An Obscure Picturegraph

Yesterday was quite a pleasant Friday. I received a call from the DWP the day before regarding what had been going on at the Job Centre and I felt the lady that I spoke with shared my concerns and that there will be a resolution of sorts. I think they’ve accepted that my case was mishandled and probably that a lot of people with the Job Centre are suffering with my bowel condition. Ugh I hate writing it, but if I don’t – who will go through what I’ve been through – to be able to not care that much? In terms of social engineering – there will never be another me again. There will never be anyone like me ever, ever again. People like me contribute to Universal conscious evolution. If I had not of done that mortifying tap dance I would not be able to say “yeah I can’t come to the job centre today cos like, i’ve been carrying a shit for two weeks” and also be a person who can’t work because she is stalked as a result of having a love/sex blog that made sex look AND SOUND pretty.

I did a scribble of Tintin that I think he’d quite like, but it’s not finished yet.

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That dog has a personality profile unheard of. I can’t teach a person or being of any kind to do many things – but the only way I’ve won anything is through being myself and being unlike anyone else. That’s all I have to teach. No one else could’ve created a dog like this. He’s probably got bits and pieces inside, of all the people that ever loved him too. And they of him.

I remember one time that we were all sitting, totally stoned, in my house – and I said to Tintin “Mr Biggles?” and he glanced at me. I said “MR BIGGGLESSSSS” and he glanced at me again. Then I said “I love you” and he wagged his tail. He was stoned too. And it was a big enough house for him to wander off elsewhere – and he did when we lit up cigarettes. He would exit the room if we were smoking cigarettes, but if there was cannabis he would very subtly always ensure that he was sitting beside the person holding it. You’d have to of seen it to have believed it, I suppose.

I mean, you get all these really cute stories about dogs – that you hear through wives tales and along the aesops fable grapevine – but I assure you that my dogs personalities are so intricate they’d embarrass animal behaviourists. Once I was staying at a friend’s in Brighton and I had to go back to mine but I didn’t know the way – nor did I have the money for a cab. I had lost his lead. I told him “lets go home” and he walked slightly in front of me, and he knew the way. We had not visited this friend’s house more than once at the time and it was a twenty or so minute walk. I would stomp my foot and say “STOP” to make him stop walking. I had never taught him how to walk off a lead, nor had I taught him any ‘commands’ either.

I recently ran into a fox on an angry nightwalk of mine through Brighton, and it stood near enough to me for me to feel it wasn’t afraid of me. It certainly wasn’t afraid of traffic. Then it began to move and I held a hand out and asked it to approach me. It wouldn’t, so I approached it – and then it started to run. I actually felt it was being playful and I ran after it; I even jumped over a little fence (copying) and it led me to a statue in Brighton that had the words “EGYPT” on it just as I had run out of breath. As I’m sure you know, Anubis is an Ancient Egyptian deity and he is part man and part dog.

Dogs are my favourite animal. I know that they are loyal to a fault and that it can be dangerous to entrust animals that are so naturally loyal to most human beings (including and ESPECIALLY the ones that think the most that dogs can do is ‘cuddle’ and ‘sit’ and ‘roll over’) and not one of my dogs have ever been obedient but they have brought so much happiness into my life with their misbehaving.

Tintin even used to destroy and urinate on things to tell me when I couldn’t trust someone that I had forced him to trust. I miss him so much. I actually feel to discuss it with my landlord because, I mean, I’m not going to be making “friends” in Brighton. I love it here, but I’m done with the idea that humans are capable of ‘friendship’. (What a way to experiment towards finding out your political leanings – “comrade” versus “brother”? I’m a total fraternity person but various secret societies and Pewdiepie literally fucking shat on the word “bro” – and thats probably because he’s never really had one.)

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I’ve been putting together a gift package for someone that used to teach me – it’s taken a lot of time and very careful consideration. And a lot of emotional attachment to each of the items, which I loved first and then placed in the case. I feel that if you truly love something you intend to buy as a gift, and that if you truly love the person it’s intended for you never need to be concerned that they won’t like it.

I’ve also put a lot of my favourite books into a much bigger vintage suitcase and I intend for those to be donated to the library of the school she’s a headmistress to. I imagine that kids are too lazy and ADHD to read books now and these are all books that are so well written that you only need to flip one open to find a sentence that will captivate an imagination for years.

I don’t think I’m even nearly finished putting these gifts together. I was quite determined that the packaging should go beyond a box, perhaps I will also design some wrapping paper for her too, although she’s delicate and quite suits the very thin/delicate tissue that is used to wrap gifts in shops. I’ve begun by putting the items within an inexpensive, vintage suitcase I found at a local cafe that sells antiques and oddities and I just had to document the process. I think I’m quite successfully fashioning her remodelled tastes for interiors (or otherwise enabling a look that she would’ve needed a lot of encouragement to consider because she’s really very elegant but also very conservative about not wasting money on things – she’s emerging from a spiritual wave that rejects physical and material possessions)

There’s an art collector’s item – a book from Akatako that would look beautiful perched on any coffee or bedside table that I bought in December that I think she’d love more than I do, some vintage lace I’ve lined the suitcase with – using pearl dressmaking pins, floral dresses from shops no one knows about, ostrich feathers, a “trendy” pair of slingback heels to balance out the vintage, a beautiful ornate frame and a portrait from a French market that someone I considered a friend once bought back for me from a holiday.

The woman in the portrait looks exactly like the lady the suitcase is intended for. I’ve purchased her a little vintage handbag from etsy and some cream vintage leather gloves from The Vintage Workshoppe.

Funny story – this Baphomet postcard went missing last night. But I know it will be returned.

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I know it did not float away, I know that it was taken from it’s position. I know that it’s an interesting social experiment to see how I’d react, but in truth I didn’t. I am irritated that it is gone and that someone must’ve come into my home to both touch it and take it – but I know it will be put back.

I am disinclined to contact the police – I think that there are worser consequences than the fucking-peoples-lives-up-touching-up-and-molesting-strangers-and-connecting-them brigade: and in general, stealing is a bad idea. It has many forms – you can steal time, energy, valued material belongings – you can do it -however you really shouldn’t. Every crime you commit on the way to a theft is going to manifest itself within your life, and quite possibly ruin it too.

We all have moments in life where we can find opportunities to steal, but actually – it is probably one of the worst crimes karmically. And you can’t quantify karma – you don’t know how much debt you’re in karmically. You’re living karma over many lifetimes over. I know that men use ‘karma’ as a BDSM game but they’re pretty stupid to bother doing so.

It is forever the most difficult object I’ve ever wanted to photograph so much, but it is also the most recent depiction of the Baphomet and it is very valuable. I mean multi-billions valuable. I know it’s value and yet I still would not sell it – because it has a once in a Universe-time story attached to it and more importantly yet it does not feel as though it belongs to me, and I already have an intended recipient. You can read a little about it here. The caption is probably just as good as the impression, so maybe I’ll just add it.

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So - earlier this year - a guy I had really felt towards for years of my life (from a distance) kept kind of reminding me
 of a girlfriend he picked over me. 
I'll explain - I was in a relationship that felt very disingenuous. 
I was recovering from unimaginable trauma and felt very alone. 
I fell asleep and woke up to the sound of a voice - I loved this persons voice. 
I sent him a message to sort of introduce myself, and he didn't respond though I knew he'd read it. 
I dropped the thought. I forgot about him and enjoyed his comedy stuff. 
He was kind of funny and very quick. He made me laugh. 
I decided to associate him with the shade of red that autistic people think of when they describe the 
colour red. 
Then someone with an even nicer voice popped up on YouTube. 
I associate him with the colour green. 
I had stronger feelings for him but he was significantly younger than me and i think it never could have 
gone anywhere. And I was intent on making the guy that ignored my message jealous. 
(How Ophiuchus of me, how Latin of me, how Arab of me.) 
So years later - the first guy did the same with a girlfriend of his. 
Who looked a lot like the guy I associate with the colour green. 
I angrily decided to make art and I got out some fake blood - I dropped some on a pair of denim shorts. 
I haphazardly rubbed this postcard on my shorts and the result was a perfectly formed - perfectly 
placed...Baphomet.

The image above is a postcard I purchased from the Tate at the Stance Exhibition. 
The Baphomet used me to paint on top a year or so after it's purchase. .

A post shared by  Ophiuchus Official 🐍 (@ophiuchus_born) on 

I imagine the card will be where I left it in the morning.

There is a story attached to my fascination with postcards but I won’t go on – I purchased some postcards in Farnham years ago, you can view a few of them here. Those postcards either went missing or were stolen, but the caption is most entertaining for me.

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I found my phone and my lens by the way. Yay.

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