1. "Dreams Are Things That Need To Be Unseen" Poem

    I dreamt we were transported to another world
     one far away
      but I don’t remember how and I don’t remember specifics

    Alternate versions of my brothers and my mother were there
      at my first perceptual entry in the world
         I was a child.

    My mother ran a hospice or a foster home
     everything was clinical and sterilized
      in a third world “This is the best hospital we got.” kind of way
       dark unknown stains on everything
         blue tinted hole in this world
          windows covered in trashbags from the outside


    She was half-spider,
      half herself,
       and had mannerisms like my first day care sitter, Mrs. Brock
         who beat us with wooden spoons
             and made us shell peas five hours a day

    when I saw my brothers, I cried and yelled
     and my brothers replied but weren’t exactly sure who I was
       I called out to my mother when I saw her
        she was mean and wouldn’t speak
         busy with the other kids

    like a lot of people in my dreams
       I could only hear her laugh at me


    I was in this place for two months
     uncertain of how I measured that specific time out
       but it felt like two months
         I grew to my current age of twenty-eight
          like a ultra-sluggish boring Jim Jarmusch growing up montage
           not that he ever had any
             just what I imagine it’d look and feel like in a dream state


    Over that time I looked for you
    snapshots of video game countrysides from my past
     me talking to distorted and disfigured strangers
       luckily you were still going by your name
         and the world hadn’t altered your build, body-type, or hair color

    I ended up in a valley
      picture-esque but in a amateur painting kind of way
         scattered pines climbing slopes that didn’t make sense to the eye

    You had joined a sex cult that worshiped seasonal deities
      and as luck would have it
         I showed up the night of a fall celebration


    Everyone I ran into knew you, knew you well
     well enough to smile and laugh at me

    As I made my way to a house at the end of village
      I could hear the music
        and an inaudibly specific amount of crowd laughter

          I came to the door and a naked blurry figure let me in
             he too was laughing

    I began making my way through the house
     yelling your name
       and the random people littered across the floor, sofas, and counters
         pointed towards the back of the house

    The house seemed to move up the slopes of the mountains
     the halls crowded with naked people drinking and laughing
       they got smaller and darker till it opened into a back patio

    On the back patio was a wide slope
       with water running down it and into a pool

          people were sliding down into the pool from the slope
              and I followed

    Around the pool were mothers breastfeeding their babies
      and children laughing.

        As my line of view made it’s way around the pool, I finally saw you
         you were sprawled across the pools steps
           surrounded by eight or so nude people
             men and women
               sucking, kissing, massages, prodding, and fucking

    I cried and didn’t really know what to do
     I thought about the time I had been gone
      and had it been so long that you would have forgotten about me
       about us being taken from home and put here by some unknown thing
         had you been brainwashed
           or were you just enjoying yourself

    I moved as close as I could without throwing up from revulsion
     yelled your name
       over the sound of smacking flesh and the pool churning between
          all the bodies
            you pulled your head up and made eye contact
              I began crying more
                you seemed annoyed and then tilted your head back
                   and began to laugh


    I backed away
     to the edge of the pool
        got out of the pool and slumped across a folded out lawn chair
          buried my face in the plastic threads of the back of the chair
            a child began to play with my hair
              then started hitting me with a toy dinosaur
               I eventually fell asleep

    I woke up the next day and went looking for you again
     you were in the playground with a lady and her child
       I called your name out this time
         and you responded as you normally would
           when you ran up, I turned away and simply said
             I found a way back. That’s all I wanted to tell you.

    You seem uninterested until I began to walk away
      then I woke up.

  2. adenineowl:

    My father never really liked art. Or, at least, it just didn’t interest him. And he certainly never seemed to understand what I did as an artist. 18 months ago, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. This last Christmas, I gave him and my mother large prints of these on canvas for their living room. They are from a trip we took to California 5 or 6 years ago. It took me until then to finally get them right. 

    My mother tells me that he would stare at them for hours on end, sometimes sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to do so. He couldn’t stop gushing about them to anyone who entered the house. He wanted to buy me an expensive camera and pay for me to make hundreds of prints. They unfortunately didn’t have the money to do any of that, but that’s okay. It just means the world to me that he believed in me.

    My father passed away two days ago, on August 26th. Despite seeing it as a blessing that he is now at peace and no longer in pain, the pain I feel seems insurmountable. But I will follow his example and try my best to persevere with grace while caring deeply and selflessly for those I love.

    As soon as I get the money to make new prints, I will be donating them in his memory to Shepherd’s Cove, the Hospice facility in Albertville, Alabama where he spent his final days. I’m told that the CEO of the facility has been notified and is very excited to accept them. Maybe they can bring the same sense of peace and awe to others in their final days that they brought to my father. He would have been proud of that.

    -Adenine Owl, August 28th, 2014

    Love you, Natalie.


  3. I went from having about 240 pages on Church of Self to having 111 pages. I can’t find the last doc file with all the new goodies. Currently rewriting all the ideas I had. Gonna try to knock out 15 pages a night over the next week to catch back up with my old self. Good thing is I’m a better writing every day so the new-new will be better than the old-new.

  5. thereal-khaldrago:



    Shut’em down

    Forever the best answer.

    Honestly, best answer ever

    (Source: laurenxconrad, via withlovejess)

  6. Goddamn.

    (Source: big-booty-porn)

  7. When I see a nice butt pic on tumblr or when I get to hang with my friends for a night.

    (Source: wenchyfloozymoo, via ghostinventor)



  9. "Anxiety. Past. Panic. Oh My!" WIO Lyrics

    got a whittled brain like a vacant lot
    use to be filled but business is long gone
    decline’s risin’ up and drugs are in full swing
    we love to love in the sleepy showers of spring

    well worn shoes, whatcha gonna do?
    jump from the window, your ankles will be dust
    little brass door knob, hope you hold a lock.
    I could be staring at you for the next eight hours.

    my ex is in the front room
    and I’m in the backroom
    sweating through panic and anxiety
    wondering when death will break it off in me

    overdrafted accounts in the banks of valley
    owe them more lonely love than my past can produce
    funny thing about the past, it’s always present
    a present to remind me I deserve nothing

    well worn shoes, whatcha gonna do?
    jump from the window, your ankles will be dust
    little brass door knob, hope you hold a lock.
    I could be staring at you for the next eight hours

    my ex is in the front room
    and I’m in the backroom
    sweating through panic and anxiety
    wondering when death will break it off in me

    Anxiety. Past. Panic. Oh My!
    Anxiety. Past. Panic. Oh My!
    Anxiety. Past. Panic. Oh My!
    Anxiety. Past. Panic. Oh Fuckin’ My!

  10. Cornel West excerpts from Examined Life, a 2008 documentary film directed by Astra Taylor. The film features eight influential contemporary philosophers walking around New York and other metropolises and discussing the practical application of their ideas in modern culture.