Where's the LOve Jam??????????

Ok this one isn't mine...I got this one from a kick ass friend w/ extrees (dunno where she got it )

Orange blackberry marmalade recipe ingredients:

• 1 liter mashed blackberries
• 3 oranges
• 1 kilogram sugar
• 200 grams dark chocolate chips
• 1 pouch liquid fruit pectin

Chocolate marmalade recipe instructions:

To get mashed blackberries: Clean and wash blackberries, pour water in them and cook them to soften for about 10 minutes (to 1 kilogram of blackberries add 1 deciliter of water). Cool it for few minutes. Mash blackberries in food processor (you should get about 1 liter of mashed blackberries).

Wash oranges, grate orange peel and squeeze the juice from them.

Pour sugar, orange peel and juice in mashed blackberries and cook it again (stirring it all the time).

When fruit mix starts to boil, stir fruit pectin in it. Remove foam from the surface of the marmalade with a spoon and stir chocolate chips in it to melt for few minutes.

Remove blackberry orange marmalade from the heat and give it a good stir.

Pour hot fruit marmalade in the sterilized warm jars, seal them and place jars in dry and dark place.

Best eaten on Russian Pumpernickle with a tall glass of OJ or a hot mug o' joe

Enjoy Bitches!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Despair

Paint your face for me. Paint it crimson. Arm in arm across the way. Sprinting towards the edge. Falling into fire ; swim in my eyes. Doused in blackness and gasoline. Torment and tension stitched to and thru skin. Razor wire , bone , sinew , and blood. It’s rising up in me and I can’t stop it. I write on the walls trying to keep it at bay. I don’t want to again. I don’t want to. But I can feel it clawing at me; biting at me. Little teeth. Gleaming chompers. Dumping lava into my veins. I squeeze tight, curl into a ball trying to crush the snake in my belly. It starts small…little sparks ; then the bigger logs begin to catch light and I’m up and away. Blazing like an inferno I’m gone outta sight. Running to the brink I can feel the heat under my feet and the wind on my face. I wish I could burn right up…I need relief then it’ll be gone. Something anything to clear away the slate of my heart and make me blank inside. I close my eyes and demons of love and loss cavort across the darkness. There is no peace. There is no peace and I wish the earth would open and swallow me. The urn of my soul is broken and all of me is gushing out. The sand drinks it up greedily begging for more and I wish I had none left to give. But more and more and more keeps flowing out. Like a finger in an open sore. Like that infected tooth that you can’t keep from touching with your tongue. The scab you can’t help but pick. I’m hurting and I wish I could force myself to end it. I want to smear blood across my forehead and rub my face with ash. I want to sit under a moon black as sack cloth and lament loss , despair against finality , and rage indiscriminately against anyone and everything till my fingers are worn down to the bone and I cough blood in vivid gaudy streams. To hear the sound of anyone screaming except me would give me peace. Instead of sitting inside this tomb to lost love and rehashing everything…going over the words and the days and the years again and again. I run my fingers over it studying the crevices and crannies looking for an imperfection. Some indication...something to tell me I could have seen this all coming. I’m at ground zero…a pillar of ash...stark and alone, oblivious that the world around me has drastically changed and the road ahead is dark , lonely and uncertain. I feel spent and all that’s left is this quiet agony. I’m at the edge of the abyss; one good shove is all I need. Then I could escape into the black...falling forever…and finally have peace…instead of looking at scattered pictures and shattered glass…Instead of praying for my love to come back…instead of waiting for the joy in my eyes to return…I miss her

Syphon off Poison

Peace like something electric...

Tranquil vermilion lightning...sublime lemony calm... Quiet sitting in urns on shelves...sitting forever they have been...

Cool, chilly, frozen cement solid and cracking...breaking open... Spilling wave after wave of licking flame, azure consuming fire all over everything....

It’s the indigo shock wave baby shrouded in a black cloud of fine dust.... Burning me up...turning my heart into a slab of granite....

It's poison...an emetic I greedily drink up that twists my body into impossible contortions...

Breaking bone and tearing sinew until the righteous stupidity reaches its grim fruition... Hacking up vomit that coalesces into steamy puddles of self loathing in the dark places that I hide inside myself.....

Here's the cure... drench your hair with axle grease and chew bricks with broken teeth...

Then serenity will run in dark rivulets from the honeycomb into the spike....

A shard of glass in the throat and the adder's pin prick...body pinching what I am in a contracting vice... Reticulating bands of steel glowing under crimson lights in everyday spaces...

Murdering the anguish... suffocating in the touch of rosy lips on mine...a kiss that slips through my shift quick and easy... razor sharp... Freeing loops of intestine....like an avalanche covering ire and tension in cold white antibiotic calm...

Bodies falling into bodies... locked in my mind’s eye...slick with plasma... rocking back and forth...slippery… so slippery

Sighs intertwining... sewing ribbons of ecstasy to and through my skin... Images drawn in the sand...

Sand melting into glass on the leafy green beaches... Beaches that touch cool water under an eggplant purple sky...

Her indigo eyes ...eyes that sometimes see everything inside me...then fade to blindness black....

Hungry eyes looking for a face to come home to......

Lying in bed and watching the corners of her mouth move...smile...frown...smile...

Her glittering pupils...not jaded by purgatory... And making love to her is making music written in the dark waves of security, trust, and innocent love....

Those waves lap up on my shore and I'll have her little shoes under my bed and fewer monsters in my closets...and

Finally calm and quiet...

Calm like a pool of blood...

Quiet like a dying man's last breath of oxygen...

At last sweet and warm…

Sweet like drops of chocolate rain…

Warm like that first ray of sunshine….

Hard is the Path #2: Biscuits and Gravy

Creamed chipped beef poured over buttermilk biscuits. Some people call it shit on a shingle. It tastes like manna from heaven. Why am I so hungry? How long was I asleep for. The waitress sets down my second order and quickly retreats to the other end of the counter. I must look terrible..she spares one final uneasy glance then goes through the double doors to the kitchen. I can feel the little metal talon in my pocket. It seems to sit uneasy there , thrumming with some preternatural life of its own. The jacket I picked up had cigarettes , thank the powers. I pull out the battered pack of Pall Malls. Searching around for a light. No matches on the counter. Hmmm.. No waitress either. No other customers. Nothing strange about this I suppose it is 3 am I should be happy. These all night spots aren't as common as they once were. Then I notice the steam leaking through the doors to the kitchen. Something isn't right here. I slide over the counter and cautiously make my way to the doors. I push through and am assaulted by the sharp coppery smell of spilt blood. The kitchen is a mess to say the least. Blood is everywhere. Its like someone ran out of Dutch boy and open their wrists to finish up. There is blood burned black on the griddle. Beneath it all is another stench. This miasma hits my like a tidal wave of refuse and rancid meat. Like the last breath of a terminal cancer patient. The door to the pantry is open. I can hear a low chirping sound. Not particularly menacing. Thats when it steps past the lintel. Its the waitress but the semi attractive women with the impressive endowments is long gone. She moves in strange jerking movements like a scorpion on hot asphalt. No shoes now...no feet for that matter. Precariously balance on three rather long , and rather menacing talons. Her left hand is a scythe of bone ending at a jagged evil looking edge. Her other hand has not faired much better ..bent back wards at the elbow as though she had wished very greatly to scratch her own back..wicked claws now, no dainty digits. A gaping maw loaded with knitting needle teeth has replace the pouting lips. The eyes are the worst..lengthen backwards over her forehead. Whites now yellow as rotten egg yolks. Full of surprise and malevolence. Like Mickey mouse's eyes after years of filandering and alcohol....desperate for my liver. Unbelievably she speaks..its a high chittering sound like breaking glass on ice. "Was there anything else you needed?" I back away horrify and she is closing on me..hungry still. Then I can feel it my pocket hot like a coal. The talisman..as I pull it out a blue ball of fire flashes from the hanging pendent forcing me to shut my eyes. I can hear it shriek in rage and pain. I don't catch what happens next its all to fast and I cant see clearly. The back door is torn off its hinges and I see the waitress flee.... The fire is gone as suddenly as it appears. I think its time to leave. I go back out and grab my bag and walk to the door. "You are probably wondering what this is all about" a voice says from behind me. I'm getting ready to book fearing the worst. "Don't run my friend ..you are more important than you know" I turn to the voice..its owner is an older man fairly squat and unimportant looking in a trench coat and fedora looking like a G-man of old. I tell him I need to get out of here and fast. "Where are you going?" Home I say... " Pal there is no going home...You have a higher purpose." " Just have a seat...do you hear sirens ...noone is comming." I want to run ...but something makes me turn around and walk to the booth the little man gestures too. " Good very good" Well I suppose it won't kill me I say.. "Very true ...very true old son ..I know that for a fact..after all if I'm right...you already died once today...and you seem to be handling that rather nicely"

Get Your Joy Coconut Crunch Doughnuts

These doughnuts are pretty kick ass--->

2 eggs
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup milk
2 tablespoons melted shortening or vegetable oil
2 1/3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup flaked coconut

topping :

1/2 cup flaked coconut
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup finely crushed graham crackers
5 tbs cinnamon and 5 tbs confectionery sugar
6 tbs butter

Beat eggs with sugar until light; add milk and cook shortening. Add sifted dry ingredients and coconut; stir just until blended. Chill several hours.

Roll out on lightly floured surface to 1/2-inch thick. Cut out doughnuts with doughnut cutter. Fry in deep hot fat (375 degrees F) until brown; turn and brown other side (about 1 minute per side). Drain on paper towel.

Topping :

Melt half butter in pan. Do not allow to smoke or burn. Mix graham crackers, flour , and brown sugar. Now you should have pea size granules. Allow to cool. Melt other half of butter and drizzle over doughnuts in a tuber ware container ( with lid). Sprinkle granules and flaked coconut over doughnuts. Closed container with lid and shake to evenly coat all doughnuts. Garnish with confectionery sugar and cinnamon. Chill or eat now.

Optional : Shake doughnuts with 6 tbs coconut water or 4 tbs coconut cream before garnishing with confectionery sugar and cinnamon.

Makes 1 dozen. Don't forget to use the doughnut holes too.

Enjoy Bitches !!!!!!!!!

My Sunshine Machines

Happiness is like warm sunshine on my face. The feeling of grass between my toes. The sound and smell of falling rain. The crisp sharp aroma of dry leaves in autumn. Happiness is important. Too many people roam around this world without "the happy". Its important. Important to have a well of joy to dip into. If you can't be happy inside , in and of your self you can not expect anyone to make you happy. If its not here now , no one is going to bring it with them to give to you. Granted people can make you feel happier. But the void inside will never be filled if you don't find your joy , taste it , smell it , and own it. I love my dogs ; no matter how bad I'm feeling they are always happy to see me. Even if the world is angry with me they walk in , tails swishing , and start pumping out that good vibe. That love. That sunshine. I Love my sister..she is a powerful person ; a pillar of strength ; my phoenix. I Love my girlfriend..she is my best thing; my love ; my best friend ; my little bear. I love to pinch her thigh. So I sit here in my chair...looking around at the Anger Cafe and take a moment to reflect on the fact that even though injustice and stupidity..callousness and pain seem to permeate everything and the world is an unfair place; I am glad because I have my joy..its inside me..flowing through me...and as I soak up the rays pumped out by my great things..my great people..my sunshine machines..it flows through me and I start pumping it out too... that joy juice , that sublime happy , that awesome frenetic love...that good vibe baby....I'm a lucky man

My Happy Roast

This is a recipe for a fairly good roast :
3 - 5 lb Roast : can be loin , shank , shoulder , undercut can be used but not preferred
1/4 cup cumin
1/4 cup coriander
1/4 cup paprika
1/4 cup rosemary
1/2 tsp crushed clove
1/2 tsp crushed cardamom
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tbs ground ginger
2 tsp salt
5 tbs garlic powder
2 cups chopped green onion
1/2 cup crushed dried red pepper
1/2 cup crushed black pepper
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup red wine (anything but merlot , don't cook with anything you wouldn't drink)
2 cups dried fruit ( prunes , apricots , figs or all three)
1 packet cream of mushroom soup
5 tbs olive oil
1 large beef tomato
1/2 cup cream cheese
2 cups steamed spinach
1 large baking dish
cooking twine

Prep:

Score the surface of your meat cross hatch against the grain
Combine cumin , coriander , paprika , rosemary , cardamom , cinnamon , ginger, salt, red wine , and soup
Cover meat with this mixture and knead into the meat
Ensure that meat is completely submerged in liquid
cover and let marinate over night
Combine chopped steamed spinach with cream cheese
Core tomato removing all pulp and seeds
Stuff tomato with cream cheese spinach mix and set in fridge to cool
Next day:
Remove meat from marinade and pat dry reserving marinade
Preheat oven to 453 degrees
Place olive oil in baking dish and place on stove
Place meat on cutting board lengthwise
Place dried fruit along the meat lengthwise
Tie roast ensuring that fruit is securely nestled within
Using tongs lightly sear the outer layer of the roast in the olive oil
take off and place on cutting board
rub with red and black pepper , garlic powder and brown sugar
place in oven
cook to your liking : rare , medium , well etc periodically baste with marinade and pan drippings when done remove from oven
cut away twine
slice roast into 1 1/2 inch slices
use pan drippings and 1/2 cup coffee with 1/2 cup redwine for some red eye gravy
place 3 slices of roast on a plate
cover with red eye garnish with your stuffed tomato and chopped green onion (you can substitute a baked potato if you like that better)

Enjoy Biatch!!!

Wish list Cafe

Today's dish : Vengence --->

Vengence creeps in dark alleys on spider legs...
Quiet on kitten paws...
Red maw poised...
Trap ready to spring and gout blood..
There is no room for remorse..
No room for reason...
The lash is out....
Screaming sweet crimson rage..
Primal triumph...
Chattering teeth...
Broken bones...
White hot antibiotic agony...
Rain..black rain...
Grinning...Justice...grinning
I like Justice...

Agony

Agony

The perception of pain is a profound entity. Pain , is a multifaceted highly variegated yet almost ephemeral machine. Nocireceptors innervated by "A delta" nerve fibers detect pain sensation through out the body. The exact mechanism of pain is incredible in that from the instant of stimulus nerve impulses fire traveling at almost 20 meters per second sending signals to the brain which in turn sends impulses back to the site of stimulus. For the sake of discussion let us consider , the lit end of a cigarette pressed against an erect nipple. The instant the burning end of the cigarette comes into contact with the delicate skin of the aforementioned nipple alarm bells sound. The "A delta" fibers react to this stimulus releasing neurotransmitters : Glutamic acid and Substance - P these in turn send electrical impulses racing along nerve fiber axons to the dorsal horn cells in the spine and finally to the thalamus in the brain. Doesn't sound too impressive until one considers that as I intimated previously pain is multifaceted. Pain sensation is heightened by other adjacent stimulus . For all intensive purposes the pain of accidental exposure of the nipple to a burn and a cigarette burn to the nipple are the exact same pain. Why then is the act of someone placing a cigarette against said nipple so much more distressing. The mind is an animal that can turn on its master in an instant. The visual stimulus of seeing someone placing a cigarette against your nipple and deriving sadistic pleasure from it can heighten pain. The smell of your own flesh charring , the taste of acid rising in your gorge in disgust all contribute to the perception of pain. Even the natural avoidance reaction of closing the eyes and turning away from the pain stimulus dump acetyl choline into your blood stream heightening fear and in turn pain. In this sense pain can be conquered by simply concentrating on the pain..in essence "owning" your pain. This act of acceptance releases endorphins into your system calming you and ultimately filling you with a feeling of elation and euphoria. The body reacts by selectively inhibiting and dampening the travel of pain along the spinal cord , and the resting threshold of pain is increased. The synapses that receive pain stimulus become flooded with. positive stimuli and all receptors for pain get occupied not allowing for any further perception of pain. The smell of burning flesh etc. may be distressing but your acceptance and acute awareness of the pain while not preventing damage to your rather unfortunate nipple..or even completely numbing the pain..does go a long way to changing your minds interpretation of this pain...you begin to welcome the sensation "Yes , this is bearable , come now, you need to dole out more if you want me to scream". Pain like anything else that we perceive is chemical. Once understood any negative stimulus can be dealt with the same way acute pain is. Your knowledge of pain sets you free. You are stronger than you were before.

Hemoptysis

Hemoptysis :


The act of coughing out blood -->can be minimal to massive in quantity. Massive hemoptysis can be in excess of 3-4 liters;

An instance of hemoptysis can occur suddenly , and massive hemoptysis can , and often does, kill in a matter of 15 seconds from the onset of the episode to its final grisly conclusion. The patient expires as a result of aspirated blood coating the pulmonary alveoli which in turn arrests essential gas exchange in the lungs ; oxygen saturation drops ; the body in a valiant yet futile effort to maintain equilibrium stimulates the heart to pump faster but massive blood loss lowers the blood pressure , resulting in less blood being pumped to vital organs and as a result drastically less oxygen , less oxygen causes the nerve cells in the brain to die , misfiring nerve centers in the brain stem cause the already failing heart to pump erratically , asynchronously and violently , until the cardiac muscle , deprived of life giving oxygen , stops beating and a condition known as "cardiac arrest" in sues ; the patient now drowning in their own blood , deprived of cardiac support , and severely brain damaged , finally and mercifully shuffles off the mortal coil.

A Whisper

There is no voice...Have you ever noticed that? No one can hear you. You can scream and scream and scream until your voice is raw and you are coughing blood and still...no one can hear you. There are too many things wrong and even worse too many people willing to close their eyes. And even worse there are so many other people who knowing , that afore mentioned eyes are closed , elect to follow anyway. I'm fucking sick of it all. Too much corruption..too many people worried about their own petty bullshit..too much motherfucking drama..its enough already..a change is coming. Big things are happening..big things that effect everybody , but evidently none of that stuff is important enough. There are a few people that care. Too few , and that's very unfortunate. As I write I know nothing will change. Then why write? Well , If I know that the house is burning down , its not in me to go from room to room just whispering "fire". There are a few people , however , who have found a way to break through..and get to a platform where they can , shout. Loud and clear for the whole world to hear. And that , reader is the saddest bit of all..the ugly despicable truth ; because , if you ever get up there to the podium to talk ,you suddenly become aware that its your first real chance to see..to really see. And you do see... your audience , that is. And they have their fingers in their fucking ears , eyes tightly shut , and big vacuous grins plastered on their high pristine faces. Its not that they can't hear your voice. They don't want to listen. Wondrous fucking oblivion I suppose. That's enough reflection for now.

Hard is the Path : #1. It Begins

There is blood spattered on the walls..
I'm naked
Up to my ankles in it..
Chainsaw glazed with gore..
How did i get here...
Where was i last night...
There is something in my fist..it looks like a talon.
There is a glow coming from the nightstand drawer..
inside is an oval piece of metal..a pendant perhaps..
embossed on its surface is the rude effigy of a cavorting devil..
This small talisman gives me comfort..
There is a brief case on the table..
Its full of money...
When look down at my chest i see strange symbols tattooed on my skin..
This is all very puzzling..why cant i remember?
i need to leave..
i take the briefcase,and the jacket i put the claw in my pocket
i find a pair of sneakers in the closet with the jacket
Last I put the talisman in my pocket..it feels good there....feels right for some reason
i also take the corn-beef sandwich and beer from the fridge..
i step out into the rain..
where is home...
I feel there is something i need to do , what , i don't know
I'll figure it out on the way...but right now i need to get far away..
the rain washes the worst of the blood away..
i worry the barbed wire out of the wound..
i walk..slowly..searching for a snatch of familiar
but its like chasing a puff of smoke..
almost.. but never all there..
i will remember..i need to find answers to these questions...
last thing..
there was an empty tote bag under the bed..
i took the chainsaw too..