The prodigals return. Flushed, apologetic, and waving foreign meats like penance. But for Poe and the paws, trust is not dispensed with the drop of a Dreamie. This week’s revelation speaks of broken bowls, delayed doors, and the sacred art of suspicion. Chicken may soothe. But betrayal lingers.
Tag Archives: mental-health
FAce-lIft Continuation XIX: Minjae Lee
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
FAce-lIft Continuation XVIII: Digital and Machine Art
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
FAce-lIft Continuation XVII: Reflection
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Poe ‘Vices
Rocket dads, data bros, and misfired masculinity — this week, Poe responds to a reader haunted by a billionaire father who’d rather launch a car into space than love his trans child. With trademark sass, sorrow, and chicken-based resistance, Poe reminds us: your soul can’t be trademarked.
FAce-lIft Continuation XVI: Aloïse Corbaz
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Dispatches from the Void. V. VI
Back from Turkey and quietly reflecting on the uneasy mix of beauty and loss. A rich culture overshadowed by British tourism leaves behind more questions than comfort. As we return to our quiet life with the cats, our sights turn to Thailand—and the ongoing pursuit of something real, rooted, and ours.
The Catdiva Monologues Volume VI: Return of the Rogit, Rise of the Miserable Sun. Descent.
Locked in. Doors shut. Biscuits wrong. Mothers in Turkey. In The Catdiva Monologues: Volume V, Akela Jean Underland recounts the horror of her abandonment with biting wit and theatrical disdain. A tale of closed doors, unseasoned men, and feline fortitude. Unlicked. Unfed. Unimpressed.
FAce-lIft Continuation XV: Clarice Lispector
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
The Underland Review: Call for Submissions
The Underland Review is calling for strange truths, haunted fragments, and beautifully unreliable narrators. This zine is a lie — and we want your glitch-lit, cursed files, and poetry with fangs. No bios required. No CVs. Just the work. Deadline: May 10th.
