MY FIRST BOOK

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I’ve wanted to publish/print a hardback book since I was a child so I’m in a fantastic mood this evening.

This is a strictly one off coffee table book art piece (collection of art pieces) that I’ll be hand writing in – and selling? Maybe. I would probably charge thousands for it, quite happy for it not to sell – and even then, I probably wouldn’t sell it to just anyone.
It’s non-physical sex meets art meets religion and it’s got everything from period bloody clitoris + asshole to uh. Other untold secrets. Of which there are so many.

There’s a hot chocolate that is essentially a cold chocolate milk beside my bed and I am about to roll a cigarette, buy a PS2 and then write a tonne of notes to accompany some designs that I think are gonna be turned into garments for kids, which will be a really, really nice addition to my portfolio.

This might not seem like a big deal to people who’ve achieved everything they’ve ever dreamt of – but to people like me, quiet perfectionists who have quit – literally almost fucking everything – who have trashed pieces of art/writing/anything that they couldn’t finish because they had the kind of unbearable insecurity that led to the mistaken thinking that something that was incomplete was flawed, putting together a collection of work and knowing it’s good… is some kind of bizarre milestone that has very little to do with actually making a book.

This year I’ve realised I’m a medium, that I have spirit guides, I’ve come to terms with and realised truths that no scientists could explain and mustered the capacity to cause them to be proven, I’ve not spent days upon days asleep – I’ve proven (to myself) that there is actually… no such thing as addiction, depression, anxiety or even schizophrenia. (I know thats a really uncomfortable thing for a person whose been “addicted” to heroin to read – and I imagine it’s a truth you could only accept in hindsight and once you were out of that place – but I have what might be considered “addictive tendencies” and a family history of every kind of fucking “mental illness” ever – I grew up with “addiction” in my karma – smokers/drinkers/a maternal grandfather who popped valium every night etc)
Disclaimer of sorts – the confidence to say these things comes from a lot of work on myself and through personal development with spiritual teachers – and I could never have done it “alone” – although I was alone physically. And if you’ve somehow come across this as an actual addict of some kind/mentally ill person of some kind… I’d highly recommend listening to Abraham Hicks. Even if you’re super high. Actually – ESPECIALLY if you’re super high.
If you don’t listen to Abraham Hicks – you really should. A year or so of listening to the collective as channelled by Mrs E. Hicks on youtube has completely changed my life – and done for me what years and years of psychiatry and terrible and unnecessary medication, counselling and even psychotherapy and all sorts of ridiculous CBTesque shit couldn’t.

I’m listening to a lets-play and the gamer just said “I definitely should not be alive right now”, ha. If I had done things differently perhaps that might’ve been the case for me.  (Is this an appropriate time to ask if you believe in vampires???)

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In other way-less hot news I’ve got heat rash from the fantastic sun and the only thing that helps is that hemp hand-cream from the bodyshop. They’ve changed the packaging – it used to be a pretty green and metallic thing and now it’s a fabulous mix of colours. I CAN ONLY HOPE THE RECIPE IS THE SAME. It’s also really good for other stuff. Hemp is good for EVERYTHING.

I know people say this – but I can quit anytime I want. I ENJOY MYSELF.

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It’s just a cigarette dude, chill

Today a family member said in the kitchen that when I get married they don’t want me and my husband at the house everyday. I said “IF I’m getting married I’m marrying atleast two men. Like if I’m gonna do it I’m gonna go all out” and my mother was like “it’s illegal.” and I said “I’m sure there are some countries where it’s legal” Or maybe we can buy our own country or something. We’d have a huge place with individual locked apartments and if we hung out in bed we’d all wear yeti hazmat suits and not touch or generally otherwise make eye contact and we’d watch cartoons (and Theo/Seth speaks/Abraham Hicks videos) all night. We’d have the most incredibly beautiful french maids pottering around and donning designer uniforms (a different outfit everyday) and doing ALL the housework/farmwork and they absolutely would not be allowed to speak to or befriend me or whoever I decided to marry. Like they’d be fired for it, on the spot.

The kind of stuff that I could prove, if I was on reality TV is insane btw. I could probably only really do reality TV on a porn channel though because I like looking at my breasts in the mirror and working out how I’d look if I had a fat transfer at least a hundred times a day

This is me looking in the mirror in one of those bras people wear after having a breast augmentation, that don’t have an underwire. I would probably never have breast augmentation even though one of my nipples is bigger than the other. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you why, so I won’t. Maybe in a year or two as the collective consciousness continues to shift.

I really, really rarely like jewellery so I decided I should probably buy more nice earrings when I find ones I like. This is an earring for Sexy man. My 2 crushes have an earring each and I have zero dragon earrings. 😥

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I uh. Go through crushes like it’s nothing but I have a crush that I’ve crushed on for about two years and not really considered until like last month. We’ve never met but would you believe me if I told you that doesn’t mean anything? LOOKING AT U RAYGAR

And I’ve decided they’re a 12 without really caring about their birth-related numerology. Also these are their colours. I decided that, too. This entire photo is your collective colour spectrum. A few days ago I was staring at smoke and I had been trying to work out what their colour was and it was some kind of ethereal white with hints of blue and green that shone really prettily in the smoke.

I know everyone knows I like to play with colour spectrums in photos but actually… this photo has not been edited – although I think I changed the colour temperature on my camera and perhaps that counts. (It really shouldn’t count.)

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I lolled because the other visitor is definitely me

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Edited to add…

I think I’ll be sending this book to Esther Hicks…

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