TRICK OR TREAT

.OH FUSHIF HSIT UUM UNM (rummaging through my fridge)

GROSS!

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American Auto Trail-Bicentennial Highway (Blanding to Fry Canyon UT)

American Auto Trail-Bicentennial Highway (Blanding to Fry Canyon UT) https://youtu.be/bKYNnHJ4ZyE Part 1 of this American Auto Trail explores Utah Highway 95, also known as the Bicentennial Highway.

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Regala nuestros Lindos y Deliciosos Kisu Boxes 🎁 a esa persona especial o a ese Trabajador que tanto se lo merece 🧀🍷 - [ ] Contacto. 921 310 507 #lima #peru #fyp #parati #cheese #wine #mesasdequesos #boxes #kisuperu #cheeseboxes #boxescorporativos #giftboxes #catering #quesos #vinos #winelover #cheeselover https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpt2PC7tIXo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#223...Changing of the Colors, Of Course!

I am my mother’s daughter. Every season 4 times a year she would rearrange the rooms. I have faithfully duplicated that all my life. And then when I was a teen, someone invented the 1st garage sale…yard sale, and I’ve been saling ever since! Now in the late autumn of my life, because of macular degeneration of my eyes, I cannot make out a straight line painting in a corner. So if I’m to change…

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@eulaliasims Here is my open mouth here are my teeth here is a poem about a house.

Mother would never let us back inside her so So when she died we passed (her cicada shell) her body to the morticians and we left our apartment (horrible cramped soulless little cheesebox) our apartment and we left the city. We drove back to our childhood home. It had been a stately little home lined by oaks and was now grossly decayed just as mother's body (that lying, lying snakeskin) had decayed in the four days it had taken us to muster up the courage, to open the door of her remorselessly silent bedroom. Someone had chained and bolted the front door so that we could not go in through the mouth and we could not bear to take a rock and smash through the (eyes) windows. We went in through the other entrance (filthy she always said we were-) the unwashed little basement window around the back of the house. We struggled -just a little- to fit and then we were inside inside the damp cavity that held the - the -the - the house's ancient iron heart. We had no coal to feed the furnace (the heart) but we patted it gently. We pressed a reverent kiss to its grill. And made our way upwards. The house was no lifeless husk (cicada shell) like the body we had left in the city rats and beetles and spiders had had colonized the walls just in the way microflora colonizes the human stomach and we were pleased to see them and the seething bodies of mold in the kitchens and the bathrooms. So much life filling the old soft wood house we had been terrified to find empty. The bedroom at the end of the hallway was quiet but not remorseless and the door opened easily (welcomingly) at our touch. We could smell the perfume clinging in the curtains and the bedding and we crawled between the warm musty sheets and said so the spiders and dust (the cocoon of saved skin) could hear us and know "Mother. We are home."

Everyone else: “cheesebox on a raft”, “queer-looking craft”, “tin can on a shingle”

George B. McClellan: “mystic iron clad”

tH4T wasWEird. i jJjUst. DisapPeaRed.

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anYwAY. I wAnTeD TO asK yOu u wHaT yoUUr''''e gONNA do wItH thAT glAsS sHARd in yOur hAND.

You'RE kiNd OF mmaKINg mE NervOus.

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. . . WhAT couLD yoU eVEeN Do wITH soMETHing lIke THat. WHo am I kiDDing. G g g.

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YOU'🫵🫵🫵re my F f ffrienD riGhT?

[Right. I'm cutting that short, now. Let's not make too much progress.]

[The glass shard in your hand has not cut your hand despite the grip you hold. Not as potentially dangerous as the shovel, and not as useless as the match. A good choice, not like you had many to make. It trusts you.]

[The glass shard disappears. As if it was never real at all. If it was.]

.WJAT ?? UM . YES SURE. I WANNA BE FRIENDS YOU SEEM. COOL. ?

peeps are fucking disgusting. -🪤

okay good to know. i trust the opinion of the all might cheesebox anon!!! im not a massive marshmallow person so I don't think I'd like them at alllll

What is in your fridge?

You mean the cheesebox?

CHEESEBOX concept from October 2022.

a small everyday apocalypse, a soft plagiarism

I am sitting on a hill watching the man, Smith standing on the hill on the hill in the centre of the city whose people had left. Smith is looking up at the building- the one structure that dwarfed every hotel-grid, skyscraper needle, or apartmant-cheesebox packed into all the miles that lay around him [...] Smith felt that he should not have come back. It had been over two years since he had been here. He should have returned to the mountains now [...] I was sitting watching him, he didn't know we were here, sitting in the villa that mostly overlooked the sea, except for this window which looked down the valley into the dead city. Smith is back, I called out to her [...] Smith, tied back his long hair into a pony tail. Shrugged his heavy shoulders, in an unsuccessful attempt to shake off the days, six or was it ten years ago when he had worked in this giant unit. Before everyone died or left. [...] I watched him walk up the hill to the high wide, doorway. The building was still, the air was still, the lifts open on the ground floor, the escalators still. It was like a mausoleum. There seemed no ceiling, Only the soft pat-pat of his soles on the floor. When he reached the lift. He turned off to the right and he walked up the the maintenance stairs.  [...] I could see his  warm body walking up the stairs. He goes into the power room and  after wandering around the floor he vanishes into the generator room [...] Smith selected the first few emergency generators and began cleaning them, removing the dust,  Checking for loose connections, cleaning and preparing, testing the circuits.   He is trying to start the city again. The maintenance robots were frozen  stopped in their tasks.  He moved some of them out of the way, leaving them in a circle  facing one another. In the reactor control room he checked for leaks, to see if anything needed repairing. The coolant pipes, the fans and pumps all seemed to be OK. He walked around the the engineering floor for the last time. He removed the control rods from the reactor. The control room had a thousand or more dials, lights, eyes. As things normalized he watched them stabilize and carried out the final few adjustments. He opened the blinds manually. and looked out the window.  It was late afternoon, the reactor was working well. The other blinds opened with a hum and grating noises.  He sat on the control chair and ate some food, a drink of water. He turned it onto automatic and walked out of the building. He sat on the grass outside and remembered the days when he helped keep the colonial city running. Outside the sun was setting and the lights were coming on. The building hummed into life. The reactor was heating the and the generators  ran... The night fell,  stars became visible and the city  lights turned on.  More beautiful than the stars, streetlights, building lights, windows illuminated by the lights left on by the departed. A random array of lights  on the skyscrapers,  searchlights, queued messages being sent into space. He imagined the people in bars, walking home, playing with machines, children, robots moving and remembering their last instructions.  The reactor ran for an hour or two before it overheated and died.  No don't stop. Come on just a little longer. The lights dimmed, only a few recharged robots continued to work.  He watched it fail. As the power failed the windows and the blinds closed themselves, the air conditioning units stopped. He went into the control room and waited for the lights to all fail. He left across the grass, eventually the sun rose and he left the city. I watched him leave,  do you think he is happy? I asked my partner. No, he misses everyone. Should we rescue him ? No. He would hate our world.

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Newest #artproject was made from the discarded paint from other #pourpainting pieces and it's better and I'm cheesed (lol it's a cheese box) #arttherapy #acrylicpouring #acrylicpainting #acrylicpourpainting #cheesebox #mypaintings #myart #mywork #myfavoritethings https://www.instagram.com/p/BzMInAfnGcC/?igshid=5svi7it0dlh7

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