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I am an artists who always seeks to give you a piece of material that makes your heart beat like a speaker!


Of Hard Knocks

All Over

Joined on 5/15/17

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AdventVoice's News

Posted by AdventVoice - 4 days ago

That's what I've been telling myself since last we spoke. It just dawned on me a few days ago that I need to do better with keeping track of the days. Since I lost my phone in an altercation with the asshole that stole my truck, I've been rather depressed. Broken phones always make me cringe. I don't know how I'll earn another one since, where I am in my life, nothing seems to be productive. The people I'm my life are toxic, refuse to be anything other than, and I hate getting on here talking about it. Yet since I'm in fear of being killed, while living in an abandoned building and no one ever hearing from me again or knowing I ever was, I think it's best that I do write and continue to let the world know I'm here.

I was reading over my old journals from last year and realized that most of AVproductions, my art, my life, pretty much stopped when I lost the security found in caregiving, was rendered homeless, and began this assanine search for a new home. Which lead me to Dallas, which was never supposed to be, and I've yet to meet people who see talent and want to invest in it.

I'm starting to wonder if it's just a Southern Curse, and as long as I'm South of the Mason Dixon Line, then I'm destined to be asking for "Spare-Change," and made to teeter the boardwalk towards another failed attempt at achieving Government Aid, from institutions that have never wanted to help me, unless it was to send me to prison, reform school, or a soup kitchen line.

The point is, everything I wrote five years ago, maybe six now, again I've stopped counting the days, let's see, when I turn 33, I might be better at it, was true. I had zero job security when I was in North Carolina, despite my clients assurance that I'd be cared for in any event. Everyone save my client turned on me, and I left with no referral paperwork. Not that a reference would aid in promotional job placement.

The art remains my therapy, but only in this distant bubble of virtual solace. I'm wanting so much to move the work from online databases to the real world, but keep getting told the provocative content won't meet a big enough audience, or makes me a demon, or evil, or a Northern Yankee and I need to know my place and settle for street urchin work.

Despite Sex Selling all over the world, despite #MeToo Movements, despite Uber challenging racists with bubble signs because they higher foreign nationals to fit the bill of cheap labor and consider that BLM worthy, despite LGBTQ soup achieving national accreditation, despite people who believe in Extra-Terresials being published as legitimate authors and storytellers, despite reason being thrown out the fucking window and I'm allowed to curse in the article, I've yet to be able to sell these dreams to a major sponsor. As Childish Gambino says, "This is America!"

Posted by AdventVoice - 1 month ago

A few weeks ago my truck was stolen. Rendering me a victim to weather..and the evils of Dallas Texas we don't see when we are sleeping. Of course i reported the truck stolen. Of course the Dallas PD refuse to put their own necks on the line for a young black man, despite the recent out cries of BLM. No I don't know who stole my truck, and even if I did, my plate numbers should be enough to find it. The occurance of the theft is a real pulp fiction story, but I hate thinking about it. I hate that calling authories for help puts a target on your back for retaliation, from those who know the local authories are lazy and cowards. They have a live and let live streak a mile long and would arrest me for taking matters into my own hands.

Sometimes I feel like taking the story To the local papers, but people can't or don't read and so I doubt it would do any good. I don't have money to goad the assistant of mercaniers and since I am one myself, retrieval of the truck from spineless idiots like the ones that robbed me, just Does not equal up to a pay day.

What makes matters worse...the fuckers have been chasing me at night in my own truck. At least four or five vehicles circling and unarmed man for reasons unknown to him, while he finds a place to bed down at night and plan how to earn money, get his truck back, and sell art to...ugh...I hate Dallas Now and can't and won't leave without my truck.

It's nothing to get shot over and I feel I might one night be the headlining story of the Dallas paper anyway...Man extorted out of truck to the tune of a thousand dollars, found dead on South Side, after reporting to the DPD.

Posted by AdventVoice - March 22nd, 2021

To my faithful audience that has stuck with me over the years. It's been an exciting few months for me in Dallas Texas. I've lost track of the time of my arrival and for the life of me I don't think it matters. As long as I can make enough money to feed the masses that have grabbed a hold of me and don't desire to release.

Fear has gripped them and if they loose a mind that can materialize currency and prosperity in matters of moments, then they would find themselves in a dry desert of empty, casks that were skulls. Bones, dry and screaming for a flow that stirs the mud.

Cant be everyone's hero but that is what they want.

It's exhausting to be happy when you have nothing.

Waiting on government funds and refunds from money many may never receive. All to build a dream. Oh only if I had time to draw it.

Posted by AdventVoice - March 7th, 2021

Ok, so now is really the perfect time to update you all on my progression as a Dreamer!

I know, I know, I've been gone for months and if I don't have a new house, car, dog and wife,I've been wasting my time. ( Well that's what the misers would say)

I'm good. I'm happy and I've had to retreat to the comfort of music in bars to pay bills. Meeting other talented musicians and teaming up to entertain an audience. Of course my first love is Visual and Graphic art, but the ability to express in song or prose my visions is just as potent.

I've tried to download audios but of course I've had issues with the level of technical support or strong enough devises. Smartphones are just not good enough to save such events. I suppose when I can save for a high powered camera like what they use for television programs, will I be able to really display my work.

I'm a hermonica player. As some of you may know. The ability to sing and jam at the same time and follow the lead of a base or acustic guitar is always magical.

It's hard to discuss with others just what it is I hear and how the sounds sooth or stop time but I know those around feel it too.

When I'm at this stage in life: which is a back track to the comfort of living on the sails of the wind and never sitting down long enough to eat: because I lived this life during the Great Ressecion of 2008-2014..might have been longer. College is a glorified time period of self discovery; I spend most of my time teaching the insecure that their talent is their gold, money, family, and provision when it seems a regular 9-5 would settle all issues. That's the real dream..believing chasing a dollar all day will keep you satisfied. Never works, trust me.

Though I want recognition and fame and millions, it might not be had till I'm dead and gone and a memory: but the real achievement is giving happiness to a weary generation, plauged by nightmares of man-made limitations.

There is more art to come and finishing of old stories but in the mean time I'm enjoying the music and dance and party life of the Roaring 2021s. Last year should have been the fever of ambition in the trade of Liberal Arts but it lagged due to sickness and death. Something I refuse to focus on.

I'm order to make ends meat in a town far from home and away from anyone that knows me or cares, I took jobs with sociopaths. The kind that smile in your face while pointing a gun to your temple and daring you to fight back with a smile. The favorite line being, " Here I'll help you out, give me so much money and you can have your property back." I moved frieght worth 300 dollars to pay off a debt that did not exist, to stave off the violence that would have satisfied all. Only to hear that what I made was their money and it depended on the few pennies I made after a set fee, to establish a debt of 230 dollars. It still boggles my mind. I hire myself out for 135 at a rate 25 dollars cheaper than the 150 promised, and after accepting half the payment, at an order to abort the job l, owe 230. This is the definition of Extortion.

Why don't I call the cops you say?

Why would I take so long to deliver 230 is a booming economy where you can steal 1000 dollars worth of merchandise and only spend a few months in jail for a crime of active repetitions?

Why deal with sharks in the first place?

From my older comics I'm sure you understand by now I don't trust police officers.

The system is decided that if I report my truck as stolen, the authories will find it, which is my hope, and I hope the thieves and extortionist have drugs on them at the time, but the police will impound my truck and charge me per day 100 so odd dollars to get it out.

When I was in college, I remember parking in a teacher reserved spot when I went to eat lunch in the cafeteria and she had me towed, even though her husband dropped her off and picked her up everyday from the University. It cost me 400 dollars I did not have at the time and I had to plead with my father to help me pay. That was back in 2007. Inflation has risen since then and I imagine the city of Dallas Texas will charge me 700 dollars to reclaim my vehicle even though it was clearly stolen by evil and dishonest and dirty people; whom I only sought to aid in order to aid myself during these trying, impoverished, and Covid- Times.

I'm tired of hearing how Covid-Sanctions have held up American progress.

It's a lame excuse and not worth airing on television anymore. I'm done with it. And even if I did catch it, died from it, no one would know.

I'm Ronin at the moment and in doing so I'm expendable.

It won't be until I retrieve my personal effects will have the world in my hand again.

That's really why my past employers hated me so. Saught to deny the idea that they paid me for a job, canceled it and figured hog tying me would solve their irrelevant issues.

It is a nice truck though.

I have a few more days to wait before I file the report. You know how the USPS runs and how unreliable it is. Once I have the proper legal defense and cover my ass for dealing with crooks who Hood-Winked me, I can manuver a frontal assault, regardless of being called a 'Snitch,' and reduce blood-shed.

Can you imagine. The Dream Weaver, the Advent Voice does not desire violence and only wants peace with his underworld. He does not desire to keep what he kills or live beyond bars, free to enjoy tea on a Sunday, contemplating how to dodge the bullets of the misguided.

That is normal right?

I can have a normal life outside of Witness Protection right?

I am a survivalist dealing with jackels whom like to yap and not bite.

God Bless America!

Posted by AdventVoice - January 19th, 2021

We all know your not supposed to trust or fall in love with a prostitue bit I can't help it. I met Jamie and fell deep into some pussy that would make any man plead for more. Here's hoping to seeing her again on Malcom X street. She is a breed all her own. I love the freedom she gave me and her desire to kick all the other guys out the room just to enjoy me.

Of course she got mad cause she could not make me cum,. But she loved how deep I'd go.

She left with seven dollars a drink and cigs. Next time it'll be more. I should buy a room for a month. Just for her.

Jamie excuded a desire to become intimate beyond client and doctor. Then she leaves and she m angry because I can't give her more.

More of the caring she desires at the age of 35.

This is when age plays a part. She felt second to my talent 🤣🤣 free of demands cause they Are mine!


Posted by AdventVoice - January 2nd, 2021

Hey guys and gals!

I just want to take the time to apologise for my lack of artistic dedication and overall communication with you. You've supported me for 4-5 years and don't deserve that. I owe so much of my joy, happiness and contentment to you and art and should sacrifice more to the cause. Of course I have sketches building and have been spending my time we'll.

If you consider drawing and playing FFBE as time well spent.

I've been making plans to change my office and production studio to a new location and the move has taken a lot out of me since I am alone. I need new buisness cards, new shoes, a new hat, just a lot of things for this new year of 2021!!! All of which costs money I don't have. Why doesn't 100 dollars of food last a month anymore? The American dollar is really not giving me the value I need and more 💰 is hard to come by when people no longer desire face-face contact or trust products in the mail to be Covid free. People are not as kind as they were a year ago because of Cabin fever and I've just been made to keep to myself for my own peace of mind.

I've separated from my boy-toys for a while cause he was too toxic. I might go back to only dating women again because I can't handle the split personality of fem-boys. The ass was good, but that is not enough to establish a healthy relationship on.

I had a good new years though, met some nice people and I might be able to get some work done next month, who knows, depends on if my check comes here on time after the evil snail mail gets over it's hording issues.

I wanted to take the time now to talk about dating apps and how I feel, because of the complications set by the human spieces, have become the tool of women like The Head Hunter, police department s, prohibitionists, and forces set against a healthy sex life, to entrap men and based upon the intention of words passed between consenting adults, send them to jail or worse. Dating apps like PoF, Meet me, and whatever are a toxic program which not only store facial features and personal data, but are the perfect systems to people farm.

It is the only way I can justify the existence of police officers being paid to sit in their cars, pretend to be interested in some sexual encounter, or receiving credits for the moments of heated flirtatious conversation, lurking in a black screen and clicking the camera on when they think the conversation is going to include a hook up.

This is why I don't use dating apps.

Thats why I remain single and had a quite new years.

When this occured, the only thing that came to mind was The Matrix, when Morpheus asks Neo, "Where you paying attention, or too busy looking at the woman in the red dress?"

Being aware is very important friends and if you are alone for these holidays and want someone near, dating apps is just not the way to do it anymore. No telling what is anymore.

Best to find a hobby, stick to it and make money when you can.


Posted by AdventVoice - December 21st, 2020

After finishing all three episodes on demand i was able to get over my disappointment in the speed of which a plot, based on a classic story was crammed into on!y a few hours of television.

It was conducted well and the cenamatic features of digital mountains, of India were developed well. It was nice to dive into the world of hypocritical nuns, who determined to stifle love, lust, rage, and envy, in the name of spiritual enlightenment, and religious prowess, in a world where time stands still, and the shades have no hope of an external resting place.

Had me considering, just how old is the struggle of mankind, to cope with the beast that resides in us all, that only desires to love and be loved?

Is it worth dying over, killing oneself for? Are people worth all of that drama?

I am supposed to believe so. I am supposed to believe the joy found bathing naked in a pool of water with a lover, is worth contending over and plunging a knife into the ❤️ of those that would seperate us from the one or many people that find joy in our company.

I think of the one woman that true!y loved me and how cruel I had to be to her in leaving. I told her I loved her, and I love her so much that the hatred her daughter feels for me can not seperate her mother from her. So I left. Willingly, to appease the irs of a jealous brooding hussie, who has never felt love in her own life and was willing to say or do anything to prevent her mother's happiness.

Today I was able to reach out to this one love. I have to put this in here, just so you understand that my joy in merely hearing the voice of such a sweetheart, moaning in joy at the sound of my own, no matter how far I must go for my own safety, no matter how hard the envious bitch chases after me to end the connection and devotion we have for another, nothing can take the joy from me in knowing that she still swoons and dreams of my touch.

I could never love anyone as much as I love her, and though I did not kill myself as illustrated in this Black Narcissus television program, I did sever the physical connection harshly, coldly, so untrue to how warm my heart beats for her.

It feels like a death. Like I'm drowning and sucking in more than my lungs can hold. Crashing into the deep, just to save her peace of mind and relationship with her daughter and family.

Could be for some pious pride. Could be for spiritual balancing. Knowing I can't play God with the lives of others and needing them to make their own decisions for the story to retain it's authenticy. I write the story, I never tell people what to think of say...though I wish I could.

I wish I could illustrate how real love does not have be seen as selfish because you are happy and desire to have it here and now while your alive. Not waiting on a world unseen, a dream, to claim ones peace.

My world is not so bleak. My love not so weak.


Posted by AdventVoice - December 14th, 2020

It's pretty nice to have been able finish a project, despite, not having a job, covid shutting cities, and being homeless as fuck.

In my previous messages to you all I went into a few details about my job loss, and really feeling bad that I could not keep up with the demand, in my limited capacity. I mean it felt irresponsible to continue drawing when I had no home and was living out of motels, needed work, a car, a computer, a camera, and all the things that make a biusness like this thrive. With my family gunning for me, trying to commit me in an insane asylum because they could not figure out how to help me find stable housing....not that I really I needed them to...I mean after losing my job I just needed a basement for a few weeks untill something came along, but no, they had to piss me off and make me leave them all high and dry and say fuck that cause I refuse to take pills the rest of my life, have someone tell me I am crazy, when I am not, and control my allotted sums of state funds to the tune of 800 a month, just cause I happen to be homeless for a little while.

While I am here in Texas I am hoping someone will want to buy into the work. Several friends have asked me, "Why do I desire to sell my ideas, and share my leud works, knowing how hard it is, and unapproachable it makes you?"

Because I am tired of the pussy footing people are doing with sex, life, comics, movies, the world of entertainment as a whole. Why should people not pay for the things they want, and why should what I make, not sell? Sorry, profits make sure people are not homeless, starving, and begging other broke people for a pretty penny to eat a nice meal in a warm house.

A lot of gas, I know. Sigh, I met a friend in Texas since I've been here that has helped me along. He is very gay. A bottom and he likes the art. Not that it means much. But it's a start. Yet since he is gay, and is in Texas, he is afraid of his shadow. Hates people, and works at a Pizzarea during the week. Which is good for me cause that means I get to eat when I need to. The bad thing is, when it comes time to branch out and add more people to the team of dreamers that want more out of life than the crumbs given, his negative vibe will spurn others and completely fuck up my chances to make a go out of sharing my talent with others. (Why can't I ever find people that can play nice with others?)

I'm never going to hear the end of how I stayed up all night and ignored him, cause the girl-side of his brain felt ignored and overlooked. (I personally don't get into those kind of discussions. Nothing can get in the way of the art, not even lovers)

I am not sure how much longer I can do this no money bit. (I cared for an elderly woman for four years and was made to walk away from the job, with no referrals, no avenues for better employment, and a complete lack of appreciation from the scum who hired and ultimately used the fuck out of me.) Just had to get that off my chest. I am happy I spent that time pounding out art. I feel I have a solid enough portifolio to real!y go anywhere, show what I can do for them, and sell my talent to the highest bidder. Yet of course it's looking really bleak out there, with Covid, and Elon Musk wasting all that fucking gas by blowing up his damn toys. No one wants to spend money on Hollywood, Bollywood, Independent artists or anything when they are hungry.

I am hungerier than most and I believe this will keep me hunting but I'm at a loss as to where to go from here.

If anyone has any ideas, feel free to share.


Posted by AdventVoice - November 30th, 2020

This Is the first time I have ever seen my work through the view port of a Tablet. I now understand why so many wanted me to buy one and it is hard to imagine how I have gone so long without one. Once I get a new S-pen I'll be able to actually produce art beyond the novice attempts of finger painter. I might even be able to participate in an art exhibit here in Houston if I can manage to produce enough pieces by Dec 5 2020. It is kind of a lot of pressure considering I don't know anything about the venue, besides that it's connected to the bank and they are rather open-minded about most presentations. I don't know, but every 5th of the month I can expect an opening, if not Dec I'll be ready by January. Then I can earn some money, get my name out there and celebrate at Molly's Pub.


Posted by AdventVoice - November 28th, 2020

I have a very extensive process when it comes to creating art and writting. For those of you that have visited my discord server, it maybe clear just how reliant I have become, on technology, and just how much Ive studied, different operating systems, which ones I like, and just how addicted I am to the digital process.

This being said: I feel, and I could be premature in such a declaration, but I may not post more work until I have a nee tablet or laptop, I cant carry a desktop around while traveling, and a smartphone, as wonderful as it is would render me blind trying to illustrate my stories with it, thus, until I manage to buy a new tablet or laptop, maybe a touch screen one, I may not publish new works.

I could use the excuse that since I am homeless and living here and there, train stops, roof tops, and anywhere out of the rain; rain that has not ended for two weeks now in Houston-bum-fuck-Texas, I should not produce until I have a place to call home.

I wont. I am addicted to art and like a Covid patient, cant breathe if I dont put lined on the blank fucking pages. Cyber Monday will be my reintroduction to the Dream Weaving Universe, if all goes well and this monsoon season does hamper my style.

Please stay tuned for updates in the creative process.