Just a funny coincidence that I thought of, Robert Pattinson who played a vampire is now playing Batman and there’s some stories that have vampires turning into bats so yeah… lol! Incase you couldn’t figure it out the other person in this drawing is Bella Swan. #rachelmbradyart RB
P.S. This is not me dissing Robert in anyway, this is just ment to be a funny thing. I’m actually very excited to see his portrayal of Batman.
One of the stranger elements of my life, that I never imagined and certainly didn’t seek out (in fact, I rejected it fiercely for the first couple years that it started coming to the surface and interpreted it all as a sign that I was “broken”), is that I have a somewhat-active connection to a past life during WWII.
Over the years, one tiny new detail surfaces at a time, and each detail adds more context (or confusion) to whatever I’d seen in other dreams and visions before. The latest detail to surface is that, while reading a book that I bought at a WWII museum earlier this summer on a trip to Kraków, I stumbled upon a paragraph that mentioned female couriers between Kraków and Berlin. Immediately I got the chills. My mouth dropped open. Something clicked. Very strongly, I felt, I was a courier. Alas, for some reason (I’m still not sure why?), I didn’t want to believe this and tried to convince myself it was just a projection.
But every time I glanced at that line again, I shuddered involuntarily. At least 4 or 5 more times.
When I get chills in situations like this, they’re often a sign that the universe is trying to confirm an intuitive impression. I did not take this lightly. So a couple days later, I decided to read more about female couriers during WWII and what they did. I was amazed because the answer is, basically, pretty much everything. For many years, I’ve tried dismissing a lot of my past-life dreams and nightmares, telling myself, There is no way I was in all of those settings, wearing all of those hats.
Now I realize, that was absolutely possible.
But the thing that really blew my mind open wide: I read on one website that female couriers occasionally smuggled maps.
Maps.
My mind whiplashed back to a reiki session in 2013, when the higher self of someone very dear to me looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I gave you a map.”
This message had seemed entirely symbolic at the time, and the Universe emphasized that this vision was, indeed, a visitation; weird, unbelievable “map” synchronicities followed later that very same day to confirm. Even years after this, with the “maps” thing having been long silent, I happened to remember it several weeks ago in Berlin — and promptly stumble upon a bunch more “map” synchronicities.
But holy shit…
Didhe give me a map? A realmap? Of what and where? For whom? How did he get it? And did I ever manage to get it to its intended recipient?
Do you see, nothing is surprising but a coincidence. A fact is not surprising, a coincidence is surprising and that is the reason that crime is surprising. There is always a coincidence in a crime.
There are so many ways in which there is no crime.
From Gertrude Stein’s Blood On the Dining Room Floor (Banyan Press, 1948)
Okay so currently, in my art history college course, we are studying early medieval art. Today, in my book, I found that an English art period is called Saxon art.
So, I need to get Steph into the apartment. I think it’s the moral thing to do, and also, so hot. I can hardly ditch Steph after, you know, making her a cum guzzler, and also that box is so tight. I’ve been having all these images of three-ways in my head. And there’s the financial factor. It’s an easy decision, except, I sort of have to get my wife to buy into it.
I’ve been having trouble with that.
ME: So hey, idea, what if we get a roommate? To help with the rent? CANDACE: What? Why? ME: You know. Three-way expenses. Three-way… other things. CANDACE: We only have one bedroom, right? Hold on.
She went through the apartment and counted.
CANDACE: Yeah we only have one bedroom silly. ME: We can have her cook. CANDACE: Oh wait… her? A girl? ME: Yeah, my, uh, co-worker? Steph? Do you remember me talking about Steph? CANDACE: I think so. The fat one who couldn’t keep a guy? ME: Yeah… yeah. That one.
There’s another problem here, which is that I never mentioned that I’m sort of cheating on her with another woman, who I also made over into a big-titted slut. I’m not sure how to have that conversation.
But eventually I realized that I’m going about this all wrong. I’m thinking like sad accountant Trevor with frigid wife Candace. I need to think like big-dick Trevor with extremely horny wife Candace. So I fired up a threesome porno, I sat Candace on my lap, which is where she normally sits anyway, and we watched.
CANDACE: Ooh. ME: Damn, that’s hot. Look at that, the blonde is getting her pussy licked, too. AND her titties stroked. Wow, what a lucky girl, to have a wet and willing other girl around. And the other girl is asian! What are the odds. CANDACE: Damn.
I started to fuck her slowly.
ME: Damn I only wish I could also play with your ass and titties at the same time but I only have these two hands. CANDACE: Uh… huh… ME: Damn damn damn.
Candace got a sly look.
CANDACE: Hey… your birthday is coming up. Maybe we could have a girl over. ME: Uh, sure! Hey, I have someone in mind! CANDACE: [Eyes slightly narrow]. Who? ME: Steph. CANDACE: Oh. Is she still a little fat? ME: In, uh, parts.
A long pause.
CANDACE: Okay.
Then she slipped down to between my legs. I had just cum but was still sort of hard, and she started to stroke me back to full-mast.
CANDACE: While we’re… like… talking with our mouths and stuff. ME: Yeah? CANDACE: I’ve been thinking how I’m getting soooo bored with condoms… and it’s not like I’m doing school or work or anything. ME: Ahhhhh. Yeah? CANDACE: So maybe you might as well start cumming in me, honey. Over and over and over. I’ll take care of the rest.
Crap. I’m sure she noticed how my dick surged at the thought.
ME: I’ll think about it? CANDACE: Okay cool, and I’ll think about threesomes and stuff.
Then she started to suck me off.
So there it is. It’s like she’s got a kind of… bimbo-craftiness. She wants me to cum in her. That’s what my little asian mistress is going to cost me.
I posted a progress photo of this back when I made it in September, but I just realized I never shared the whole thing in readable form.
I’ve done a number of writings since my Dad’s death in August. With the exception of a few sketches, this is the first writing about it that I’ve illustrated. It’s also my first autobiographical comic/zine! I’m just starting to get comfortable with the idea of doing more, so be on the look-out for that.
