I’m going to share something important to me – I’ve been pursuing a spiritual education for my entire life. I have spent most of my life meditating – and I do not mean sitting cross legged in silence in the absence of thought. My form of meditation is most often questions – answers – inspiration – creation – ideas – problems – solutions – throw in some memories – throw in some hindsight – throw in some super bitchy responses – things i should’ve said – some kind of thing i could/should(n’t) feel bad about – some kind of thing I could’ve done – etc. The way that a person’s final moments are depicted in movies is how my brain works when I’m not sleeping or doing drugs. I haven’t done drugs in a long time, a really long time – well – I think cigarettes and coffee are drugs but I mean I haven’t done any kind of recreational drugs in a long time. A lot of magical stuff happens when I do drugs – a lot of magical stuff happens when I do not.
The majority of my spiritual experiences have happened when I’ve not been on drugs – and if they happened on drugs I probably didn’t remember them or notice them to be unusual. (A lot of fire stuff happens on drugs – one time I managed to light a cigarette by intending to use someone elses – the fire literally transferred from their cigarette to mine in a proximity that science would argue was impossible.)
It was intention that mattered. AND THATS WHAT THIS IS ABOUT. ART AND INTENTION.
But before I move onto that – if you’re interested in meditation but you aren’t so great at it – I actually have a great video for that. Abraham Hicks has mostly been a source of validation for my experiences and although most people I know won’t admit it – theirs too.
So in making art – and the idea that intention is important.
(A.) whether it’s erotic (and while I don’t think I or anyone else should have to explain themselves for anything – I will say – I personally like erotic art because I enjoy the female form. That is point one.
Not sexually. That is point two.
I am not personally aroused by a naked body. Ever. (Actually I usually think about the way light might show on their bodies, or perhaps what kind of fabrics/outfits/make up would look good on them)
I just think women are a source of beauty, sometimes. A source of inspiration.
Not often – but occasionally.
I grew up around women, sort of.
I was subject to a lot of ideals of femininity, I was subject to a lot of opinions regarding what was beautiful and that in and of itself had an affect on my own personal experience and relationship with my own body, art is ultimately – for me – a form of catharsis or a form of self expression. But that is so basic – of COURSE art helps you express yourself and get out what you’re keeping in.
It does no justice in explaining the importance that artists have on the human experience.
At some point in my later years, I felt compelled to a sense of responsibility, with thanks to sites like SuicideGirls – that celebrated female beauty that didn’t adhere to the established ideals of beauty that we were, at the time, force fed. Actually, we still are. Force fed, mind controlled, influenced.
Everything we do – walking the streets, surfing through crowds of people, standing on a bus etc – influences other people. And it’s something that functions with the human subconscious. We learn from each other without having the slightest awareness of the fact. I began to notice it when people at University would use words or phrases from my blogs – they might never have admitted to being an audience of some kind but their vocabulary was ample evidence to the fact. Well that was extremely flattering but also kind of insulting – people who would read the things I’d write or look at the things I’d post and yet decline to acknowledge me for doing so. I know, I know, it’s called “lurking” – but it gets offensive when you “follow” someone and they don’t “follow” you back. Or it did then – I’m not interested in mutual exchanges like that anymore. If I like something I’ve observed you doing, or you’ve inspired me, you’ll know about it. Well – ideals of female beauty work like that.
I’ve written this before – at about twelve years – maybe thirteen or fourteen – I hardly think my age matters in this because I see anyone younger than thirty five as being “under eighteen” – I told a doctor that I wanted to have the muscle cut out of my legs.
And it was through observing a woman in a fighting game, and finding her beautiful, that I was able to eventually be okay with my legs.
The girls I went to school with were either hugely fat or ridiculously skinny. Regardless of their weight I often found things about them that I liked – I often found them quite pretty. Girls are pretty. Usually. Some aren’t. Inside or outside. (You feel at liberty to author cruelty like that when you’ve been bullied as much as I have, actually)
I was bestfriends with the token fat girl in Primary School, who would years later teach me the word “feminism” and then perhaps a week or two later tell me I had “thunder thighs”. She was a nasty little girl but she was hilarious. Like – we’d do some really fucked up stuff to one another (she’d sneeze on me on purpose) for example and we’d find it funny. None of those exchanges, I considered bullying. And I could have called her fat – but I never did – because that was … cheating? A low blow? Kind of like kicking a guy in the nuts or fucking an unconscious girl. She was obsessed with Courtney Love – and that obsession passed on to me. We thought she was ridiculously beautiful – we used to walk around Camden in “sexy” spagetti strap nighties and bright red lipstick with fucked up/messy hair and god-awful shoes (Courtney Love is actually amazing at shoes) and we romanticised the feminist heartbroken rockstar she-chic and found beauty in her heroin addiction and rejection of feminine ideals of the time – that said, she simultaneously adopted an exaggerated form of femininity (heartshaped love candy, that submissive dolly pose, and a comfort with nudity and stripping and a reclamation of the word “slut” and that wave of feminism known as riotgirl – which probably couldn’t of happened without her connection to Kurt Cobain (although it’s said that she was more famous than he was at the time of their meeting)… and all of this from the daughter of a Jewish Psychiatrist.
I know there was some teenage statement in not idolising or enjoying a person – but the music that they were making. I liked a few select songs – but admired her personality.
Look back on this… who could get away, now, in this time and culture, with writing a song about rape – and get such notoriety for doing so? Apart from Antoine Dodson (a Levi fragment, actually) (He once said to me “team REDS are MINE)
Here’s an old piece of art I did. It was a “response” to a Courtney Love song. I should’ve photographed the whole thing. There were black handprints on the dress and I smashed a mirror and created a heartshaped mozaic in it. This polaroid was shot by a girl I called Cattie.
But yes – that infamous Hole logo – in that infamous Barbie font.
Depicting “weird” looking women as beautiful is a service in and of itself to humanity. I learned a lot about the female body from reading candid blogs of women who were comfortable writing about weird stuff. I remember seeing discharge in my underwear, genuinely thinking there was something wrong with me – and telling my mother and her looking blankly into space. We still exist in a time where women are expected to work when they’re on their periods – where I probably, once, lost a job running a cafe due to anorexia, serious PMS and a vomiting episode due to severe pain – that was mistaken for a hang over.
(B.) whether it’s for children (my childhood experience was quite dark – I had communication issues, a deeeeply damaged family, – the people/experiences that liberated me from all of that were in cartoons, films, music videos and were often pretty fucking weird.)
In addition to that – walking in the streets this weekend I saw a lot of little kids wearing ‘football’ attire. When you delve deeper into football as a cultural phenomenon that overtakes the media – both entities in and of themselves, are completely anti-female. Kids need better heroes than footballers. I was sitting on a train, and a white woman with a mixed race little boy came and sat next to me – actually, she sat down first and then I moved up a seat so he could sit next to her. She thanked me for moving up. He was completely oblivious to the fact. I was actually very offended that he didn’t thank me. I thought he hadn’t been properly raised, and obviously his mother knew the word “thankyou” – so there was some other parent not-teaching him basic respect.
He was wearing a t-shirt with a footballers name on it. Some people think it’s shallow to put so much focus into clothing, but that is me. I am shallow like that. I find significance in clothing, and anyone who has ever acted in a play/film/some kind of performance will confirm that garments carry an energy and contribute to your identity make up.
This is one of my favourite animations. Do you think she’d be perceived as the same character if she was wearing a ruffled miniskirt and high heels?? Of course she wouldn’t. (Actually I think the importance of a character like Korra was essentially that she is an archetype that doesn’t adhere to what many people perceive as femininity. She’s not nice, she’s not meditative, she’s a bitch when she’s pissed off, she’s not a caregiver at her core but also serves others, she is not interested in the law and challenges the government and people in authority – and FYI these observations I’m able to make are things I observe about myself and have actively done and it takes a kind of strength that most women have not learnt.)
I sat and thought about all the things I’d have liked to ask that little boy if I didn’t think it was inappropriate to speak to a stranger’s child – like “what do you really know about that footballer?” “what has that footballer taught you, how have they inspired you so much that you’d wear their name on your chest/back?”
For all I know, that footballer could have designed that top – that top could have been a work of art. (I’m being sardonic, it was a bog standard tshirt with a name and a number, being paraded as some kind of statement by a little child – an ultimately faceless perpetuation of celebrity worship – an infant beacon of the easy admittance into a culture they know absolutely nothing about.) And it begins in childhood, it really does.
Okay – we have David Beckham and Victoria Beckham, who are both interested in Fashion and the Arts but Victoria was celebrated for her beauty … while she suffered with Anorexia. And yes, it is important to tell people with anorexia that they’re beautiful (BUT ONLY IF YOU REALLY THINK SO) but the most crucial aspect of doing so was that there were kids looking at her and being told that that was beauty. And yes, she’s posh spice and a forever beauty icon but at the time there were no chubby women being celebrated for their beauty.
David Beckham was mocked by the media for his femininity.
The women these footballers date are often ridiculed by the media – the kind of media that is owned by the kind of men that fund football culture from the sidelines, if not footballers themselves. Footballers have the kind of money to be able to have their wives protected from the abusive media – but the truth is that the culture as a whole relies on abusing these women and keeping them in the public eye, to be ridiculed for – for example – having a bit of post-pregnancy weight.
Football culture selects and handpicks little boys and essentially prematurely removes them from female influence in crucial stages of their personal development. This creates rapists. I’m not saying that only footballers are rapists – there are numerous rapists throughout every kind of industry ever. I’ve been raped by my own friends – a bunch of times! And they sure as hell aren’t into football (they’re more academic/nerdy types that would’ve probably been the source of football fan amusement at some point in their childhoods actually) – but no children are hero worshipping these so called friends of mine. No little kids are going to walk around wearing ‘HARVEY WIENSTEIN” t-shirts anytime soon.
The people that children look at, the people that they look upto, are essentially archetypes that influence them later in life. As someone who didn’t speak very much in her childhood – I can quite honestly say that the majority of my vocabulary came from brief but memorable conversations, books, music, film and art. I was lucky enough to be born in a time when Courtney Love and Nirvana still had some kind of influence over teenage culture – the trainwreck archetype was still cool. Brittany Murphy was cool. Famous women who were comfortable being photographed near-comatose on club floors were still admirable. Now – women are forced into this absolutely boring state of sober perfection – they have to go out looking impeccable, they have to be sensible, they have to be modest. They have to have their nails done perfectly. They have to walk perfectly. They have to have “perfect” mermaid hair (actually – “perfect” mermaid hair is an afro that doesn’t succumb to waterwaves – Ariel’s hair would’ve been flat as fuck. Have you ever worn a pair of goggles underwater?)
I am so fucking bored of the behavioural human cycle that comes from hero worshipping the same archetypes that do the same things.
I am trying to create a form of media that celebrates women who are a bit inept, a bit messy, who aren’t santa-on-prozac happy and anorexic. When I was at University I applied to be on a kids TV show – and I joked on my twitter that they’d find all the pictures of me naked on GodsGirls or flickr or whatever site I was posting naked pictures of myself on (The very worst is an ex female friend of mine, a “feminist” ofcourse, one of the very well read ones – who refused to take photos of me looking pretty/attractive and claimed it was the nature of her work but she really doesn’t post photographs of herself looking fugly.) and I think at this point in my life, it’s abundantly clear that I don’t care if that’s ever done to me. I’m not interested in being a celebrity, I’m not even all that great an artist. I’m a creative, and I’m a conscious person who understands people in a way that they often don’t understand themselves. Art I make doesn’t get validated. People do their darned hardest to pretend not to have seen the stuff I write/post – and I’m 100% okay withthat. I’m not okay with the fact that people are inclined to hero-worship people like Bill Cosby, inclined to vote in people like Donald Trump as a president (I’m not judging you as a PERSON – you are an accurate representation of your country’s true ideals and are exactly what they want – but it terrifies me that the American people aren’t even aware of it and that they’re convinced that in being hateful towards you they are truly making America great), I’m not okay with the fact that kids TV of today is essentially women doing make up tutorials and shopping hauls – and not because those creators aren’t capable of making something incredible – but because of the weird “culture” of control that is impressed onto those creators by everyone from their secret male-fans who are over twenty one and too cool to admit that they like those women romantically, or preachy parents who, realistically, bore the fuck out of their kids and think its acceptable to make demands out of people who are essentially surrogate parents – because a majority of those women don’t actually express their real personalities or desires or whatever it is that makes them an individual and that is fucking kids up. It really is.
One time one of my lecturers said to me “THATS why you’re so fucked up” – in front of a room full of people he knew full well were consistently discussing me behind my back, bitching about me etc – and knew that I was strong enough to think nothing of it. And I said “YES”, quite comfortable at the idea of being fucked up. Ofcourse that was gossip fodder – but actually all of the people in that room were fucked up, more so than I ever had been. They were boring AF, lacking inspiration or creativity, mostly lacking in any kind of sincerity. And that is normality. That is what normal people are like. I am really, really, really fucked up – and I promise you – that’s a good thing. But back to influence.
Fuck ups like me are the best influencers.
Let me explain how influence REALLY works. I’ll use myself as an example.
I really like pockets in handbags – I like storage space – I like boxes.
Do you know why I like POCKETS? There was a kids show – depicting a little puppet girl and a puppet hen with a heartshaped memory board with lots of interesting little things inside of the pockets. They’d pick an object and that would be the focus of the episode. That is how intensely our adulthood is influenced by small things, later in life.
The stuff your kids watch is absolutely important to their development.
Spending lots of time “meditating” meant that I was able to learn things that people don’t learn unless they spend lots of time alone. And through observing me, often without any kind of permission (that kind of karma, I pity in others – honestly I do) I managed to teach people a lot of that stuff that I’d learned. I don’t want kids to see me naked or read my blog – not because I think there’s anything on it that they shouldn’t see or read, but because it’s actually pretty boring. Kids have all the luck – at worst I’d think a kid could read my blog and if they were intelligent enough they’d learn from my mistakes. At best they’d learn a few words they didn’t know before and that there are some grown ups out there that don’t act like grown ups at all.
Have you seen my Miss Kittie videos? You can see a provocative shoulder but you can also see belly rolls. Is one okay but not the other? Belly rolls are considered pretty attractive in some cultures. But who teaches people to sexualise all that? Why does it even matter? (actually it does matter – sexualising people that do not want to be sexualised by you causes them physical pain.)
Kids really value people that tell them the truth. By the way.
The idea of being sexualised by ANYONE generally makes me feel pretty uncomfortable – and I’m saying that as the kind of person who comfortably posts naked pictures for free. I know that people think its a compliment to sexualise a person’s body – but to me it isn’t.
But that is my personal life path – I don’t identify as a sexual person at all. I’m not A-sexual – it’s likely I’ve had more sex than you I think – (unless you’re one of my rapey ex-friends/one of the ridiculously good looking sex addicts i’m into that don’t need to be rapey because women genuinely do probably throw themselves at you and you’re not all that interested in being sexualised either – 2 words – ASSU PAIN)
(and no, I do not personally think that eroticism and content intended for children should ever be combined – although I do think that it’s not only important but a matter of responsibility for artists to comfortably express all aspects of their experiences – and I know that there are plenty of Japanese artists that I like, that are quite successfully provocative in creating pieces of art in which children are acknowledged as both physical and sexual beings – and that the West, who are preoccupied with Pedophilia (and quite rightly so, too – although thats a topic for a whole other blog post, not this one) and as the Japanese quite comfortably depict naked and or bathing children in many animes, so do Westerners.
Actually, you even see little cherubs on cathedral walls.
Actually this topic has come up a lot to me – trying to work out why there is such a shortage of interesting content for children. I’m sure there are plenty of kids shows, like blue peter etc – on TV. I don’t know though, I don’t really watch TV. I feel like the only women that want to do kids tv are really, deathly fucking boring or are happy all the time. And I think that the kind of women who ought to do kids TV are probably the cute porn star girls – because they’re not embarrassed to put on ridiculous, FUN outfits and show kids they don’t have to look like their boring ass parents when they grow up if they don’t want to.
(My opinion on women doing kids TV that have lived lives outside of kids TV is to mind your own business and be glad that there’s someone trying to entertain kids you probably shouldn’t of had – and if you’re really petrified that someone is going to abduct or rape your children – learn to comfortably dialogue with your children about personal safety protocols (including the “look, we’re your parents – but that doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to mean something – so – if we make you feel uncomfortable in any way – you need to learn how to say so. If you cant call US perverts – you won’t be able to call OTHER people perverts, and that is pretty dangerous”), and in doing so, teach them how to look after themselves in your ultimately inevitable absence – and also to accept that everyone has a life path and experience of their own that isn’t your business. Even “your” children aren’t really your business, unless they say they are.) (Authored as someone who can reflect on a lot of her life experiences and interactions with grown ups and children and think “wow, I was actually a victim of pedophilia as a child! A million times over! And no one caught on!) (For the most part, I look back on it and LAUGH.)
(and NO – I DON’T MEAN WHEN I DOCTORED MY PASSPORT SO I COULD MAKE FRIENDS WITH SOFTCORE PORNSTARS. I MEAN LIKE, THE WEIRD NHS DOCTORS THAT FELT ME UP INAPPROPRIATELY/THE WEIRD POLICE PEOPLE WHO USED TO WATCH CHILD-ME AND THEIR KIDS MAKING OUT AND STUFF/BLAH BLAH BLAH.)
FYI – there is no kids TV presenter to this day that would risk saying this ^
In which case they should not be presenting kids TV. My opinion.
I’m not doing celebrity culture – I’m sort of trying to reinvent art culture. We live in a time when sex and the female body has never been less of a big deal to society, and for some reason people think the next phase of development is publicly abusing women, as seen in 50 shades of grey. And worryingly it’s because of people like me… who made naked women socially acceptable. And women – and some men – are too polite to actually verbalise not wanting sex/to be sexualised. You can tell, really you can.
Here’s what I’d say to my kids: “some people are damaged. sex is an energy not an act – if someone touches you inappropriately, if you feel like you’re being visually sexualised or you feel in any way uncomfortable, simply remove yourself from that person’s company.”
I certainly wouldn’t encourage them to think that it was someone’s job to rescue them. That’s truly not real life. There’s no spiritual truth there. Speaking from experience.
“if another kid ever hurts you or touches you inappropriately, remember that it’s highly likely that someone has been hurting or touching that child inappropriately.”
I’d tell my kids to dialogue with a child that touched/hurt them sexually if they could, and probably to make friends with them.
Although from there, I’ve no idea where I’d go – because karma is karma. So, when I think of Madeleine McCann, whose parents were obviously extremely damaged (you can read it in the books/hear it in the interviews) – I feel like the kind of people she’d have been taught to trust to later discuss what was going on at home – if she eventually identified it as unusual – would’ve probably had her transferred to people who were eventually a much worse form of her parents. One particular abusive friend of mine used to tell me stories about how they and their siblings had been sexually molested in a foster home. Whats funny is that I had always stuck up for that abusive friend in some way – and eventually they turned on me.
But if you can have these chats with your kids – if you can do that – if you can totally empower them with terrifying honesty – neither you nor they need to be scared of pedophiles. Get one of your kids to pull one of my Mr Bean faces at a pedophile, or to learn how to comfortably psychotically laugh (most pedophiles have some sort of embarrassing issue) no one will want to abduct them.
Have you seen South Park? Who would abduct a child like Eric Cartman? Apart from aliens, who’d only do so because like, he is some fantastic anomaly.
Germaine Greer has on numerous occasions written about children having sexual identities (if you ever encountered dolls as a child, were you not inclined to see what they might’ve worn beneath their clothes? were you inclined to undress them??),
Here is a Cupie Doll. It’s not mine, but I do think they’re epic pieces of art.
>> Image Reference <<
(also – I read recently in “The Whole Woman” – a book I’ve pasted onto various furniture – Germaine discussing briefly things like that the relationships between women and their children – perhaps regarding breast feeding – is inherently erotic – and that actually many little girls stick objects/appendages into their own orifices! Though I’ve never been so unfortunate as to encounter a child doing that. I’d probably want to throw up)
and that actually if you were to pay attention to many of our favourite animations for children, particularly Disney Classics – there are a lot of characters who are fully comfortable with expressing themselves – even if that means being alluring. I actually wrote about this in my University dissertation – Cleo the Goldfish in Pinnochio is a complete slut-hussy). (This is actually quite important a trail of reflection for me – my “Miss Kittie” alterego is sort of gay-man effeminate and flirtacious and I think it’s important for me to analyse why I think that character would be good entertainment for children – and really I think it’s because she’s so comfortably “expressive”. Thats it. And perhaps you’d think “why is that important to you?” and I’d say “its obvious, I was a child mute that mostly communicated with her eyes.”)
Also – I’ve tried to create a visual structure where kids who don’t speak english will still sort of be able to understand what they’re watching.
– whether it’s creating a shop so I can sell items that filter in some quiet dialogue about the meaning of that which we surround ourselves with – it’s all motivated by an intention much greater than any you’re really prepared to observe.
I have been stopped from doing anything I’ve ever wanted to because of insecurity. But I’m pretty tough… being bullied the fuck out of at 5 by my older brother and his friends (and pretty much every group of friends I had after that) did that to me. It’s okay – all of these people are sooooooo boring. All the women look the same, buy the same things. All the men in Denmark – omg – I had a joke for this. “ONE LOOK”? “ONE LOOK”!!??!?!!
There are women who worked in the adult industry that I used to either know of or be acquainted with who were prevented from going on to do work that involved being seen or associated with children and I think that is terrifying. My favourite women of all time have been the kind of women that women in the public eye are scared to be.
The women I see on YouTube or TV nowadays are often super boring women – also often women with eating disorders – women who’ve worked in the (ALT) porn industry have for the most part been celebrated for their weird bodies. I think it’s really important for kids to be able to see women of all shapes and sizes, wearing weird clothes and being quite comfortable in their skin. It’s important for me to say this – there are some really unflattering shots of me in the video I’m making.
Did I say this already? I was going to apply for Big Brother – I used to abhor reality TV and think I was above it. I’m not, at all. I recall Emma Watson once saying that she thought it was absolutely embarrassing to sell celebrity perfumes and I imagine she might at some point have some new found appreciation for tacky celebrity culture because ultimately the best of them can at the very least boast some personality. And I decided against being in big brother it because my spiritual teacher said that would change my personality.
That sad, sad 50 Shades Of Grey culture has destroyed women with personalities. BDSM is cringe. Big Brother is some fucked up BDSM game. So is life I suppose – for some people – and I pity them as much as I lack any genuine interest in them
There’s these two particular TV moments I enjoy – Katy Perry being asked for a hug by a kid and her being completely grossed out and also Russell Brand being an asshole about her not liking kids very much. When you think back she was really, really young and also I don’t much enjoy hugging other people’s children, she’s not a fucking disney princess. I imagine that little girl will grow up to be a don’t fucking touch me esque rockstar.
One time I applied to work in a shop selling clothes to babies – and I didn’t get the job. I am the kind of person that can look at a baby and make them stop crying… sometimes. Which is good because I can’t STAND babies crying. I said in the interview for this kids shop – “AW I LOVE KIDS”. I know thats why they didn’t hire me. Ha. As if Pedophiles realllyyyyy apply to work in shops frequented by kids and their families and say “I LOVE KIDS!”
When I last went to Brighton I bought my friends girlfriend some gifts – pink roses sprinkled with glitter, and little shiny chocolate pearls – I was on the train and this really little girl was staring at me. I knew she was a fragment of the angel Gabriel – and my friends girlfriend. They looked exactly the same. I told her mother basically – “it’s so strange, I’m just going to meet up with a grown up version of her!”. (I instagrammed the words “Know Thyself” – I know that irritated my friend’s girlfriend. My friend instagrammed something he saw some days later.. the words “Know Thyself”. This friend had a moment in his infancy where he woke up and saw a goat above his bed… the head of a baphoment. ME >:) I’ve since given him a baphomet tshirt illustrated by Levi.)
The little girl’s mother was sitting next to her and I said to her mother – “oh I’m sure she’s a little fairy!” and I took the chocolate pearls out of my bag and gave them to her mother to give to her later.
It reminded me of being on a train with my mother when I had first come to London and staring at a woman in the highest heeled boots ever and saying “DOESNT IT HURT YOU TO WALK IN THOSE?” and she said “Actually when I was younger I was a ballerina so it doesn’t really hurt me to walk in these shoes, at all”. And I wanted to wear high heels all the time. I uh. Well it turns out I have the feet for heels and ballet shoes and not much else. I don’t wear heels because I’m uncomfortable being taller than the guys I hang out with. That is grim isn’t it?
I do not remember the women I watched on TV … Apart from like, Zoe Ball and she was not a kids TV presenter. (I think I preferred her co-star Johnny)
The guy who wrote Dr Seuss’ stuff was amazing and inspiring in a very subtle way – I once read something about how he had this imagination that afforded him being able to write really exciting books for children – but that if they had ever met him they’d be really disappointed because he was pretty boring upon first glance.
It is important to me that people are really comfortable being themselves… and if people were really being themselves they wouldn’t be boring at all.
In Denmark I was around two guys I knew – on their own – could be fun. But they were super boring. Boring is why we have 12 souls on this Planet… It’s upto fragments to be themselves.
I’m kinda repping the fragment team by doing everything I want to, and I know people like to think they can tell you who you’re supposed to be – but that’s not their job, not their calling (Enter psychics like me and my teacher Lisa… we can remind you of who you really are and if you can own that guiltlessly and forget about being “attractive” or “marketable” or “nice”)
Ugh I can’t stand the people I’ve grown up thinking of as my family – but one time at about six or seven I walked in on my cousin illustrating women with HUGE breasts and I said “SHE HAS BIG BOOBS” and she said “yeah, I always draw women with big breasts” and I think that was a really important moment in my development as an artist. I remembered this when a girl in Denmark told me that the mothers in Denmark were disapproving and hyper aware of how she took care of the kids she was teaching art classes to. I hate her too though. But the story matters.
My motivation for this mini tirade is I know that when you start being a dick on sites used by men with money they end up using their money to ruin your life – which is ultimately really sad. Don’t be offended, take a hint, develop a personality. Go on. The girls you message after all of that will be much more interested in you for reasons that have nothing to do with your cash.
Putting me in publications beside my naked photos would probably be some massive disservice to your kids (if you have kids) because otherwise all they’ve got is Zoella. And I really like Zoella – but I think there’s room for people who want to create other kids of content. Like LEAFY.
I grew up listening to Alanis Morrisette – like I went on angry car journeys through the desert with my mother listening to THIS SONG.
I grew up watching – and I mean six/seven year old me – Blackadder on repeat and repeat and repeat. I learned words like “diplomacy” and how to speak english properly.
I think Mr Bean perfected the art of voiceless comedy – you don’t need any dialogue – you can tell what he’s thinking by the faces he makes. I credit him with almost ALL of the weird faces I can make. And I remember Cate Blanchett once said in an interview that she’d never have botox because it would stop her being so expressive.
Some 2 inch dicked drug dealer (a great dealer, would recommend – terrible company) once told me I should “practice” making faces in the mirror cos apparently they’re really weird. Actually my faces are awesome and I hope I can make people laugh with them. Cos hanging out with you for months on end was the start of me forgetting how to (laugh)