tubular tuber, somehow soup

Alanna Artstew, fairy spud, whisks up words and serves them candied–a butterscotch forgotten under the table, bedazzled with dirt. Sticky treasure gravitates towards them, accumulates in speckled circles, pile files. Alanna's cast-offs congregation woos few, but those it enchants grow viscous, melting into each other + new versions of themselves; by embracing briars, they make room for hope.

Artstew boils queer temporality and self-mythology dyed by the ink of font books, mixes in slippery music with newsflash nightmare, and concocts rich soup, a constant spinning potion. Their aim is medicinal, their work incidental. Occasionally palatable. Alanna lives for the lyric.

Roll out the well-worn rug

Company's coming over

Discover treasure under tables

Trash dines on the floor

Alanna Artstew, all together tuber, hopes y'all liked the cake and wishes everybuddy everyday a happy new year -- what better time for revolutions!?

[[Write an eye-catching bio, aiming for fresh imagery and the language only you could assemble to describe you.]]