The last article was a doorful way of saying I was murdered can't prove but my death due to heart attack did not sit well with me. No cop will take my Cass ND since. Mt stroke I can't grab. I'm hurting hall but my. Mind is good. I process a wicked vocabulary , does that not keep me Vitale to the engine of change or must I die unheard

..above all things don't take the platform from. Me.i don't know when ill feel better but I hope sooner than later

.odt fe1

ar talks of death. Claim you to be suicidal or mentally ill. But there is no hope of heaven without passing the vail. I'm not of the mind that there is anything wrong with reassuring the weak of there promise of love and heaven, when a winner like me could touch it. Of course I'm crazy and don't know shut according to my family so don't waste my air each heartbeat counts.

After some extensive therapy I'll draw again I hope

Reroute but could never prove it till I phase my first jubilee on esla4rty. a. I died traveled Long STYX and no one should call me a liar.youd think your fam would change after a death and return to planet earth. Instead you have to show them a love they don't deserve, which remains tough when they refuse to acknowledge the sulfurtracks you leave in the room. I've always believed dreams to be a door into the afterlife but could never prove it till I met with jubilee on the oytheothersideto those that xdyill own ?y nights I'm not de

Ad Yet and I'm coming.

Thoughts of ASzH kept me going. Ash and meeting my fans..

I am hanging out with Hollywood Undead though.

It has been a very drastic transition for me, this move and trying to establish myself into my writing and creating; after the disaster in Texas.

I still refuse to give out my location or communicate with family because I don't want them tracked or attacked by people that mean me ill will.

Yet I have been able to make money and I am coming closer to being able to continue wowing the world with my art and ideas.

I even have new friends in the city that are more interested in helping the movement if it means we all get to make more money, live our dreams, remain satisfied and just have fun laughing at all the amusing things that pass by.

Can't take pictures though until I find a way to make the scenery not give me away.

I think If I did share images or photography, it would be of generic Google crops that really express a feeling opposed to where I live. Or what I am doing.

Art is my motivation and should be the same of the rest of the world.

They all will soon come to see the world as I do and want to be in it. Like working for Warner Bros. Or Disney theme parks for the rest of your life but without a need of a pension because there is more inclusion. You are not fending for yourself when you feed the whole!!

In life there are no mistakes only lessons.

I do appoligize for the short windedness I am just cramming in a lot of work at the moment.

After making it out of Dallas I’ve found I can no longer give my address or location out to my public. Due to fear that some evil MS13 gang might try to kill me over the past three month truck fiasco.

I met a friend who needs 7,000 for new parts for the car radio. I figured if anyone wanted to ask for art, could they be projects worth 7,000 to 14,000.

I would love the challenge and to get the loss of my truck out of my mind.

it would benefit you greatly and I would hate for you to miss the opportunity to bless the guild you love so much.

im finally back in the saddle y’all and moving like thunder against the wind!

to purchase work we should be in email contact or you can PM me while posting desired price for new art and I’ll be sure to post and give intellectual property points to those who bid.

I am still in Dallas Texas fucked up with people trying to kill me because I was able to retrieve my stolen truck and avoid extortionist. Yet when you involve the legal system that makes you a snitch to the hood and unwelcome. The story becomes corrupted to where you are the Bad Guy, when all you want is a normal life and prosperity. Shoot on sight has been pinned on me, so access to studio and art materials but when I get around these killers and find a way out Dallas I'll produce more art. The one good thing out of my present distress is the fact that I have a story to share. Wonder how much a newspaper will buy it for? At least before I'm buried in some man made grave!

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!"

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.

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.

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!

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!