Here we are. A little less than half way through Dec. Would I could just wake up      

Jan. 3.  Guess I'm just not a holiday guy, yeah.                

       We hope you enjoyed Talking Goose. 1100 hundred words is a very short story. Recently I read and re re reread “The Student” by Chekov. I wanted to write a story       short and muscular like that. We all need heroes.                

       With this bulletin we should be putting up the next chpt of Ardensville. Fingers   crossed however Juan is duh man, you betcha.                  

       I've realized lately, speaking for myself, this holiday season thing troubles me       because of the disparity of raised expectations and  and lowered results. That's when I get nuts. Dwell on this a sec if you too suffer Decemberitus and you may think it out. I try to. Better'n being nuts. Let's post this baby. Here come #19.                                                                                                             Peace on Earth                                                                                                                   an Good Will                                                                                                                         to All Her                                                                                                                                Folks...


              Now we are on the second leg of the Thanksgiving travel. First    

came the walking. Now the subwaying and next the driving. All just part      

of the ritual. It might seem late writing the holiday bulletin on    

the holiday or posting it on black Friday or black Sunday(crossing the      

river now on the train to Brooklyn) marching into the gaping maw of      

the holidays. I feel it right for such a bulletin.              

        Francisco Goya(1746–1828), was, is and ever will be one of the great      

painters and great visual artists. The man had range.              

        Funny thing about Goya; when getting on in years and not enjoying        

less than than robust health, in near solitude Goya took to painting      

directly on to the walls inside his home. Can you think of someone else      

who does just that? Those 14 works referred to as the “Black Paintings”      

are a few clicks past grim, you betcha. After his death, well after his death,      

the walls were removed to a museum where they now reside though badly       impacted by the relocation.              

          Notable in this set is “Kronos Devouring His Children”. I think this      

as horrific an image as a human mind might conjure. Goya witnessed agreat        

deal of barbarity in his lifetime. An image such as this might have been quite        

near the front of his brain.              

       Might one benefit to close the door of a room where nightmares reside      

 painted and indelible. That would be a fine thing, I think.              

      Cronus or, Saturn, late of Greek mythology, was not, in Goya's mind        

a happy camper. Nor did he play well with others. Terrified his children      

would overthrow him  - as his father was overthrown by his children -        

Kronus ate his children, as depicted. Was this maybe, the first        

Thanksgiving? Zeus (the overthrower) was spared his father's wrath having        

been hidden away by his mother, Gaia. Fooled by his wife, Cronos ate        

a stone in swaddling.              

                 My Thanksgiving has not gone well and the day is not over.        

The driving leg was as far as it got. Now the sun is setting and        

 un-festive solitude is my own. Others are alone on Thanksgiving.        

I can't now remember what the point of this bulletin was to be, hmmm....            

     -We mustn't eat our children, no matter the holiday or motivation.            

     -Three years ago, this holiday was near to a wake for the trauma of then          

recent events. How I longed to toast, today, the imminent though
                gradual emergence from under that wet blanket. Didn't happen.            

        Then, the nation lost its mind. Today, I lost mine. Both entities driven(?)      

to self destructive madness by the insidious spell of the blue glow that tells      

us to steer our ships to the rocks. Tells us to ignore our senses. Tells us it's      

best to listen to what we want to hear.          

        If your Father in error, demure. If sound, listen. If he tries to eat you,      

well that is a problem now.            

       We have fresh website stuff coming. We're fighting uphill and into the      

sun but there's no quit in us. Please forgive our delay. We try to be better.                                                                                         Peace in the Valley                                                                                        Folksizhome                 


Bulletin for Big # 18 – for real                                   

                        How very dreadful. Unforgivable really, showing up this late for your own
         party. In a just world I'd be on the receiving end of a sharp slap in the yap, a size ten
          in the rear end. Yup.
                       Can we apologize for things we can't control? Can we apologize for anything?
           Well I apologize for apologizing and we apologize for leaving you hanging for so long.
           Nobody likes a tease. Here 'tis. Nuf said.
                       I am happy to tell you ( if you don't see it on the little ticker ) we have surpassed 
           1000 hits and climbing. We did it in 7 months. In 3 months from now, more than just 
          a downhill snowball, maybe we'll be a hit. Keep punching, breath, concentrate.
                      In this happy interval, may I applaud, high five and thank all involved who 
          got us to this point. Bravo to you and bravo to us. We happy few.
                     Thank you you all, for staying with us. For being encouraging and forgiving  of
         the short comings we shall tarry to repair.
                     If we can fix Folksizhome, we can mend the nation. No hoping please.
                                                    Keep Punching, Breath, Concentrate.
                                                                                                               Folks.     10/18/19

Bulletin New for Mark                                     

                 After not encountering Mark the finger painting guy all summer long
        and all that time wondering in what state he might be, I emerged from the
        subway at Union Square and there he was. He seemed in good spirit and
        vigor. Clear eyed and healed.
                 He said he was relocating to First & First, a distinguished and 
        magikal location in the East Village. Few from these parts can stand at 
        that site and not see the ghosts. A grand romantic sculpture of a million
        moving parts.
                 Since Spring past, he has parted with all the work I was familiar with.
        The work now was fresh. More re-purposed canvases and less pizza boxes
         and the matter of the pieces evolved and even more thoughtful.
                 Please review the article here “Finger Painting”.
                                                                   Get up to speed on Mark. 
                 Though not in any tour books, yet, if visiting New Yawk, you could 
        do worse (a lot worse ) than inhaling that excellent corner where you would 
        hope to find Mark, free from persecution and glorious.
                  Jessica's photos of all this can be found in “Marks Gallery”, yonder, 
        up and to the right.
                  I need apologize for the delay with Big #18. Yes I know nobody likes 
        a tease and we vow here it will be big, soon, revelatory and it will be a hoot.
                  I hope your summer/fall transition has thus far been as tolerable 
        where you may be as it has been here in the North East.
                                                                           Be good to yourself,
                                                                            That's where it begins.
                                                                            Folks from Ardensville,
                                                                                                  Weez home!


                          Glad to see ya,
                                               Glad to see ya.
              This weekend past, 9 / 6-8 – was a determined effort to produce the Scrapes piece AND,
         getting ready for big #18. #18 is a big deal. You betcha.
              Scrapes is to remind us to look for the Art all around us. Everyday. Sometimes, in
       the least likely of places. Only take a sec. Wont hurt at all.
             Only time you here about Picasso now is when they sell one for a bazillion dollars or,
       antithetically, when they steal one. Mr. Wilde says, “Nowadays, people know the price of
       everything and the value of nothing.” Yep, that's what we've become, people. Oscar always
      gets it right.
           We welcome to the crew, Jessica Lazala. Jessica provided the images for Scrapes.
       No hemming or hawing, just did it. Excellent. Brava.
           Nice woman. Mornings, Jessica walks the walk which I bike the bike. On this now
     familiar route I am aware and charmed by each and every house. By their colors, size,
    state of repair and of course archkitexchure. One day, Jessica says to me, “How about
     that house with the sunflowers?” or “How about that house with the monster tree?”
     Now I see flowers and trees. Shrubs. Thank You Jessica. Good eye, good eye.
                                                                                                                            What really matters?
                                                                                                                              What supports life?
                                                                                                                                    Chisel away
                                                                                                                                 The excess stone,
                                                                                                                             the figure is revealed.
                                                                                   Peace in the Valley
                                                                                        Night in the Forest,
                                                                                                Folks from Ardensville
                                                                                                           Do get in touch!


                                         Bulletin for Big 17-18                                              


        Sometimes, once or twice a week or two or so, a large man gets on the train.

   I always ride the same train, same car, same time. I don't see what stop he gets on

   though he gets off at 180 st.

        He's here now. He wears clean flannel shirts and white socks. He is clean shaven

   and holds his phone. Right now, he is talking about 'The Shining' - the movie, in a

   full and resonant voice so I can hear him clear on the other end of the train. He

   speaks and gestures to no one but articulates as though he were in conversation.

        Generally, I don't know what he is talking about. He may swear a little but never

   seems threatening or worrisome.

        He's gone now and we 6 or 8 folks remaining on the car glance at each other,

    roll our eyes. Few more stops until the last – Dyer Ave. These will be quiet stops

    except for the synthesized soul-less P.A. Messages.

                          Do I do what he does? Is writing an insane rant?

        Oh – he just got on the train ( following day ). Is writing mere lunatic bilge or

     a bowl of ripe cut peaches & whipped cream?

        18# is a big deal. I'm excited to find out and hell, I wrote it!!

            Do aliens walk among us?

                Will Satan's minions stage their onslaught here –

                                                                        in a sorghum field?

         I will exeunt here to listen to the muse for a few more stops.

                        Thanks for hangin' in -

                             Let's raise a barn -

                            Let';s cut some rug -

                                   In fact the joint is jumpin'.

                                            Folks from Ardensville


 That Ladies and Gentlemen, was a horrible weekend.            

I can't stop dwelling upon if it was my fault because bulletin last        

I wrote “venom and bile have breached our doors.” Well, better to        

charge myself than credit some unseen hand.            

Now I would declare (I do declare ) some kind of notion about        

 Folksizhome. NEVER will I allow this site, this territory, for myself        

or anyone else, to be used as a desk upon which you jump up and show        

the whole class yer peepee - politically speaking. I actually witnessed        

this once in 1st or 2nd grade. That was one sick puppy right there, you bet.        

I think his name was Ronald. We did not stay in touch.              

Myself, I have I think, severe opinions and anticipations about things.        

Who said something like, “ Opinions shared quick become judgments.”?        

A smart person.              

As if held in place by some unseen hand, I watched, just watched as        

current events oozed into my unconsciousness. Saturday and  Sunday.              

On the 5 train to the top o'the Bronx Monday morning, I am more          

grit teeth & white knuckles than I was going home Friday afternoon.               

And still, I will not emote here.              

    I reserve this space                

               for colors and wonder.                

                 The wonder of wonder.                  

                The music in the colors                    

                 and the colors in the words              

   and the shapes that may come on their own.

  As commitments go, I think it a good one. And noble. 


         Let's all be smarter 

 And dedicate 

    To that pursuit   

      Peace in the Valley 

    Soup in the Pot   

       Captain has the seat belt light ON



                                Folks from Ardensville - 

                                         Yes, We Home 

                                                Get in touch

                                                  Porch a'while

                                                 Or stoop

It is a funny thing...

                                           Since I find it too difficult and, really, impossible to know

              my own mind, the minds of others - even others close – are as distant stars.

                  Here in lies a foundation of the best of our literature and, maybe most Art.

             Creative output when perfectly ripe, is the exercise of self examination.

                                                                                                               Blah blah blah.

                 For some time now, I've thought, if I could just produce one beautiful thing,

            I might find content. Be content. Happy is a children's thing.

            If this has  happened, ever, alas the radioactivity

            has decayed, sending us again to the well of endeavor.

                 Chapter 14 / page 9, I calls it “Sun and Stars”. When I get to work today,

            I shall ask Juan to color print it two times; one for my work station and the other

           for my desk at home.

                  Maybe better than content – which is a selfish kinda joy – is gratitude.

           The painless indebtedness for benefits of the society of others.

                 To Robin & Juan, I am deeply deeply grateful for inclusion into the crew

            that produced Page 9 – chapter 14. Maybe I'm just being nutty here. Hysterical.

                         Nowadays nowadaze,

                             Content is tough.

                         So much thin ice uncertainty.

                              Venom and bile

                                    Smoke and water

                           Have breached our door sills.

                      If You're not terrified,

                                 I would suggest,

                       You're not paying attention.

                      Pay attention. Hard times don't knock.

                                           Then stays round too long.

                      Celia pays attention.

                      That is what she does.

                      She is an Artist.

                  She moves forward to no objective,

                        Eyes open and taking her colors

                                From the moment she inhabits.

             We hope you are enjoying the ride and we are grateful for the end's meat minutes

           of your day you can afford us. Really, it's all we need. Would be nice though,

            to get a lil' more coming back from Y'all.

                                                                                     That is it.

                                                                                      Can We try to be good

                                                                                       To one another.   Gooder

                                                                                      Create something good

                                                                                      Something beautiful

                                                                                      Dedicate to that pursuit.


                                                                                   All We can do is take solace

                                                                                                                         in Art


           8/01/19                                                                       Folks from Ardensville

      What music can one bring up to extinguish the chilling howl of a world this fragile. This combustible. And I'm one of the lucky ones. How about a blues? A solo partida? The song of Bird. Birds maybe. Yes, that's the ticket. Since the heat rolled in, the crows have abandoned the backyard and I don't have to tell you, them birds don't sing. Corvids. Smart, but not at all musical.

     Because she is a quick study and congenital actress, quickly quicklydoes Celia presume to assume citizenship status in Ardensville, U.S.A. Good luck with that Ms. Celia.

    I would be amiss now, not to acknowledge the sad and timely passage of Mad Magazine.

    There is a list of some gravity of individuals and organizations that have proven themselves to be powerful forces in the creation of this our American culture (our strange American culture)in the years after WWII. Of course I date myself in broaching this discussion but generally,

I don't lie about my age. I prefer to lie about my height.

   For me, some of those on the list would be; Hugh Hefner, Anne Margaret and Elvis, James Dean, Julia Child and Ray Crock and Alan Turing. And of course the Beatles and of course of course Mad.

(My list is neither complete or at all objective. It is my opinion and I invite you to opine here and your candidates will be heard )

    More than any stand-up or writer or movie or TV show, from its debut through to the present, Mad has shaped what is funny here in this our nation. It did not dawn on me then but, Rowan and Martin's Laugh In was Mad Magazine brought to the small screen. A small for instance but, significant considering the success and influence it enjoyed.

     Ask the comic writers of all stripes about Mad and if age appropriate, they will all say something like “voice of God”. Yeah.

    I for one would be lying to you if I did not credit (blame?) Mad with my pathetic oft undetectable sense of humor. Thank You Mad and all the genuises drawn and spawned from your pages. I don't think I would be who I am now without “Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions”. “Does this train go to Altoona?”


                                                                             Bravo Folks.

                                                                             Job well done and rare.

                                                                             Folks from Ardensville




              Hello out there.

             How very grateful we are to You(S). Returning visits

      to the site keep a pace and the response generally is       

      rather good. Again, Thank You.

             Our numbers indicate that you're diggin our method -

      releasing a chapter at a time roughly a week apart. Even

      that pace frankly is most challenging but we're getting

      better, smarter and faster and there ain't no quit in us.

                 What if ya met a brontosaurus?

                           I'd show'em whos king a dah foress !!

             You know, Dickens used to publish this way, but in

      magazines. I hope a weekly visit and brief read

      provides for you a pleasant quiet moment.

             Yesiree, folks are home in Ardensville. I love Babby.

      Would anyone like to guess where she came from?

              In case you were wondering, yes, that was a tease to

       get y'all to ring in more (at all) and give some......


               Someone recently said to us, he thought the

        illuminated format of the pages slowed his reading

        down which, for him was a positive as he is mostly

        reading work related text at what might be described as

      'skimming speed'.

                Would we could bring Folks back to reading.

       I think Oprah nothing less than an American Hero

       for making this an objective. All Hail !!

       Please come back. We're happy to know you.

                             Keep them chapters rollin' 


          Next Stop Valhalla           5 / 09 / 19


          A man got on the train today


      Attired the super,

           a holy title

      Crew cut,   sinewy,   fit

       Stained working hands

     A clasp of many keys

   Small monochrome

     on his neck

     With him came

     His back pack also black          

     Cell phone in his pocket

       Stayed in his pocket

  He bore no wedding band

          His cut was crew 

     Don't We all have

           super power

        Don't We all have

       happy places

       Our hero had simply these:

   2 fishing poles

  ( fancy with shiney high

    tech reels)

     3 hockey sticks.

            2 fishing poles

        & 3 hockey sticks.

       As all were loose-

                          unbound -

    I invite him to wedge them


                             by my bike

       Wedged secure

                     'tween seat and door

       At the back of the car

    Last car of the 5 train

   Up to the top of the Bronx

                        6:38 a.m.



    Wedged secure He went to sleep

        His pose repose

      His self now a granite.

        Soul inhabits monument

            For and For Ever


     Hockey and Fishin'

                                Both, I feel,

            Contain their brand of violence

     Some no doubt he glory suffered

 Who was this meditative god,

             Moving among us ?

        Vacation from some Underworld ?

        A flash of Storm and War?

     I shall never know

         He rose

          and left

        A spent soda can                

It's getting better all the time. Just don't quit. No no no...

      We've been pushing it for 2 months now and things look good.

       Things improve if you let them.

                  Right thought

                           Right action

                                    Right words always helps. I'd say.

            Our numbers climb. Not in an elevator, not on a ladder or stairs.

       More like a hill. Hopefully a mountain. Once above the tree line,

        one would anticipate a grand view. A song of Creation.

            Last week was a mighty rough one for me. Imagine waking 

        hung over then having an unfortunate production on the toilet.

        You stand up to proceed and look and your glasses fall in, yeah.

             This thankfully is only a metaphor for my Wed-Thurs past. 

         Went down hill from there til'bout Saturday. Better now though.

              A precious music partner with who I have been playing for

          10 or 15 years announced ( in that dreadful interval), that he 

          would be moving down south come Summer. He is younger 

          than myself with a toddler and don't I know how tough NYC is.

                    Stay in touch,   Good luck,    Do good work.

               I shall be grateful for what I had, not bitter for what I lost.      

                That took me well into Sunday to reconcile.

                You know what helps best in those episodes like that?

                                                                              And worse?, For me?

               Shakespeare Sonnet #30. Yup, picks me up, slaps some sense 

          into me and evaporates my whinny pussy bullshit.  I have every

           reason to be content. In fact, I'm the luckiest boy in the world.

                That's some sonnet that sonnet #30.

                 I'm delighted y'all liked “Barn” so much. If Piss Beer becomes

           a thing in America, remember, you heard it here first.

                  Celia has landed in Ardensville !! Let us get the party started.

                                                                                             We rollin' now.

                  Juan, our website commandant, will be in D.R. for some 

            much needed R&R so our production will be....slim for a spell.

            But, in a brief week or so of industry and output from me 

        and RobinAmy, with Juan's return, We shall come out roaring like

        sunrise, you betcha.       Duty now for the future.


                                                                        Peace in the Valley

                                                                             Think Grace

                                                                        Call your shot

                                                                              Pound your mitt,

                                                                         Folks from Ardensville               April /11/19

Clear and cold Good Morning

Eve of Spring

Soon she will Rise

Ever Splendor

Ever Fresh

Newer 'n New

Well, we're up a month now. How very bizarre the

passage of time.

Celia will be getting out of town for a spell.

Where exactly, is not known. We all shall know

when we get there.

I'm curious bout something – a chronic condition we all

should suffer and delight – Have you a favorite first,

or last sentence of a novel or a story or a book? The first of

'Anna Karenina' and the last of 'the Dead' have received all the

attention they duly deserve.

Hows bout others. There are so very very many. Many.

If you send us one, your fave, it gets posted.

Our current objective now ( besides makin' Art )

is to engage some S.E.O. That means 'search engine

optimization'. Though our numbers are positive,

and encouraging they need be 'enhanced' to assure the

survival of our odd little species.

Please share us. We need You. Celia needs you.

Now go plant a bulb !!

Peace in the Valley

Good Will to All

Git on the Good Foot

                             Folks from Ardensville             3/14/19

Crocus. Then Daffodils.

                                       Crocus and Daffodils.

                              That means Spring in my world.

                                               Yes Ma'am

            Here may we tender a happy and encouraging

                   Welcome to Sean Egan. He is a good man and,

                         an engaging writer.

            His shoots break the surface and we are fortunate

                    To have him in our flower box.

                           Welcome to 'the Crew' Mr Egan .

                  Hope you're all up to speed with the story. 

                  In her new digs, all will change for Celia.



                                          Smells and Taste

                                   Even the Truth may Change

                  Delight in Ourselves

                       Delight in each Other

                  Delight in Primavera

                         Her Radiance

                                     Creation                                                        mar/26/19

      Dear Readers, Friends, Folks and All Our Ships at Sea,

                          Thank You all for the great reception we have encountered

               thus far. Thank You.

                                We have been up & live for a small parcel of time now,

               really one publish and we tarry mightily to keep the content fresh,

               rolling & rockin' til the break of dawn.

                              Realize we do some of you are having difficulty seeing us on

              your phones with those teensy weensy lil' screens. Solutions and

              options are being pursued on this end. Improvements are afoot.

                             Now ya know.....if you have comments, questions,

                                                                                                     clever suggestions,

              or would like to receive notices about new posts, please,

                 email us at          folksizhome@gmail.com

             We promise not to harass, pester or try to sell you stuff you

            do not need or want. Nope.

                          Next up we will be posting some of AmyB's paintings,

            chapter 4 and maybe some non-fiction. Maybe, we'll see,

           who knows ? We'll see.

Gentles do not reprehend

If you pardon, we will mend

'Mend these visions' is the call

So good night unto you all

Give me your hands, if we be friends

And Robin shall restore amends

                                                                                                                             Folks from Ardensville

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