evan stacy's slime of my life come back tour 2019
Donation protected
To those of you who may have wondered over the last year and change, “what ever happened to that rascal Evan Stacy and his madcap galavants, esoteric absurdism, and high flying nihilism?” And the answer is: a slow, grueling, confusing battle with a myriad of health issues that turned out to be related to mold in my apartment building. For the first few months, I dealt with a series of horrifying and incredibly painful infections, then those gave way to respiratory difficulties, peripheral edema, alopecia in my beard and scalp, and most notably, severe photosensitivity after exposure to what I must assume is a vast deposit of mycotoxins resulting from killing the layer of slime wanted to form on every god damned surface of my place.
Everything was starting to finally resolve around the beginning of the year, most symptoms were going away, and I thought perhaps I would finally be able to do simple things that began to feel like profound luxuries such as drive my vehicle, leave my apartment, sit or lay on any surface without fear that it would eject spores or somesuch into my eyes, sleep without fear of waking up functionally blind, or look at my phone or computer or television without dealing with some absurd amount of precautionary measures.
Things were looking good, and then… the kitchen wall was opened up. Water damage from the unit above me seeped into the walls, which then drained onto the counters, the floors, the appliances. Immediately the difficulty with my eyes rose to unmanageable severity, such that i had to seal the kitchen up with a tarp before i could even be in my apartment. For two months I dealt with this nonsense before the management repaired the damage, and still they have never acknowledged either the obviously uninhabitable condition that this yielded, or the severe health consequences that I’ve been struggling with.
Which of course leads to this current moment, in which I have barely been able to work for an entire year, burned through all of my resources, all of my credit, and am scheduled to move out of my place next week without any clear idea of exactly where I’m going or any real means to do so. I suppose I had naively thought that the new company that owns the building would offer me some sort of compensation for this nightmare hellscape, but that will await a lawsuit if I am indeed able to prove their negligence in this matter.
Any help of any variety that anyone is able to offer me at this moment would be profoundly helpful. So I cast my plea into the cloud and cash in my social capital to deal with the wide variety of expenses on my very near horizon and some small depth of the debts I have incurred.
Having stayed at a friends place for the last few days, and slept off most of the inflammatory symptoms, the inability to open my eyes, the pervasive confusion and near delirium from exposure to whatever was still yet seeping in through the walls at home, I feel good. Hopefully this beast of a year is over, and better and brighter things are on their way after essentially everything I had has been lost. I am profoundly humbled, but will likely come out better for having endured this surreal struggle.
The only real blessings from this ridiculous ordeal are having been shown quite a lot of love from friends and family, learning a quite a lot about the way in which mold and other microorganisms can exist as biofilm, and also the dad joke of saying that I have had, truly, the slime of my life. So yeah, help a sister out?
Everything was starting to finally resolve around the beginning of the year, most symptoms were going away, and I thought perhaps I would finally be able to do simple things that began to feel like profound luxuries such as drive my vehicle, leave my apartment, sit or lay on any surface without fear that it would eject spores or somesuch into my eyes, sleep without fear of waking up functionally blind, or look at my phone or computer or television without dealing with some absurd amount of precautionary measures.
Things were looking good, and then… the kitchen wall was opened up. Water damage from the unit above me seeped into the walls, which then drained onto the counters, the floors, the appliances. Immediately the difficulty with my eyes rose to unmanageable severity, such that i had to seal the kitchen up with a tarp before i could even be in my apartment. For two months I dealt with this nonsense before the management repaired the damage, and still they have never acknowledged either the obviously uninhabitable condition that this yielded, or the severe health consequences that I’ve been struggling with.
Which of course leads to this current moment, in which I have barely been able to work for an entire year, burned through all of my resources, all of my credit, and am scheduled to move out of my place next week without any clear idea of exactly where I’m going or any real means to do so. I suppose I had naively thought that the new company that owns the building would offer me some sort of compensation for this nightmare hellscape, but that will await a lawsuit if I am indeed able to prove their negligence in this matter.
Any help of any variety that anyone is able to offer me at this moment would be profoundly helpful. So I cast my plea into the cloud and cash in my social capital to deal with the wide variety of expenses on my very near horizon and some small depth of the debts I have incurred.
Having stayed at a friends place for the last few days, and slept off most of the inflammatory symptoms, the inability to open my eyes, the pervasive confusion and near delirium from exposure to whatever was still yet seeping in through the walls at home, I feel good. Hopefully this beast of a year is over, and better and brighter things are on their way after essentially everything I had has been lost. I am profoundly humbled, but will likely come out better for having endured this surreal struggle.
The only real blessings from this ridiculous ordeal are having been shown quite a lot of love from friends and family, learning a quite a lot about the way in which mold and other microorganisms can exist as biofilm, and also the dad joke of saying that I have had, truly, the slime of my life. So yeah, help a sister out?
Organizer
Evan Stacy
Organizer
Portland, OR