Rise of the Artist’s Anniversary

    The Featured Image is the result of a few days of reflection:  this is my completed version of: www.deviantart.com/adventvoice… 

 As I mentioned before I am going to display this in Tasty-Muffin’s birthday and party of Rise of the Artists.  www.deviantart.com/tasty-muffi…

The Shadman theshadling.newgrounds.com/ never got back with me about whether or not it was cool to use his OC for this project, but I think because I did a fairly nice job he won’t mind too much. I would like it, if all of you who view my works would take the time to show him some love though and just let him know how much you appreciate his contemporary style and desire to make the world a better place with his art.

I know no better way to Render Unto the one’s I care about, then to display art that reflects how our worlds are connected and we need each other. www.newgrounds.com/art/view/th… We need each other to stand against those that would oppress our ability to express ourselves or tell our stories. We need each other to give feedback and fuel the conversation as to why our guild is needed and in the battle for Creative Relevancy www.newgrounds.com/art/view/ad… We need each other to Rise out of the sand, grave, or quagmire that would be used to stifle our creativity. 

 I have been so excited about being apart of the group Rise of the Artists that I decided to show the Dream Weaver branded by their logo and marked in the sand by their influence. The Paint Cans are an allusion to the ideals of contemporary art and how the style of a lot of modern artists is derived from Street Art, graftti, stylized works, air brushing and a resolve to always elevate the world of art. 

You know, you are doing well at your profession when others in your guild come to you and ask you for your opinion of their showcases and presentation. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to not only encourage their dreams but to give advice,pointers, and refuse to allow them to quite because of the numerous trolls and jealous developers that would kill their motivation with negativity, to ensure they are not competition.

A young lady who goes by the name of SEQUOIA COONEN on twitter @BlobPsycho100 

trusted me on June 5 2019 about her work. Me. Can you believe it, out of the million of artists, I was the one that got a chance to ensure her, her work’s going in the right direction.

I was grocery shopping and in the midst of shopping and the drive to and from my mind goes wild with ideas. A side project from all the others is a piece of art to help “Rise of the Artists,” https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice/art/Rise-of-the-Artist-s-Anniversary-WIP-1-800702260 https://www.deviantart.com/tasty-muffin/journal/1st-Anniversary-Event-797344401

Celebrate a particular anniversary and birthday of the founder of the group. I was thinking about the Shadman and his skull avatar, commanding and controlling the Dream Weaver. The Dream Weaver would stand as an archetype of all the visionaries that have come after the Shadling and profess to have in some way to be influenced by his work. We can’t escape it. Not if we are true supporters of illustrative lewd art.

He has staked his claim and I personally can not deny the pleasure I receive from reading his various webcomics. At the same time the notion of artists rising from the dust, grave, pit, hole in the ground at the command of his voice, telling us all to leave our tagged mark and work of art upon the walls and minds of the people in the cities and high places, seemed fitting with the motivations of this DeviantArt.com group. I just hope the Shadman https://twitter.com/Shadbase feels the same way and does not mind the extra publicity the project could possibly bring him.

As I am in the grocery store I run into a Centennial Science magazine discussing “The Secrets of Creativity.” It was the June-July issue featuring articles that discuss “Finding your Inner Genius,” “Unlocking the Mysteries of the Mind,” “Inside the Aha Moment,” and “How to Raise Innovative Children,” all of these articles where organized by the editor in chief ~Pamela Weinfraub.

According to Edward O. Wilson, author of “The Origin Creativity,” the entomologist of Harvard, believes prehistoric campfires stoked imagination.

As I contemplated this position about art I didn’t know if I should be offended or encouraged. Considering Modern art, the entire era was out under scrutiny because “Abstract Art,” has been compared to the smearing of shit by monkeys. To suggest the cave drawings of prehistoric man, sparked art of today, to to compare the 16th chapel to that of the works of prehistoric man and I don’t feel that is appropriate. It misses the entire theme of what that art was communicating to man. Always seek to ascend, in mind, body, and spirit!

Of course my enthusiasm for my guild makes me biased and an unreliable source to give an honest opinion of Mr. Wilson’s thoughts about the origins of creativity.

To me creativity began the moment I began a journal. The moment any of us began to interrelate. I just chose to use art as my tool of communication.

Elleen Dunahue Robinson and Kieth Harary used Berkley’s Personality Profile format and questions from the Ten-Item Personality Inventory to aid in determining one’s creative source. Believing the origin of creativity and understanding it’s potential, lies not in prehistoric campfires but in understanding our own motivations. Which is something I Can relate to. I took the quiz and based on my numbers.

Extroversion: 9 Agreeableness: 9 Conscientious: 10 Emotional stability: 8 Openness: 12

I found I should take more risks, I should work harder of if I am over working, I have room to relax and re-evaluate success in my field. I should watch out for trapping myself on focusing too much on what “if’s” and things that have not occurred, the guide was very correct about how I feel about fools who get in the way of my own success, “I don’t.” It even suggested that because my field of art is open to a little abstract creativity and not hindered by science, I should let my demons see the light of day once in a while.

“Your demons can stifle your inner flare- or send it into high gear.”

Reading the entire magazine from cover to cover, though they accept that creativity is important, none could really say they understood the science behind it. Inspired minds according to Elkhonen Glodberg, supplied a list of who they thought were extraordinary thinkers and believed expansive cognitive activity is the sign of true genius. Einstein, Vladimir Lenin, Charles Babbage, Benito Mussolini, Walt Whitman: They all had in common an expansion upon the frontal lobe and this may enhance creativity but as in the case of Whitman, all of this information could amount to matter splattered upon the floor, only to be discarded.

I was intrigued by the notion behind the minds they studied and how all of them determined GOD to be the death of intellect, at least the belief in a supreme power and suggested this limited mans imagination and confined progress of mankind. To find ways to blow each other up. They believed reason to be superior to fantasy, the definition of reality and our present reality and what could be created now was all that mattered. Anything outside of their cognitive persuasion did not exist.

Yet my genius is firmly rooted in fantasy and the ability to form reality out of it. Being Christian and having to contend with great thinkers demoting my frame of reference to that of fiction has been a challenge. It is as if my whole life has been compared to the D&D groups who build festivals and communities in the woods and for a day or weekend, live out a role, role-playing a mode of thought for the duration of the social and have trouble turning it off when their ‘normal,’ life demands ‘reason,’ and logic outside their fictional world to function.

A very disturbing notion indeed. ( I mean how is Christianity any less fictitious than the belief’s posed by the transgender and the subsequent folklore that is built from the presumption of marginalization by a group that does not ask to be apart of the world, but desires to control it? Revelations Chapter 9)

I am an artist and outside of that world few choose to understand my conceptions and deny it’s relevance to our ever present reality. It remains real to me and I refuse to deny my creativity just because it does not appeal to those that conveniently deny a one true God. It is interesting to note, one with an IQ of 115 is associated with androgyny. Though many are quick to remind you this belief does not support transsexualism as a sole point of view in life, they do purport to be creative it is good to think androgynously. In short, those of Columbia and Correll University believe to be effective creatively, one must be able to view the world simultaneously through the lens of a man and a woman. Also arguing if you don’t give room for the transgender then you’d be stifling creativity.

That is what it has begun to feel like as a Christian when speaking to people about life, love, art, creativity. The need for men to work and provide for families and suggesting that one’s imagination is as applicable as that of the theorems of evolution. That mathematics, science and the arts can be connected by Christianity can not, only encourages me to prove it can and raise this economical value in the pursuit.

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The Fantasy List

The above image is a design I created in order to promote a series of artistic studies surrounded by the theme of my own personal Fantasies and some of the fantasies I am asked to illustrate by interested clients.  These four characters: https://www.f-list.net/c/dreamweaver2019/ :  https://www.f-list.net/c/driskill%20pureblood/ : https://www.f-list.net/c/lucille%20succulemuch/ : https://www.f-list.net/c/alexia%20thorne/ 

Each speak volumes to the level of interest placed upon sex in our modern culture. Some characters are as old as 44 https://www.f-list.net/c/Sunday and as young as 19 https://www.f-list.net/c/Mayu_Fujisaki allowing one to understand why the following discussion of right and wrong, good and bad, proper and improper is so interesting to me. 

 

In April I wrote of my interaction with two naturalists: https://avproductionsblog.wordpress.com/2019/04/16/art-beyond-walls/ who as of May 10, 2019 I found to be inactive pacifists, indifferent to the trials of life, who find any controversial discussion to be disdained, avoided at all costs and believe entertaining controversies does nothing more than incite war.

The woman said nothing, merely laughed at my ideas of Mother’s Day, being the one day of the year I am obligated to see about my mother to absolve me of the sins of ignoring her every other day of the year.

I was amused as well.

I was not amused however, with the ideas presented by her husband, lover, partner, however they claim to be involved. For indeed they are, despite their ideas of not using words that denote an allegiance to a religious doctrine that honors marriage.

Desiring not to create controversy and provoke a pacifist to anger, I refrained from asking if his woman was available on the weekends to give me pleasure by sucking my dick? Preferably free of charge and at her consent? Desiring to use his words against him I would have suggested, “Because you have no control of her person and clearly would not object if she was as willing as I to entertain a tet-a-tet, for a few hours. I will bring her back on Monday?”

It is that moment of discourse between man that I’ve failed to understand. Am I the pervert or barbarian because a woman, attractive and presumably free to do as she desires appeals to me and I to her, for asking a pacifists to stand aside and be conquered? Or am I the opportunist, who sees an advantage and instead of ignoring that gain, chooses to take it?

What incentive is their to see an achievable victory, something that would give me pleasure, appease and broaden my ego, add character to the vitality of the hunter, stand tall among my trophies in life and not seek to obtain it?

Pacifists!! I completely ignore their input in regards to anything in life, love, money, goals, politics, animals, sex, social issues, food, health, wellness, everything. For the passive and those content to watch the world pass by, seek out to change nothing. Only watch and when the dust of conflict settle, appease the victor, even if he/she was an absolute tyrant and would rape and pillage their home or person. Then they come to a man like me, who stood on his convictions, even the unconventional ideas of supporting NSFW artists and freedom of expression, to defend their right to peaceably watch as the war of creative relevance continues to wage havoc upon their imaginations.

~Passivity and indifference to the conflicts of man which creep upon the doorsteps of all of us, is simply incomprehensible to me.~

Empathy lost in beliefs that because it is not “I,” no position should I take, lest the bullet of those whom hold a divisive position take aim at me.

The pacifist’s then asks me, “Are you ok with the law today, the stories you share, it is old news and there is no danger for you to create the provocative images that you enjoy, and did you go to prison for your art work or something else?”

Not only did he fail to take a position, because of his philosophy of avoiding conflict, but he presumes to infer there is justification in criminalizing the provocative.

This my friends is why I write. This is why I have a story to tell. This is where I draw the line in the sand and proclaim for the sake of all that is cherished about being a “free man,” in a free country, which encourages the implementation of a written document that suggests we are free to write, exhibit, educate, document, and assemble positive discourses for the betterment of our fellow man and I dare ask, “ What is more positive than the illustrative allure than that of sex?”

Then because we know no other means to achieve ecstasy and bliss in this world to unite all sexes, even the pan-sexual, why have we become so conditioned to condemn it?

Am I OK with the law? Has the government pushed me in a corner and denied me the ability to communicate with you all on my more intimate of topics? I dare say “They would not attempt to set the precedent.” It’s too much bother, for sure there are those that would roll over and allow themselves, for the sake of peace to be denied the right to express their Freudian dreams, there are just as many that love and support NSFW creators and buyers.

It was a tough question posed to me but I can’t agree that people are made to suffer from a mental illness or that I do, due to my exposure to sex any more than those exposed to rap music, rock music, or a handgun. I think it’s looking at the case of strife or the constant news reports of crimes involving, drugs, sex and the ghetto invertedly and the freedom obtained in the device to move upon one’s own path; not to be categorized and hunted, based on aquarium observations.

Possibly another reason why becoming a lawyer would have been impossible. The power of investigation aides in the ability to maturely handle the entertainments of man without abuse and suggests if something is abused it’s own identification, not demonized because it happens to involve promiscuity.

My inquisitive friend who is set to hold no opinion on any issue involving right and wrong, good and bad, feeling uncomfortable with my pictorials of the sacred, asked me, “Why?”

I would like to have told him, “I do what I do because it earns me 2,000.00 a month and is worth the time I put into it. Perhaps because it is the very image or the practice of the acts that have imprisoned more than 300,000 men since 1982 and I’ve wanted to raise awareness to it.

Though I have, I still don’t believe my art has really expressed my angst against prohibitionists and deniers of pleasure. I would love to have satisfied his questions with the response of my youth and insist anything that pleases you, can’t be bad for you. Only that opens doors to numerous of things that clearly did nothing for me. Only left me angry and in need of satisfaction, yet in the moment where rather pleasant. Ice cream is wonderful but after a while I blame the sugar for my sense of bloating and discomfort. Instead I will suggest moderation and balance are my motivation and when we discuss the relations between people, there is an imbalance when we seek to exclude displays of affection.

I would love the answer to be satisfied with reasoning like: “Because I can, I do it well and with this freedom I dare not waste it on landscapes, architecture, rebuilding bridges and roads no one will use. Instead I desire to tell you stories that make your heart beat like a speaker and no matter how you deny the sight of breasts, hips, penises, vagina’s, belly buttons, rib cages, pupils, fingernails, toes, buttons, zippers, and the mechanics of the human body, have an effect on you, there are thousands that are interested and willing to dive into the depths and it is for them, I illustrate.

The moron went on to say, In his years of martial arts training and internal search of knowing himself, he found that the best self defense is the dissolving of the need to use force. He is no Christian but he certainly was inclined to believe in the turning of the other cheek in the midst of conflict. A thought that looks good on paper and the dreams of Utopia that have yet to materialize, but my quest is document reality, the good, the bad, the ugly, and in that search and documentation, the only truth I’ve found is, “Those who turn the other cheek in the midst of battle lose, every time.”

The generalized observation is that the Lewd America is the unspoken taboo and beneath in level of reputation of that of violence, murder, gore, drugs, and alcohol. Which I find fascinating because the only preferable outcome of exhibited sexual deviancy is the birth of children before anyone has the funds to support them. Which prior to the modern definitions of civilized behavior, the birth of children was the honor of kings and queens. How times have changed.

Regardless of the pacifists denial of conflict, aggressive egos, and depravity is the more acceptable nature, the expected, expression of emotion from his neighbor. The expression found in releasing sexual energy is shunned so vehemently, beyond the understanding of the deviant artist who finds the pleasure exerted between men and women to be the answer to building a country and ending wars. There is little doubt in the truth of the vast outlook when we consider the success of Jamestown Virginia as an English colony. Which was attributed, not to war, diplomacy, cultivation of food, or the spreading of religion, though all of these played a factor. We certainly can not rule out the expectation presented by the English King, in the women of England, baring children of the settled men and through sex the colony would thrive.

I am inclined to believe through the acceptance of past behavior and learned methods of success, as Jamestown, Virginia is a beacon of what it takes to be independent and remembered throughout history, if I continue to promote NSFW art, stories, and all it should purport, so will I.

APT: 1012 Overview

 

After completing “APT: 1012,” I feel for the first time, in months, that I can breathe and begin to think of more pleasant things.

Indeed I feel all the better for completing the written and illustrative properties of the production. Feeling I was able to express myself concisely and accurately, leaving no room for doubt on how I feel about the subject of rape. I am assured, I will suffer no flack from my audience, for taking a decisive stance on ‘what should occur to secure safety for women in our present rape culture.’ Though in times passed, I’ve defended and continue to champion the cause of the ‘sex-offender.’

As there is a difference between the murderer and one merely accused of murder, I believe it is reasonable to gauge crime and punishment of a man, not on what he can potentially do, given enough rage and bad feeling, but on what he has done and to respond in kind, based on the facts.

My black and white approach of due process in functionality is the reason why I never became a lawyer. At least, never saw myself as a man hunting down a ‘prosecutorial,’ position for the sole purpose of eliminating a man’s right to justification. As of late, in light of President Trump’s legal issues, there has been a lot of talk of the DOJ and the State Department’s role in seeking to edit the established constitutional standards of law, that suggests a man is innocent until proven guilty. To curb the endless debate surrounding the effectiveness of the American court process.

Some believe by eliminating due process and relying solely on DA, and AG reports and communal census and the keen pursuit of diluting recidivists, there is little need to establish trials and risk acquittals to rouge juries. The legislative branch would rather a prosecutor’s word alone could establish crime and punishment.

Then there are those that believe the underlying crime and punishment was never the issue and it’s all about who can come out on top of the best deal. Plea bargain or pay enough money and buy one’s freedom, resolving to eliminate due process and gauge it on material wealth.

Neither thoughts appealed to me as an aspiring lawyer and because I had my own ‘final solution,’ in mind and believed in that aged parchment that insinuated a criminal has a right to his day in court to argue his freedom, not wanting to think of the crooks in suites or even be like them, I was never against grandstanding upon a position no matter the controversy.

In short, where I believe it is far too easy to imprison a man falsely for rape, when the evidence is sure, it has become far too convenient for the legal system to allow for rabid dogs, killers, drug dealers, murders and rapists to remain at large.

The only misgivings I’ve approached in taking such controversial ideas and illustrating my positions, is the lack of feedback or online traffic.

Which when we consider the American society as a whole has been conditioned to absorb and seemingly loves conflict. For years American’s have taken the unconventional stance of defending their right to permeate themselves in negativity, making the marketing and selling, merely the promotion of anything approaching ‘virtue signaling,’ impossible.

I dearly love my fans and supporters. Yet this project is personal, touchy, and unmotivated by the influence of trolls or supporters. Completely organic and not enough to pull an organic following through Patreon ( https://www.patreon.com/AdventVoice ) or any of the numerous online sources you’ll be able to view this pulp comic.

I’ve celebrated a year of creative management on DeviantArt.com. A year of deviance and defiance, that has been wonderful and therapeutic.

My world can not exist without the sequential, compartmentalization of moments highlighting my fleeting existence.

An existence, that when I take a moment to reevaluate, will be culminated, if I was able to capture it all with the camera that is my mind, hands, and sketch-journals. The challenge is taking my life and make money from the endeavor.

The Navy took a couple of years recruiting young people to sign up for selfless service with the slogan, “If your life was a book, would anyone read it?!”

Then they would end the advertisement with the sponsors promising a fulfilled life by volunteering.

That mantra stayed with me as I don’t believe I have as yet produced anything worth the attention of a highly volatile audience who in their introverted lifestyles have been conditioned to read or hear about a story like “APT: 1012,” and ask, “What does that have to do with me and how can any of this information profit me?”

That is the challenge surrounding marketing ‘empathy.’ It is not sexy.

In a world more concerned with the stories of UFO’s, EPA regulation violators, and the death of butterflies, how humans interact and can take steps to make their lives comfortable becomes valueless and we being to contemplate a life without the distraction of the internet.

Pretty sad, but as a creator I have to hold out hope that the importance of art and the storyteller will out last the trends of the moment.

For those of you that could not find it in your hearts to pay to support a starving artist and seasoned storyteller. I have taken it upon myself to encourage you to dive into this story. Share your thoughts and simply join the conversation. If the story moves you and you would like more, feel free to join and subscribe to my Patreon account. https://www.patreon.com/AdventVoice 

APT_1012_Cover_Page

 

APT: 1012

Lately I’ve really been wondering why I was not motivated to think about anything else. I mean the pleasure found in the curves of a woman, should erase the darkness that haunts my dreams, but as of late I could not get “APT: 1012,”  out of my mind.

Could be the fact that their where no news reports about what they did to the man. I’ll never know for sure if the girl made up everything and beat herself up to just stick it to the guy.

I personally can not afford another prison term so, I’ve resigned myself to leave the matter alone.

Doesn’t mean I should not write about it.

Finally you will get to see a side of the Dream Weaver that compliments the Noir atmosphere, I’ve applied to his overall development. I was wanting to make strides to assure my readers that this story is mostly about the girl and the Dream Weaver’s feelings on the matter, and not so much about him.

So there are very little flash backs, to assist in understanding the position he takes on the circumstance dropped in his lap at 2. a.m.

You certainly get to perceive his response. The Femme Fatal, Victoria, does not die in the altercation, so there is room for her to make more appearances. We just hope that her story changes for the better after being aided from such trauma.

The question is still left hanging, “What is the real solution for problems like these?”

To legalize prostitution, drugs, and take away the legal right to own a fire arm? How do we account for the fact that most violent crimes and acts of war occur in ‘safe-zones,’ and areas that police citizens with polite white and yellow caution signs, instead of using the force needed to have tangible evidence of peace and security?

Do I feel better after illustrating and writing my thoughts about this issue out?

That is hard to say. The President of the United States can go to England and sip tea with the Queen of England. Mention nothing about the bombings of the churches in Shri-lanka   and as so many Christians of the home front ignore the tears of his own people. Imprison men seeking to defend their homes from home grown evils. Men like the Dream Weaver can do what is acceptable by most standards at the moment. Only to be reprimanded for taking civil action and ignoring proctorial laws. Their is more security and encouragement for people to commit crimes then there are discussions of building avenues toward prosperity. When an avenue is presented some imaginary inequality barrier is highlighted by demarcations.

Just seems we can’t get ahead to save our own lives.

It really took me a while to devise the best way to convey the cover for this story. Ask Google what a Femme Fatal is and it’s going to send you through a circus of images, monickers and ideas  stemming from the 1930’s noir and pulp classics of women with pistols, cigarettes, and pearls.

Which made me realize that the overall idea of the Femme Fatal has been lost in the noise and madness of life. For the Femme Fatal is a woman. Plain and simple as that. A woman who’s story happens to be rather dark around the edges.

The fridge of darkness does not make the story, mind you, it is the woman who is supposed to capture our attention at the moment.

She has made an appearance in some of my previous discussions, I have just never made a whole comic about her. (See attachments)

In prior journals, https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice/art/Short-Story749391507 I set out to explain Victoria Maria Harris Edwards. In light of recent developments, that I will explain in further discussions, she has found a way to make herself relevant again to some of my daily round table discussions.
When we talk about loyalty in marriage. Faithfulness to one lover. Friendship to the end. Little can be said in the way of supporting Victoria’s present behavior.
She is not as confusing as Estela https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/loving-estela but it is much safer to deal with a woman who is willing to cheat on one man, opposed to a woman willing to marry 4 times, and all the while risk limb and heart for the chance to seduce a man who would never marry her.

https://adventvoice.newgrounds.com/news/post/1026266

The woman in this story, goes by the name of Victoria, Vickie to her friends, and she is not a 1930’s whore of red lips and in need of rolling around on a couch to express her love for how she feels in black silk, complimented by fishnets.

This femme fatal happens to live in the year 2019, in a small apartment numbered 1012. While she might be friends with the Dream Weaver, her philosophy about life is entirely different from his own.  Mind you, when she is in trouble, that is who she calls.

In the middle of working on the cover page, I wanted to illustrate my idea of a modern black urban woman.

I was rather disappointed that when you type in google search, “Modern Black City Girl,” or “Modern City Girl,” there is this weak reference to Micheal Obama, Haley Berry and the sort of faces that do so little to honestly reflect our everyday view of a modern woman and it is quite impossible to illustrate such an incomprehensible idea on to one page.

From scratch I created this original character, this is her story.

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/dream-weaver-and-a-femme-fatale

Advent_Voices_Authors_Note

Before the opening act

 

Author’s Note:

This story, “APT 1012”, with all of it’s exciting detail I’ve decided to present in five pages, it seems to be that is all I have time for now-a-days, which is fine. I’ve never been one for talking heads and low octane, so I expect you all to ask questions if you can’t keep up with this one or if I happen to skip crucial details and the lack of consideration is too disturbing. It is not like me to interrupt your fun with one of my long speeches but I was hoping to let you know this one happens to be important to me.

See I was born out wedlock, never knowing who my real father was and did a lot to make sure my mother was not treated as a prostitute ~ used and abused by men because she, ‘needed someone to help raise me and my siblings.’  So when I hear stories like the one I plan on sharing, it really takes a lot for me to keep what ever composure or sense of propriety my diction belies.

I recount the time my cousin was propositioned by Mustafa, the neighborhood pimp, and I left him in a ditch, tied by his ankles with barbed wire. The local authorities where too slow for my tastes, in making a decision. That was years ago; before I became the ‘Advent Voice,’ creator of the “Dream Weaver!”

~ Some things don’t change though ~

 

889590_adventvoice_apt-1012-page-1.jpg

 

APT: 1012 Page 1

At 2 o’clock in the morning I received a phone call most would not want to deal with. In regards to a woman getting beaten. Having her home invaded by people, while her child was inside with her. For reasons that remain a mystery or are discounted when asked of her the details, because she has a history of selling her pussy, drugs, stealing merchandise and being an overall femme fatal.

Her mother refuses to aid her or even visit her in the hospital. Her grandmother thinks foster care is the best thing for the child. A little girl no older than two years, watches as grown men, not satisfied with fucking a “tender,” or ‘snap-chat thot,’ paying and leaving, sought to rob and abuse a woman who let her guard down.

It’s stories like there that enrage men like the Dream Weaver, and have him up at 2 in the morning, hunting down some punks that thought it would be cute to nearly kill and rob the neighborhood whore.

I am getting ahead of myself. Lets start from the beginning.

Not desiring to romanticize the notion of the rape culture, I purposely sacrificed the level of art and decided to make ‘Dino,’ unattractive. I can’t stand the idea of rape or think of how a man can seek to claim a woman as  his property.

Thinking of the ancient story of Troy and how Prince Paris, steals and rapes Agamemnon’s wife and how there seemed to be some desire on Homer’s part to infer the idea that a woman will learn to love the man that can take prisoner her heart. Never agreed with the idea, so when I found out Dino raped Victoria, I was thinking to myself, “What kind of man am I, to sit here and do nothing?”

The answer: and don’t try to talk me out of it. “No better than the citizens of the neighborhood, who knew what a man like Dino is capable of and instead of calling the police, the moment he was found to be spending too much time alone, with Victoria and never questioning his obsession.”

Dino is an insect in the underworld. He could never fit in as a boy with the other delinquents and always pulled on the coat tails of his grandmother when accused of a crime. Having the face only a mother could love, and she barely could stand to show that much to him, herself, he began to take his aggression, toward being useless, out on the people that laughed and sneered at him.

The easiest victims, being women. He was imprisoned twelve times for rape, robbery, and a slew of other acts of stupidity, associated with boredom and a mental flux.

Always weaving some tale of grandeur to impress the men in prison, he would continue to escape the retribution, any God fearing man would have given him, had they known they were entertaining a rapists.

He was 65 years of age when he decided to attack Victoria. Some would consider this too old to be held accountable for his actions; some would insist he is too old to have been a threat to so young a woman. I can careless about what they say. The man has been a laughing stock in that area for so long I am sure that was his motivation. To end the laughter of the beautiful woman who shunned him.

Victoria is the kind of woman to tell you to your face, “Only money makes me climax. If you don’t have enough to feed my children or feed into my dreams, I don’t need or want you.” She never said that  to the Dream Weaver, but he is not the type to play her game anyway. He has heard her mock men in this way before and he laughed right along with her. She was his childhood friend. He wanted to marry her once. Long ago, but feared her ‘gold-digging,’ habits would have pushed him too far and had him killing a man because he fell for her smile.

Yes, I am sure Dino felt the whipping sting of her tongue, when she denied him sexual favors because he did not have enough money. Feeling his pride was being challenged he was too stupid to meet her challenge with a fair deal, he decided he’d show the neighborhood that he controlled that corner of town and no woman would tell him what he could have and what he could not have. Especially one who has been selling her pussy to whom he considered to be lower scum than himself. He wanted his fair shake and was going to commit the unforgivable, if it would end the years of laughter that haunts his dreams of achieving status among the ghetto rich.

ISAIAH 43:2

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APT: 1012 Page 2

ISAIAH 43: 2

Certain of his advantage, Dino overpowers Victoria and with sadistic glee, declaring how he would enjoy this moment. She had denied him since she was sixteen. Years of waiting has made him ready. Despite her struggling and biting, kicking and clawing, he services himself with her ass, vagina, and mouth. Giving her globs of his ejaculation. Punching her in the face when she tried to reject his penis or began to dry up. He demanded silence and she gave in. Nothing was enough, because everything about him repulsed her, making her vagina chaff and bleed. She bled in his lap and it horrified him to think the bleeding came from himself, that she was diseased or sick and passed it to him. In his rage he knocked her unconscious, took what money she possessed and left her in a pool of his secretions and her own blood, from the endless pounding in the face she had to endure.

Assured that the coward fled, she calls the police. The next time she wakes up, she is in the hospital, tubes hanging out of her, to replace the fluid she lost in the encounter.

Suffering from a concussion, blurry eyed and still dehydrated, she is not surprised at all when in the corner of the room she sees a card, flowers and his initials, DW.

Inside the envelope is a stack of money. The card reads, “I was here as fast as I could be. This money is to hold you down for a while, be back soon with food and the info I need to find the one’s that did this to you, your buddy the Dream Weaver.”

The first three publications of APT: 1012 have been doing well to enthrall the attention of adolescents and young adults. Yes 22 years of age is still considered young adult to me. I have this thing about gauging maturity based on the lever of a person’s sexual performance and I know I was simply teasing pussies until I turned twenty-five or twenty-six and felt I was sufficiently and adult when I could make a woman cream her pants by playing with her nipples.

My childhood really ended at the age of twelve but I did not know what I was doing until I was about twenty four. Prior to losing my virginity, my mother would tell me as I would sit in my room and craft stories, she would tell me to never forget about my race and people and to be sure to incorporate them as much as I can when I illustrate. She believed we never had enough representation in literature, movies, television, in anything really.

As I have been crafting APT: 1012, I have been tickled pink at the amount of ethinic culture I’ve been able to cram in such few pages and wondering how she would respond to this story.

She might say something like, “ You could have shown black people in a better light, why are they so materialistic, basing life on money, sex, and abusing one another?”

I am sure I’d laugh and defend my work by stressing my dependency on the truth of our culture and though I am a dream weaver and could have crafted an illusion to appease our private sensibilities. I dare not! To sacrifice the image of the African American culture, I’ve been surrounded by my whole life and made to cut corners in showcasing the truth of our present rape culture, just because it makes you feel bad, is an insult to the word truth. If you feel bad, that is a good thing. It means you’ve not lost your ability to empathize and through this lens of pain, you might decide to dream of something better.

Knowing it is out there because anything is better than what we we’ve been given.

In my mind, I happen to live in a rather zebra patterned spectrum. Where white robed people tend to glow with bronze and gold auras and, “evil,” are those robed in black hoods and hued in purple flakes. No grey areas and any little room for error. I have this desire to achieve greatness and have crowns set aside for the white robed golden arrayed people who desire to stand with me in my efforts to paint murals of love; on barren walls; of those that have trouble defining what purity is.

I refuse to believe in making evil, no matter where it originated from, ‘necessary.’

I don’t wish to learn from it. I don’t want to be around it and when I see it, I’ve only decided to talk about it to highlight what to stay away from. If it was up to me, I’d not even perfect the illustration of rape, but would instead, plaster it with lines of yellow and black caution tape and set in a garbage heap of memories to be burned away.

It took me a while to really decide how I wanted to showcase the altercation between Dino and Victoria. A lot of artists have attempted to depict rape scenes or hardcore sex and I always feel they miss what rape is. In my imagination, because I’ve never been raped, nor have desired to rape anyone, I see the woman struggling while the man seeks to conquer her. Breaching her but because he is such an inept person and had to result to rape, he ejaculates before he can even get in and due to his inability to please a woman, he takes his anger out on her, beating her to sleep and this is why Victoria ends up in the hospital. Remember the old bastard is 65 year of age and wouldn’t be able to get up to meet the challenge anyway.

Other artists I’ve seen depicting rape, have made the mistake of illustrating the woman eventually taking pleasure throughout the act and if she finds pleasure, it can’t be seen as rape.

I wanted to give the audience a defining image for the Dream Weaver’s vindication and justification for his following actions. He would not have seen the act but when he visits the Apartment 1012 he would have seen evidence of something horrible happening and he will need that image to finally give him the will to pull the hammer.

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APT: 1012 Page 3  ~Psalm 25~

In the midst of his dreams, on the same night Victoria is attacked, the Dream Weaver was given a vision of a man who sought to explain his allegiance with sin, drugs, debauchery and his desire to enlist the youth in his world of ‘equal and opportune employment.’ He sought to convince the Dream Weaver to understand the necessity of the underground, his underworld and was sure after a while, even a hypocrite like the Dream Weaver would come to join him. Willingly giving him all he owned, even his soul, for food, clothes and shelter, when the gong sounded, war impedes and all is taken from him.

The ‘man clothed in shadows,’ is a breathe away from the Dream Weavers face when he concludes his speech and banishes him from whatever realm he chose to summon him to, “You can’t stop me from achieving my goals, this world must fall and I am going to be taking everything that is precious to you!”

The Dream Weaver wakes to his phone ringing, the clock blaring 2:00 am and no clue as to what the vision could have meant.

2:00 am! An hour before the ‘witching-hour.’ When the elements of darkness gather and boil into the manifestation of evil so many devise justifications to ease their minds into indifference or down right negligence. The Dream Weaver after years in prison, decided, upon his freedom to live on top of ‘Hickory Mountain.’ It is far enough from the cities that surround him for him to sleep in peace, yet close enough for him to peddle his talents and earn a little money.  Those close to him are aware of the distance he must travel to be good to anyone and are respectful of his desires for isolation, they know not to call unless someone is dying and especially before the witching-hour.

The officer on the other line explains Victoria took a beating and was asking for him. That was all. Disturbed by his dream and being made to leave the side of his Euriidice, he prepares to see about Victoria in the hospital.

Euriidice is not having it.

“Off again to help someone that does not see about you when the son is shining and you can have them over for dinner?” she pouts.

“If I don’t see about her, her grandfather will disturb my dreams and reprimand me for not living up to my end of the deal. He would say, ‘ Son, you have this gift to correct the imbalances in this world with your words alone and you sit on your mountain top, in a house I built and paid for and do nothing?” coos the Dream Weaver.

“I still think it is none of your business, what a person willingly chooses to do with their lives and you should not meddle. Let the police handle it. It’s what they are paid for. Why do people call you, in all hours of the night?” Expostulates a tired Euriidice. She is determined to keep him safe and away from the ghouls that bay for his blood at night.

“My beautiful Hellenist, this is what I was born to do, on the night my mother conceived me, by some man I may never know I was endowed with gusto to look at a dilemma and through brains and brawn, mainly brawn, bring down the battlements which sought to oppress a man. I would shine my light by laughing in the face of evil and with a golden will, make a way for the sun to shine again, another day. I tally the men that have fallen to my fists or the .45 and feel I’d be remiss to allow anyone even a whore like Victoria, to wallow in pain and misery. The same providence I provide you and my family and friends, can not be denied to her because she called.” Explains the Dream Weaver as he loads his .45.

Euriidice could care less of his bravado, she is a card reader. “Your still in love with her, that’s all there is to it. You might delude yourself and can weave some fantasy for your actions but you can’t fool me. I know you’ve had a soft spot for her since you were a Similac baby, wet behind the ears and jacking off to playboy magazines, but none of that justifies your getting up before the witching hour to jump in where your government, local authorities, her own family refuse to rush in. Only fools rush in.” Counters the lusty card reader.

“It’s nice to hear the concern in your voice, it is sweet. Means you care and because I don’t have much to go on and I am not getting paid to stick my neck out, you’d not have to worry about me doing anything foolish tonight. I should be back to finish where we left off because you were too tired to continue.” Smirks the Dream Weaver.

“Good boy.” Smiles Euriidice as he turns over, waving him off to play hero for the undeserving again…

Euriidice has very little love to share with people that only seem to bring drama and discord into her life and the lives of those she cares for. Her love for animals takes the place of people and because she is so beautiful, all the Dream Weaver can do is smile as she turns over to sleep and shut out the notion that his naive sense of equality for everyone will be the death of him.

She is not the only one in the Dream Weaver’s life that has questioned his beliefs in retribution or justice. It was once said to him, “That he was not allowed to be outraged with a mere moment.”

Something painful happens and he stands in view of people with a sign demanding ‘protesting justice,’ vain reassurances that someone will aid him in his moment of pain and when no one’s heart is made to beat like a speaker as his is he no longer trusts them and goes alone to fix the problems.

Problems his son’s mother was sure he could not fix, ever and it was not his job. Many have assured him the evil of this world must be. For if it did  not occur, we’d never know their was something good to believe in and working towards. To those made aware, the scape goat of ‘distance,’ erases responsibility.

It was never enough for the Dream Weaver. To him the moment does not lose it’s continuity, simply in the passing of it, neither can this be claimed for the victim of rape or false imprisonment.

Each are binding, dehumanizing, and set the Weaver into action; especially if he is in a position to do something about it.

I speak to friends, women mainly and they all agree, awareness and action are needed to devise change in our world, when it comes to how we treat women, speak of women and teach our sons how to love them. Can’t say I have the answers to where to begin. But I can say doing something is always better than nothing and when the threat comes so close to home as it did for the Dream Weaver, I can only hope other men will be as quick to respond as he was.

To have a ready answer for why they believe a woman, no matter her chosen profession deserves the protection granted any small business owner.

He responds to Euriidice’s apprehension on the matter of aiding Victoria with the same ideas he holds for anyone taken advantage of by those that abuse their power.

“If I don’t answer the call and leave it up to someone else, who does not care as much as I do about the problem and she dies or is hurt worse than what she is now, due to carelessness, how can I call myself her friend? How could I ever ask her to trust me or expect her to change her lifestyle and choose a less destructive course. A course she only chose because she never felt loved by anyone or thought people cared?”

It’s been said when people are at rock bottom they only seek better because their back is against the wall. They presume when something horrific happens like rape or murder, the victim had a hand in it and wanted to be abused, as if it is a cry for attention.

Then they look at the person on the edge of this world and what awaits us all on the otherside. Alone in some hospital room, ready to die, it is in that moment I ask the callous and uncaring, “Do you honestly believe anyone would choose that? Given the choice between having life and an abundance of it verses a painful and lonely death, What would you choose to give your fellow man?”

After receiving the call, he makes tracks to Victoria’s apartment.  No sign of any formal investigation – her car was still in the parking lot. For all anyone knew she could have been in bed sleep and this was on big prank. After several knocks, no one answered.

“What happened with the child?” The Dream Weaver asks himself.

He gets in the car and calls her husband on the cell-phone. After the last time he dealt with her she fist-a-cuffed him and the courts separated them. Charged with Domestic Violence and a year restraining order, with the risk of violation and immediate jail time, the Dream Weaver knew Pedro would not have been the one to beat on Victoria. Even if he did think she was selling her pussy.

“Pedro you need to get over to the hospital asap. Victoria took a hit, I got the call but there is no sign of her and I don’t know where your little girl is, call me back if you hear anything; let me know your side of things.”

They have their problems but he figured Pedro to be smarter than average illegal alien and knew if he was caught with the woman, he’d lose his child and have to serve jail time for violating a court order.

This is why I have never believed in State involvement in personal matters. All State employees are trained to do is detain and quarantine an area, not deliver retribution.

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ATP: 1012 Page 4: Not Yours To Touch No Matter How Naked I AM!

Time Magazine describes “Conversations with Friends,” and “Normal People,” by SallyRooney  of Trinity College Dublin and “In Machines Like Me,” by Ian McEvans, as novels that speak to the Millennial generation.

Defining normal for a new generation. Allowing bi-sexual communities to air out the emotions they have been made to suppress with irony and modern romance.

The Dream Weaver notices the two books as he strolls to the room of the hospital where Victoria is sleeping. He asks the doctor of her condition and he assures the Dream Weaver that she will make a full recovery.

“She is worse for ware but considering her Native American and Jamaican roots and American tenacity, her blood is thick and strong.”

The Dream Weaver is pleased. “That will be all doctor.” Walking over to Victoria he touches her hand tenderly and bends over to kiss her forehead. As he leans over, he gives her an envelope, full of money, she is to use as she heals from her ordeal.

The tears of humiliation, shock and gratitude are overwhelming. This is a tender moment between the two. Their is a lot of water under the bridge of their on and off again encounters. He always comes with money, a kiss, and words of comfort.

“Don’t worry about a thing my gorgeous black bird, I will find the bastards that attempted to clip your wings before you were able to feel the wind in your hair.”

A nod of consent and a single tear are all she is able to pass on by way of communication at the moment. The drugs send her back and forth between dreams and reality. Sleep and awareness or pain in her body and her skin, she desires a shower but she wants the water to drown her, to erase the memories of being powerless to stop that monster from raping, robbing and taking years of hard work away from her.

To wash away the guilt associated with having to call the one man that when he was nineteen, desired to protect her from these nightmares and would have given her anything she asked for. Even if it left them poor and wanting.

“It would be helpful if you could point me in the right direction.” Inquires the Dream Weaver.

As she looks away the tears begin to swell again, the bile builds in the back of her throat as she struggles to release the words. “Find Dino and you will find the one man that tried to take everything away from me. He nearly did you know, I nearly felt I deserved it, I almost thought, “This is what happens when I try to be as tough as the Weaver, that your condemning looks won’t affect me and I can have my dreams without the aid of the Weaver.” Sniffles Victoria as she fiddles with the gift in the envelope.

“A Dino, huh? Where does he stay and how much money did he get away with?” Asks the Dream Weaver.

“He lives in the Hoover-ville of a rat trap neighborhood that I live in. A few doors down from Apartment 1012, when you find him be sure to get the $5,000.00 back and I might give you $500.00 of it, but make sure he is dead as a door-knob. Do you hear me Weaver, I want him dead, if I was not lying her with a headache, I’d do it myself!” Commands Victoria.

“500.00 huh, keep your money. I have my own scores to settle and I am not trying to make a beggar out of you. I’ll hold you in my debt instead.” Smirks the Dream Weaver.

“Oh no you don’t! Your not going to come around whenever you like trying to get a freebie either, you take the $500.00 or you can take your charity and shove it up your ass! I don’t want your brand of Christian enslavement, where you think you can trap me into some kind of marriage with kindness. Nope, you don’t get to get your dick wet this time lover boy, not without the green.” Laughs Victoria

“I never was quick enough for you. I’ll let you know how things go after I am done. I hope you get well soon. Be sure to buy your daughter some new clothes with the money.” Chuckles the Dream Weaver as he walks out of the room, allowing Victoria to heal. She has already given him what he needs.

“Where are you going you two timing jerk, and what about our arrangement, I am so serious, don’t you dare get to thinking I will be made a debtor to any man, especially someone like you Weaver!” Yells Victoria to the backside of the Dream Weaver.

“I am going to do what I do best, don’t worry love, It is free of charge and all to show my respect to your grandfather, go to sleep. You owe me nothing, just to dream sweetly.” Echoes his voice as she fades off to sleep.

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   APT: 1012 Page 5  ~Placing a Police Report~

Is an answer of how I feel about the American police force. I was asked a while ago, with the national news shedding light on police brutality, corruption in the FBI and intelligence bureau’s, the abuses which occur from the vague rhetoric of statutes, written to turn a victim of a crime or harassment into the catalyst of a dispute, subsequently nullifying any pursuit of justice, “How do I feel about the American Police?”

From my perspective, there are two kinds, the coward who interprets an order given by the DOJ as an unquestionable decree and it is his or her sworn duty to enforce any and all laws, especially if they pose an inconvenience for the law abiding citizen. This same officer will witness a robbery or theft but because the thief obeyed the law and only took $600.00 dollars worth of merchandise, two hundred under the legal limit a theft is deemed malicious, and walk the other way, while the victim of the robbery is still asking for justice.

Then you have the other police officer, who has had to deal with the stress’s of others and those of his own making. He is dedicated in enforcing the law and is no coward. He receives the call, no matter if it’s to assist the stranded traveler in changing their tire to get out of the way of the approaching eighteen wheeler, or as large as raiding the home of the local drug dealing rapist. He lives for the moment to brandish his badge and let the world know, justice comes from the point of a barrel.

The coward of a police officer will see a person is in no position to care for whatever issue has encouraged them to ask for assistance and instead of delegating a means to absolve the problem effectively, he will sit behind his desk and stall by asking the person to file a complaint, and throw the grievance the moment the person leaves, who is then deflated by the burden of having to deal with their exhaustive circumstance alone.

Then there is the officer who encounters the fourteen year old, troubled teen in the street. Not in school but carrying a backpack. He investigates and finds the kid is a gang member, was robbed that morning and is looking to kill the man that robbed him. He sees the .45 in the bag. Instead of taking the kid and the gun in he asks “Where is the man that robbed you?” The kid shows him. The cop retains the money, takes the thief to jail and takes the kid home. Talks to his mother and brothers. Finds there is no father and the brothers forced him to carry his own burdens in life. Did not encourage him to achieve an education and desire more out of life than the chance to go to prison like his father and brothers and earn his strips. He mentors the boy, keeps him out of trouble and since he knows where the drugs are coming from, sends a team to keep the degradation quarantined on one half of the city. His plan makes him Sheriff, he is elected year after year, and retires, without ever having to fire his pistol once.

In my personal experiences I’ve witnessed the African American officers use his color as a wedge between the races, bribing and currying favor with those of his color and completely ignoring the pleas in the night for security of the white communities, the coward.

Then you have the officer who is color-blind and listens to the small voice in the back of his mind that insists he puts his neck on the line in the name of honor to help his fellow man. I’ve separated the class of officer in two, the coward and the valiant because I have friends that are police officers and I know deep down they chose to serve because like me they wanted to help people that could not help themselves. I am inclined to be kind in this report, for their sake. They are friends, but if I won’t sacrifice the truth for the sake of my mother, I doubt it would be respectable of me to do so for others.

I was eight years old in Wharton Texas when I got my first taste of punishing men who forcibly turned their wives, sisters, aunts, cousins, and children into prostitutes for the city. Their was a little motel, made famous for these acts, called the “Tee-Pee Motel,” you can Google directions on your own time:  4098 E. Business 5 R, Wharton, TX 77488. Giant concert buildings made in the shape of Native American tee-pees and home to some of the most notorious borderland degenerates ever known.

Since I don’t know who my father is and no one dares to tell me the truth, I could almost surmise I was conceived there. A child of whores, is there any wonder as to why I have a love for the “Lady of the Night,” and can relate to her cries of humane-rights?!

When we were boys, dealing with the generational curse of lack of fathers in the home or any man our mothers chose for the moment to be on hand as our fathers, we did not have police to aid us in the midst of domestic violence or child abuse and never called upon them, where taught not to. We adhered to the Italian philosophy of ‘omerta,’ which suited me well and I still encourage many to keep to it’s grace; when faced with the choice of involving the police of obtaining justice.

Place a police report you say. Sure, call the police and this is what you’ll hear.

“You know if we arrest him without the rape-kit, and the evidence found there, we can only charge him with assault and battery. He’ll get a smack on the wrist and be out as fast as it takes you to collect whiplash from a car crash.”

At this point I am scratching my head trying to figure out what I pay taxes for, excuses of glorified babysitters with pistols, set to shoot blanks.

“Listen Jerry, you could easily detain a known rapist for what you clearly have evidence for and press more charges before he can post bail, especially for a career, serial rapist like Dino. Your stalling is only going to make me dawn my hat.” says the Dream Weaver.

“You do what you want, just know if we catch wind of your interference with our investigation and you pull that trigger, we will be coming after you. Let us do our job and file him in by the numbers.

Your sweet on the girl, your mad she took a beating, none of that justifies you taking the law in your own hands.” Jerry does not like being told how to do his job. “My job was just to inform you of the situation, your free to do with  that information, what you like.”

The Dream Weavers rage is boiling.

“This is why everyone in this country is shooting one another, robbing, maiming, killing and why you have a rape case on your hands! There is no fear of God in a man like Dino, for 35 years you’ve allowed that rabid dog to attack as he likes and now he’s touched someone that’s made you call me at 2:00 in the morning and you tell me to do nothing…”

A heavy sigh on the other line, “When the kit comes in…”

Click: Dial Tone.

The Dream Weaver is on the move!

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APT: 1012 Page 6 ~ 5 Stages of Triage ~

Local law enforcement let Dino go but the Dream Weaver did not have to. Of course after finding him, the coward began to rant and rave about how she made it all up. She beat herself, tore up her own home, scratched her own legs and called the cops, after taking her daughter to her neighbors house. Couched her friends in what to say and she is setting him up.

The Dream Weaver had to ask him, “For What?!” Not that it would change his mind about his fate. But he wanted to know what he believed would drive a woman to kick her own door, stage a break-in and put a baseball-sized knot on her already enlarged forehead and blame it on a man who’s been to prison five times for rape?

“I don’t know man, cause she is crazy.” Was Dino’s reply.

That would not satisfy a judge, jury or the executioner, so why should the Dream Weaver be?

“Look Dino, your really out of time, I can care less about what you think happened in apartment 1012, Victoria’s friend has no reason to lie for her and the only reason your not behind bars is cause someone in the department thinks black people should handle their own damn problems and black on black crimes is the best way to purge such a blight on the world. When they talk about blights, roaches and plagues to the human race, mind you, they mean you Dino.”

The Dream Weaver thought prison would be too good for someone like Dino. He was too accustomed to the catch and release process, he knew all the right things to say, he had people giving him alibis. The only way to deal with a rabid dog is to put it down.

“I did not do anything, she is lying, she has always been a little liar!” Screams Dino is the .45, is placed to his head.

There is only one way to deal with a rabid dog. Only one way to deal with his kind.

You might be asking yourself, “Why was the Dream Weaver so harsh with Dino, what if it was true and the woman lied?”

I tell you for the benefit of the future of man kind ass it is, anyone willing to cause harm to a woman, sell narcotics in the neighborhood of black people and aid in the deprivation of the African American and they are African American, they need no longer exist.

Granted I have room for doubt, I would not be human if I didn’t, but when you see family or a loved one in the hospital and she says, “Dino did it.” Another woman can be a witness to it and others know you have a thing for fucking over people at some point the sight of unprotected women with daughters, bruised and battered and raped, gets to making you love sleep and only the silence after the crack of a

.45, can ease your mind. Erasing the memory of what happened in Apartment 1012.

“Every Foe is subject to the healer of dreams.”

This page is to illustrate a side of the Dream Weaver, I’ve alluded to but never really had a chance to expound on. Oh he could have expressed his rage by a few upper-cuts and lower-jabs. He could have given the hero’s taunt like, (The State of NC’s Attorney General Josh Stein, stating that rapists, sex offenders, will be hunted down until the end of time, with DNA samples and rape-kits), but it’s not his style. When Dino asks the Weaver, “Would you shoot an unarmed man in the back?” That sets him off. His anger boils and the hammer falls. The satisfaction on the Dream Weavers face in fulfilling his promise to Victoria, shows his pride in being ‘dependable.’  He would never allow the notion of ‘honor among thieves,’ or keeping the playing field even or being above cheating in order to win.

He does not mind being an opportunist when it is his favor and he is alive to tell the tale, so by his vantage point, who would blame him.

I could have broken the second panel into three shots of the Dream Weaver putting holes into Dino, for asking for mercy from him.

“Did you give Victoria mercy?” ~One shot!

“When she begged you to stop, Did you?” ~Second shot!

“For every beautiful woman in the world, who has had her back against the wall, made to choose life over death, you get a bullet.” ~Last shot!

In the manner of which I ended this sixth page, the overall story could have ended and that is fine.

Leaves the seventh page as an alternative bonus ending. The discussion can be furthered. Regarding the best way to deal with a serial rapists, we could infer the notion that if your not willing to do what it takes to win, you’ve merely aided and abetted more attacks on women that have risked their lives by choosing prostitution as a means of making a living.

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APT: 1012 Page 7 ~ Alternative Ending

I am sure by now I’ve said all that is needed to be said on this matter. The Dream Weaver has seen to the death of Dino and though in real life Dino remains at large and Victoria must wait for the results of her rape-kit to come in before she can ever hope for closure from the courts. At least in my dreams it can be said, something was done for her.

This page was inspired by a conversation I had with my son’s mother in college. (When things were good.) I may have brought this up before, so for those that have read my journals, books and articles, bare with me. The little aside relates, I promise.

Well one day, I say around 2007, it was late and my son’s mother wanted to go to some club and her boyfriend would not take her. So she called me. That was after she called this guy I could not stand to give us all three a ride. I was supposed to go to make sure she stayed out of trouble and the driver was going, looking to score. Which made me, the guy that had scored enough to get her pregnant, the third wheel and expendable. So when I found that she did not expect me to drive her but to sit in the back seat and go to a party at the mercy of “Can’t Keep His Dick To Himself-Driver,” I flipped out. I told her I am not going and I forbid her to go!

I could not tell her I did not trust out driver, cause he was her “friend” and I would not tell her to stay because I was not her boyfriend or husband. So I told her to have fun, if she was going , but don’t call me at no two o’clock in the morning for a ride cause your driver is wasted.

She went and of course she calls me at two o’clock in the morning. Except she is not at the party. She managed to make it home,but her driver was not going to let her leave without some form of payment and he wanted her mouth, on his dick. She called, She texted, she was desperate and distressed and so I made the ten mile journey on foot to her place from my own, at two o’clock in the morning, to find her still in the car, trying to stall and fend off the driver that I could not stand in the first place.

Needless to say, I knocked on his window, pulled him out of the car and beat the snot out of him. Only my rage did not end with him alone. I was pissed that my son’s mother put me in a position to have to fight over her and she refused to say we were dating, to call me her boyfriend, to marry me. I am paying her rent, I am caring for her, I am fucking her and still she gives me the cold shoulder and only calls me when she needs protection.

After getting her in the house, I laid into her as well. Her boyfriend was in the other room but, ‘fuck him,’ he did not even look out the window to see she needed help or to help me as I am beating up a would be rapist!

“The next time you put me in that position I am going to tie the balls of who ever it is you are fucking with by a telephone wire and make you watch as he hangs there!”

I threatened, in hopes she would have the decency to not let me see her with any other guy, including her boyfriend.

“Just one time, if I see some guy on your arm and you’ve not told him to look the other way when yall see me, I will castrate him in front of you!”  I am not the one to play with and you might sleep around with other guys now but not when you have said “I am the one you want to be with.”

Needless to say she was not having it and said we need to be away from each other for a while if I am going to be violent and act like a spoiled child.

I agreed and for months I stayed away from her. She called me later and said she missed me and I fell right in again but the thought of catching one of her boy-toys that went to her and did not know how to take “no” for answer, was always in the back of my mind.

That is how I had planned for the Dream Weaver to deal with Dino. For putting him in a position to be made to get out of bed and stop loving on Euriidice to assist Victoria, a woman that chose the money she could acquire from men over the love the Dream Weaver could offer her, Dino would have to hang by his balls from a telephone line.

“If they can hold up Spider-Man they can hold up a Dead, one!”

It was that thought alone that had my son’s mother deny my son the right to carry my last name. That night she determined I was too violent and had the ability to carry out what I set out to do.

I mean who runs ten miles in the night to beat someone down when they could have drove or called the cops.

That is what she asked me. At the time I suppose it was because I did not want my car traced, I was angry and I walked to the University and back all the time so the landscape was not intimidating to me, I guess.

I was young and silly at the time. I also wanted to stay the night and if she had allowed, which she did, I would take the bus to class and save on my gas. She had my son three years later, after that night and never did I have to hang a man by his balls in front of her. She never let me catch her with a man.

Well I hope you all have enjoyed my illustrated short. It was a joy to work on. There will be more adventures to come. If you happen to be on my side of town, stop by, lets drink some coffee and talk shop about how to make the world a better place. 

Where do you stand on Article 13?

“Body shaming because I am Hotter than you!”

Lola aka Legendary Saiyangod20 www.deviantart.com/legendarysa… was having issues with a correspondent by the name of Sister Candy www.deviantart.com/sistercandy that accused her of cat-fishing, stealing art and numerous and unverifiable matters, that after reading the deviant account solely dedicated to slandering an online entity, real or not, I could not help but to attribute this level of coverage to be that of censorship.

A method of trolling, debasing the creativity that many of you who follow me know I’d never condone. Honestly I would have stayed out of this particular Article 13 infringement debate, had not a piece of my own work become a useful tool to be used by the likes of lesser talented critics like Sister Candy to prove her overall point, that is no art or creativity to be found in digital augmentation.

The entire incident has driven me to actually discuss this issue because I wonder to myself, “What would I do if someone came around making websites dedicated to challenging my credibility as an artist?”

I know from face value, I’d be mortified. I would be searching among the few I know who’d support me immediately and seek counsel and begin damage control on my minuscule viewership ratings, assure my sponsors that I’ve not stooped to lazy means of publication and have always aimed to present my own ‘Truth.’

I may not have been tactful in all instances but I am certainly not to be seen as a stooge.

In striving to be honest with my viewers and always wanting to bring something good to the table, it is only right that I confess to you all that I am not perfect, I’ve lived the life of a pikey and or misfit for a long time.

I have a son that I may never see. My daughter died a few months back and I have not really gotten over it.

I have made no money on any of my material and I have 95 steady followers on twitter. << I say that as an indication of my level of popularity or credible service to the guild of creators.>>

I’ve been pushing art, literature, and my strength for nine years, if not longer and have little to show for it.

I’ve pushed away any woman daring to find me worth having because I have a hard time loving myself. Isn’t that stupid?

Why should it bother me that I could not give romance to a lover or wife or lady friend, if she is willing to put up with me?

With all of my flaws as a person it is hard for me to read about the presumed wrongs of others and not encourage understanding and the passage of good will. I have no idea what the deeds of others, good or bad has to do with our publication rights or ability to be appreciated for the ideas we bring.

I for one loved the idea of a pregnant Android 18 as a fan-fiction story and would not have known about it if it was not for my connection with www.deviantart.com/legendarysa…

Body shaming someone into dissolving their accounts and outreach with the world around them is more than cruel and only sets the ire of creators like myself. Who if they were so inclined, would post memes, everywhere, educating people on the damage incurred by censoring people because they are seen as attractive while pregnant. Lola asked me what happens if someone comes and says something negative about my work because it is associated with her?

Lady Lola Pregnant

Again I must ask, “What is the difference between me illustrating her or some celebrity, or fulfilling the request of so many artists that ask people to draw their works in the style of such and such artist? Is my ability in question or the content and if it is the content, how can any complaint be made when the article in question is not flagged by DA, falls under there membership rules and entertains? How can someone complain about fan-art when there are so many that have gone Game of Thrones crazy and file dump badly bleached blond dragon queens everywhere, since the new season came out?

In short, I will not hesitate to delete the cry baby ass that has the nerve to shoot at the creator of the Dream Weaver, because Lady Lola’s tits are hotter than her own.

Really I think it is more than that. I think Lady Lola has a talent and skill hidden beneath the surface and her four months online is not enough time to do anything she dreams of and I can’t stand anyone willing to stifle the dreams of another.

Anticipating what other forms of roleplay or webcomics of a pregnant Android 18 that she can endeavor to produce is a pleasure and I give her my support gladly. I guess my support is obivious, considering I was willing to add her to my gallery, who wouldn’t be impressed with those big beautiful breasts?

Lola really wanted me to draw her pregnant and that was a lot of fun for me. My first pregnant piece. Finding ways to heighten her curves and express her beauty found in pregnancy. A notion that I would love to ask her, “what she thinks of pregnant women and what attracts her to them?” I know a lot of men that have this fetish but it is rare to find a woman with it. I mean how many of you can count on your fingers a woman you know who enjoys the sight of pregnant women and dreams of what it’s like to see their favorite anime character with a baby bump?

Share your thoughts on Article 13 violations and abusive of the clause @ https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice

https://adventvoice.newgrounds.com/

or just tweet me @ Scope2Mars how you feel about this particular brand of censorship and your ideas on how to keep it in check?

How to properly shade art works.

 

How do you properly shade with, pencil, ink, colored pencils, or digital apparatus?

642179_adventvoice_hide-and-seek.jpg

 

(The above image is of “Hide and Seek,” a piece of art featuring her in this letter specifically to give you examples of what my shading techniques can achieve through practice. To interact with these characters and learn more be sure to visithttps://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/hide-and-seek or https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice)

This was asked of me of a young woman that works in the Auto Care Center of Walmart.

She is an artist and you know, I owe her so much. She cares for my tires when I need the assistance and always has a smile as beautiful as the noon day sun when I see her. I gave her my card and told her to look me up when she had the time and so I have particular designed this presentation in hopes that she will read it and learn some new tips.

For the next articles, I am going to be discussing a few of my techniques and no I am not talking about how I get in good with the ladies.

I meant the proper way to shade.

The first thing I always consider is that shades and shadows only occur because a mass is encumbering light. Even though there are times when we consider a ‘mass,’ to only be a definitive object, like a bus or a person and we easily can conceive that in order to evaluate depth and perception, be it left or right and around corners, that the shadow and shades move away from the light.

It took me a long time to consider that a line is a ‘mass,’ and that one line can produce a shadow.

When I began to realize that I could break a definitive line and add depth and bends into the light source and shadow point, did I realize my 2 dimensional images can emit a 3 dimensional flare and stylization that has begun to enthrall our general youth.

After deciding where the light is going to come from, I will blend and move shadows and hues of my chosen medium, colored pencil, graphite or ink; remembering, that “The tool may change, but the principal remains the same.”

I suppose that is why I call my style, “Line upon, line, here a little, there a little.”

Once I have established where the light is coming from all of my base coloring is applied to the page, canvas; that is of course if I am using a digital format. Mind you a base color applies to traditional colored pencil, except I never build a color base from the middle of the page or image, always from the outside to the center.

I always spiral from the outside of the page to the middle and for a really dynamic effect, I leave the inside of the image lighter in hue from the outside of the image.

For tattoo artists this is called “NEW ART Style,” and that has been my foundation for shading my line work or illustrations for years.

 

No matter how often I attempt to do something different, I can’t and I am always satisfied with the richness of my lines and the boldness presented in my works.

The ethics of shading applied generally to traditional and modern art pieces from April 16 2019 to present, I will like to suggest this process of adding depth to an image can also be applied to digital works that feature little to no cell shading.

Cell shading is that bold black line , you’ve seen me apply to a lot of my pieces, to give my productions that stylized comic book theme, you all know and love. In traditional pieces where it is not always appreciated to have bold black lines outlying a piece of art and falling back on ‘wood-cut,’ styles of previous centuries, there are times when I’ll only allow the line to take up two inches of negative space. Without the use of this dynamic cell shading technique, the Pop Art culture would have had a hard time taking off. Tattoo’s would have remained in the 1950’s 2D flat surfacing and we would not have learned how to bend shadows and add depth to the background of a piece of art.

When I learned that color pallets should be used to accent a piece of art instead of defining a piece of art, a lot of my works began to take on a new life.

There are several artists that will assure you, black is not the only medium you can use to create the shade and depth your looking for. I have noticed a few that use light brown, purples, dark blues, and when they want to give the image an outer limits feel, they will use green.

Why am I so partial to black?

Because as a kid, I always felt the richer the color, and there is very little that can compete with the fullness of charcoal, the deeper the depth and more the image would appear to come to life to the viewer.

After considering shades and shadows occur because a mass is encumbering light: Secondly we should remember shade adds depth, and insinuates vitality.

When I am not glazing the initial color with a darker accent along the border, of each line or the object, of the original colors, until they vibrate to my satisfaction. When constructing the natural elements, water, wind, fire, air, etc; all of them can be satisfied with the sense of creating indiscriminate patterns and shading the depths, in between, to express movement and approach reality upon the canvas. Shading is needed or accented in the process naturally. This is comprehended in digital color theory as well.

Lastly you should remember shading techniques have been subject to innovation over the years; growing from hatch markings, dotting, defined and definitive line patterns and always applied to add depth to a surface. My favorite way to practice shading is to begin with a circle and to bend light and shadows to transform that circle into a ball and then turn that ball into a celestial body and then make that planet, spin, with other similar and more defined elements.

I will initiate a challenge with this discourse to you the reader and ask that you send me your best shaded images, after considering my ideas and seeking to apply the theory of making a flat, inconsequential image and grafting life into it, line upon line.

You can email me @ cag3lefant@aol.com

Entitle the email: Response to Art Challenge:

I will certainly be sure to give you all credit for your works, all I ask is for a few words indicating who you are, your age, where you live, what the piece of art is about and what came easiest to you as you were shading your image? I will add your pieces of art to my next few publications, and oh yeah be sure to leave a twitter link if you have one and I will be sure to add that in the advertisement of your artistic showcase. Thanks in advance for those that desire to participate in my little challenge.

522852_adventvoice_its-complicated.jpg

(This is an older piece of art but I am sure you can understand why I chose to use it for this letter, the level of shading is epic and the graphite I used translates so well to the screen, that all I have to do is follow the pattern, add color as needed and I would have produced, in three days an image almost as good as our featured image for the month of May. Happy Birthday Set!)

To find out more information about the featured image and the artists that created it..meaning me be sure to visit @Scope2Mars on twitter for more updates you might have missed!

Art Beyond Walls

 

I had the privilege of meeting two naturalists creators from Tampa Bay Florida, A husband and wife who’ve been in the area for less than a week and have seen much of what this town has to offer in the arena of art and are impressed enough to pull as much potential out of it as they can. Of course this town has seen many visionaries come and go to leave nothing but a memory behind. They did not have much in the way of connections but they have my information and I look forward to seeing them again in the future. I showed them each the website www.avproductionsblog.wordpress.com and I was amused by their responses.

French lass on the beach

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/french-lass-on-the-beach

French lass on the beach

His wife found it “Provocative.” He found it ‘Enlightening.’ Fresh and original, believing those that read the site and interact, would have to be well read because of my style of writing and content. I do believe he was really interested on my take of the Post-Modern culture in comparison with what we have today. He believes most of the world, due to technology, lost it’s ability to feel and he views art to be the foundation of communication and communities. Without art, we could no reflect who we are.

It was just nice to know, in showing a piece of myself, they appreciated my efforts, in their own way.

Their desires mirror my own. They desire to gather all of the real talent into one venue in this rural area, which is a lot more wide spread than those, sealed in isolationism, realize. Teach them how to market their talent and build wealth with their hands. The Co-Op, Art Incubator, is already their, to be honest, very hesitant though in utilizing it, due to their consumerists back grounds. Lack of trust in their own ability and the social walks that separate us. We all can agree that written material outside of our personal and cloistered existences is guided by divisive motivations and as long as we allow sex, creed, cast, color,  and religion, to define what is achievable and limit ourselves, our individual experiences would have amounted to nothing.

I can’t imagine a single person who is ‘ok,’ with the notion of their lives amounting to nothing, and most fail to realize the emptiness has devoured them until that moment, when they look in the mirror, witness their hairs changing into wisps of gray that should signify wisdom, yet they’ve none to pass on to their children.

The husband I mentioned previously, no money in his pocket, a wife who sells herbs, and a mind filled with dreams, made an interesting offer. To have me be a principal of an art school. A school for the Arts, where music, literature, and craft is taught. I think he failed to realize you need a licenses in this country to do anything but this paper is not about limitations, it is about pulling ourselves from our boot straps and changing our little piece of the world.

I don’t know if I can devise a piece of art dynamic enough to illustrate what that looks like. If I could, could my mind handle it? What does a productive art institute look like and how do you fend off the negative press that suggests the world of art, imagination, the gift of weaving dreams is not lucrative?

 

As of April 10, 2019, I found I was without a phone and the internet, because I did not pay my bill. Which is connected to everything, so when I don’t pay my phone bill, I don’t have access to you all and my cellphone dies. Anyway I went to the buisness district of my town looking for the physcial location of the people that take 158.00 a month, so I can use the internet and make phone calls. The address was a farce and their website was down. Luckily the beautiful women that work the office of the building, where kind enough to lend me a phone to pay my bill. In return for their kindness I gave them the link to my website and potentially my, provocative, art work. If you must know why, it was because I want the whole world to know I am capable of, but also because, they were so charmingly helpful. For free they moved around that office, providing me with information to assist me in my very personal problem. You would never find that kind of service in San Francisco,  Houston Texas, Chicago Illinois, New Orleans Louisianan, Newark New York, of the whole state of Washington, If your not willing to pay for the services that institution provides, you might as well not exist. I am used to the “No soliciting,” response from the indifferent. Anyway, there were nothing but beautiful women in this office and it seemed they were all in need of a husband that when little old me walked in need of assistance, anything was available, if I wanted it. Desiring to know how far their hormones guided their business philosophy, I left a sticky note with my website address and I am hoping their curiosity gets the best of them and they become patreon’s, subscribers and readers of some of my more eclectic ideas.

In a couple of months I may follow up and see what they think, if they don’t send comments as instructed.

There is a beautician by the name of Vanity Ambello, who when I first met her refused to cut my hair without an appointment. I left her my card and asked her to read my articles on her own time. I visited her again without making an appointment and like an idiot, I walked in; asking for a hair cut. Again she says, “I don’t accept walk-ins.”  Yet she remembered me and suggested I was trying her to see if she’ll change her mind. Her kindness was sweet and I hope it was because of the articles I’ve written and she finds me charming. I won’t know until I make that appointment.

Roger Person is an artist in my county that is considering in his old age the necessity to down size his artistic reach. Making me wonder what this town would be like without him? When people look at my work they immediately think of Roger Person to Person Art of Siler City NC. I can’t help but to feel proud to be connected to his style.

When you read page 66 of the “Tears of Eros,” by Georges Bataille, who presents an argument about eroticism, I’ve come across in my own journey countless time: (5) From Erotic Laughter to Prohibition: he suggests the notion of the tears of Eros gives into laughter. Eros may be a tragic god, yet the foundation of eroticism is the sexual act, and inconceivable, to him and to I, is the thought that making love is prohibited. Unless you do it in secret. Making things done in secret, exude or radiate, a religious glow. Immediately sinister and divine.

Prohibition gives it’s own value to what it prohibits. For George, it’s at the moment of refrain he asks himself, “If, in the contrary, have I not been deceitfully provoked?!”

Prohibition gives to what it proscribes a meaning that in itself the prohibited action never had.

An interesting answer, for why censorship policies should be abhorred from creative minds.

A prohibited act invites transgression, without which the act would not have the wicked glow which is so seductive. In the transgression of the prohibition a spell is cast.

This was conceived in 1961.

My present studies have only added assurance in my present belief, which, having not been tested against all conventional wisdom not contested by readers and viewers but stands to reason, that there is very little I could add to the world of proven doctrine, that has not already been conceived. I could drown myself in the written works of the philosophers before me and if I was not assured in my present line of thinking, become reduced to merely conform or contest.

JazminandJazz of deviantart.com, after reading my thoughts and digesting my art, claimed to have not come across a person that thinks as I. If their was any hubris left in me, as I quest to elevate my guild into the next era of creative reflection, I would have carried these words in a box of treasures, I hide under my bed and gift wrapped them. Believing originality, will be my only saving grace, after I am a mere memory. Unfortunately, yet gratifyingly, historically the struggle between the prohibitionists, thought police, and sequesters of NSFW material and that of the mature artists and creators, has been an ongoing debate for fifty eight years in the Post Modern culture and it would seem I am late to the fray. Instead I believe if we all dig deep enough into the catacombs of historic precepts, we will find the foundation of our beliefs and the guide of our individual star.

According to Gavin Menzies, in 2011, he suggested the key to Plato’s Atlantis, resided in Bronze Age Minoan culture. ~Timaeus & Critias ~ in chapters six and seven he gives the missing link to Anatolia – Turkey – of course, this is a man that believes China discovered the world in 1421 and leads the world today. The same China who under Xi Jinping desires to stifle the intellectual elevation of creators like Zhang Qianfan of Peking University, author of “An Introduction to the Study of Constitutional Law.” published in 2004 and republished ten years later. Still on the purge list in Mr. Xi’s socialist/communist   China. Since the aftermath of Tienanmen Square protests of nearly thirty years ago the communist party has been waging war against liberal values and western thought. The only line of thinking that is accepted is the implementation of Xi Jinping Thought.

I just can’t agree any civilization can be considered sustainable or glorious to the extent of “Atlantis,” that since 1911 has had to look in the mirror and argue with itself over whether or not ‘isolationism,’ starvation of it’s poor, population control, and mass killings, verses a populace, free to market for itself is the proper identity. Whether Western idealism is good for the people or whether they should build bigger walls on top of the forbidden city and return to the imperialism of old.

Tell you what you won’t find in China, beautiful art of European and Western women who are pleasantly plump. The identification for beauty is predetermined and if it does not represent conventional Eastern standards of beauty, it won’t be seen. I suppose that would give the identity politics between SJW’s and Conservatives of America, a unified position, if they were honest with themselves.

I think of our present recollection of historic events are slanted from the eyes of writers like Yale University Press authors such as Kim Wagner and his butchery of the Amritsar 1919 debate or the Economists coddling of the new Muslim caliphate, spear headed by Western Islam and it’s contribution to the French diet with the presentation of the croissants and their artistic or cultural contributions, of course without adding the names of a piece of art illustrated by a Muslim that was not burned in the Inquisition.

By the eve of the first Wold War, Muslim and Eastern life in the West had all come to an end. (That is historically documented by both sides of the cultural hemisphere and it is that truth that I use to assist me in making some harsh statements.)

It is 2019 and we do have two Muslim women in Congress, Rashida Tlaib and Illhan Omar, but I am still scouring books searching for their imaginative contribution.

According to Bernard Lewis, author of “What Went Wrong?” At the peak of Islamic power, which would have been the conquering of Constantinople, their was only one civilization that was comparable in the level, quality and variety of achievement, that was China. He too claims their was some prowess achieved by the far east, so far in human history in the arts and sciences of civilization. Lewis suggests Medieval Europe was a pupil and dependent of the Islamic world, relying on Arabic versions of artistic depiction of Greek writings.

Then suddenly, with the advent of “New Learning,” they left the Islamic world behind.

 

I hold that it was not sudden, mind you. What is not said by many historians, is that the “Renaissance and Reformation,” “New Learning,” was because of the push for Enlightenment and a desire to move out of the DARK AGES!

 

By questioning what we considered acceptable of the time, we, Western Culture, Christendom, Liberalism, gave birth to the very controversial notion of drawing a portrait of a woman with her hair down, and or uncovered.

I look back in history and feel if people consider the influence of East-Asia and the Middle East and Arab nations to have a foundation hold in Western civilization and use examples from before the dark ages, then they are subsequently saying, “We’ve achieved no cultural advancements of worth, especially in Europe, because Muslims have had little hand in it. I really can’t understand how China has any claim to cultural advancement, when they censor and steal intellectual property.

 

From what I know about art and the history of it in the Middle East, in China, in India, my variety of art, the idea of displaying a woman in her nude glory is abhorred and I’ve used that for a long time to illustrate the line between, libertine European-American acceptance and the lack their of, found in the traditions of the Orient, which would define a great artist as a one who can illustrate the best flower. If a Westerner converts to Eastern doctrine and culture, he or she is documented for their orthodox achievements, but anything of worth that is not in line with traditional doctrine is always conveniently ignored, that’s if I remember correctly. This is pivotal reasoning behind Leo Tolstoy’s need to leave his country and seek refuge in America. Writings of no worth to the likes of East-Asia, Islam, Russia, or China. I for one always appreciated his thoughts on the pleasantly plump peasant woman in contrast to that of the lithe and worldly female denizens of civilized Moscow.

I was asked once if I felt Christians where the cause for a lot of censorship in America and given the history of the restrictive nature of that religious group, I don’t know many of them that would deny literature if it is truthful. Even if it places them in a bad light.

Nor do I know of them denying people the ability to earn a livelihood through liberal traditions and writings. So I could never really say it was Christendom who’ve limited history through political censorship, not when compared to Draconian countries, totalitarian countries and those set against American achievement.

Christendom has been known to preach against the secular doctrine that teaches Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll sells and should be marketed to the youth. Every known orthodox religion, in the beginning was against secularism, so again I can’t solely contribute the negative attitudes stressed against pornography, and the marketability of marijuana and beer on college campuses on them. Any fundamentalist Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Catholic, and Spiritualist, would be set against it as well.

In 1979 militant Islamist Khomeini in his writings before and after the revolution, spoke of the inevitable immorality that would result from women teaching adolescent boys.

I can’t help in reminding my friends that, America and Western culture holds the gauntlet in feminist liberation and though we should seek to share it with other nations, we should never hold back, in our desires for individual and cultural leadership, to those whom have only come to the level of education and enlightenment in the past forty years.

With all of the countries subject to restrictions, Central-Asia~Iraq~Cuba~China~North Korea, upon their education or freedom of expression, it is imperative, as an American, that as an artist I continue to press upon the walls that divide us and illustrate what the Cosmopolitan magazines would never condone but should.

Outside seeking to please Medral  https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice/journal/The-Real-Woman-vs-The-Superficial-789426608  and other women I’ve come to know and appreciate, I really don’t have a reason to increase the number of plus size women to my artistic gallery. Aside from being free to do so and not having much to say on the matter, I did and enjoyed every curve.

 

I can say this in regard to my attraction to the pleasantly plump, all of the women that I’ve engaged who were ‘moon-faced,’ all could take my ten inches more so than the heart-shaped-faces of the lithe. Whenever I find myself in bed with a large woman, I imagine I could be in the presence of Ferronia, Befana, or Berchta, so I treat them tenderly, majestically in hopes of manifesting some of those pleasant ideals spoken of those particular spirits. Once you reach the cervix of a large women there are times when she is so involved and feels so loved that you could close your eyes and find yourself free upon on the ocean waves and are drowned by her eruptions of ecstasy. While you drown there seems to be no end to her need for you. The bed you each lay on is drenched by her fluids and she wakes the next morning displaying gifts of bounty as if every morning is Christmas and your love was enough to bring about this sweetness.

In the midst of this exploration of the pleasantly plump, I had not realized how many women need to hear from the male perspective, how much she is appreciated, even if she is not the size of those on a very strict diet of air and exhaustive activity. To this day there is no exact science that can be given for a woman to achieve the figure seen and applauded of most Vogue magazines.

The allure and illusion presented in the image of youth, vitality, fertility and desirability, showcased in the stick figure of the latest elite fashion model, though distracting and able to catch my eye for  a moment. The consistent demand for the flawless, creamy, air brushed dermatology and golden tresses, splashed with pinks and greens, though tasteful as they are, are as fleeting as the birds which inspire their posturing. When time captures them and cages the beauty that allowed them to achieve the envy of those of their own sex, very little is left and sometimes  those very same models age in the worse way.

Without love.

I dare say, any woman, large or small, ages sourly without the affection of a man. Though I find my most recent infatuation, she has an internal reservoir of love and loyalty for whoever she chooses to love and adore and needing solely the affections of a strong man will bare him children the easiest, the plenteous and with the utmost of exuberance.

Again, my own personal recollection and not speaking for anyone else.

pantykitty

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/pantykitty https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice/art/Pantykitty-794023035

Well I do believe this is all I can really give in regards to my feelings about my love for the plus size woman. Next week or a few weeks from now I plan on discussing my approach to shading, why I like the mode of expression I use, and hopefully help others become comfortable with their own artistic abilities in the process.

 

 

 

Let Freedom Ring!

What happened to me that allows notions as, “controlling,” “imposition,” “male-toxicity,” “over bearing,” “possessive,” and any other term used to enforce boundaries, unspoken and verbalized, to encourage the positive actions behind the use of “safe words,” to make me distance myself from those that feel a need for them around me?

A lot.

That is what “Black Amethyst,” https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=73911021 The Dream Weaver Tales,” https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/dream-weaver-s-loft and Avproductionsblog.wordpress.com was supposed to explain.

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/love-found-in-the-mile-high-club

My contempt for the notions centered around male and female hierarchies and support for the beauty presented in human relationships which is either warped and misconstrued or ignored completely by those that seek to use, food, shelter, and a person’s desire for companionship against them.

Ethics prescribed to the survival of the fittest, ideally should not apply to the relations between man and woman, who’ve decided to have sex with one another or simply talk about having sex.

Now if the relationship is not regulated to merely the two people, but these two people interact with the world in their sphere of thought and feel principals that invite, “control,” or the feeling of it and each feel oppression is wrong for anyone, even those no in the fold or apart of their universe and desire to indoctrinate or teach others around them how to live without the presumption of ultimatums placed on people in a society that have attributed, hoarding trading such coveted artifacts as a means of retaining an Incognitive  power; or control it would behoove each person in this control free atmosphere to be free to build relationships, freindships and companionships with whom they choose. Clearly outside the influence of jealousy, strife, envy or malice.

I am not so naive to entertain thoughts of a Utopian bliss, continuously, with someone I choose to love, but I can strive for it, out of love for the one I choose. Already I have gone into length about my thoughts on “David,” “Solomon,” and the “Lady At The Well,” https://avproductionsblog.wordpress.com/2019/03/17/march-is-for-dancing-reels/ and again I say, “Their is no sin found in more than one lover, the sin is found in our desire to deny another free will.”

Something even the master of the universe does not deny his creations. It is not that he does not, it is, that he can not. Not if he wants a relationship.

I want something real. If my partner sees something she wants and it brigns a smile to her face, that is real, that is what I want and that is worth denying myself for.

How cruel would I not be, if I asked my lover, “What do you desire?”

She tells me, only to have her keep away from it for my own sense of vanity, telling her, “She is to love or desire nothing as much as I and she is not to have the apply of her eye.”

Could I indeed claim to love her?

inktober_day_16_by_adventvoice-dcplzkr.jpg

Inktober Day 16

I dare not. For me to be happy in this world, the one I’d desire to love would have all that I could give, with me wanting only her joy. I desire a team mate, not a slave. I want to fill her to the brim, not control her on a whim. I want to love her so well that she’d be happy to share. That last part is a dream, then again I am the dream weaver.

To continue with my discussion on control and my aversion to it I’d like to site my experience in Miami Florida, as an illustration to support my claim of the pursuit of the ideal that is freedom, found in love affairs between a man and woman who married or not just enjoy a control free relationship.

Jazmin&Jazz5.0.jpg

JazminJazz

My time in Miami was wonderful, despite altercations with ‘dirty-cops,’ fourteen year old Latin Kings, the 10,000 dollars needed to secure property on the strip, to run a business. The miles of asphalt that seperates you from the ocean and inland. It would take me forty-five minutes to job from downtown Miami to the beach from across the bridge and I always avoided “Over-town.” Sometimes I would gamble in the casino’s on the Jewish side of town, just cause it was cleaner. South Beach, right their on the corner of 17th street, was where you could find me. During the day, when I wanted a quite place away from the harassment of the local authorities, roaming the streets with the K-9 unit to run the homeless, and drug peddlers or users off the strip. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you could expect a bike cop to swing by while your relaxing on the pier, or a sand dune, to tell you how long you’ve been there and how they didn’t appreciate loitering, soliciting, pan-handling, or vagabonds.

Most of the time your too tired to argue so you mossy along to the local hot spot, to get out of the sun. I had two. Well several but I won’t talk about P-Diddies Mansion, the Irish pubs where you can find the best PBR, neither will I recount club Felt: https://avproductionsblog.wordpress.com/2017/11/07/mortality-of-promoters/

Last I heard they are no longer in business anyway, like I told the owner, he was setting himself up for failure.

Instead I will take you to that little Reggie club of no name but only lets in people of my style, what ever that is. I used to roll over laughing when I’d bring people to this club, set with open mike down stairs and pool hall and dance floor upstairs. They were never allowed in. I am the vagabond, dressed in what I thought was normal beach wear, was allowed in, barely any money in my pocket and forced to leave my friends, because they were not cool enough I guess. I’d pull out my harmonica and jam at the open mike for a few hours, enough to gather tips, $500.00. filling my hat and buy drinks for everyone at the bar. Just to do it again the next day.

Miami.

The only city that set to piss me off with its heat but was filled with people that make my memoirs worth toasting to in my old age. The only city I’ve run across that will arrest you for a felony, as minor as looking like a Rastafari who’d rob someone in the expensive hotels, hold you for 6 months, purge you of your identification, your clothes, and cost you a job. Which only paid $50.00 a week and never was enough to pay that high end rent you settled for to live near the water. The only city that has no winter and celebrates every holiday in the streets. Then when New Years comes the party crescendos into fire works, champagne, dancing, music, and sex on the beach for everyone. The only city where you can get away with selling someone phones stolen on the strip of the millions of tourists for a years rent. Of course don’t tell anyone or those dirty cops will find you and demand their cut. I loved Miami though. I never needed a car, rarely used the bus. I could sit on the corner, flag down a pretty face and she’d take me where ever I wanted to for nothing more than a few favors paid in return, when we happened to meet again. Whenever that was.

I never did find my way to the University of Miami. But I did not need to. I had North and South beach, Overtown, casino’s, Jewish leaders as friends and Bike Week!

Spring break festivals would arise and every Harley or Yamaha would scream into town and if you are good and your music could set their feet to moving, they’d ask you to stay for a while. Look at their rides, admire the curves and special attention they put into customizing their Road Kings. No bike was like another, their was always something unique to each bike and owner and when they find out you could sling ink, well you were a ‘golden-boy,’ for a few days making wings, skulls, snakes, spiders, tramp stamps, and rigging new gear because you wore out the old one. https://www.deviantart.com/adventvoice/art/Inktober-Day-1-766490829

Bike week was my treasure trove, for I enjoyed the curves offered by the bikes, sure, but the bikini’s, tits, hips and bare feet when a long way too.

My time in Miami was filled with heat and passion that I could not have been exposed to, if I had allowed the control of conventional living and the repulsion of never having enough money to keep me in my place.

What ever that is.

I think it is called being under privileged. Never considered myself so, but if I am, if I ever was, this wretched man has no right to command anyone. To ask and accept assistance, surely, but let it come from a willing heart.

I remember my time bathing in the ocean of South beach waves, in that warm water and could have passed by Jazmin https://www.deviantart.com/jazminandjazz a million times and never knew. She free to come and go as she pleased, never knew of the traveling Dream Weaver. We are friends now, mind you, but what went into creating her, the moments in her memories that went into giving her the appeal and spark and audacity to ask me to draw her naked, that I have no right to claim and stiffle with my own motivations or agenda.

Let a moment come when we can agree on the notions of freedom being shared by two people on the open road traveling to the setting sun, along the sand, churned up by our bikes. Naked bodies resting in the grains, toes in the sand and her hot lips covering my own. Let freedom be her naked in a beach house furnished by our work, paid for buy our hard work and devotion to one another, rented out to friends when we are not there.

Allow for this illustration of freedom to be the sharing of her nudity with the world because she asked and as a Dream Weaver I could deliver.