Tuesday, April 15


those people.
my buddy wayne turned forty yesterday.
and that's gross,
but only because i'm not there yet.
when i hit the four-decade mark,
it'll be 'just right' and 'not so bad',
or maybe 'well-seasoned' or something along the lines,
or is it wrinkles?, of that sort of sh!t.
oh, okay.
i'll admit my attitude towards aging isn't actually so harsh.
i mean,
you presumably get wiser if you're doing it right-
i'll also acknowledge that forty isn't THAT old.
a quarter-century's worth of hard work still stretches
out in front of you before the oldness lets you take a break.
i mean,
forty just means you should have something to show for all the work
you've done so far,
but there's usually way more ahead than behind.
no use being bummed about that sore back and those grey hairs-
there's still plenty of labor to be sweated through and endured.
so, yeah, he's forty.
and also,
i love berfdays.
so hard.
harder than his hard-headed astrological illogical ram stubbornness even.
i love berfdays so much, in fact,
that i deferred the snugs and hugs awaiting me,
and fired up the oven instead.
i'm serious.
because if you don't get treats on your berfday,
you're definitely an A*-hole,
but if i don't make treats for my peoples,
then I'M the A*-hole,
and i can't hang out with that action at all.
check the springtime-style special-request-type teleport:
strawberry vegan chee'cake.
it's the best one i've made yet.
i mean it.
i freaked it off with some secret extras,
and they made the activation complete.
you caught me.
i totally sliced off a big wedge for myself first.
you knew i had to.
i'm sayin',
i'm not gonna not take a picture,
just so he gets a big pink and red circle all to himself.
i like him a lot. don't get me wrong,
but i've got to make up for shrugging off snuggles
with at least one tasty piece for another one.
that's a thing.
and anyway,
without a picture to show off,
it might as well never have happened-
and it is ALL really happening, no matter what.
rules is rules, always.
there's birds singing,
and fog rollin',
and sunshine hiding,
and work to do everywhere.
no fooling.
i'm on that grind, all over the woodsly goodness.
putting in work,
working with purpose,
and making moves to make the magic happen
in overwhelming amounts.
there's too much of everything, all at once,
and that's the only way i know how to participate.
it's unfolding in front of my eyes,
and i'm following along at the same breakneck pace.
the melting snow is flooding the river,
the flooding river is making a mess,
and the mess looks tidy compared to the daily doings over here.
that's the way it works,
and the work is never done.
more of it is what we're amassing,
and it never seems like it'll ever be enough;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, April 14


here you go, neighbors.
chocolate ones.
chocolate-covered chocolate chip jauns.
i'll do you one better, even-
chocolate drizzled chocolate chocolate chip rock bloxxx.
check the brown-on-brown-on-brown-on-brown-type teleport:
good morning.
if y'all don't know about rock bloxx,
your A* had better ask somebody.
for real.
two sticks of buttery vegan yellowishness,
and a whole bag of dark brown sugar,
and cocoa, and chocolate, and chocolate chips,
and oat flour, and wheat flour, and ground coconut,
and maple syrup all married together and mixed-up
and made into the most expert cookies in the woodsly goodness.
rock bloxx are definitely a friendship test.
they have the right amount of everything,
which of course,
is waaaay too much.
and if you're only reppin' just one?
that's weak sauce.
they're like the other other rock blocks-
that means three in a row, minimum.
don't be dumb.
if you can't hang out with 'em,
you missed the point,
and you can't sit with us.
womp womp.
i made 'em up,
and i made 'em for everybody.
it's past time that they made an appearance this year.
when it's time to get up exxxtra early and get crackin' at the crack of dawn,
it's certainly time to get busy blastin' out some burly brown bombs
of chocolaty new hottness.
c is for cookie, kids.
that's the truth.
y'know what?
i'm feeling like you guys could use a little help.
i'll give you the basics for these ultimate warrior blops.
you're welcome.
gather your ingredients....
2.5 cups of flour
1.5 cups oat flour
1 cup coconut flour
1 cup butter-style stuffs
1/2 cup applesauce
2 cups brown sugar
a splash of maple syrup
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt.
1/2 cup cocoa
1/4 cup ground chocolate
1 pkg chocolate chips
2 tsp vanilla
if you don't know what order to mix stuff in,
you might be a little bit of a stoopidhead.
if you get it together enough to get a batter whipped up,
then drop some golf-bal sized blops on a baking sheet,
and give 'em hell at 375 degrees F for twelve minutes.
if you can doo-doo that freaky sh!t,
and then melt down some chocolate chips
with confectioners sugar,
and vanilla, and soymilk,
until it's a syrupy sweet sauce-
spoon that thick ganache-y goodness on top,
and you'll be all up into it like a real expert.
you have the information,
now make the magic happen;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, April 12

ruidoso y fresca y duro para la cara

it's saturday,
my first appointment cancelled,
and i'm tattooing old boobs later.
y'know what that calls for?
ultimate warrior poetry in the form of food.
nutrients that simulate eagles' eggs,
and spicy hot flavors that will kick my motormouth
into turbo-charged tongue twisting.
is that alright with y'all?
it doesn't matter, really, if it is or isn't.
what's happening is happening,
and all of it is unfolding fast in the woodsly goodness.
things escalate apace in these mountains.
there is sure to be some blunt-force orating;
irate rating of the merits of each individual in each instance,
which amounts to massive mass-force character assassination;
and hot jalapeno-powered chips and dips.
i recognize that it isn't easy to tolerate the trials and triumphs
inherent in being expert.
for realsies.
i'm talking about rallying for another 'nother supercharged charge
headlong berserker barbarian brawler style right into the fray.
it feels good to overreact and emote and chew the scenery,
it's exhausting, as well as typecasting, to always do so in every instance.
the default operating system for many is middling mass-populace mediocrity,
but lightning-striking vikings and savage stormswept gypsies
and all the various incarnations of active participants
and worthy word-eating hot-hearted heavy-handed hard-headed firespitters
all expect to be much more, even at rest,
even in the shower,
even when nobody is looking and no one would ever know about any of it.
do you undertand?
too much, all the time- taking it too far, and going to eleven-
is the only right answer...
it's blowing in on the wind, wearing antlers, and waging war-
it's like a green knight glistening and glowering and glowing and going all out.
that's the embodiment of what's poppin'.
the more visceral, tangible, physical manifestation,
is slightly more finely-chopped and seasoned.
all those words,
and actually,
all we had to do was check the teleport:
salsa fresca.
so much tomato, tomatillo, green pepper, jalapeno,
vidalia onion, cilantro, garlic, and lime.
i mean, SO much.
and it's spicy.
not burning-your-tongue-painful,
but the peppers and the raw garlic combined bring the lingering heat
to those chilled chunks of vegetables.
and that is what is gonna activate the new hottness today,
scoops and scoops and scoops of that loud, fresh, hardness,
for my face.
and also,
i didn't stop there, either.
i mean,
what am i?
an A*-hole?
check the green-monstrous-type teleport:
holy mutha-flippin' guacamole!
i've never made it before,
and i guess it has tomatoes in it normally?
not this one, friends.
but i did freak it off with three kinds of garlic.
there are chunks and chunks and chunks,
and then there are chunky chunks, too.
i've got 'em all,
and i'm reppin' that tortilla-style dippin' dopeness
all damned day long.
hard styles and hot spices and crisp chips
and smooth green things.
the volume is getting turned up,
and staying that way.
the snow is seriously melting away,
and it can't happen fast enough.
i caught two mincey little looters in my pantry,
with those head-nod ninja-fast necksnappin' traps.
the sunroom plants are bloomin' weeks before the woods
really awaken in the great mountainous northern forests.
this is it.
today is the day.
it always is;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, April 11

gimme pounds.

chocolate is good for you.
that's a thing.
and cake?
cake is always a floury flourish of celebratory hottness.
that's a thing, too.
so obviously,
chocolate cake is the big action we need to get going on, right?
check the dense-bombin'-moist-madness-type teleport:
it's chocolate cocoa fudge pound cake.
no jokes.
a giant soft, dark, rich doughnut of dopeness,
covered in cocoa-laced icing drizzles all over it's flat top,
and bursting the borders to slather the sides in thick drips
of sugary sweetness.
and then, just to kick it up to the next level,
there are both roasted cacao nibs,
AND chocolate-covered cacao nib sprankles on top.
i take the chocolate situation to eleven, friends.
i have to.
too much is the right amount,
and rules is rules,
so really,
i'm just fulfilling my destiny here.
this cake though.
i mean it.
soft and sweet and just layer upon layer of brown
on brown on brown on brown onbrownonbrownonbrown.
just what the weekend needs to get started right.
there's work to be done,
and the furnaces need fuel, y'know?
my engine runs on chocolate cake today.
that's that high-performance jauns.
and it's going in my flippin' mouth all dang day.
let them eat cake?
LET them?
just try and stop me.
today is for chocolate,
today is for cake,
today is the day,
and that's what's up;
never quiet, never soft..... 

zesty enterprises.

sea salt!
i've got ALL of that.
sometimes you want some springtime flavors,
sweet and tart and savory all at once-
and when that time comes,
you've gotta rise to the occasion.
check the teleport:
vanilla-snap cookie-crumbled crust.
vanilla-infused lemon vegan pastry creme.
lemon zest.
big crystals of sea salt.
holy crap.
that combination is definitely expert.
it's firm, but it's soft,
the crust is chunky, but buttery, too.
the zest is mellowed by the sea salt,
which adds a subtle warmth to that chilled creme middle.
it's got depth and breadth of flavor and texture.
because i'm fancy.
the days are getting awfully muddy here in the woodsly goodness.
the mountains of snow seem smaller.
at least, they do everywhere else but my front yard.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress shields the sun,
as it stands tall and terrible amidst the trees and rocks,
a castle casting a long shadow across the lay of the land...
and that keeps the piles higher and colder than most places.
i can see grass out back,
and that's great news,
but the heaps and heaps of icy muck bordering my driveway
may create a moat before too long.
i guess that's cool, too, though.
my own mired quicksand span across the entries and exits of my manse?
sounds manly.
i guess i should be glad the ground is slowly being soaked with water.
life needs that juice to get started,
especially if it's gonna get started later than everywhere else.
so we'll see how it goes i suppose.
saturated after being supercooled after slowly going back
to springtime scenery well later than the neighbors.
it's all really happening, still,
and nature is bound to pull a win out, regardless.
that's that;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, April 10

feasts of fury.

being vegan doesn't mean being a weak little
sodapantsed diaperbaby.
for real.
i love eating food.
i love eating food that is vegan.
i love eating vegan food that is totally flippin' expert.
all true.
in order to make the menu in my mind a reality,
i've gotta make it all up,
and then make it all myself.
lucky for us,
i love cooking.
a LOT.
and love cooking special stuff even more than that.
that's an awful lot of love for a hard-hearter hater to handle.
i mean it.
so for balance in both the known and secret universe,
and for synergistic symmetry between light and dark,
i make careful culinary creations in my super-sexy kitchen,
and then i dominate them with harmful berserker breakneck
overindulgence right into my open-mouthed and uber-busted face.
it's all true, though, friends.
i doo-doo that freaky-diki sh!t whenever the opportunity arises.
and i make sure the opportunity presents itself frequently.
yesterday was one of those days.
those all-day-cooking jauns?
i spent too much time in front of the stove,
making too much food.
it WAS the right amount of everything.
it was totally worth it.
i mean, once the prep was done,
the ingredients were assembled,
and the timeline was confirmed-
i want it all ready at once,
so the schedule was all synchronized,
and the stuff was all served at the perfectly time.
all at once, it all was ready,
and that is what made it all so dang expert.
i write meal plans down sometimes on napkins,
and then i work my plan.
and when that plan comes together?
fancy berfday dinner, at home.
the request was made for thanksgiving-type treats.
the response was excessive to say the least.
too much is the only way i know how to react.
real talk.
but, i mean, C'MON!
roasted butternut squash with cinnamon-sage olive oil drizzle,
and dried cranberries and pecan sprankles?
that's expert.
blue and red potatoes, baby carrots, quartered brussels sprouts,
celery, pearl red onions, and squash, all of it tossed in
g.p.o.p.'d melted butter and applewood-smoked sea salt.
once that multi-colored medley gets the long slow roasting?
always expert, for sure.
garlic mashed potatoes, skins on, homeboy-style,
with parsley and scallions and lots of black pepper?
smooshed with extra soymilk and double butter
you know how good those are.
(you'd call 'em expert, i'll bet)
big button mushrooms, hollowed out,
with shallots and scallions and spices and fancy rice filling 'em.
fancy rice takes forever,
and has all the black spikes and brown nubs
and long and short grains inside it.
that's why it's fancy, and not just rice.
but those mushrooms got stuffed with a mountain of it all, kids.
that's the best way to activate their latent magic nutrient powers.

that's a thing.
and that thing is expert.
what are those brownish-brick-colored circles?
i'll tell you-
those concentrated overlapping echoes of excellence are the beginning
of a new era in the new hottness.
i'll not be buying tofurky any longer, folks.
not when i can create my own roast here in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i'm serious.
vegan roast, from scratch, woodsly goodness-style.
seitanic, tofu-laced, bean-smooshed,
and heavily spiced, not to mention nootch-blasted.
it's really happening, and i'm hyped on it.
yes. yes. YES.
expertism just took itself up to eleven.
well, obviously there's gravy everywhere.
the roux, the broth, the whisking.....
i get busy with my custom gravy, baby.
i'm like that.
did i miss anything?
yes. i did.
you see it?
is that a big-muffin-tin-baked itty-bitty personal pot pie?
what do you think i am?
an A*-hole??
of COURSE it is.
don't be dumb.
check the making-of-type teleport:
wordimus prime!
toasted sesame seeds, red onions,
mushrooms, peas, cabbage, carrots, celery, seasonings,
pinto beans, a little bit of that fancy rice,
and small perfect chewy firm chunks of baked tofu.
i baked it before i added it in.
i know how to make it righteous and how to make it right.
cheatery flaky pastry crust.
no way.
it's still 100% homemade,
i just cut in all the butterish and some cream chee' to make
small puffy pastry crust,
and them pot pie packed it,
and lidded it,
and cut hearts out of the tops as escaping steam chimneys.
they're little hearts.....so what?
who says i can't be kinda cutesy with my tiny pie cups?
this whole meal involved a massive amount of steps on steps on steps.
lots of methods, all fueling a mad rush of berfday action.
i wish it took longer to eat, though.
shoveled down in a flickering fraction of the labor involved.
that's the real domino-effect, duders.
set up forever and ever, knock 'em back in a mere moment.
it's okay.
the taste and flavor and savory sweet salty succulent sensations
were all there, exploding through my synapses.
it doesn't take time to terrorize through the heaps of elite eats,
but the good memory of it lasts and lasts and lasts.
i take time to make memories that matter,
in meals and moments and mirth-
day after day,
it's all really happening.
and this happened, too:
not as many candles as there could've been-
given the haphazard fire-hazardous manner
by which their flames were extinguished?
it might've been better that way.
berfdays were the worst days,
but not for y'all.
all of that hard work, all day long,
just to make one evening totally expert.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, April 9


today is a double berfday.
my tattoo-community-socialite homeboy,
miss shawn hebrank turns the dial  towards older today,
over in fort collins, colorado,
which happens to be one of the least obese cities in america.
true story.
and very happy berfday wishes go out to him.
over here, though.....
the woodsly goodness is going to give a gala fete
for one of my personal favorites-
my ladyfriend,
who is called amber,
turns twenty-six.
...and very proud we all are of her.
for the record,
it's not a birthday party if nobody is invited,
so we aren't exactly partying.
(i DO so hate having fun, after all)
we aren't taking shorts on activation, regardless.
the thing of it is,
without cake, it isn't real.
rules is rules.
if we're gonna celebrate in the style of worthy warriors,
and/or poets,
(incidentally, R.I.P. ultimate warrior. my heart weeps)
then we're gonna need some cake.
check the teleport:

happy mutha-'ucking expert-A* day, b!tches!!!
on the ones, friends,
that cake got taken to eleven like whaaaaat?!
strawberry cake.
pink and everything, made with powdered and pulverized,
fresh, flash-frozen, and freeze-dried forms of heart shaped red berries.
and in between the two turbo-sexy layers of heart shaped crumbs?
pureed strawberry compote jauns, from scratch.
expert is the only way i doo-doo that happy-happy-type sh!t.
and there's vanil'lemon super creamy uber-whipped frosting
mortaring 'em together,
and smothering the fresh bits inside.
and just to make sure y'all know i'm not playing around-
that's strawberry frosting accenting all those hearts and hearts and hearts.
i put my heart into it,
so that it's the way it's supposed to be.
i love other peoples' b-day times.
i really really do.
so i'm ready, and the cake is waiting for candles
and for huffing and puffing and wishing and cutting and all that.
today is the day.
there's more going on,
but i've been so busy in the kitchen all damned day long,
it'll have to keep until tomorrow.
jolly good fellows one and all, y'all;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, April 8


i don't have too many.
so the ones i've got matter a lot.
my number one soemtimes shows up like a surprise,
and stays for a super short span of time.
there's food, and loudness, and freshness,
and all sorts of being expert;
but it's all concentrated into a condensed
and dense matter of mere hours.
that sort of supercharged serious business is rad, for sure,
but the bar gets set pretty high for the next day,
sans activated interaction with worldly warriors of poetic participation.
whenever the cucch leaves,
there's a helluva void left in his wake.
how do we repair that?
with waffles.
don't be dumb.
i'm just sayin',
if i've got seventy five pounds of dented doublecrisp cakes
in my bellyhole,
there's no room in there left over for hollow feelings.
check the breakfast-of-champions-type teleport:
oatmeal, corn flour, a tiny smidge of coconut, double butter,
and extra brown sugar inside of those manhole covers, kids.
a custom demerara and vanilla-cinnamon spiced buttery batch
of walnut/pecan pralines on top?
heck yes.
and all of it drizzled with real maple syrup,
because table syrup is for A*-holes.
and that's word-up real talk.
i miss this guy already:
the kitchen isn't as explosive,
the floor isn't as occupied,
the walls aren't resounding with the ever increasing volume of
loud freshness our hard styles embody.
it's a real bummer when he bounces back down south.
(and the waffle explosion was yesterday.)
i need a copilot sometimes, neighbors.
i mean,
a no-jokes ride-or-die-type duder.
my very best buddy is a great one.
it's always good to see the guy;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, April 7

viva liberte!

i'll share a little tidbit of truth with y'all.
i've never had a cuban sandwich.
i mean,
i've been for vegan for so flippin' long,
i never even had the chance to indulge myself
in one of those greasy, messy, hot-pressed bombs.
it's cool.
from what i understand,
they're only expert because they're totally a big ol'
pan-fried mess of indulgent 'sgustingness.
too much is the right amount,
but in all the worst ways.
and yeah, fine, i'll admit it-
i'm into that.
i'm so into it, actually,
that i got the idea into my head that i needed one.
i'm serious.
and luckily,
my numero uno heterolifemate,
the cucch, surprised us with a popover.
if ever there was a time
when a sandwich explosion was set up to go off,
it's gotta at a time when the activation society of
worthy hamden warrior poets are having a reunion.
a vegan duo of herculean talents both under the roof of
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress?
and beau with his burly appetite for self-destruction was here too??
that's a lot of expertism in one spot, neighbors.
we got some ideas,
and some ingredients,
and some motivation...
...and then this happened:
i'm just sayin'.....C'MON!
veggie ham?
vegan non-specific greyish-beige simulated pulled pork?
ummm, yes.
we took a few generous leaps of faith with our faux meats.
we doo-doo that imagination-fueled approximation-type sh!t.
and stackers, kids.
you those slabs of pickle you like so much?
we GOT they.
daiya(rrhea) fake chee'?
and what about the mustardy sauce?
we got especially expert,
with vegenaise, nootch, g.p.o.p., dry ground mustard seed,
turmeric, and horseradish dijon all mixed and melded together.
that's the secret to full-blown hottness.
no jokes.
portuguese rolls bore the brunt of our buttered pan assault.
i even heated up a cast-iron press on a separate burner,
until it was super-ready to squish 'em flat.
just check the teleport:
we get it IN, guys.
for the win.
and according to beau,
who has had the authentic grease-blasted dead-pig smorgasbord,
they tasted pretty damned near to the real deal.
i may or not be both flattered and grossed out.
either way,
we ate a LOT.
too much of too much is the precise dose for manly shark gluttony.
that's it.
a lazy sunday it wasn't.
not even kinda.
hard styles;
heavy-handed tattoo action;
big fat lunchtimes;
all of it, all really happening,
with a healthy helping of helping hands.
me and my duders got busy,
and we got heavy,
and we did too much of all it,
and it was just right.
i am grateful for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, April 6

baking early, baking late.

the up-early-style baking of treats.
i doo-doo that right-up-and-at-'em-type sh!t.
the sound of ice tinkling in teardrop doses
down onto the cold tin roof outside my bedroom window
woke me up while it was still well before dawn.
and what's more,
the skies were all kinds of cloudy and grey well past the sunrise.
so it seemed like morning took forever and ever.
i mean it.
dawn stayed hovering on the waiting horizon, lingering and loitering,
until the clouds left off around brunchtime.
that's just no fun.
a slush-stained waterlogged morning needs activating though, neighbors.
that's for sure.
and when it comes to activation,
i've got spatulas and pastry cutters and food processors
that will all say that i'm the main man in charge.
a groggy, foggy, coughing, and dripping headcold noggin,
and the achy ague of a spring fever (literally) is NOT
gonna stop me from making some treats.
especially when my duders are coming out at night for hangs.
the active participant perseveres.
check the teleport:
two kinds of expert cookies for your face.
i get into it, guys.
british shortbread fingers, squeezy essess of buttery yellow hottness,
with the obligatory cornflour crumble,
and a custom dippin' glaze of confectioners cocoa,
and german chocolate shavings as sprankles for good measure.
that's expert.
and how about those oatmeal-almond softies?
how about 'em!
oatmeal sugar cookies, with coarse ground whole almonds in the mix,
and a squirt of almond extract as well as lemon zest.
they're moist, they're soft, they're sweet.....
oh, MAN!
they're good like that.
they're amazing when we take 'em to eleven.
the only way to effectively do that is to add more.
that's always the right answer.
when we upgrade those jauns with some lemony citrus frosting
and a candied almond tucked onto the top?
yes, i know.
todd and beau and i went out to dinner.
and we ate.
a lot.
and fast.
those fellas aren't lightweights either.
they terrorized a slew of their good ol' uncle albie's cookies
and cakes before we ever even left the tattbomb shop.
well, that's where we all met up,
because i tattooed todd beforehand,.
with what?
with a life-sized image of an asian giant hornet.
a flying horror with venom in it's stinger so potent,
it dissolves human flesh?
yes, indeed.
that's for sure.
and then it was back home again for talks on talks on talks.
me and my homeboy from across the mountains always make
the utmost of the times we have occupying similar spaces in proximity.
i mean it.
activation is essential-
even when the day starts super early;
even when the previous night went way late;
even when the day is long and tedious;
even when the overall styles stay so flippin' hard.....
expert recognize expert,
and as such,
rise to the occasion with participation, gratitude, and generosity.
we got that.
ALL of that.
and we get it going;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, April 5

april (snow)showers

what's wrong this day already?
secret wintery poor loser tantrums from the north!
that's the initial introductory offering of weather
for this sh!t-salad saturday-
waking right up to just a little teeny tiny bit of icy sleet,
accumulated into a greyish layer of garish gloss
sneaking into the air during the dark hours of the night,
and the lightening sky-times of the hawkish morning,
to darken the mood of the woodsly goodness.
i can't hang out with this arctic blast jauns,
as it sprays it's awful ice-arrhea on top of us.
i suppose there's never been complaint department
that answers calls about the mean-spirited nature of nature.
the thing about nature?
it ALWAYS wins.
the game is long, and the scoring system is complicated,
but inevitably nature comes out on top.
in that regard,
i probably should've seen this coming....
nature likes to remind us of who is in charge.
and my last lonely old terrarium,
from the second batch of terrariums,
is hanging on by a thread.
i stashed it in a dark place,
and it wasn't giving much of an effort at living.
i noticed this:
one last lonely leaf,
and some strong roots.
maybe it'll mount a rallying comeback attack,
and reactivate itself like a thriving green giant.
i hope so.
if not,
it'll be replaced with a more active participant.
if you aren't busy living,
then just die already.
that's a hard style,
but this is a hard day;
never quiet, never soft.....