipped soyacreme, for that eleven style a-la-mode sh!t.
i mean,
what do you think i am/
an A*-hole?
no way.
i do it the most,
i do it the best,
i do what needs doing,
and i do too much of it.
the world will only tolerate so much hottness,
so i'll eat it up before the balance is tilted too far towards the future.
you're welcome.
i'm eliminating threats to culinary stability moments after i create them.
that's the way it goes.
create destroy destroy create activate activate activate.
there's a system in place,
based in chaos and order,
ingredients, heat, hands, teeth, beauty, ugliness, dopeness.
all of it,
all at once.
this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....


i keep doing what i do.
and one of the things i do is propping up these props, neighbors.
that's no joke.
now, i've said it before, but it bears repeating, anyway-
nerf guns have been a steampunk staple for a little minute.
i guess that's just a thing that happens.
i don't really know about what's the norm.
sure, you can image search about a hundred different ones.
they all basically look similar.
i don't give any sh!ts about any of that,
or about what's acceptable to the canon of hand-cannons, or whatever.
i just make cool things when the mood takes me.
and i've been moody taking it to the limits of tolerable temper-tantrum
for a few weeks in a row.
that's actually the bad news.
what's the good news?
that's easy-
slowly, but surely,
i'm getting even better at the things i undertake,
and entertaining thoughts about pseudo-scientific fictional tinkering
as plausible invention activation, in the nerdiest toy gun modification activation.
i want what it is to make sense,
even though it's make-believe.
just check the teleport:
that's what's up.
a steampunk flamethrower.
germ-x and food dye in a travel bottle sealed with liquid plastics,
simulating the sump and storage for the napthol fire juice;
air-hose couplings for pilot light protuberances;
a toy stethoscope and a sink strainer for an exhaust port,
epoxy rivets everywhere;
a vanilla bottle and a meat thermometer for the air-mix regulator;
wall-levels for fluid level indicators- that one looks especially expert;
and that big cast-iron pump box is two new-work electrical boxes glued together.
there're plenty of odds and ends and nubs and nibs that make it better.
more pieces means more awesomeness.
that's real.
even though what it is is so faux.
at any rate, it started out like this:
i guess i might be onto something, huh?
i hope so.
i've got lots more to do,
and no good reason to do it,
other than letting that expert craft-costume stuff overflow out into the real world.
maybe i'll make a movie?
maybe you'll be in it?
y'wanna play dress-up with me?
you might be invited;
never quiet, never soft.....

light emitting diodes.

when you buy eighty LED fingertip lights,
there's really no good reason for doing so.
i mean,
they come in a great big four-color twenty-of-each box,
and they aren't expensive at all.....
there is no reason to get so excited.
unless you're prepared for an impromptu kitchen party.
check the raving-mad-type teleport:
thanks to the cucch for documenting all the activation.
don't worry,
i returned the favor-
check the groucho-raw-vegan-sausage-type teleport:
we doo-doo that freaky sh!t up in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
the lights didn't stay on long, though, around here.
because otherwise, this couldn't happen:
third eye flying through the deepest darkest dopeness.
we make our choices,
and we make the most of the consequences.
it's all really happening,
and that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, September 12


four forms of coconut?
F*ing right, duders.
check the elite-treat-type teleport:
coconut flour and medium flake coconut and coconut milk
all in the mix makes coconut cake.
that's two layers of the first type of coconut activation, kids.
it's frosted with coconut spreadability,
extra firm, fully-formed, and semi-fondant in it's dope density.
that's the second style of coconut.
in the middle, holding it together,
and in the florets dolloping like a worthy warrior wallop on top?
cocoa-coconut frosting, too.
that's three.
and last, but, really, neighbors, most importantly-
toasted coconut sprankles everywhere.
that added depth.
that extra bite.
toothsome and terrific and all really happening.
i only want what's best.
and this is the best.
and that's no joke.
coconut, and coconut, and cocoa-coconut, and toasted coconut.
i do what i say,
and i say what i mean.
too much is the right amount,
...and without excess,
how would we know how much better we are than everybody else?
if i wasn't overdoing it,
then just regular-doing it would seem okay.
and that's NOT okay.
not one little tiny bit.
activating the extras,
and bringing more to the table.
these are the things i value,
and this is what i'm eating for breakfast.
don't even kid yourselves.
i'm all-out ball-out bringin' it this friday morning.
wordimus prime;
never quiet, never soft.....

the anti-scurvy chocolate treats brigade.

chocolate creme pie is expert.
that's obvious to anybody who knows anything.
it's not enough.
i mean,
there could be more going on.
and i insist that there has to be all of it at once,
or else,
why am i even standing at the stove, stirring?
i took the crust i crushed up and graham cracker'd,
and added oats and sugar and vanilla,
and baked it firmly at a few hundred fahrenheit degrees.
i sliced a few oranges up.
that's correct, neighbors.
vitamins, and acids, and citrus oils, and everything.
i put some zest in with the melting chocolate,
i put some juice in with the powdered sugar, and the tapioca,
and the silky smooth supersoft tofu, (and added a bit more zest, too)
there was essential orange extract activation to complement the vanilla,
and then,
when i couldn't contain the new hottness anymore,
i poured it into the pan and let it chill the F* out.
that's the way it had to happen.
while all of that was going on, there was a whole other 'nother set of situations unfolding.
check the teleport:
that's what's up.
candied orange peels.
sliced, fileted, pithed, and boiled.
three times, i cooked 'em up.
that's the magic number, friends.
two cold water baths,
and a simple syrup saturation soak,
with vanilla added in at the cool-down stage......
then they're drained, strained, pressed, and rolled in sugar
before they took a turn in the fridge on top of that pie business.
i'm tellin' you- too much is the right amount.
which also means that that IS chocolate orange frosting, too.
after all,
i'm not just gonna talk about it,
i've gotta be about it, too.
i rep a hard style with my smooth treats.
i think that's the way to do it right.
i haven't slept worth a sh!t in days and days.
i don't think it's affecting me poorly, really,
except in the face-piece.
that's looking worn out and beat up.
the thing is-
i can't see my own face,
and avoiding mirrors is way easier than you might expect.
real talk.
i'm getting things accomplished,
they aren't the burdens i should be shouldering.
i have to say, y'all-
i don't do anything just a little bit,
and this new lot of lots and lots is really expanding outwards and upwards.
there is always more of all of it,
and it doesn't look like nights are gonna matter much in the progression.
i'm tryin' to get my props, so to speak,
and that means my eyes stay open in the dark;
never quiet, never soft.....