I am alone~ Contending with joy stealer s and I’m winning!!

I am much alone in my ability to keep my values of love & gratitude~

fortified in the well-doings for others. I am questioned in my integrity, yet never proven a liar- which is hard to maintain for I am human and prone to mistakes, I grow weak, tired, I stumble, I lust, I rage, I rave, I live.

In the living, I learn how to be alone and relish it.

How can anyone argue with me because I aim to accomplish my work from before the sun rises and before it sets?

Because I seem to move when others would not? It’s not my job to know the mind and hearts of others but when I do, it’s further not my job to correct them.

The conviction of their mistakes should release apologies as readily as I demanded of, yet instead, they are human and share contemptuous bards. (Words of no account).

I am not wrong in my work, yet I receive harassing calls from my mother to stop all of my work, she has yet to say what she will do if I don’t, but again I know how far her ire will take her hands, after they are set against me. After reviewing my last set of articles, I can understand the harassment, It was good! Yet she is the kind of person that can’t applaud the achievement of others. Never has.

On top of this job, there are others, and in such places I am asked if I am making things up, “Are you taking your work seriously?” As if four the past four years I have not been solely engaged in what I determined to be important to me. “Am I making it up?” It is such a disrespectful question after I consider all I have been through and have yet to share. It is fine if people don’t believe you. Let them keep it to themselves, no they have to call or write you with words filled with hate and threats to have your publication canceled. Thank goodness for America!! Where we have the freedom to write and gather groups as we desire.

In silence I am alone to carry the contempt they have for me. Ignoring it merely to move about the day and encourage my own spirit. Feeding myself on what? The few good things I’ve done. If I lose my current job, I’m on the streets again. For a while. Risking going back to prison, and I am sure it won’t happen again because the wings of joy have carried me so far to safety, but barring not having been found guilty of a crime, why should I lose my joy; my peace and security?

Envy? Misunderstandings? Things getting lost in translation? I am not in jail right now. I am still working and still I have art to make, yet alone I must celebrate my good fortunes.

Those of you who know me, I’m sure are pleased I’m not in jail; don’t mind I wake up at 5: 30 am to smoke a cigarette before I set to work on the cares that are set before me? In the midst of these duties when I’ve not stumbled through exhaustion, I can illustrate a line and appreciate my quite moments with art that pleases me. Yet this life I lead could all end; as any life, as you well know; all of my troubles, worries and the condemning voices, (That call themselves my friends), could turn around and rend me for no other cause than an inability to acknowledge that they need me more than I need them.

What keeps me humbled upon this realization, what bridles my tongue and keeps me patient and quite? I will not be the one to made the enemy of those I call my people. They may not want me, may hate me, may decide that it’s best I was not around, and they co do better that I, what I believe myself willing to do; I will not be the one to say, “I’m done.” They will have to get rid of me. When they do, I’ll be freer to live/Fly or Fall/ Upon my own choices:

https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/no-fear-of-falling

That is always worth the contention and strife brought to me by people who can’t stand to believe what I say. LMAO!!

Lets try this out, next time someone calls you a liar, ask them: “Are they keen on denying reality?” Meaning do they make it a habit to take what they see, and if it is displeasing, presume it is a lie? You know that would make them crazy and immature, because the world is not a rose petaled forest: it is bedded with earth, sod and I’m down to it. What is before me is the truth and no matter the vomit they choose to return to and eat; I am no dog to be abused.

I rest well knowing that all of my work is produced in a time better than where I came from. Yes, I am alone, and with or without those whom claim to have an interest in my future, none would have power over me had not my father in heaven given it to them. I am in the Lords, hands. In the good and bad. How can we ever be discontent and desire the end of men/women if we carry words of such potency? If we know we can be alone, in the middle of nowhere and still be cared for, what fear should overcome us to where we no longer know who our friends are? (None worth talking about)

I had to bring these things up because a time will come, when some will say, ‘It did not happen,”

“I was misinformed,” “They never said they would not pay you for their labor for the next 8-9 months and have no future plans for your immediate comfort.” “They never said, I don’t need toothpaste, soap, boots for the winter, coffee, and inquired often and I told them to shove off.”

They will call me a liar and my contempt, silence, and will to live, beyond their decrees of me, will supply my sufficiency.

I write this because it is my story and I have a right to. It must be written and I laugh at the idiots who try to tell me what to say as if I don’t have a 1^st Amendment right. (I only regret I did not write about the last 12 years or prior to 2007 and most of the “Great Recession,” of 2008 as it is dubbed. There is a lot of good material to pull from there and that time.) They beg silence of me if it makes others look bad. I write this because no one can speak for me. No one can say for me, “Your pretty lucky to have lawyers that willing to fuss over you.” Most don’t have anyone fussing over them and so easily discourage the accounting and find no use to dance with the spirits that dance with them.

I am alone~ Contending with joy stealer s and I’m winning!!

In times when I am walking a precarious line between forced confinement and freedom, incarceration and the ability to roll in the wet dew if I wish to. When the threat of losing my job, peace, and comforts are near and one wrong decision tips the scale out of my favor, I find I never dream of my own escape. I never wish for reprieve but walk through the crucible of my own creation, knowing some truth, experience, understanding, wisdom and fortification of my spirit will arise from it. Making true the phrase: “What does not kill you, only makes you stronger!”

When bad things happen because of our own bad judgment, one offended another or take too much upon themselves, or are to be judged, sentenced, and denied social gains or grace for a season;

ostracization from the main-street market, we tend to call on GOD, a god, or some spirit animal, or ancestor to guide us beyond the precipices that have entrapped other men. Some pray to no one and are better off for it, they walk through dark places in their lives alone: much better not to ask for anyone to assist in a trial with the law. As previous skirmishes with authority figures that invoke some ‘higher power,’ no god comes to the aid of mortals. They wait for more serious matters to call upon you. Never for trifles.

The Criminal Justice System is an institution I highly respect. I wanted to be apart of it and never seek to manipulate for my own gain. It is the brother to the Constitution and as royal and consecrated as the laws that dictate I am free in most respects to dream my dreams without condemnation and publish them without fear of reprisals. So if I am caught with my hand in the cookie jar and have abused my freedom in the sight of those that can interpret statues and clauses as well I, I do not ever argue for my sake alone, the presumption of our present laws and the application of them. All I ask is for the ability to fix what is broken, never to leave the work of restitution to someone else and to remember the act of restitution is rarely performed by needless incarceration. Unless my stay in a local or state facility is so paramount, there is no other form of currency desired to appease a glutenous beast like the legal system and money will not heal the wounds of the afflicted?

(We have been too fearful of a nation to try it out.)

In order to do my work effectively I need an hour from 10 am-11 am, an hour before the sun rises and an hour at 6-7pm as the sun is setting, those hours I devise content for readers and gain insights for myself. I can find a space of quite and really in a short while hear from an inner knowing what is coming around the corner of the river bend of life. https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/flowing Preparedness, and industrial ability, I have always thought to be the hallmark of manhood. Women never need to know this trick because of the men who are willing to do it for them; it’s a bad day when you see women putting their heads to ground in hunt of gain because there are no men to do it for them. The present women in my life I’ve subjected to categorization for my own benefit, having only focused on the “Strange Woman,” “Head-Hunter’s,” “Teacher,” “Lustful,” “Femme Fatal,” the “Bruha,” and my notions of the “Pure Woman,” the appealing and alluring, having yet to be illustrated, the strong and independent woman, for fear of merely drawing Supergirl, Wonder Woman, and Powergirl, that and having merely appreciated me and don’t shoot bards of hate at me for being a man; I’ve found few can understand why I need several hours out of the day to read, write, and produce colorful expressions of my life for a distant and unforeseen audience.

After writing, “Black Amethyst,” I was sure it was for my son. My next book and sets of illustrations I think will be to my generation, addressing the issues of their education and how misguided they were in the arena of men.

Considering myself to be a man’s man.

I am not surprised that my mother desires to contend with me about my art work and the written content. There are months that fly by and I won’t hear from her, yet when I do, the reminder, constant and determined is there, that she indeed has the ability to hamper my ability to work, by bringing authorities (Cops, FEDs, The FUZZ) anyone against Art of my brand or stories that inspire a moment of heightened sexual desire.

I did not always begin this way, but when stories of men, threatened by the implication of a matriarchal system refused tp spur a conversation, I decided I would just talk about my past and or the things I would like to do or see done.

I have to be careful not to share too much or devise such blue prints in code because of those who can’t just disagree with a conception, but desire to imprison people for participating in sub-cultures.

No, I never expected my mother to be over joyed with my works. No woman honestly, yet the women in my life that do support my work, how envied they are of my mother, for I show you more love than she can ever dream of holding from me. Not because she won’t support my work. Not because of differences of opinion. Because if she could, she’d lock me up again: at the moment I still have a few doors open to me that give me room for plausible deniability, yet can you imagine the implication of her ire? The’re locking people up in America because of their written content: is against the constitution, there is no way around this issue, people can argue about the deception of identification: they’d have to outlaw the use of pseudonyms: They can stress their morals, and morays, yet none of that eliminates the right to produce anything we want in a ‘free nation,’ (I have to stress this because it will be lost in the jumbling of justifications) I can call the author of stories about Evolution, as a Christian, a liar: but I can’t take away his/her right to write nor lock them up because they illustrate pictures of a naked cave-woman to prove their point.

Sex Offenders are already denied Double Jeopardy protections, they are denied many things but to deny them the right to publish even if it is of a sexual nature, would promote a precedent in America that would hold the ink of many we don’t agree with.

It is not going to happen.

Still it is unnerving to consider that anyone would seek to attack an individuals right to free speech. The sequestering of my account of life and values would begin with the outcry of my mother and who she conscripts to aid her. I suppose it is fair to say I begin to stress the importance of what we are legally allowed to do in America as a people. Things change upon the whim of the loudest mob; what was presumably legal 10 years ago will suffer an wrungout change 10 years later through the constant prattle of amendments to legal codes. Reducing a perfectly legal action into a virtually illegal one committed upon one’s own risk and only through the invasion of privacy could it ever really be unearthed.

People are screaming about the right’s of publishers/platforms. Who has the right to censor or not, who has a right to determine what’s constructive and what’s malicious? This argument has done little to stop the shadow banning or lawsuits of publishers, held liable for their accepted content.

In a desire to indulge my fancy and draw in peace I have to accomplish my work at night, when all of the prudes are sleeping, dreaming of being with someone that will make them cum,

Foreign Languages

After sharing my stories, my personal stories, with a few people I felt needed to know something about me in aiding them in trusting me to take on the job as someone’s ‘care-provider,’ though I am anything but qualified for this job:

There are times I wonder if it was my own mother, would I be considered any less qualified than those who have diploma’s and are paid 21 dollars an hour?

After sharing pieces of myself, I was compared to ‘Forest Gump,’ and the scar of such an accusation still haunts me. It was a movie that codified mental health issues and sought to insinuate that WE are all, as Americans, suffering from a handicap: especially if we can not empathize with the less fortunate or refuse to.

I remember my mother suggesting I had a self-esteem issue because of the number of times I have been to prison or lack of monetizing degrees behind my name. Because I’ve not held down a job- a basic 9-5 since high school.

The truth is I don’t have a self-esteem issue. I vehemently repell any idea that I am mentally handicapped like ‘Forest Gump,’ because I chose to care for an elderly woman until she dies.

I hate that I am not in my sons life: but I did not desire to aid in the stigma of black boys growing up without their fathers and the poverty, resentment, and reduce in life-span, due to these terms forced upon them by the selfish: She chose that, when she pushed me away.

A lot of people pushed me away with their negative ideas and since none sought to impart something positive, I decided not to remain in their circle and because I’m not the million-dollar-man from selling my soul into ideas I can not agree with upon my death, because I seem to be waiting to die, there is something ‘mentally handicapped,’ about me that I never came to terms with.

I am not waiting to die: ( I have to let this be known, cause someone will read this out of context), I just refuse to invest my money and time into ideas that are not profitable, or based on color-codes, the deficiency of one’s creative spark, degrades my guild to that of thieves or inauthentic, and wastes everyone’s time with issues that make anyone feel small or unappreciated.

I remember my father and how much he

hated what I considered art. I have mentioned this before in older letters to you all, but I think it is fair I mention this here. He personally felt, Pieces of art similar to that of “Bad Guy,’

‘French Connection’s,’ ‘Apt-1012,’ and a lot of our cult favorites, were produced by people with mental handicaps. So artists like https://twitter.com/NestHarpy https://twitter.com/rins_titties https://twitter.com/lewdua https://twitter.com/boltcity https://twitter.com/amykibuishi https://twitter.com/Kimdraws would have all been considered retarded to him.

( NONE OF THIS SUPPOSITION IS TRUE MIND YOU)

For me growing up his words were like that of GOD! I honestly felt he had a hand in creating me and should have a hand in forming who I’d become. So when he felt what inspired me to create was nothing more than the attempts of the simple minded seeking to be applauded for their half measures, I of course chose to stand alone and far from his negative influence. In doing so I become the advantageous voice for those who are like I and refused to be marginalized, by those that lack imagination. Deem it a sin or crime to dream, and I weave with relish, when I know those that were against me, read my works, see my art, and have to reconsider where they stood on life’s issues. At least I can only hope they have chosen to reevaluate themselves opposed to always looking outside at others and seeking to control what is not theirs or vicariously feed on the creative vibes and drain them to nothing.

I feels good to know I have spent my time well and pushed out three stories in these past 4 years. Ready to work on a fourth but not before I complete “French Connections,”

It’s a story I have been working on long before I began Dream Weaver’s tales. It was never supposed to be a long story. You could say it has a lot of influences from “Please Teacher,” by

Shizuru Hayashiya

Which I read as a boy and really enjoyed. The major differences in my story and theirs is one was set in high-school, the other in University. Mine has a lot of interracial moments, the other was highly Japanese in setting and culture. Where is it taboo in most cultures to date your teacher, the Japanese “Please Teacher,” nearly made the relationships that developed seem incontestable, where as mine does not shy away from the nature of taboo. It is hard to justify most of the actions of the characters in my story and so I feel I really kept to the notion of taboo. ‘Please Teacher,’ as a manga was very soft, and the anime even softer when it came to the explicit and I suppose the author never wanted to make the story about sex alone, thought it is about a students fantasy driven life, with teachers, so I never understood the need to hold.

I certainly did not hold back and never intend to.

“French Connection’s,” is built off a University kids dreams about his teacher and how it played into his personal life and times nearly cost him the comforts afforded a college student with real dreams. Dreams that for most American’s are never realized and I hope by the end of it I can share why these things happens and how it is the fault of the institutions and not the denizens of a building, wing, or sector of zoned streets. Though that might be too much to ask of such a fun-loving comic.

In ‘APT-1012,’ I took pot shots at black social life, I do the same in ‘Bad Guy,’ but with ‘French Connection’s,’ I was really hoping to avoid a lot of political, social justice warrior issues, and just focus on the fetish of a student being involved with a teacher. It did for a long while come off as a social epidemic, the number of teachers caught in a compromising relationship with a student. So much so Jenifer Lopez made a movie about it herself, “The Boy Next Door,” that title makes me chuckle all the time.

It is a world built when things were simple. If you liked a woman, you said it and if she liked you, she’d have the freedom to do something about it. A time when relationships, friendships and caring about one another had nothing to do with money, GPA scores, SAT scores, degrees, what school you graduated from, what your last job was, or the hundred other things people ask each other on the first date and are expected to ask as if that proves who someone is or that they won’t disappoint you when hard times come. They will come you know. That is life. Filled with good and bad moments and we should not always be looking out to blame others for our issues, Nothing wrong in discussing them though.

B.A. White and Cheryl, really don’t have issues or problems like we consider problems, there is little for them to overcome because it was already cared for by the time they met. That is why the story is great, at no time will race be an issue or the reason or motivation for their arrangement, just lust and passion.

I don’t think a mentally handicapped person can devise such a story and illustrate it as well as I have, retain the memory of what life was like in those moments and impart it to the world. The more and more I consider my worth I find there is a wonderful ‘French Connection.’ I will be exploring it.

September Brings on the Fall-Pink Collection!!

As Editor-in-Chief of Avproductions blog www.avproductionsblog.wordpress.com and associated platforms, it’s hard to have to wait so long to tell you about the development of ‘Bad Guy,’ and how the Dream Weaver navigates his dynamic universe. In the last few weeks I’ve laid the ground works for a big double feature character reveal: Warlock and his sometime lover Futa Queen of the Fashion world, Ta-Ta Gaitherpound.

After publishing her it dawned on me that I have not sent money to one of my sponsors, in a while. So I sent what I could to Newgrounds.com.

I love giving them money because the funds go to beefing up the site and the development of more content for advertisers and upstarts.

Inktober is coming up and though I’m not supporting this franchise of art because Jake Parker stole the IP of other artists to promote his DYI illustration book. Bad business. One thing that will be sure to kill support of an artist is to be found cheating by stealing Ips. There is room for KinkTober and PinkTober, but with so much work going into ‘Bad Guy,’ “French Connections,” and my day job, I might hermitize myself for the next month.

Who knows, I don’t think I could ever really stop drawing, satirizing, and poking fun at the uber intelligent.

This may be the motivation for a character like Warlock, with the ability to see into the future with all of those eyes. Maybe he could dictate the direction of this publication.

I have been happy with my overall outreach. Achieved through Newgrounds.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/Scope2Mars/status/1308773570345132039?s=20 and Discord, and would suggest that others take a real hard look at publishing through those groups since they have been so kind to me. Giving your friends money goes a long way as well. I just feel better as a person when I do it.

For a lot of my new works I want to spend a little time supplying the characters with bios and creating cameo pieces, like an interview column- to create the wallpaper or pfp for each article will take some time. At least unanswered questions can be filed and the characters can tell you in their own words what they think. I created a poll on twitter asking people what my new villains should look like: https://twitter.com/Scope2Mars/status/1307060249229250560?s=20 very few answered and so I decided to use a lot of the suggestions and don’t mind hearing from you all on my discord server if you would like submit some content that you’d rather I use in the upcoming additions. I might be able to show off some of the power moves as well.

With the aftermath of Covid-19 around the globe, Hurricanes in the Gulf, Fires in the West, and work strikes in the North, I have found this extensive story to be one of my only modes of escape. It’s good to create hero’s and villains people can sink their teeth into and take a break from thinking about their long-lasting poverty. I am bold enough to suggest there is some poor child, or man in the world that reads my articles and comics, panting in anticipation for more when I have finished a segment, I would be more surprised if it was a woman.

Not that I’m against my male fans, it would just be nice to have the input of women as far as what is sexually appealing. If not sexual, ascetically.

Recently I’ve been lagging in production because of hairstyles.

I personally may be suffering bad hair days due to the Carnivorous, stopping barbers from cutting hair, but that is no excuse for my intricate OC’s. I had little hope for the illustration of Ta-Ta Gaitherpound and Warlock, but it came out well, better than I had hoped. Unnervingly, mind you, outside of coloring, the hair or at least deciding on style was the hardest part.

I wish I could be more specific about what I want from my OC’s as far as hair styling and design is concerned. I suppose I want something more congruent and easy to reproduce but not be too boring or conventional. Whatever that means. Lol.

Aside from what I did not like about my current projects, what I did like was my joke about, “Spotted-Dick.”

To this day I can not tell you why anyone would name food after cock, if they never intended to rouse the desire of the women cooking it. This of course is completely off topic. I was giving you a discourse about my art and my biased appreciation for my own style.

Secretly, I’ve been trying to top this years Best on Newgrounds.com : https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/cumdom-your-face “Cumdom Your Face,” has been an overall favorite for nearly the whole year. It is simple in design but clearly effective in arousal. Deep dark lines and extensive backgrounds has always drawn a crowd, but I was hoping “Head Hunter Pin-up Caught Her Prize,” https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/head-hunter-pin-up-caught-her-prize “Nadia,” even “Tappi,” have elements I feel out-do “Cumdom Your Face.”

The challenge in devising art based on what I like and balancing that with today’s pop-culture, better yet, Sex-Culture, has proven a very constructive exercise and gratifying to find that I’m not too far behind in the times. Then again who can place a time-piece on sex, besides those that never get enough?

I wonder if anyone still considers the amount of time spent having sex, determines the value and quality of it? I used to think that was silly. Watching a woman, watch the clock, just to verbally abuse you because you might not have lasted longer than 45 mins. As a comic artist, I have found that I can’t have my characters spend 15 pages having sex. Besides shouldn’t the woman be flattered that she made her lover cum at all? If I was to suggest the amount of time the Dream Weaver spends fucking women, all it would prove is that he can, not that he’s good. Good sex, I believe, should be based on how hard the woman comes and how deep the man dives. That’s just me though.

As a sole writer, creator and producer of NSFW material, the ideas that pop into my head are endless. Times I wonder if it is excessive and harmful to my artistic development as a comic artist, you are allowed to bend the rules of conventional art. If the work is appealing. A crappy idea looks great as long as the digital lines are gleaming and besides the content, there is little to grip about and people can focus on all the pretty colors you use.

Despite these concerns, I’ve managed to take simple concepts and really make special surprises for you.

Looking for ways to elevate my determination, when inking, or sketching, I can always see where a project is going, I’m learning how to do the same with my mouse.

Digital art, never really culminates into the sharpness I like. The likeness of what I can produce with a pencil and ink. Taking graphic art classes might help.

The question remains: Would a ‘power-bombing,’ Ta-Ta Gaitherpound, be good enough to present, as an exhibition in a University class?

In college I never considered Digital Art, Graphic Art, Creating a book of Manga, a book of any kind of illustrations, would have been worth the time put into it. The study and attempting of taking what so many do as a hobby or the tribute to their favorite comic book and art style, That appeals to them for a few minutes, because I did not have a community of creatives, to bounce ideas off of, illustrative art remained as useless to me as Still Lives or Portraits.

I never saw myself producing my works and being able to display them in a gallery. Since I could not see it, it never happened. I can see it now, yet I still lack a community that will accept my ideas or cultural changes enough to look at them through the lens of an artist.

Since my sophomore year of high-school and the talent shows, the options presented in using the stage and my art at the same time, without the use of a projector or laptop, and a receptive audience has eluded me. In my time in high-school I wondered how I would do it. Should I speed-paint on the stage what I saw or a prepared set of ideas and sell them after the show? Sitting on my stool and painting or drawing to a jeering crowd? A crowd who would later be impressed with the work but not within my hearing? Amused at the speed and concise expression presented in the work?

None of it amounting to anything that dance, acting, singing, comedians, or street performers can achieve in one showing. I tell stories or make an ass out of myself.

This in ability to place my talent in a productive thread in the real world continues to haunt and motivate my desire to create.

Head Hunters!! A Dream Weaver’s Nightmare!

Head Hunters!! What a thing to contend with! 9/3/2020

I’m not gay. I’m not in the LGBTQ club, but I don’t mind drawing it.

As hard as it is to be a Christian and illustrate nude women or men in sexual moments, it’s even harder to safely talk about Sodomites and all of the form of sexual exploits and modes of pleasure, without being made to choose sides. The best way is merely to claim a desire to tell ‘truth,’ in a world that recently has decided, as of June 2020 by, J.D. Heyman’s admition: editor of the “Entertainment Weekly,” and the help of ‘Proctor & Gamble,’ that To be Gay, will put you on the main stage in Hollywood. If this is true, no matter how good I am as a writer and artist, my stories will remain in the shadows, because I do not claim to be gay, or have to be queer, just because I illustrate two women kissing, or a Futa finding love with a guy or woman. It is an interesting evolution in the world of smut. Not enough, is the showing of skin, to exceed modesty, now the works have to sell ‘homosexuality,’ to be appreciated.

There is no room for the middle ground, or bisexual stories or the alluring pleasure in building a plot between the worlds of romance. Either the woman is scissoring another woman or it’s not sexy enough to prove a point. In this homosexual world, actors and actress’s, sell the idea of heterosexual relations as ‘respectful attractions,’ not the hedonistic tradition of ‘rip-her-clothes-off-with-one’s-eyes,’ mantra’s of the past and conformed screening. I am really not sure how to cope.

Because I could never write a screen play about an English drag queen of 16 years of age by the name of Jamie, I’m not allowed a job via ‘script-writer,’ ??

Because I’m not gay, I can’t write music like Billy Porter and Donny Hathaway. Hayley Kiyoko is upset because her ideas are not selling out arenas and I wish someone would tell her that just because you enjoy kissing a woman, that does not mean you deserve millions of dollars. Hell I love kissing women, and no one pays me for it.

Yet the issues of Hollywood, presently, or finding sponsors for my sexual stories is secondary from the original function of my publications and it is remaining focused on what set me on this literary adventure that guides my discussion today.

For years my desire has been set to pave the way for a social shift in Judicial reform, in regards to the treatment of SexOffenders, (S/O’s) or those considered sexually deviant and worthy of being outcasted from being productive members of their communities; through the abusive use of the SOR system: ( A system of records is a group of records under the control of a Federal agency which contains a personal identifier (such as a name, date of birth, finger print, Social Security Number, and Employee Number) and one other item of personal data (such as home address, performance rating, and blood type) from which information is retrieved using a personal identifier. )

This issue forever remains in my heart as an immediate change that needs to occur, long before I age out of relevance or die before I can share these thoughts with those who are willing to help me effect this change. I’ve been thinking about how there are laws in place to protect individuals from the harassment of a Judicial system that seeks to profit from the number of people whom it can conscript into the unpaid service of the State. Double Jeopardy being one of these said laws: https://criminal.findlaw.com/criminal-rights/double-jeopardy.html set to even the balance between, ‘enforcing the law,’ and weaponizing the law to facilitate unwarranted harassment.

As the years have gone by I have yet to see any light on the path that can be attributed to fair practice of the law, being applied to the Sex Offender, who can subsequently and numerously have been denied their 5^th amendment right. Can be prosecuted, incarcerated, fined, reprimanded, in rather harsh fashions for the same crime and of the failure to register and keep themselves ‘marked,’ by the State and remain monitored. The excuse for this behavior or the litany of arguments against amending this practice is the ‘self-righteous,’ position of others who would say, ‘I would never be caught doing something sexually reproachable or deemed such by the present society at large.’ Since it is not, ‘I, who cares that an entire workforce is made in operable by the present laws?’

It’s an unjust system that arrests a man or woman, punishes based on trial and jury and upon their refusal to reintegrate a person into their original society, are reduced to perpetual bankruptcy and denies nearly all avenues of financial gain- while giving millions in State funds, governmental aid, and scholastic achievement to the undeserving, and at times illegal, immigrant. I can comfortably call an illegal immigrant undeserving of legal aid because if I went to another, I’d be treated as an undeserving bum due to my inability to account for my rights to elicited funds for living, pleasure, and materialistic needs, if I could not prove I was a citizen. This is the way of the world at large. Yet as an American, I am determined to believe that no matter what law is violated, after completing the tasks asked of the criminal, obtaining his/her freedom, they are entitled to the peace and liberty that comes with being a constitutional citizen. As much as the everyday layman or professional athlete, has a right to express their political opinion, to join a national debate or hold State office. Equally, does the Ex-con have a right to demand social-judicial-economic-reforms to accommodate their reintegration into their country.

I am aware of the present confrontations between the sexes; men and women, is a global one. Each country has it’s own laws to regulate the battlefield, but I am an American and can only approach this topic from my hemisphere. America has laws that protect four legged animals. EPA regulations that stagnate the human species from encroaching upon defenseless mammals and sea life. Poaching animals for their organs, skin, and bones is illegal by most international and national law.

https://earthjustice.org/features/endangered-species-act-under-attack?gclid=CjwKCAjwqML6BRAHEiwAdquMnUSTeuwAc7VHMRM1HHy6as3j9sS96MdbJoIOun3sljskRYvitB0GuRoC8WgQAvD_BwE

https://www.jstor.org/stable/24884749

Yet the subsequent poaching of men, goes uncontested, is clouded by justified ideals, lost in the jargon of litigation, which remains constitutionally viable and sponsored by socialites, that believe in human sacrifice, in the guise of a ‘greater good.’ A good yet to be defined and opening the door to vigilante behavior and the endangerment of an entire species. Uncontested in the guise of ‘enforcing the law.’

Amnesty International is a present danger but was not on my radar years ago. When I consider how vast their influence reaches and their prescribed thesis is approved by the general international community, it is possible to feel overwhelmed. To feel discussing it will amount to very little

https://www.cga.ct.gov/2006/rpt/2006-r-0183.htm

https://www.cga.ct.gov/2005/rpt/2005-r-0673.htm

https://criminal.findlaw.com/criminal-charges/chemical-and-surgical-castration.html

Should the United States Use Chemical Castration For Sex Offenders?

Yet I feel, it has been due to a lack of debate and inquisitive observation that so many men have had to face their present endangerment. If awareness continues to be swept under the rug of indifference, the spiriting away or backdoor deals, in our current judicial system, set to barter the male species, will be forced upon the current disinterested populace, corporately stifling thoughts of resistance.

When I began the adventure of defending the male species, it was not with the desire to defend criminals: https://www.ice.gov/news/releases/ice-arrests-salvadoran-alien-accused-rape-who-went-victims-house-immediately-after https://www.ice.gov/news/releases/ice-arrests-ecuadorian-man-accused-raping-minor-during-enforcement-efforts-new-york https://richmond.com/news/local/crime/richmond-man-charged-in-carjacking-also-was-suspect-in-child-rape-when-released-on-home/article_04d14593-ad0e-5b1c-91ed-b4338bf288fe.html

Criminals mind you are not gender specific. https://www.yaktrinews.com/yakima-woman-caught-on-doorbell-camera-raping-two-young-boys-police-say/

I was enlightened to suggest, one does not have to be regulated in one’s speech and when describing the chemical romance, found between a man and a woman, you don’t have to be made to say, “I find you respectfully attractive,” to prove you are not a criminal-rapist, or political correct and safe to be around. It is perfectly acceptable to say, “ When we get off work, I’ll take you to dinner, and I’ll honk the horn at 7:00.” Men should not be made to fear they’ll be seen in the eyes of a woman, as anything but a man, interacting with his world, in the most natural of approaches; and no, there is nothing monolithic in this expression.

There is nothing in the least bit criminal about the interactions of men, when they approach a woman. Especially one that shows signs of being interested and willing to be a sex partner, or casually flirts with a woman via twitter, or the work spaces of corporate America. What is criminal is the ability to lie to a court room and tell the general public that some man tried to rape you when he sent you flowers for no special reason. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/07/nyregion/innocence-project-manhattan-rape.html

I’ve heard enough of those ghost stories that I nearly refused to accept the approaches of the opposite sex for years because I felt the women that suggested we hook-up, were inclined to have me arrested before the night was over. I don’t hate women mind you. I love the opposite sex. I just wish the overall balance would return and adults would act their age. A person’s entire life can be upended upon the allegations of a Sex-Crime: if a person can not prove their innocence or no-mal-intent or at least the measure of consensual consent in communications; they run the risk of being reduced to a state of poverty for the rest of their lives because no one will hire or employ or even talk to a person, suspected of being a registered sex-offender.

It’s worse than being called a vampire, yet, it’s not just your heart that is staked, its the threat of being mutilated that offends me.

https://time.com/4525579/forgiveness-lessons/

https://time.com/4596081/incarceration-report/

For the homosexual/transgender electro-shock therapy was a cure for their mental deficiency https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-49344152 later to be deemed inhumane and eventually done away with. Now the heterosexual/male is educated, his desire to procreate is an imposition, due to be cured through removing his weapon of conquest. I don’t need to have the evidence of the mutilation to be outraged, at the use of the law. Though I’m sure if I saw the statics, the cages men are kept in for the rest of their lives, my use of empathy would be enough to desire a change of thought. A redefining of absolution and a determination to cry out for those who have not the will to do so, or believe they are not deserving of such gifts.

Spending A Little Time With Nadia

Nadia Richardson is one of my favorite OC’s (original characters) because she is a prostitute. She is the image of a woman we should hate, fear, not tolerate and demean to hell. Yet she will be forgiven of her sins, and they are many, by a the same loving God that forgave Gomer, the prophet’s Hosea’s wife. Not because she worked for it, not because she changed the spots on her bandanna around or inside out and turned a new leaf of character and never sucked dick publicly or privately anymore. Simply because that is how the God of the Universe operates, if you ask him, he will deliver.

I’ve always toyed with the belief that though a person does wrong, admits his or her sin, or loses grace in the sight of man, he or she is continuously redeemed by God and can shine a light in a dark space. That’s how grace works you know. If we are denied grace by man for a time…as corporeal as the memory and time of man is- beyond compare is the love and mercy of God who would look at a sinner like Nadia and call her daughter.

I lived on the street for a time and know in my heart that God’s love never left me…will never leave…even upon the threat of persecution and beheading because under duress some may deny that they know him. Man is not God and can not condemn those he royally elects. As the shadows build, as they must to fulfill the prophesies, before the light of righteousness can shine, none of us should consider themselves so righteous that we forbid the love we can afford one another because of circumstances, background checks or any other earthly-fickle-spot, that Marrs us  and humbles a person to utter the words “Have mercy lord, for I am a sinner.”

As a Christian, I am not to work as I do presenting NSFW material and it is the repugnant ostracization of a person because of their vices I’ve always despised about the Christian community at large. If it’s not the Arts, it’s dancing, smoking, drinking, eating meat, singing, even down to one’s thoughts are regulated by Pharisaical-Sadducean-Christians, and used to blackmail, exhort, defame, put in a position to feel shame and receive no forgiveness, from the very people who’d expect the words, “I forgive you,” to pass from my lips when I’m derided as a reprobate or heathen for my hedonistic values and dare to illustrate a naked woman.

Never mind my political positions, never mind my liberty to do so. Never mind the story surrounding the image. The prostitute or naked woman, is saying more with her bust than her lips to gain your attention. She is naked and not to be recognized as a woman with a story of indignation to share to enlighten the sleeping.

My mother asked me how I am able to illustrate and publish my works in the home of Christians and it’s a rather fun topic to talk about. How can I propagate hedonisms successfully in a home  of  those who traditionally see such works as that of the perverted? Same as any other literary mind: late in the evening or early morning do I write. In the shadows of the comfortable nights do I create and in the morning do I publish. Upon this formula can you be sure to find the tales of Nadia Richardson and the Dream Weaver, better enjoyed. When there is no one over your shoulder to influence your comprehension skills and distract you from what ever moral lesson is to be learned from their very human folly.

As I worked on my conception of Nadia Richardson as a pin-up, I could not help but to compare my digital skill with that others. I know, bad habit. Yet there are several styles of digital art that I enjoy very much and really wont feel satisfied with my own work until it has the semblance of ‘quick-silver,’ and polish that earns most of those works, the acclaim they receive.

I have tended to comfort myself in my digital expression with desires to emulate reality. I blame the trauma of my youth for this. In eight grade, I shared my designs with a young lady by the name of Veronica. She took a look at my work and with scorn, says, “ You like to draw cartoons?”

As if cartoonists were not real artists. As if the skill of illustrating perspectives and illusions, or bending light and blending colors by hand, was a cheap trick and would never measure up with the standards of art, had in traditional spaces. Her voice haunts me at times the moment I ‘cell-shade,’ a piece of art. Yet I’ve always loved the ‘in-your-face,’ appeal of “Pop-Art.”

I’ve always enjoyed how people are enhanced by ‘street-art,’ and of course there is always Manga and Comic book art that generates a glorious belly laugh from me when I am finished with a project. I’ve come to miss the days when art was not about impressing people, receiving ratings, or how many impressions you can produce on Twitter. The days when you were merely expressing how one felt and had the freedom to do so.

In this nostalgia, I’ve kept in mind to enjoy Nadia Richardson. To take the challenge of not cell-shading in black and moving away from established comforts. There is relief in the use of the digital eraser and three-six hours in a day to work in peace on something erected for me and asked of others to just enjoy looking at.

My son’s mother was no better than Veronica when we were together. She never supported my style of art and so I never shared my talent with her. Yet we read much of the same comic books, liked the same movies, and she Cosplays for a living now. To be at odds with other creatives is never fun for me and there are days when I think if I can just make a piece of art that will make people love me, then I’d feel better. Stupid right? Art is not to be crafted to manipulate the minds of others. Only to share a story, entertain and move on. Everything changes and the best artists know how to flow with the times of change.

We illustrators create worlds and with the slash of ink upon the canvas, can obliterate them, gods, don’t have to be loved. They just are.

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My illustration of Nadia Richardson is filled with several elements, Water, Air, Fire, Stone, Metal and her overall spirit serves to make the project true to life and a lot of fun to produce.

Though I am comfortable with the human element, there are several functions I’m still not comfortable with and I hope to gloss over these moments and ‘wing it,’ as it were. With a lot of today’s artists there is difficulty in separating the elements of life from one another without the use of hard lines. I’ve noticed this in my own works and though it works well with paneling, sequential art and story boarding ; it’s hard to transfer such themes with concept art, without everything melting together like a bad acid trip. There are ways to cheat or to tediously overdo shadows and even the balance of light, but even then there is room for conceptual improvements. This being relative to what appeals to you at the time. Many enjoy stream-lined works of today, opposed to the classical textual designs of yesterday. As I work on Nadia, I find I was able to blend the two.

Metal works, or chrome art is a rather a dead stylistic technique. At least it was difficult to find images to reference from to ensure the look of metal or chrome was achieved, I find myself playing with all the shades of gray to produce a comfortable, relateable look for a metallic bridge standing over water.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Though I have been enthralled in my modernization of classic themes, my thoughts have been bouncing around about the belief of the Modern Woman, that due to Men, male-toxicity, they are not afforded basic human rights and denied the ability to prosper in this life. They have devised to reeducate the world on the value of a woman and globally she is to be given a place, ‘equal,’ to men.

Yet, I find the current definition of Feminism, is the same corrupted path as that of BLM. Destroy every observed institution of thought, borrow what you like from the old, but certainly leave no stone unturned in search of eliminating the enemy of progress; Men.

This is an oversimplification of a very complex philosophy mind you. Surely a ‘real woman,’ can not see her bed complete, without that of a man; but that was my male ego desiring to believe today’s woman still contributes the need of a father to lead a family, paramount to a stable society. The feminists of the 19th century, though they wrote of worlds in which they had the prowess of a man to achieve a goal, did so in their skin despite the challenges of being mothers, or emotionally second to their male counter parts and denied resources for ‘higher education.’

Then life changed and every institution has afforded the accessibility of women to earn and retain the spot-light for the creations her mind could afford. Then came Amnesty International (AI) which has turned woman’s Suffrage- an idea no one would deny their lovely fair sexed partner and have sought to impose Sexual and Reproductive Rights, Freedom of Movement, Feminism, Intersectional Feminism, Gender Equality, Gender based violence, sexual violence, harassment, workplace disparagement, gender and orientation discrimination, CEDAW of 1979 ( Convention on the Elimination of all forms of discrimination against women) and International Laws, fusing them all together and to even the balance, directing these accusations against men for daring to be born.

The desire of Feminists has always achieved global appeal, but its true materialization was achieved in places like America, England and the overall Western Hemisphere.

At least that is all I’ve known my whole life. Badass women that were determined to take their talents and make the world bend to women opposed to men. I never argued with them and when they joined the military or police force, I never doubted their patriotism to be any more or less than that of men.

Women like Marlene Dietrich and Josephine Baker or fashion designer and anti-Semite Coco Chanel, all three took the occupation conventionally associated with men, (spies) and showed themselves to be equal to men.

I can dig through history and find those who lived and died in hopes of solidifying freedom but keeping with modern times, I’d highlight the actions of Ashlyn Harris and Ali Krieger who appear on the world stage as supporters of “equal pay.” Of course they were not able to convince the USSF that they deserved a higher wage, so they left the league. (I’ve always thought that if they really wanted the money, they would simply work harder to prove they deserve it?)

Yet their stated goals are to “Change the Culture,” of the world that has always loved it’s women; with no real direction of what that means besides cutting the availability of financial gain in half, while demanding the rest of the world pay for it.

This is a dream Nadia Richardson is willing to implode for the sake of the beauty found in man. The defense of the male organism from the scientific journals, psychoanalysts, and overall deranged and schizophrenic, becomes tiresome. I was looking for weather reports in the database of the Discovery Institute and found Scott S. Powell’s diatribe against Anti-fa and BLM. He has yet to see how Amnesty International, with means of mass communication desires to empower a generation of women, who with impunity, would seek to bankrupt a successful male enterprise.

I’ve been able to explain much of how the world is, yet I’ve not discussed how Nadia places herself in it. Money and the security of it is a motivation for her and ensures she will remain a prostitute, even if better economic standards are devised. Yet the legalization of her trade

(( https://twitter.com/willsworldview/status/1296153911099830273?s=20 )) would mean an overall regulation by an indiscriminate government, upon her purse. Of course there is sure to be a lot of argument over what is deemed a fair wage and fair tax, but on the onset of these debates, many of her ‘sisters,’ will be corralled by the government who due to insecurities of litigation, will have them arrested. Not for Nadia mind you. The exchanging of funds for sex is still illegal and she will remain underground as long as she has collateral that ensures her world travel. As long as no one can successfully run a brothel in the open she is just fine with her tax free payments. The envious women, screaming for equal pay will be the first to be impounded by the FEDS the moment they don’t disclose where there excessive lifestyle is coming from. For most of them like Prince Harry and Meghan Markle , Arabs and Russians fill their purses.

Nadia is an American and there are few billionaires around willing to make her purr. Labron James couldn’t even afford her. With Covid-19 going around no one can afford her and with the onset of war-starvation and the impending boiling over riots set to induce martial law or 18 moths of shutdowns upon the metropolis’s of America, making any money seems bleak. Half the time she wonders if she should not get in her car, drive to the airport and move to Africa like everyone else. Politics is not her thing and not being able to pin the blame for her current unemployment on anything besides rules of not being allowed financial independence due to the oversight of an intrusive government is a massive headache.

BLM~ A Rebuttal ~

~BLM_Rebuttal~

I have never been actively against the cause of black people. In fact, as I grew up the NAACP, the Black Caucasus, the Suffragettes, and all the ancient voices that yearned for personal freedoms, denied their fathers, was very much my cause.

Then ‘we’, black people, were given what we worked so hard for. My childhood was filled with possibilities found in a Capitalist society. Money flowed like the lakes, rivers, oceans, and public pools, I was free to bask in with my white, Asian, and latino family. Then some old serpent began to whisper in the ears of my dark colored friends. They began to self-segregate everything. Because the black man was not represented in Hollywood, he aimed to produce movies that shared his woes, his loves, his past, and because he was never sure about his future, fantasies of such times remained aloof. Though he had the freedom to produce it. In such films, as rare as it was to see a black face in a white film, it was equally hard to find a white one. The lens was circular and the optic view, purposely limited. So as rare as it was to find a black person in the theater to watch a film of white people, it was equally rare to hear the laughter of whites in the theater of a black film. Never at that time did I equate this with segregation or color lines being redeveloped. There were no signs above the doors that openly expressed the separation of the races. It was unspoken, and this made it all the more annoying. It was unspoken because we knew it was wrong to drag the dead back to life to repeat themselves, the same tired message. Yet for me growing up with little television, the tapes of MLK, Malcolm, Denzel Washingtion, Spike Lee, Wesley Snipes, Morgan Freeman, Bill Cosby, that was my world of black culture. Their words of an integrated world and their ability to bring it to life on the screen or in books is what inspired me. Never did they believe the world to be ‘black-and white,’ but filled with colors and hues which should be stirred together for us all to receive the clear message. It was the idiots like Chris Rock, Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan, Rickie Smiley, and there is a massive list of black speakers as tall as I, that we all knew to avoid and never give a platform to spout idiocracies from.

BLM, would have you believe the color line never moved. That America is still unfair and all that was achieved to ensure men like me and the women I’ve come to love are still denied prosperity and happiness because of the color of our skin. Reading the reports of the national news and state controlled media that supports the ideas of the BLM, one is tempted to believe them. If it means, you’ll obtain and secure employment.

The truth?

Black people, when given the opportunity to hire or run a business spend most of their time bemoaning their inability to sell a product beyond their own demographic. We have been a sad lot for a long time. Instead of opening the doors for their brothers and sisters, they employ cultist barriers, making one to vow to abuse the wealthy and steal from the unaware, “For it takes a Village to raise a family.”

Another propagated lie, by a community that could only mimic the violence and oppression, seen by others, given to them by a long dead past.

Visions are expressed of a world without white people—which will never exist, but still they cosplay their fantasies. Seeking to materialize notions of a superior race, knowing equality is created when we ALL can stand on the same soil and work together to build the Ziggurat that is a Nation.

The American people and the world, rioted over the death of a black man, whom if they knew him, really knew him, would have done away with him themselves.

This same group, would tell you that prisons need to be abolished; white people, because they are white, owe a black man reparations As if it is a fault to be born black, and lacking an origin they can be proud of, seek to obliterate the established institutions, needed to garnish a wage. All that can be heard now is how black people can’t breathe and are treated unfairly—though everyone is equally stunted by the crisis produced by the Chinese: all are disrupted by the inability to make self-employment profitable—All need their neighbor to help from time to time to move forward. Still BLM, would propagate looting, violence, and corrupt politicians who laugh at a populace, settling for the constriction of commerce in the name of keeping the world safe from an invisible sickness. I’m waiting for the news of the release of the officers implicated in the death of Mr. Floyd, who doctors claim—died of a drug overdose. Sorry, I can’t support the flags of the ignorant and serpentine heart. Let it burn with all the other flags who would seek to destroy my home and the memories of a childhood in which I was accepted everywhere despite my dark skin.

I have always been able to breathe in my country, why can’t they?

BLM paints a black canvas with yellow letters and calls it art—Every real artist—who works at their craft should be offended. Yet we are allowed the freedom to express and protest, so let them. Burning flags of Nations and established governments is legal in America, you know what that means? BLM is open season! Their flag and murals in the name of ‘peaceful protest,’ can be desecrated, their statues can be toppled and since their ideas of art, theater, and life is one of stone-blocked letters- and insensitive to others of different races, hues, dreams, desires; because they have chosen to isolate and demean those that don’t do the same—or arrest and detain, fight fire with fire.

They desire to place their race above another?

Treat them like the KKK-whom they desire to emulate, burn their tomes, flags and impose your own dreams upon their black creations. Fire purifies all and because they would rather ganglords run a city, then an active government, push them from your city. Dry them out in the deserts. Take them away from the American way of life they despise so much. I’d give them 6 months and each one would be asking for a government to feed them for they can’t feed themselves. They need you to support them. Ignore them. They are like the Coronavirus or any hot desert wind, as long as you wear your mask and close your doors to them, they can not harm you.

For now keep dreaming and smiling folks. As the Black Panthers, and KKK fizzled out of importance, fading with the dust cloud they carried in, back in the 60’s and 70’s, my generation of the 80’s 90’s and today will continue to pave the way for universal appreciation of the sexes, races, creeds, and casts as any established liberated front can. Through true love and understanding.

“Bad Guy,” and “French Connections.”

Its been a while since I could just sit back one Sunday and share with you all my latest projects and updates on old stories. The last time I really shared anything you all about “Bad Guy,” it was a special feature that set to give a foundation for the overall story: https://avproductionsblog.wordpress.com/2019/09/17/dream-weavers-bad-guyspecial-feature/ That was nearly a year ago. I displayed three pages and thought I’d tease you into going to http://www.adventvoice.newgrounds.com to read the rest. I hope you have. I suppose I did give a minor update of “Bad Guy,” in this year in review:  https://avproductionsblog.wordpress.com/2019/12/ but that does not really do the project a lot of justice. I am already in preparations to begin page 9 of the story and as it is developing, I really can’t tell you when it will end but I am sure it will be a lot longer than the illustrated shorts you all might be used to. What would have been sufficient as a short story has the potential of becoming a rather extensive exercise.

BAD GUY Continues>>>

I am so pleased that the first piece I publish of the new year, is the continuation of “Bad Guy!” I have been working for months on this half of the story and really wanted to insist on the death of the tracker. (( I personally: love the fact that Nadia’s husband is still trying to talk to a dead man. I think things would have been different if the cell-phone was a not flip phone but a smart phone with Skype applications on it or something…then he could get a clear view of all the brain matter left in that car.))

I just love how Nadia sucks dick, and how willing she is to do it in the midst of killing someone or the Dream Weaver, killing someone. This is really that segment in the story when you realize that these two were made for one another and no longer do we question why they are the way they are, we merely accept them and love them.

(( In the midst of processing this page I was tempted to keep Nadia dressed. Some strange sense of modesty that does not exist in me normally. I wanted to keep that feeling of being rushed and hungry for his cock that she did not take the time to undress, but then I remembered in the previous pages that had her ass in the air for all passing drivers to see and felt it better to retain the idea that she is gloriously nude and this sense of liberation is what makes Nadia, the prostitute, so attractive.))

So why is the tracker dying so important the story? Be sure to read about here: https://www.patreon.com/AdventVoice and while you are catching up on the rest of the story, enjoy some of the tunes the Dream Weaver listens to as he drives Nadia around town and blowing away half the freeway: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqWxGE7zSPA (Bull City In the House!! Too bad they were not around in 2008-9)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eUUuI–jAlM (I only put the on this list cause half of them come from NC, they were not doing much of nothing in (2008-09)) The rap game was so weak back then, I found myself forced to listen to (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNvbS0XUZWU&list=PLzOk6lNXp_bV9RFgGAJx6kyvKYgHNKz3E and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1PVmANeyAg&list=PLL4POJWfFMLNwDxXkec_aoy5ZfYQitzVp)) (( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSETxkuPuf0&list=PLmYAIGLxdTr1qssCwC6mlTJK8XxmXUgLi)) The good old days of driving around Durham NC back in college. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9sABRosdNg

We have found a lot of shit to party about in the past ten years!!

Why do I write the way I do? Why am I so willing to invite you all into my mind and life? Several reasons really: We don’t know what tomorrow brings and I can’t afford to leave this world without branding it with my ideas. I thought writing “Black Amethyst,” would be enough: https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/black-amethyst https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AVplusME I really felt publishing a book and filling the universe with more than 55,620 words would be enough to get my point acrossed to people who really want to know what I think. The sad thing is, it wasn’t and I did not feel any better for having done it. Yet I did create the Dream Weaver from that one story and from a story with a setting further back than “Black Amethyst,” or “Bad Guy,” I was able to create B.A. White and Cheryl Bennet.

Reference Characters  

I felt if I just aired my feelings and built a forum and sponsered a safe space for people to question and create and be themselves, in a world so set on cloistering, regulating and eliminating the ability to gross an income based on ones talent, which has a powerful intrinsic and community building value; a well of water in the center of a market place, of the village of the world…that when harnessed proves to be limitless; I truly believed others would desire to not only invest with money, in this energy but their own stories, beliefs and be willing to share how they survived some of life’s potent challenges.

At times they do and this motivates me to continue. In learning from others I’ve been able to grow so much as a person. I can take the pain of a seemingly endless unemployment issue–which was impending long before our current Covid-19 crisis–at least much more than I could have done so in my youth, knowing I am not alone in my desire to achieve more, I can set something aside to aid those who come and say, “In helping you, I hope you can turn around and help me!”

In “Bad Guy,” The Dream Weaver finds himself in love with a prostitute. In “French Connections, B.A. White, finds himself in love with a French Teacher: Both concepts are against what most deem culturally acceptable–Taboo as it were. That is broad overview of those two adventures: Finding love among the Taboo and being ok with that makes you an anarchist.

We Begin Our “French Connection!”

https://adventvoice.newgrounds.com/news/post/1090831

I am so excited to be able to present this new story about a University Foreign Language teacher who happens to find a fancy for the male students that prove to be big enough to keep her coming at work. The insatiable Cheryl Bennet is featured on the cover of this first issue taking the dick of a student doggy style on the floor of the class room, clearly after school. I am not too sure if I could get away with them having sex in the middle of class, for all eyes to see and the story continue to be believable.

“Fuck Me Good Or You Fail My Class,” was a very real quote from one of the many teachers I have been known to fondle and the phrase is still so amusing I had to use it on the cover. Cheryl Bennet is way too cute for anyone to mad at her and giving her what she wants is all her A++ students think about.

Developing a story like this as a mini comic that will be enthralling and sensual enough to keep readers interested is rather a challenge because over the years the fetish of being with someone older than you are or an authority figure seemed to have died down. Maybe with a little French sensuality, some of the more libertine ideals can be realized again.

Get ready you guys for one wild ride.

French Connections: Page 1

Hours Before Class~

We find B.A. White managed to walk to school early enough to catch a shower and meet Cheryl Bennet in the very classroom in which the first proposition was made to her about her taste for big black cock.

As the first time she sucked his cock, she surprised by the amount of cum B.A. White is able to release and continue to blow her pussy’s mind with his girth and length.

She loves to feel him from the back and when her legs are spread eagle. She maybe older than him, but he sure knows how to make a woman feel like a woman.

B.A. White had been holding back his cum for so long, the tip of his dick turned purple. Cheryl Bennet loves the taste of a good eggplant.

Out of all of my works, I don’t think I ever really did a cunnilingus piece. Anyway, this the continuation to my “University Student having Sex with his Teacher, to pass his college exams, fetish.” https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/adventvoice/fc-hours-before-class-page-1 The last time these two hung out Cheryl Bennet was more impressed with how much B.A. White would cum for her all over her class room desk, opposed to, being concerned with his grades.

After a 11 weeks of dealing with B.A. White and feeling she is not really getting the basic core lessons a crossed to him properly, and even questioning her ability to teach, she is devising a new means in pulling effective grades from a slacking student.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When I was in school, grades really mattered. I mean you just did not bring home F’s at all unless you had a death wish. Some form of punishment was always applied to receiving bad grades in hopes of changing your attitude and encouraging a better outcome the next time.

I never understood how the “slackers,” that is what we called anyone who readily failed a class, seemed to make it in life. At least return to school to only fail at whatever lesson was presented, again and again…then at the end of the year they graduate with you..in the same line and you see them the following year eating the shorts of another teacher.

I just assumed that ‘slackers,’ merely devised to ‘fuck,’ their way out of any situation. (Of course you could never presume that is the case, and you are only considered a hatter for making the suggestion.)

What also used to disturb me was how that ‘slacker,’ who might have or might not have fucked their way through school…ten years later, has a better job than, gets paid more, flips you the bird every time they see you, and come summer vacation, is trying to sneak into your backdoor to fuck your wife, when your at work at that fucked up 9-5 job.

Fucking ‘slackers!” It seemed when I was growing up, everyone wanted to be one. lol

https://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/905523 (( Music sampled from @DJRoyalBeats https://djroyalbeats.newgrounds.com/ ))

Cheryl Bennet is a 23 year old French Teacher for the local University. She was always perceived as a Catholic school grad and above the need to exploit students. Yet in her time, that was all the local news could provide.

Story after story of women and men bending the societal line of appropriate sexual behavior. Most were not imprisoned because the nature of the act was so inconceivable, merely for the place in which the act occurred, do most suffer, issue.

Which leads into the tasty tidbits about Ms. Cheryl, Bennet.

She happened upon a first year student who wanted to work up on his french as an elective to aid in skipping other unnecessary requirements to move on to more important studies. With the desire of affording a decent job when he graduates.

His French was horrible. He had no understanding of basic grammar, phonics, or structure. He was a child mentally, but his stature and presence was intoxicating. She wanted him to throw her on the table when all the students left and have his way with her. She loves to be bent over and made to drip and dribble before he slides his ham, into her.

She is a moaner, screams from the top of her lungs in French, in hopes some of the words will stick and he will make the grade. If she could, she would marry that man.

This segment of French Connections will be featured on the inside cover. A piece of art work I am in the midst of completing and will further impress upon you to continue reading and traveling with us in the Dream Weaver’s Universe. Until Next Time, I love you all and please, “Stay COVID-19 Free.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Poonh_ZY4I

What you have before you is B.A. White. He was so proud of graduating high school and going to a University, that he named himself, as most of us did in college, after the intended career path upon graduation. B.A. being short for Bitch Attorney, White.

Most of us have to agree that we never liked lawyers and only have them around when they can weave a story in our favor and convince a court or panel, that someone is innocent of accusations set against them.

Well that’s what B.A. wanted to do and needed to pass French class to make that happen.

Why is he eating a burger and looking into the locker room showers, you ask?

Oh the memories that derive from the locker room or public showers. Good memories…

Then he met Cheryl Bennet and that is how the story will begin. How it ends is the best part and B.A. White already said, “She’ll enjoy the surprise he has for her.”

END!!

Some have suggested I should not be so candid with you. That there are entities and people who will read my work and seek to harm me, with magic, with violence, or merely by eliminating access to the feed. I’m sure that is true. Though I find for those of us who enjoy the romance of the word freedom, who enjoy the freedom to write, draw, or merely make music, the freedom to charge a few dollars for a pamphlet or book, art, digital masterpiece. For those who live in countries in which having time to do any of this is impossible and unheard of, there is a vicarious appeal and or an awe inspiring desire to join the fray and become immortalized in the memory of the anthologist. The archivist. I may not be able to walk around where I live and ask people to let me draw them, or to produce a piece of art they’d enjoy in their home, but when I ask the question online, the number of offers is astounding and a reflection of the love still attributed to the guild of artists. This is what motivates me to tell my stories. I do not seek to create hero’s and villain’s, you all will turn into the next Cosplaying fad at the local mall Comic-Con convention. I desire to use the freedom and time I have to express stories, visually appealing and discourses as Howard Stern once said, “Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll, sell, and that is why I produce!” As long as people want NSFW material there will be room for artists like me to share their stories.

Until next time lovelies, Keep Dreaming!!

 

 

Rather Tired of Being Called a Creep.

Recently it’s become a fad of those in the general area to ostricize me after I introduce them to my artwork. Not because it’s bad, thank goodness. No, but because of the generalized implication, that because I illustrate  the naked form, or create ‘porn-art,’ then I must be a pedofile, rapest, sex-fiend, and or a general danger to society.

None of which is true, but would never be properly analysed because people have come to accept this broad generalization as fact.

In most education of the processessence of sales, it’s understood that meeting people to induce trade is mandatory. Covid, not with standing, the continued discourse of a product, the ‘follow-up,’ is sales-101, people should expect to meet a prospector more than once, even after explaining a mild disinterest in any said product, especially NSFW material. What was bad timing oneday, could pan out upon further inquiry.

That has not been the case for a few local institutions, who have deemed my art to be no better than porn, and not suitable for the consumption of the public at large. Of course I’ve made no secret of what I do. When people ask, I’ve very candid and find by being so, I’m able to liberate others from the unnatural pruditry that is the generalized ‘orthodox’ set of thought. Finding it rather odd, that a potential consumer can take my card, review my work, and when asked about, display two plausible reactions: 1) A distant smile of enjoyment, with and understanding that elevated language is appreciated. 2) A cold rebuff, leading to threats of arrest and sexual harrasment.

Begging, the question, at one time did the displaying of NSFW art, include anyone outside the subject of the art, personally, to the exclusion of the artist, and denial of financial security, or endowment. In the showing of the art, why are, “You”, made to take offense and subject the atmosphere with cries of rape, assualt, and fantasies of being approached sexually, or asked to take off your clothes, reveal your naked form as the subject matter presented by the artist, when the artist asks for your, “Patronage?”

The pure definition of a rapest, and pedofile is being misappropriated to conform with feeling and not fact. A rapist, takes essence and purity from people. A pedofile, seeks to captialize upon a child’s mind. I the artist, any NSFW artist for that matter, ask you to pay a fee for a goods and service, not desiring to, ” take,” harm, molest, abuse or disarm. Give, to recieve, is the inclination. If one does not want the product, or to hear the stories of illicit behaviors of dynamic people, one merely leaves the forum. Yet to leave, go the authorties, and claim something  harmful occurred upon your person because you were made to look upon people, displaying forms of affection, or free in their own nude enjoyment, is rather foreign to me. Even more so, this concept of porn, sex, and fetishes between consenting, and of age people (s); my art, being the cause of a violent generation. None can control the mind of another. We can induce a question, we can make suggestions, but we all accountable for our own behaviors. Truth is, I’ve come to find this war of ideals to be as ancient as the Modernist,v.s. the Post-Modernist. Where the realism of the modernist artist left no room for false interpretation of the displaying still-life, the post-modernist was able to hide the deprivation of thought, their overall distrust in their own human desire, in the incorporeal smoke found in the incoherent. This philosophy did not merely remain in the realm of theoretical thought, or a 2 demensional sketch, but became the blue-print of an entire generation, where a woman can look at a man and call him a creep, because he asked her, would she buy his art, of someone they drew, hoping to have had enough construction for the work to be memorable.

Instead all the Post-modernist sees is porn-art.

 

Riots:CoVid19:AdventVoice

 

My friends and family have been hounding me in the past 7 weeks to come clean about all of my past and present brushes with the local law enforcement.

The constant stream of news about the innocent dying over Police Brutality, drugs, sex, and enslavement; and because I am black and an artist, a freethinker and not one to silent in the midst of irrevocable bloodshed, they have taken my keys to my car, ship everything I want and need to me and have sought to not pay too much for online access. So I might be losing my smartphone for a while.

We live in an age in which if so desired we could watch WW3 from our living room televisions and never lift a finger to stop the onslaught that is heading for our own windows.

I’ve been asked to clean up the website in light of up coming court dates and the constant stream of slander about my personal life and activities. People love to fantasize about ny bed room and would seek to have me arrested for what I do in the privacy of my home. The same goes for you.

Anyway, I am writing this letter to inform you all, that the freedom to express oneself and demand the ability to write truth as we see it is coming to an end. As much of the end to the illustrator who’s platform was hijacked by simpletons who believe looting, headhunting and seeking the death of pornography, will be the end of violence. (???) The same look of confusion crosses my face as I turn. The other way from people who compare the death of a man made virus, an unarmed black man, and the present riots, with that if the NSFW illustrator.

It is peanuts compared to life as we know it. I’m going to be forced to only use one image to feature as entertainment for you all in the near future, as a means to keep accusing eyes away from me, in order to keep updating you all on the importance of Liberatoral studies.

How do you propose I continue telling the stories of the free and beautiful in the midst of war?

Reaffirm that sex is a part of life, is what is used to populate the earth and safe to discuss with everyone. The Greeks new that.

Still hacking away at new projects and keeping away from people, I find I need more friends. I mean in a world where people are stealing everything they can and still not satisfied, I’m made to wonder how my stories can remain archived in the Library of Congress, even after the burnings.

I know I would certainly not desire to lose 4-5 years of work. It’s this desire to preserve myself and my ideas for others who may find them to be effective, is why you find I still have allowed access to http://www.adventvoice.newgrounds.com  and twitter. Knowing if we are denied the right to speak, be understood, and allowed to live, at least we left a trail of bread comes for the second wave.

We listen to the Christians who will continue the suicide of waiting for someone with the strength of ancients and prophetic. The witches and warlocks whom claim anarchy to be the definition of ‘selfgoverance’ and then there are those like me that desire to document the evils of seeking to use debasing language to keep peopLe in bondage.

“YOU WHO LIKE SEX AND WHILE STICK YOUR COCKS INTO ANY HOLE THAT IS THE MOST SATURATED WITH TAINT; WOE COME TO YOU FOR FINDING FULFILMENT, WHILE MILLIONS SUFFER FROM MAN-MADE STRESSES.!”

Well something like that can be expected of the irrational whom can’t get a hold of bliss behind doors. Binaculars are employed and the spying begins. For a year it has been desired of a minority group of people to see to it that I sit in prison for sexual improprieties that I did not participate in, but it would assumed that I would, because I’m a man.

In defence I’ve involved lawyers into my circle and hope to write dis oration that can be used to defend the sexual deviant and the deviant artist.

That is what we are here for folks, not to change the fundamental foundations of a corporate system, but to make money from the present one. Preserving traditions and changing only our outlook on what is legal and what is not.

Goes all the way back to Beer vs Moray’s and Art verses Language. I will begin writing those two stories after I finish Coffee and Cigarettes Are All I Have To Give.

I do feel like a coward at times because I have chosen to hesitate on a few projects and give way for the wave of arrests and deaths that will occur in the next few years to silence disinterested voices in the Communist uprising preparing to invade the inner heart of America. There a lot of bread crumbs though and if readers desire to find my stories and art, they still can in some very unexpected places. No this is not the last of me or NSFW artists, the mature world will always have a platform, I’m sure.

Recently I was wonderfully amused by my mother who would believe my current DWI is not a sign of growing up and no one who does what I do, should be caught receiving citations. I rebuffed her, explaining how either I or anyone should not receive DWI’s, I am not all that special. Though I am special enough to afford the harrasement of law-enforcement at the behest of a woman that feels, there just might be too much sex, drugs, and rock and roll, in my life for me to be safe to be around, and is willing to put me behind bars for it.

Please stay tuned for future developements.

Back to Traditions

As a writer and artist, the supposition of anyone, especially higher authorities, deciding for me what is to be published and what is not, barring my right to editorialize and engage the world with what I deem to be fitting and threatening to imprison me if I did not discontinue the occupation of offense, is the very confrontation I have been desiring to have for a very long time. ((Just did not see the assault to creative freedom coming from my mother))

I should have mind you. In truth, the demand for the end of ART that shows truth and does not distance itself from it, art that materializes dreams and does not stifle them, language that takes all that was stolen from a man who had to spend half his life in prison dreaming of the little things that make life sweet, all because someone did not like them, and would have then incarcerated again because they drew a pretty picture is the very fight I have been goading and desiring. Wanting to know who would stand with the artist, who drew human kind to the perfection given to him or who would see him locked away because the human kind he drew happened to have bare nipples.

It is a wonderful social science and because in America I am free to write and draw what I choose, it would be hard to set such a precedent. My guard must continue to remain of course and alone on my mountain top must I remain because the enemy of my freedom circles the skies at night, hoping to dive down on my citadel.

To be locked away for the words and art, that my friends, is worth fighting for. The right to share all of the ugly things that happen to people in out very pleasant world and since I can’t afford to pay anyone for their tales, I merely share my own. Why do I tell these stories? Because they happened and to pretend that it does not exist, that it can be buried away in time and pictures of sun rises and sun sets, flowers and birds is the fairy tale. For people to feel justified in the confining a person against their will in a crazy home because they drew Pokemon, and a comic book or horned demons and aliens and mad-hatters, yes, that is worth confrontation.

To miss out on the fresh air and peace I have because I published works of art that included tits and dicks, this my friend is why I contend with the world and I’d be damned if I was to merely vanish- be forgotten, behind the evils of people like my mother. She accuses me of being evil and a negative force in the world because of the images I produce, without taking in the explanation. Demands I stop producing material as if the temptation to read and indulge in the material is too great and will destroy her in some way. Absurd, but because she believes it, she is liable to act on it and this is why I’ve always kept a wide berth of the tidal wave.

Apparently this is the same energy that sent me to prison the first time: Of course we all know, she is the reason I went to prison the first time: Will I stop writing under the threat of prison?

No!

For this is why I write, to end the attempts to lock away dream weavers and visionaries for the spark of imagination not conceived by the dulling of the brain.

Though the above issues are important that is not what today’s article is about. I just wanted to address the issue of what threatens artists and has the potential to spread from my little side of the universe if I am not able to address it sufficiently. Retaining my freedom in the process.

Today’s article is about two pieces of traditional art I have been working on for a friend. Which should please my mother, there are not tits associated with this project.

In previous posts I’ve mentioned my thoughts on tattoos and my feelings on how that brand of art should have been respected by the guild, years before street art, stylized art and digital creatives, came along. I learned how to polish works of art from street artists, ex-convicts, tattoo artists and illusionists, not taking anything away from these traditions, I’ve just always been mesmerized by the shock value. I think all the amazing New Age artists that to this day are under appreciated, ignored or forgotten and as I’ve worked on my newest, “Diamond in the Rough,” and “Jesus,” a portrait , I remember them, wondering how they are getting along.

Alexandra Sibrian is the young lady that requested the art after reviewing my art and showing me her body tats. Asked for the sleeve of flowers and a leg tattoo. I was excited to do it and find myself pulling onto the influences of ten to twenty years. I looked at Ms. Sibrian and she was the very image of the kind of person influenced by the messages my art sends to people, my words imprint on people and I am so pleased that the work, the guild, and the energy still has an effect on people.

Could the world in which my talent built create an entire culture and I am apart of it? I can hand my card out to people and as they visit the site, love it or hate it, they know where I come from and I hope as the years go by, this is not lost. It’s possible to desire so much, to want to be relevant, in this competitive field by commercializing my work: It’s tempting but as the admirers grow, all I desire is that the art grows in its flow and is appreciated.

In doing the work for Alexandra, there was a lot that went into devising a design that would not only speak to me, “Diamond in the Rough,” but to her, a woman I don’t know, but sought to empathize with from the few words spoken to one another and her utter refusal to give me much input.

What can be said about a person that wants flowers on her sleeve and Jesus face on her leg?

Nothing I’d want to presume, but would need to hear from her to get it right. As an artist, the motivation of others requests for a piece of art is typically immaterial. I am not supposed to care and I hate feeling that way, because I love getting to know people. Art as a medium is supposed to connect people. Just as the lines on a canvas connect to shape our dreams. Without our ability to connect: well art is created but the soul reflected is the artist. Life is stifled, little progression is made, if I believed that I did not need anyone. I could insulate myself and only create what my dreams tell me to, but that is not why body art is created. The images crafted are adornments. They cling to the skin of the person and tell the story of the person—at lest they are supposed to. Being an anthologist and storyteller, the idea of body art revealing a person’s past, tribe, politics, religion, philosophy, even their tastes in music, was always fascinating. I’ve always been filled with anger at the denial of creatives outside of the tattoo, street art or the sphere of the traveling kid into the same space of the classical, ventage, and traditional galleries. As if there is something base or unappealing, unsellable and incoherent about the art. To those unaware of the beauty, call it serial, pop art, flash art and crowd it in the same pool of New Age and Modern.

Pardon me, but if the art is incoherent, that usually means it is unfinished and when a tattoo is put on a person, inked and vibrant, it is very clear to all to see what is their. So much so, it’s been shunned by the conventional world and only in the last few years has it been normalized enough for people to have a tattoo and work a decent job.

If all modes of art were to be considered incoherent, none should have marked as dreams of demented but prodded for the explanation. The truth is, no explanation was needed. People saw the image and knew very well to beware or include.

To this day I will never comprehend how the tattoo artist was denied gallery space anywhere in the world. But true to myself, I am not going to wait for someone’s permission to display my prints and art. I will share it and ask you, could you ever deny the talent of the artist?