Rabid Sharks
self+portrait20200111.jpg

Prison Blog

In which Possum recounts his experiences as an offender in the system.

Possum Bones is autistic. He has identified as a dirty kid in the past, and he’s attended multiple rainbow gatherings. He has several years left to serve in the Washington Correctional system.

He has been making art since he could sit up. He communicates better in writing than speech. If you are interested in the experience of an autistic person doing prison time, check out his Prison Blog. If you are a fan of comic art, underground/outsider music, Lovecraft, Clarke Ashton Smith, Murakami, Cixui Liu, etc.

6/19/2018b

I would say that I have an intimate relationship with my dreams.  Yes, I am a self-absorbed person.  While I don't believe they are a part of some separate, ethereal world, I have given up thinking about what qualifies an experience as relevant.  There is only subjective reality for me.  Though I live in a contained and repetitive environment my dreams are much less mundane than they were in high school. There are more of those stumper dreams.  I don't always have good dreams.  But I do't spend each night worrying about my life.  I remember them very often but I can never motivate myself upon waking to write them down.  Recently I was chased around a house by gorillas.  Later there was an industrial wasteland populated by cosplayers.  I gave them plastic gold.  This pen is terrible, sorry.  I don't think much about these strange dreams but imagining that some people claim to lack these experiences for the most part, is hard.  Fuck this pen.  When you see it, its hard not to think "Why this? Why does my mind possess this capacity?  In what way does this contribute to my functionality as an organism?  Like a twisted salvia trip:  Why? Why these shelves of components, a disembodied head with the arm stuffed into the mouth fist first, wires connecting it to various limbs?  They're not cut, there's no blood, it's more like a doll.  This is a scene of oddity, but not brutality.  And so forth.  So, as I try not to over-analyze my life, I don't endeavor to understand these dreams.  But naturally life would be very different without them.  One day, couldn't they vanish?  Even when drinking spirits, I used to dream.  I'd fall asleep but I'd continue to drink, in my dreams.  Those dreams, like the drams I had in school, were straightforward.  I've always enjoyed psychedelics, perhaps my mind has become permanently attached to the abstract.  There's been times before, in my life when I'd dream constantly all night, often aware that I was dreaming, but unable to do anything else.  In the morning, it felt like "No fair, I was awake all night, even though I was asleep."  HaHa.

Elisa Carlson