BLUETOOTH

miSTaKes aRe THE BEST paRT

said what i said

hide it under a bushel? NO!!!

p.S. supplies are running OUT

 

NOISE WITCH

((( noiSe wiTch )))

 

HALLOWEEN CANDY

graCiaS, canva pRo

aGua aZuL

 

BLACKEST FRIDAY EVER

eXTRa gRavY

 

TRUE LIES

TRUE LIES

 

YOU NEED ALL THE HELP YOU CAN GET

(((((( HELP ))))))

 

SPEWING SUGAR

SPEWING SUGAR

 

THROW A PILLOW

Throw this pillow at someone you deeply adore.

Hang this poster above your computer.

The word on the street is that Jesus saves so you don't have to.

Yesterday I did something I had not done in a very long time. I created a tarot deck. It will be available for sale once The Powers That Be approve my deck, which I created using Canva Pro. I'm a professional. I wake up, eat JIF extra crunchy from the jar with a ripe banana, drink black coffee and get to work. The wheel of fortune does not play favorites but Saturn does. I've got gold stars across my little chart.

 

TODAY'S ATTEMPTS

 

it's not a coffee mug

you'll come running bacK

GET YOUR CANDY

GET YOUR CANDY

 

BOTCHED

BOTCHED

 

TEMU uNiTed STaTeS

everything must go

 

lulu.com remains ReTaRDeD

Global distribution for my art book (((Chupacabra Disco))) was rejected because of the cover text. "Art by Misti Rainwater" was deemed unacceptable by The Retarded Powers That Be at lulu.com. Here is the new revised cover. And here is a new coLLaGe.

xxx MISTI xxx
 

NEW WOMAN

/

Who's the NEW WOMAN? You's the new woman. You's the NEW WOMAN, baby! You is saturated satiated complicated celebrated dedicated decorated congratulated NEVER constipated never frustrated never denigrated. Pass the pink glitter and splash it on Twitter. Don't be bitter. A new day dawns with you on top where you belong like a Shania Twain/Dolly Parton/Dottie West SONG.

 

swooncaKe aesthetic

Not everyone is special. Not everyone is worthy of attention, publicity, wealth, health, divine revelations, favor. I did not make the rules, I only abide by them. If something isn't special I do not share it. That was not always the case. Lately I've been dedicated to the culling process. I've been deleting old photographs, blog posts, videos and playlists. God (according to David GOD does not exist but I remain a believer) has instructed me and I have obeyed. We don't all get a seat at the table. We can't all be Kim Kardashian. We can't all be Taylor Swift. We can't all be Sharon Osbourne. We can't all be Anais Nin. We can't all be Erica Jong. I could puke from now until the day I die looking around at those who are favored, celebrated, lauded, rewarded. Last night I watched a favorite film of mine, "Coal Miner's Daughter." David was amused and disgusted. He doesn't get it. Not everyone thinks Loretta Lynn was a great or even good singer. Not everyone is mesmerized by Sissy Spacek's portrayal of Loretta Lynn. Not everyone worships at the altar of Elvis. Not everyone thinks RETARD PENIS should be purchased, read, reviewed. 

It's lonely (quite) at my table. I am seated at the kiddie table. I'm too ridiculous and rude to be welcome at The Grown-Up Table where the gossip ranges from Billy Bob's latest Home Depot haul to Kelly Sue's latest pregnancy. I don't feel like I'm missing out on much at all. Loneliness is often delicious. No one I think is in my tree and that is perfectly acceptable. I was deluded for several years, jumping through hoops of fire for various motherfuckers. No mas, hoss.

I celebrate trash. I celebrate the absurd. I celebrate the ridiculous. End transmission.

 

kurt cobain's suicide letter as edited by kathleen hanna

That's the title of my latest piece for RETARD PENIS, coming soon for the pathologically curious and terminally bored. Flash fiction, prose poetry, essays that would never make the cut and be published in Guernica or Sassy (RIP). It's a bloody DISASTER. Haters encouraged to purchase a copy at (where else) lulu dot fucking com. The world is hopping straight to hell like a delirious bunny and language is dead as dead as your daddy's dick. People will have no choice but to get over their petty prejudices and panties in a wad grievances. I pasted these words in a collage I made a billion years ago when I was a sexually frustrated virgin living small in rural Texas:

What's Your Problem Gripe or Guilt Trip?

There was probably a comma in there. I fucking loathe commas. 

There's such purity to obscurity. I embrace it like Dana Plato embraced Gary Coleman but only on set. Daddy was Mr. Drummond.
 

WORKING THE SAW

working the saw
working the daw
working the maw
working the claw
working the jaw
working the caw
working the blah

 

OBSESSED WITH OBSCURITY

The YouTube crowd seems obsessed with obscurity lately. Obscure audio is trending. These tracks are as obscure as 30 minutes ago. Obscurity is just another day at the office for me.
 

$134.92

I just created this collage. It's available on various products at Redbubble. Buy the canvas print and hang it above your sofa. Your friends will be impressed.
 

STRINGS

David is cracking that colonizer whip insisting that I take a break from making noiSe and shuffling tarot cards. WRITE, BITCH. WRITE!!! I am acquiescing. I am submitting. I have written two stories for our latest collaboration in progress, RETARD PENIS. Stay posted. Bye.