Charleston, West Virginia Earth, Pink, Mothers, Love My Life Story Writings


Now that I’m on my own I have been forced to assimilate more with the culture around me.

I’ve been wanting to write about hillbillies for a while but it isn’t easy. Because the culture exists on a different plane that I haven’t reached yet. It’s a long slow fall towards the center of the earth.

If I HAD to sum things up with a few symbols I’d choose beer, whiskey, marijuana, beans, potatoes, corn bread, cast iron, dune buggies, family, nature, guns and mason jars. Sound boring? Well it is. It’s a boredom that causes one part of yourself to die while another part opens up.

The best way I can describe it is this…. Imagine you have to spend the next 8 hours listening to your slowest, least talkative friend while sitting on the hillside in a forest. He is going to tell you the story of how he built his house, board by board, brick by brick. You are going to sit there and listen.

Behind you are 48 cans of beer. To your right is a gigantic pipe stuffed with marijuana. You are free to partake but you neither drink nor smoke.

The story begins. You try hard to focus. ‘This will be great. I’m learning something.’ you tell yourself. ‘Maybe one day I’ll want to build a house and this information will be useful.’ For the next forty minutes your brain strains, trying to extract nutrients from the story.

Then you reach a cracking point. A feeling of unbearable restlessness builds up inside you. You panic and reach for a beer.

As you drink the story continues. Nail, board, nail board. It’s as boring as fuck but the beer is starting to relax you. You sink down a little into the boredom. Nail beer, nail beer. Board. House. It’s boring. It’s boring. You will survive. You reach for another beer.

But another hour and you want to get the fuck out of there. Seriously? Oh my fucking God. You know what? Maybe you’ll try that marijuana. You smoke it and start to notice how the leaves sway with the story.

Your mind breaks up like clouds and the story washes all over you. Is he talking about a house or is it a parable for your life? You look at your friend. Was he always this insightful? You’ve known him for many years and only now you’re seeing him for the first time? You lie back on the ground and realize he’s lying there too. You briefly consider making love to him then remember you aren’t gay. The story continues.

Clouds nails boards. Clouds nails boards. The story is more boring than ever but the boredom becomes a brown flood washing over you. Your body is the house. Your friend is rebuilding it. You are rushing away in the brown waters. The past is sweeping over you and forgotten scenes from your life start returning to your mind. How did you forget so much? You’ve lived your life in a daze, haven’t you? Distracting yourself with mental puzzles that ultimately meant nothing.

And now you’re solid. Seeing the world with new eyes. You look at your friend and he seems more real than ever before. He is a potato and you are one too. It’s beautiful.

Another hour passes. Nail, board, hoard, woard. The panic arises again. I can’t take this! And then a thought… WE ARE FREE BEINGS!!!! “We don’t have to sit here Buddy!” you scream. “We are to free to go!” Light flashes in your friend’s eyes and he starts running to the nearby trail where his dune buggy is parked. You run behind him. Exhilaration. You climb in while he drives, going faster and faster than ever before. It feels like bliss until you crash and then you are flying.

When at last you come to, you realize your friend is lying on the ground beside you. He is still telling you the story of how he built his house. Nail, board. Nail, board. Your head hurts and so does your body. But it will be alright. You lie there and listen. It’s a pretty good story after all.

The End.

This is how life in West Virginia feels to an outsider anyway. I don’t know how it feels to insiders and probably never will since ‘Don’t ask don’t tell.’ along with ‘Keep it Nasty!’ are the two mottos of the region. I try to make sense of it all but this world is so dense, dark, compacted and gravitous I sometimes feel I’m being buried alive. I start to panic. Then I reach for my pipe.*


But for reals its like I’m learning a new way of thinking. Less speed and more solid. I think its called patience. You just crack open a beer and observe while the people and things around you reveal their true nature.

* I don’t really have a pipe.

The other day a friend pulled out his knife to carve an X on my to go box. What’s that? I asked. Rebel Flag, he said.
A man gave me this old tackle box when I admired it.
A friend of a friend gave me this warm shirt. People are very nice here if you can be accepted but that is a long and tricky process involving nuances I don’t understand. If you are a friend of a friend though you get a free visitors pass.
I ate Thanksgiving in a bikers bar. They had Turkey, stuffing, pie and all the works that you could enjoy for free. You don’t need to be rich or successful to matter here. Only humble, hard working, down to earth & preferably related. I’m none of those.
Slippers and I have been reunited. This has stopped the nighttime panics of hyperventilating with the need to tell her I love her. Her presence is grounding and she makes me feel more at home.

Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs On My Own Purple, Magic & Sorcerers

Please Get To The Part

High as dust and I’m walking home
Try to breath but I’m never gonna get it right.
Cuz I know that when I get home then I’m all alone
To face another spooky night.

I know. People tell me everything come and go.
People tell me everything’s far then near no fear my dear
Was is will be but they don’t get it.

Please get to the part where you hurt me.
Please get to the part where you break me down and cry.

In the day you can act that way
Like its all okay and nothings gonna cut me.
Smile and drink like you never think
Like you never feel and nothings gonna drag you home.

Midnight crawling on the graves in the moonlight
Wait for him to tell you goodbye
You’d cry but you’re just too high
Then the open sky fall down upon you.

Please get to the part where you hurt me.
Please get to the part where you break me down and cry.

So many skies
What are those things that move whenever I open my eyes?
So many dreams
I need to find a world where I can be weak so I try to breath but I can’t find it.

Please get to the part where you hurt me.
Please get to the part where you take me down and cry.

Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Writings

Magistrates, Felt & Crack Hos

I lie in bed at night with the lights on not wanting to shut my eyes. Cause when I shut them I see that James is angry at me, really angry and that makes me scareder. I wish there was something I could do to change it but there isn’t.

And when I close my eyes I feel how heartbroken I am about my dogs. I want to see them so badly it’s unbearable. But if I start crying I’ll have to sit up to keep from eating snot so it’s best to just lie down with eyes open.

On the bottle my middle initial is K but I may change it to Nunki, the second brightest star in Sagittarius. Nunki means Open Seas and brings the gifts of blue and communication.

A bossy friend told me of a poor person’s clinic near me where I should go for fear medication so I can sleep. I went there. In the waiting room a man was scratching himself while mumbling about killing people. His voice got louder as he groaned about being burned at the stake. Finally he was just shouting “Steak! Steak!” I started to freak out so texted “Help me!” to a friend then in a girly voice the man said “Help me!” Once I realized he could read my mind I relaxed.

The clinic gave me an official looking bottle of pills in a white paper bag for absolutely free. I had just walked in off the street with no insurance or anything. But they said if I come back I will have to give them blood. A price I won’t pay. I would rather pay in money. The pills they gave me dried out my mouth anyway.

James had his hearing. He pled guilty and was sentenced to one year of parole. This meant I didn’t have to testify but the trial was still traumatic because I don’t like seeing James in trouble. And I don’t like knowing he will be mad at me and potentially punish me.

My lawyer recused himself on the day of the trial for which I had prepaid him. He said he had to because he had been telling the magistrate that I would plead the 5th in order to not incriminate myself. Basically he implied I was lying. He did this because I wanted him to help me keep James out of trouble & also to keep me from having to testify. However, I had made it clear to my lawyer- I thought- that I wasn’t lying and I didn’t want to be portrayed as such. So this was unnerving & left me with no one to look out for my interests or explain what was going on.

I had also hired James’s lawyer to protect James. Like a damn fool apparently. Before he was hired I asked if he would be defending James by throwing me over a bus. I wanted to protect James but didn’t want to be sacrificed. He said “Good heavens! Of course not! That’s not how it’s done!” But it appeared he lied. There was something about the way he treated me that scared me on a deep level. James has been telling my friends that he & his lawyer are now going to sue me for abuse. I don’t know what kind of abuse but I guess I’ll find out.

But Monday I was not on trial. It was the state vs James. After James was sentenced however, the magistrate- at the urging of James’s lawyer who we will call Shitindick- said I wasn’t allowed to go into my house to get my possessions or see my pets. He said if I did I would go to prison. I started crying hysterically. I had already been told that nothing could happen to me at a trial that was for James so this was confusing. Technically I didn’t have to even be there.

So the next day I returned to the magistrate’s office to seek clarity. Everyone in the magistrates office assured me the magistrate could not legally ban a witness from seeing her dogs or accessing her own possessions. They looked me up in their system but there were no orders against me. They said it just couldn’t happen without a hearing or a petition against me being filed, none of which had taken place. They had no idea why the magistrate would have said that.

So I went to talk to the magistrate himself. I said I didn’t understand the legal basis of him telling me I would go to prison for collecting my things or seeing my dogs when there had been no hearing for me. I had not committed crimes, been offered legal representation or had anything filed against me. I told him his office had looked me up on the computers & assured me no conditions such as these were in place. They said it was impossible to punish the victim in a trial, only the person on trial can be punished.

He didn’t answer my question but just started talking about how the courts had bent over backwards for me (referring to when they banished James from the home while I was crying hysterically & begging them not to.) He kept saying “You ALLEGE these things against your husband” as though I was some conniving cunt trying to get James in trouble when he knew I’d been attempting to get the case dropped for months. He said “You’re not dumb, you ran for office.” as though dumbness was a prerequisite for getting head slammed.

“You had you chance to call 911 when James came back to the house.” he said. True, but how did that magically turn him into a monarch who can issue commands with no legal basis?

It’s obvious a crack ho lives here. I’m trying Mommy but it’s not easy!

On other notes, it’s not that easy to function at the moment. I hope this is just a phase but my beautiful apartment is turning into a crack den. On the plus side, I’m doing an okay job of learning poor people secrets. It’s not even so much about getting by with less, which I’ve done for years. It’s more about saying yes to free stuff and yes to other humans helping you. Being a mooch was always my greatest fear so being poor is good in some respects since it forces you to receive stuff.

Where I come from people offer you stuff, but you are supposed to refuse. “Oh please, let me run out in this blizzard to get you fresh bagels for breakfast!” “Oh no, please don’t! I’m on a diet anyway!” “You on a diet? Nonsense! I insist.” “No really, I couldn’t.” This goes on for a few minutes as a charming display of politeness & consideration.

So when someone makes me an offer now, like “Would you like this bagel?” I don’t know how to respond. Are they actually wanting to give me a bagel or are they wanting me to refuse it? I’ve been trying to say yes and see what happens but it is unnerving. If you said yes where I’m from you would be a social leper. But bagels are so tempting to the poor.

A person gave me this guitar. I said yes. Then laid it down on a dirty mattress with no sheets, crack ho style.
Every day I check my tongue. So long as it’s still a perfect triangle I know my spirit is intact.
Charleston, West Virginia Uncategorized Writings

New Year’s Resolutions

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to think more for myself. I have a habit of googling every question that enters my mind from “What should I do right now?” to “What is the meaning of life?” and no matter what I google the answer is always- eat more vegetables. Oh and drink more water, sleep more, meditate, take a bath, stay at home, some gentle yoga, drink tea, wrap yourself in a soft blanket, dim the lights, a gentle self massage & let your last thought be of gratitude as you slowly sink into that final sleep. This is the wisdom of our time. To indulge the self into a state of non-existence.

So I would like to throw out a few alternate New Year’s resolutions because becoming a vegetable isn’t for everyone. Some of these may be morally questionable but I also think it is morally questionable to devote your life to becoming an amoeba.

  1. Become rich. An oldie but goodie which builds the wits and nerves. Will lead to more growth than chamomile tea.
  2. Become popular. Also a classic. Exciting, challenging & guaranteed to expand your world. Unlike yoga.
  3. Party more. This could have its down sides but life is not all about seeking states of calm. Sometimes you gotta bubble and flow like lava.
  4. Live in the woods. If you want solitude then earn it. Don’t sit in your government apartment smoking weed. Build yourself a damn house in the woods. Triple credit if a woman does this.
  5. Social climb. An advanced version of becoming more popular. Use strategy to become ensconced in social circles that would typically reject you. Then blog about it.
  6. Be a whore. Not professionally, just have sex with lots of people. This is probably a bad idea though. Please don’t try this unless you know what you’re doing. Sex is linked to the underworld in ways no one can understand. And demons cannot easily be returned to their jars.
  7. Do drugs. This is also a bad idea. Just say no. The worst part of drugs is they can make you too passive and that is exactly what we are trying to avoid. Say no.
  8. Walk across your state. Guaranteed to be more interesting than keeping a gratitude journal.
  9. Take a second spouse. This could cause trouble but would be less boring than keeping a gratitude journal together.
  10. Live in a third world country. Make sure it is really third world though cause otherwise living abroad will probably just turn you into a pretentious ass. Try Chad.

Okay these aren’t the greatest ideas. But the point is you can think of a more stimulating goal than drinking lemon water each morning. Life does not have to be about dying. Languidity is anathema to spirit, a wet pillow held over his face as he struggles for breath until finally the flame goes out.

Life do we remember thee
Tho you loved us we killed you with chamomile tea.

So don’t resolve to murder your spirit this year. No journals, no naps, no child’s pose, no government injections easing you into the world beyond. This year feed the part of yourself that wants to live!

As for me though, my resolutions are not that exciting as I am still working my way out of the special needs category. They are

  1. To practice thinking for myself when I have life challenges rather than googling for answers.
  2. To make more friends in the physical world. This is a lower tiered resolution than becoming popular (mid-tier) or social climbing (top-tier) but that’s just where I’m at. I don’t even know if I’ll like having friends yet. Plus it forces me to address many areas of practiweakness, like money, transportation, technology, clothes etc.

If you have made resolutions, please share them!

Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

For Whom Empowermint Tolls

I wrote this a few weeks back but only now got the nerve to publish it. Cause it references neighbors & I’m not sure if it’s cool to blog about neighbors or not.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed, like I reached the end of empowermint. There may be no way of getting more powerful than I already am. My last empowermint was smoking illegal drugs. It blew my mind I was able to achieve this and now it kind of feels like I’ve peaked. What more can I do? Rob a bank? Dallas? These things require cars and I still don’t have one.

I also sang a couple songs on stage without dying of a heart attack. It wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be. Felt like floating, like I wasn’t there at all. Still counts as a mint though.

I’ve now been to bars three times. They are scary but exciting. People do drugs. I received a pot gummy bear. But this was after I’d completed my illegal drugs empowermint, so I didn’t eat him. Instead he was flayed and quartered. I fed the meat to a friend each time he got angry in the hopes it would calm him.

At the bar a guy told me he was hard and asked what color panties I was wearing. I asked if I could see his jockstrap. Then he starts shouting how much he loves sucking cock. Then he smashes a bottle over a man’s head. They start punching and blood is dripping down their faces. One of them has black X’s painted on his cheeks. It felt like being in a dark wonderland. Nothing like the world I am used to.

Everyone in the bar was larger than life. Some wore diamonds despite being men. One had just escaped max security for murder. One said he would fuck me over a fireplace. One had only three fingers on his hand. One wore an earring of a butt and said he likes doing everyone up the butt regardless of gender. One had just gotten stabbed. If I could be certain of not getting murdered it would be quite exciting.

But I’ve been so cloistered I don’t totally get where excitement ends and danger begins. A friend told me I was on my way to getting my organs removed. So I tried returning to pre-empowermint days. But that isn’t safe either. Once I believed that being a good housekeeper would ensure my safety in life. Now I know that sooner or later God throws everyone out on the streets. So you gotta be ready.

And then you get addicted to the thrill. I kind of want to see more of this crazy world. How many men are out there with X’s on their face? How many want to see my underwear?* What is PCP? What signals do drug addicts use to find dealers? What sweet words and caresses will organ dealers use to win the trust of healthy people? Can you be fucked over a working fireplace? If a man offers to let you watch him jerk off is it yes or no? I want to know everything.

But those lesbians. They keep reminding me I’m courting disaster and I know they’re right. What I really need is to join a ladies book club and I promise I will. Ladies help you become smarter and more organized. They encourage you to make crafts and sell them at a fair. Around men you grow clear and gelatinous. You wait to see what they’ll do next. You try not to set them off. Men are a feast for the imagination yet a practibrain disaster. And we all know exciting choices rarely pay off in the end.

So I’m trying to be good. Today I had the opportunity to do something fun but instead stayed home and ate 12 slices of cheesecake. Cause that is what Mr Rogers would do. Virtue today is happiness tomorrow. Thrills lead to chills. Aids. And death.

*FYI- I realize nobody wants to see my underwear. Men only feign sexual interest as a way of getting your money or something much worse.

Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Red, Soldiers, & Fire Videos

Pain (Video)

First bring the needle out
Tighten up the tourniquet
And now you feel the waters flow
And now the whole world grows so wet

And now how blood is beautiful
Liquid ruby through your veins and
I will love you fire to fire
Desire. You make me feel pain.

Falling back again
With your eyes an inch a way
And somehow turn from day to night
Then somehow turn from night to day

And now you light your pipe again
And now you speak your words they’re never true
You feel the room spin round and round
Theres only me and you and now

How red is beautiful
Liquid ruby through my veins
And I, I feel the world dissolve resolve
You make me feel pain.

First bring the needle out
Slide it through my eye oh I oh I
How I could live for this
So high above the world I fly I fly

I’ll love you fire to fire
And I will love you flame to flame
And I oh will I marry you, I do
You make me feel pain.

Charleston, West Virginia men Music & Songs Red, Soldiers, & Fire


First bring the needle out
Tighten up the tourniquet
And now you feel the waters flow
And now the whole world grows so wet

And now how blood is beautiful
Liquid ruby through your veins and
I will love you fire to fire
Desire. You make me feel pain.

Falling back again
With your eyes an inch a way
And somehow turn from day to night
Then somehow turn from night to day

And now you light your pipe again
And now you speak your words they’re never true
You feel the room spin round and round
Theres only me and you and now

How red is beautiful
Liquid ruby through my veins
And I, I feel the world dissolve resolve
You make me feel pain.

First bring the needle out
Slide it through my eye oh I oh I
How I could live for this
So high above the world I fly I fly

I’ll love you fire to fire
And I will love you flame to flame
And I oh will I marry you, I do
You make me feel pain.

Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized

The Black Checker

Fuck me. Normally I’m somewhat average in terms of efficiency. Under crisis in August I rose up to become a top 10 performer. Mid September my balloon began deflating and now my life consists of staring at a mug until I finally get up and walk into a wall. Technically I still get a bit done but am nowhere near recommended levels of crispness for my weight range.

Is this a normal response to someone’s mind being overloaded by things they don’t want to think about? An early sign of AIDS? Right now I need to be calling the prosecutor’s office, visiting the courthouse, wrapping packages and taking them to the post office, doing some secretary work for a famous herbalist, cleaning the house since the front door is made of glass, stopping my plants from dying, cooking dinner so the meat doesn’t go bad, playing with the dogs to keep them from sliding into depression, plus I really need to buy a coat and some pants since the temperature keeps dropping and I gotta get these things and more done by six when the sun goes down.

Cause then I have my night time stuff to do.

But rather than performing the tasks essential to survival (in the end we all die anyway, right?) maybe I’ll just sit here drinking coffee and tell you how my empowermints are going.

The most important thing is that I completed my illegal drug empowermint. This was sort of the jewel in my empowermint crown to the extent that I kinda of feel I’ve peaked and have nowhere to go but down. Maybe that’s why I’ve been tailspinning. My whole life I’ve wondered how people obtain illegal drugs when there is no clear road to obtaining them. You can’t buy them in a store, you can’t ask people if they sell them, so how is everyone is high? Well it turns out the answer is friends.

I’d decided that friends were the next realm of empowermint anyway. You can know how to dig ditches and start a campfire but without any friends you gotta hard hoe to row. And I literally knew no one of flesh and blood. Now I know a few.

And I really, really want to write about them. But I don’t know if that’s rude. I’ve always avoided being friends with writers for this exact reason. Just like I’ve avoided being friends with musicians because they have no morals. And tall people because their heads are too far away from earth. And dark haired people because they are wusses. Thin people are harsh and intolerant. Fat people just chuckle when you want to talk about something serious. People with large heads are obsessed with conspiracies. Small heads look weird. Long necks lack commitment. Short neck means tiny brain. Men can be dangerous or break your heart. Women might assume you’re a lesbian and you end up having to eat their pussy just to be polite. There’s a reason to avoid everyone.

I almost feel I’ve gotten too many ideas about life stuck in my head and now I need to clear a few out. Men who eat pasta are gay. Men who avoid pasta are gayer. Drugs are bad because they’re illegal. Hot dogs are bad cause I once found a short thick hair in one. Bars are bad because ghosts live in them and they can get stuck in your hair then follow you home. Honey mustard dressing is bad cause if you eat it you’ll attract men who like to be done up the ass. Red attracts violence. Purple insanity. Black death. White can make you so spiritual that you attract dark sluts who give you aids. Orange can make you attract fun loving sluts who also give you aids. Gold will turn you into a man. Silver softens your brain. The world is full of things to be avoided.

More than ever I feel like a black checker all alone on a checker board. My player has decided he’ll use me to make his next move. He doesn’t have many checkers left. But whichever direction he moves me in I’m gonna get jumped. Maybe this is why I keep walking into walls.

Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Uncategorized Videos

Aquamarine (Video)

Hold my head in my hands and I struggle to think
I cannot understand, I can never be sure
Though I struggle to stand, still I have one more drink
Then I follow the hand that will open the door
And he will be there for sure.

In the blue of your room where you fall over me
I begin to forget when you hover above
Till our minds overlap, like a bubble I break
Spilling into your hand, dripping down on the rug
And we will live for love.

Change me. Change me.

You could teach me the things that you know
You could give me the money that you’ve made
Lay your hands on my fingers let me know
All the things that you want for me to say.

As long as you will stay

I tried so hard to pray, but they didn’t respond
They just fluttered away, so I reached for a pill
Till the waves came to crash, cold and aquamarine
I swore I would obey, I would follow your will
As long as you love me still.

Change me. Change me.

You will teach me the things that you know
You will give me the money that you’ve made
I don’t know where the things with wings they go
Why the sound of a scream they flow away…

And so I will stay.

I remained in the bath till you pulled me beneath
Till you pulled at my hair but I didn’t resist
I could feel you around blending into the air
Looking aquamarine and I gave you my wrist
And we will live for this.

Change me. Change me.

I remained in the bath till you pulled me beneath
Till you pulled at my hair but I didn’t resist
I could feel you around, blending into the air
Looking aquamarine and I gave you my wrist.

I could see in your mind, it was just like a dream
All the things that were gone and those that stayed
But I stayed there to long and I struggled breath
But we always knew there’d be a price to pay.

Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers

Rainbow Bottle

A song about a pedophile who meets a man wearing a red t-shirt and jeans. The man with the red t-shirt and jeans also wears a crown. Sometimes I wonder if this man is Jesus, but I don’t know. It is definitely possible that nowadays Jesus wears a t-shirt and jeans rather than appearing to people in robes. On the other hand, there may be a large number of humanoid beings who interface with us on a divine level.  I don’t know.

As to why this song is about a pedophile, rather than a beautiful sunset shared with friends, read here.

Trees and birds, sky of blue
Flying high- I saw him fly too.

With a crown placed upon him like the sun
And it shined- I had to cover up my eyes
Does he know? Has he seen the things I’ve done?

Clutching to a bottle
It was filled with something purple
I could not control the thoughts that
Danced like monkeys in my head.

Then a man approached me
There was blood upon his fingers and
He led me to a doorway where
He pointed to a bed.

But now you’re here. You stand beside me like a brother
In your red t-shirt and jeans.
But your crown shines so brightly that it’s burning up my eyes…
Have you seen the things I’ve seen?

Were you at the at the orgy
It was filled with naked children
They were dancing in a circle
Just like monkeys in a cave

Looking at my hands again
I can’t stop them from shaking
I don’t want to close my eyes and see
The shadow of a grave.

Were you there when I drank the rainbow bottle?
Did you watch me drag my feet across the floor?
Could you see the drugs were swirling up my mind?
It wasn’t me, the man who opened up that door.

You put your arm around me now
I’m squinting in the sunlight and
You lift the crown from your head and
You lay it onto mine.

Every little memory is coming back with clarity
Burning like an acid through the hollers of my mind.

And I’ll fall because i cannot stop from shaking
And I’ll clutch like a monkey at your knees
And I’ll burn because I know I was mistaken
And yet still I walked to touch the rainbow tree.

Fluffy clouds, sky of blue
Save this man- I am your son too.


Download Mp3: Rainbow Bottle