Johnny Cave

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[bontxt-deactivated20151125]

how do draw good

fill 14 sketch book

bad stuff is good stuff bc you made stuff

do you like sparkle???? draw sparkle

draw what make your heart do the smiley emote

member to drink lotsa agua or else bad time

d ont stress friend all is well

your art is hot like potato crisps

don’t let anyone piss on your good mood amigo

if they do

eat

them

[vintage-tigre]

Photo by Tadao Konishi for Sony, 1983.

[johnny-cueva]

Maybe I should get some tape gear and make some loops and other warped, mutated, manipulated nose shit sound.

[johnny-cueva]

Lies (implicitly) sold to gen-x:

Hide your feelings

Stay away from guns

College degrees

[johnny-cueva]

YEET! (2025)

[johnny-cueva]

You’ve never punched a nazi in your life retarded fаg

What a mature and insightful commentary. You've given us a lot to think about. I, for one, will forego the punching from now on and buy another couple firearms and a lot more ammo. Thank you for your calls for peace. They fall now upon the deafest of ears. The time for kumbaya and mindful listening has long passed. All attempts to engage with reason and facts have been rejected. Appeals to ethics and compassion rejected out of hand. Just know who chose to forego peaceful resolutions, and who refused obedience. We did not create this current state, but we absolutely will obliterate it. I sure hope no human shields jump in the way. That would just break our little hearts so so badly.

[johnny-cueva]

Hey there! ✨💛

I hope you’re having a peaceful day! 🌷

I’m reaching out to ask for your support in sharing my family’s journey. 🌹🤲

Would you consider reblogging the pinned post on my blog?

By doing so, you could make a real difference and help protect a family from war and hardship. 🕊️

Your support truly means the world to me. 💖

Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🌺

i think you're full of shit.

[heartpdf]

[johnny-cueva]

March 29, 2022

[johnny-cueva]

March 29, 2022

[johnny-cueva]

Free write for most of the day. Just keep typing or hand writing. Fill in pages. Garbage. Weird stuff. All styles. Nonsense poetry.

Do some little artwork. Doodle a whole page. Do some stickers.

[johnny-cueva]

May all their most vile of unpunished sins become as snakes,

And crawl into their stinking bellies and throughout their guts.

Not for mere greed or lust,

But wrath, the assumed righteousness, the claimed superiority from which to judge others.

Cruelty most of all, indifference to suffering. Malice toward the innocent.

Tyranny, the demand to control others. Slippery, malicious manipulation, beyond the capability of earthen serpents.

These vipers must create a knotted angry, vile nest of the intestines.

They don't thieve for wealth. They work their trade to trap, to oppress, to control.

[johnny-cueva]

Most things in life require neither your pride nor regret.

Some are so full of smug pride that they think most others full of regret.

What does it look like to be overly full of regrets? One regret, we understand. Unforgivable, maybe. But many over years. What is it to have a conscience about so many failings. Is these idiots? They must be put there in the strata.

Too little of either, and you've been doing something wrong for quite a long time.

9am: Take melatonin and fail to go back to sleep.

Look at phone too long. And go to the bathroom two times.

10am: Shower and get ready.

10:30, but more like 10:45am: Finish prep notes and feedback form. Try to, get distracted, finish at last minute.

11:33am: Show up for my 11:30 online quarterly review for work.

[johnny-cueva]

She loved that boy

The boy of wood

Born to be a man of rust,

Never reaching maturity, majority, or normality.

She loved that boy who never grew hair nor fur that he weren't born with,

That boy who could ride a bike backwards and tape worms back together.

That boy who knew too much before he could talk. Some say before he could see.

But he could hear the jets and clean the towels by smell.

The bleach was radiant in the middle of the night, readying the linens for dawn's guests. Then came the chrysanthemums or wisteria. The ochre tea. The ocra masque and juniper incense. The old, smelling men who somehow ruin the facilities more than they clean their lumpy, crinkled, sagging tissue skin. "Can't they go somewhere, like an ocean or river far from everyone. Far from me, anyway. Maybe the salt and silt and snow will fill in those places that all the tiger balm, vitalis, and groom & clean in the world cannot seem to cure. Better yet, dip them in mud and roll them in bark dust to make old-man-roca. We called it the old "dip and roll" in the "old country." The old country was only 250 miles out of the new city. We only did the dip and roll to our little brothers like our older brothers before us. Our grandfathers must have done before going across one ocean or another. If you've seen one, then you've only seen one. The Atlantic must have been very... European or something. But our old folks then only went to the Pacific when they were young. Due west. And then due northwest. Due south east. Our fathers, then the younger fathers. It got worse every time. Drawn further in every time. More blood and then more ashes. We stopped believing any of it was the right stuff. It's just red and gray. Back to being a log of mud with a crunchy exterior. Gonna dip you in the lake, roll you down the river.

[pieklo]

Reblog daily for health and prosperity

[johnny-cueva]

Dear God, if you're up there

Please see to the death of this thing

That brings so much destruction and suffering.

Let us all, ordinary and otherwise, oppose and defeat this malignancy at its heart!

Any god, whether of war, love, wrath, or hope

Hear our cries and cease our tears

Raise our hope!

Our courage.

All Our Love,

To crush all oppressors.

Amen

[johnny-cueva]

Some different things

[processes]

[johnny-cueva]

Everybody should do this, whenever. Just fires here and there all over the neighborhood, any day of the week. Just folks purging themselves of whatever old crap lying around, celebrating mediocrity. Cast off your novice embarrassments. Abandoning redemption. A stoic ritual to to sever from the past.