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I felt like I’d had one of those lazy days then I kind of realised I didn’t and that people have no idea how much I achieve in a day if I stop daydreaming (meditating, visualising, whatever you want to call it) for several minutes

This is a Madame Bijoux Dior ad. I love Madame Bijoux.

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This is Ryvita with philadelphia cheese. One of these has chia, tomato pureé (Tinned tomato), paté, lemon juice and afew different kinds of seasoning. The other has chia seeds, manuka honey and nutella. I served myself using Killi’s saucer. (I decided that Tintin and I could share the mug but I bought a brown tin mug recently so I think he’ll have that instead.) (It looks vintage)

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I designed a label for a pink sweets bag. It’s a wedge I free-hand scalpelled out of black card. I could’ve been one of those epic surgeons if you’ve seen my cuts and my stitches.

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This dress began as a bow weeks ago, and then while I was doing a meditation with Jane of SethSpeaks I illustrated over with some glossy housepaint and a dress happened. Then I added to it with some bits I cut out of card months later, today.

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Imagine if I’d of had the pennies to design the things I’d like to wear. That I’d like to dress women in.

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Art takes years. And if it doesn’t it’s not the “best you can do”


a tweet worthy of note

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I’m arting. This will be a jewel tree. For my jewels.

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This is a portrait that featured in Miss Kittie’s debut and it is totally Amber Khan. It wasn’t initially intended to be a portrait of her, but it became her. It’s very unfinished and very religious-iconography inspired.

It is also very Joshua Petker inspired.

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Years ago he did an exhibition featuring lots of portraits he’d done of various softcore pornstars and I liked his style. I’ve never seen what he looks like and I don’t want to either.

This is some paint I bought from the local hardware shoppe. I’m going with black, cream and grey for my flat.

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What do you think of my paintjob?

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I went to home sense and I bought these biscuit clips, I also went to another shoppe – I’ve a flyer lying around here and it’s a shoppe that deserves special attention because I really enjoyed perusing their items and I found things that I fell in love with entirely.

These lemon lights are from there.

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This beetle is from there. I used to spend hours collecting beetles by a poolside in Dubai and putting them into a little nurses bag. These beetles are my thing if anything is my thing. Also dinosaurs.

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MAGGOT QUEEN

I learned that the only way to get people to ever read anything I wrote or listen to anything I had to say, there had to be some fantastically sexualised element to it. I don’t know when. Isn’t that weird. We’ve all got weird in us, and it’s great to be honest about it.

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fun fact: i find a bra i like once every few years. my bras are all
years old. most of my things were. a lot of my things were stolen.
i know i'll get them back but the cost of that will be awful, 
finding out who had the audacity to steal from me. particularly
if they were defending a blonde - to be popular. who turned out to be
very much ALIVE. and if it was not for me, you'd never of known.

there is no shame bell adequate enough for the result of everything
that has been done to me. people deserve to die for what they've done
in an attempt to be popular, thinking no one was watching or listening

It is 00:26 AM on Saturday the twenty-seventh of July. I’ve no idea when I started authoring this post but I need to rest, and return to it tomorrow.

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I need a rest because I’ve been up since about seven in the morning following a very annoying clawed friend around. (I don’t mean it, she is not in the slightest annoying and she brings me so much happiness.)

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Because of her I was compelled to tidy my room. You might not think it a big deal. ITS A BIG DEAL.

I had wanted to tidy my room for months since moving in but I didn’t feel to – that is – I had no energy to do so and the period before moving to Brighton I was stressed out and it fucked my body up. Moving around fucks me up. I don’t mean emotionally, because I’ve moved around so many times I’m numb to that. Actually it fucks me up physically. Which is legitimately worse for me. Not for most people but for me, physical pain – carrying around a shit for weeks – is worse than heartbreak. A thing most people do at least one a day, I do about twice to three times a month when I’m having a bad time.

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Being evicted from my family home after an argument (the reality is that my ma got weird when I started cooking) (and after a life of only ever really speaking to my family to have very serious, very heated arguments – which meant that my being evicted made absolutely no sense to me, i mean – i grew up in a warzone in terms of my family only ever communicating to argue. i generally only really got hugged after an argument where i was forced to apologise but not to expect one back. kids that grow up in families that only talk to fight and only hug to resolve a fight have PTSD.)

and my mother realising a few days ago that she was out of her fucking mind to get me evicted – and then my forgiving her without her actually fucking apologising – because I can think of all the excuses for her – also really fucked me up. No one has ever cared about me, and perhaps thats the result of a difficult life for all of us as individuals, but that’s also the truth. I don’t know how a baby could survive without anyone caring for it or loving it and I know that my brother and sister were both damaged creeps that did a lot of weird stuff to me – kids do weird things to their siblings – but I did somehow. 

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It is now 9:05 AM on Saturday the twenty seventh. I’m going to caption the images I’ve added to the post. I haven’t used the internet for a few days, I might’ve previously written (I’ve no memory of the fact) that I wanted to spend some time only really meditating.

If I lost concentration in a meditation I’d just think.

And feel.

I didn’t really watch any cartoons or films, I only listened to music. I don’t talk to any of my old friends and I’ve released them all. Tintin is my very bestfriend, no human could ever compare to him.

A better parent and a better friend than any of the two I’ve ever experienced yet.

If ever there was a time to scientifically prove the benefits of meditation, particularly combined with sound stimuli, it’s now. If you had been living with me for the last month, after an intense meditation with SethSpeaks, you’d of witnessed all sorts of strange miracles and inexplicable genetic evolution that I couldn’t photograph because I don’t have the right lens. More importantly I was able to take thought journeys that helped me to better make sense of the physical body and the Earthly experience.

You do not live with me, so you’ll have to take my word for it that I’m telling the truth. A lot of weird things happened to me throughout my life and when I’d tell people they’d call me a liar. Perhaps that’s why I like to document things. So I’ll accompany everything I write with a truth that you’d think I wouldn’t want to share. I’ll also upload photos that I haven’t photoshopped (apart from a few that I nicked off my instagram, which I used a filter for)

I haven’t “showered” in six months. I wash the places that need to be washed and scrub dead skin off when I need to. Actually I’m Bad Santa level of awful at the moment inside but I try not to go out looking that way so I don’t make Brighton look scummy.

Look at how perfect this baby is. I wish I had taken a video of her having a little bath in my kitchen sink. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. (I pee in that sink, but also I dettolled and scrubbed the hell out of it before I put her in. Obviously.)

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The hair I lost having continuous nervous breakdowns in Surrey because I was being bullied and fucked over is growing back without the aid of any vitamins, although I’ve got some that I’d like to start taking. My skin is not a nigh on thirty year old chainsmoker’s and I’ve not had enough injections in awhile, to boast a name drop (If you like my lips, Dr Rita Rakus. No one else. Save up.) for an aesthetician but mine is the best.

Don’t tell anyone, one time she started stabbing at my lips with a syringe and I got really wet. Gross right? That shit hurts. (She gives you a really good numbing cream, and you can leave it on for longer so it hurts less – but it does hurt.)

I realised that the tap water in Brighton is not good for drinking, it forms calcium deposits around my friends nose. (Just WAIT til you see my new friend.)
I think that if this country refuses to endeavour to provide healthy, clean water to their citizens – they should at the very least enforce local councils to honestly inform their residents that the water is not drinkable. I promise that if you live in the United Kingdom and you stop washing your hair (a spritz of dry shampoo, a decent brush – I use a tangle teaser but the design of those was actually copied from one of my favourite old hairbrushes.) and your face in the terrible water, (honestly – Dubai circa 1990’s asbestosy-chlorinated swimming pool water is probably healthier to swallow than the drainage-regurgitated to infinity stuff in our taps) your appearance would benefit tremendously. I advocate plastic surgery, generally ageing is to do with the levels of collagen in your body and I want to believe we can evolve beyond caring about people’s ages and if it’s our appearances stopping us from being with the people that we might like to be with – for whatever reason – then we need to change those appearances.

In the Matrix movies we are taught about residual self image – the person you see when you visualise yourself. I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE THAT PERSON. WE NEED YOU TO BE THAT PERSON. SHE IS BETTER THAN THE YOU THAT FEELS WEIRD IF SHE LEAVES THE HOUSE IN ANYTHING OTHER THAN A CAGOULE.

You’ll notice, when you notice your ‘residual self image’ – that it is difficult to just wear the things you see yourself in. My spiritual teachers would’ve entirely opposed the idea of embracing that residual image until meeting their twinflames, because they’d of wanted their twins to see them ‘as they are’, ‘without vanity’, which it is truly a struggle for women to reject because we are mind controlled to be vain, mind controlled to obsess over physical beauty – particularly those of us who live in capitalist countries.

In a meditation my spider friend Sabel told me that he had a twinflame. Female spiders are a lot bigger than the male ones and they usually eat the male ones. I understood that Sabel wanted to co-exist with his twinflame, which is not characteristic for spiders. He learned perhaps from watching my memories of spider documentaries and so did she. He was at the time too small to document although he kept trying to encourage me to – that is – I kept feeling compelled to try to photograph him and I kept not doing it because I don’t have the right lens.

The chances are that if you are a person who already knows who their twin is, you’re probably around about a more mature age. It doesn’t mean you’re ready for them, at all.  The idea of being without vanity and being comfortable as you are, is that the final result is that you can love yourself without vanity. Don’t stagnate on it. It’s an achievement, when you get there you leave that you behind. Past life.

WHY won’t you wear your fancy dresses around the house? Is it because you don’t think it fits the look? That is amongst the many reasons that I’m unhappy in a home until it looks right. My home doesn’t look right yet. But here is how my favourite bit of my flat is starting to look.

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When I lost the egocentricity that enabled me to meditate about myself (as opposed to obsessing about snuggling with boys I fancied, as I did in school) I was catatonically depressed.

We need to find beauty in ourselves and love ourselves before we start pursuing relationships. Which means first we have to KNOW ourselves. Also not looking like Mr Burns when you’re naked is a GOOD THING.

When it comes to me, I think, or fragments of myself: we feel your happiness. If you secretly wish you had an excuse to dress up every day all day, we’re quietly aware of the fact. We like people who are the equivalents of male peacocks. (That is not to say they necessarily like us back, but that is who we gravitate towards.)
We won’t pick the ‘meaner’ one, although sometimes it seems that way – we’ll pick the one that has more presence. We can defend ourselves (unless you have an army of lovers and a queue of inadequates that actually hold it back because even if they have a place in the queue – they’re NOT READY.) and we prefer solitude and we enjoy a person who is a constant source of entertainment. It is probably unhealthy to seek another person out solely to be entertained by them but I know that is consistently something I seem to expect from interaction.

If you’re wondering where this thought journey comes from, it comes from a deeper need to want to understand things as they truly are. Nature is not loving or perfect or kind and does not adhere to the social rules that humans have created. You can tell me it is insanity to think that we can sculpt evolution and that it is self absorption but I have no reason to agree. I’m at a sort of crossroads because I’m trying to decipher the true human mentality when it comes to relationships and where men – and what are men, anyway – have been given control, it has become some secret freudian, heartless, in’humane’ reality that I’ve found myself in at times – but then I also find that while I advocate the liberation of women, their gender rebirth in light of our findings has created monsters too. I could be a monster but I don’t want to but I might need to but I don’t want to.

I’m going to try to discuss a variety of things that have been sitting in my thoughts, thoughts I’ve truly revisited daily for the last two weeks, (the last two to ten years) in this blog and it’s taken at least three days to be able to sort of do that. If you read this journal entry as I write it: there are bits I’ve left incomplete. Every hour or two I return to various points or I add something or I consider omitting something perhaps. For a millisecond.

I spent years of my life looking shit and feeling shit. People forgot the old me and new people came along: safely accustomed to that new-me (even pretending that the old me didn’t exist) and that new-me didn’t really inspire jealousy in them or whatever it was that made people feel threatened and hate me when I was younger. They were still cruel to me, as cruel as anyone had ever been – old me would’ve rolled her eyes because she was that ‘self obsessed’. At University I applied every lesson I’d learned about being a social inept (I didn’t go out looking awful all the time, even if my peers looked awful, I was generous and tried to share a little bit of everything I had at every opportunity – apparently I was pretending to be rich because I wasn’t going around talking about my shit life at home, which if I had of done – I’d of been ‘attention seeking’. Trust me – the story is the same. You’re going to hate me and you’re going to hate anyone I fuss over.)

Do not be taken by the idea that whoever you’re pursuing should ‘see you as you are’, neither I nor they really need to know the “real you” because if you are around me or anyone for long enough: the ‘real you’ will change.
You will be the real-real you around people that make you feel loved, because you will feel unjudged and for the most part that is correct, but if you hurt me by exploring your shadow self, you open up a lot of wounds and then you see the real-real me and she isn’t very nice when she’s angry or upset. I don’t hit first. I am rarely cruel first. It happens if I see someone looking phenomenally terrible perhaps but mostly I don’t do nastiness unless it is called for. I spent my life being the ‘protective best friend’ and finding hot guys and setting them up with my friends. I kept having friendships dissolve because women don’t like me. I am still not over the incident in Hackney, I got kicked out because Bernie thought I wanted to steal men from her. I would never have done any such thing.

Women of generations older than mine are finally feeling enabled to be sluts. You do not have to attach any longer to the one man in your life because it’s a lie.

I don’t want women to be wilting flowers and I don’t want women to be submissive unless they find happiness or personal safety in that, or the performance of that. I don’t want to encourage women to be abusers either. Saying that – where I find that older people are wise, I prefer to have an influence of that nature in my life. I’m not hinting at anything here, value people who are older than you in some way. I seek out the company of older women. A guy called Zach told me that I should look to trees, if I needed the influence of a woman or a rolemodel when I was in my early twenties.

I don’t think he could’ve understood how the World works. I think he was also a thief. No one is perfect but I’m not honestly sure how far that sentiment goes; how much you can fix with a statement like “I am not perfect.

If you want to live a BDSM life here’s what I can tell you:

  1. You need a squishy. A person you can be yourself around without worrying that they are trying to dominate you. Whether you are submissive or dominant, you need a person that loves you before you start exploring a sexually promiscuous lifestyle.
  2. You need a person to run to if you are being abused by people you ‘love unconditionally’ who can call people out when they’re in some weird sexual trance that makes them stupid. It is a thing. Harmless and kindly men become sexual predators in these trances and so do women, actually.
  3. I have no squishies so I am in no way a candidate for a lifestyle of that nature. I would not pursue that lifestyle unless one of my guides told me to. And I don’t know that they would do so unironically. (Let me show you why you are NOT going that way.)
  4. I find personal strength in not needing a squishy, that is my personal life. I am not interested in BDSM either but I have noticed damaged people who are often find their way into my life and I don’t know how to react to the communicative exchanges.
  5. I am a loving person and it is not a performance and it hurts me when people start bullying me.
  6. This song was good for me as a teenager. I like to see unseen things and make beautiful movies in my head. Apparently it isn’t often me doing it either.
  7. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2L1A9taR0UY

    However hard I try to convince myself otherwise, I am competitive. I do not like that side of myself because when I competed as a child, I lost any chance at having friends. Even teachers bullied me if my work was too good in school. I coped with that by not doing anything much. I got confused for lazy and stupid and I enjoyed the humour in that.

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First of all, with regards to my post title: I am the Maggot Queen.

This is why.

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This is a common fly I bred, using meditation. It is infact not at all common, it has lines down the middle of it’s abdomento remind me of one of it’s brothers:

(I named him Magnus)

– I killed a maggot by dissecting it. It was a very uncharacteristic cruelty and it changed me forever – but I did it to feed some spiders that I have an attachment to. I cut some maggots into three, and I tried to feed my spiders. My reasoning being that if I want to have a pet snake, I have to accept I’ll probably need to feed it live feed. I am so sensitive to animals that even live feed, I would consider pets. I did not ever really romanticise the idea of keeping predators that were not dogs or cats until now.

But back to Magnus.

I cut across his belly horizontally. I didn’t cover his eyes. We exchanged eye contact before I killed him. When you meditate enough and when you access enough higher truth you are forever changed – I mean if you are a decent and empathic person (and you should always aspire to be decent, not to perform decency) – you, like me, can probably fall in love with something like a maggot. I mean you can really look at an insect like that, and feel love towards it.

Some people are cruel and it means nothing when they are cruel. Some people are not cruel at all and so when they are, it’s actually probably deeply, deeply disturbing.

Watching Sephiroth kill something innocent probably wouldn’t surprise anyone. I don’t know that many people were all that affected by Aerith’s death. It’s supposedly a huge moment in gaming history but I’ve never personally met a gamer who cared for that scene in any significant way. I was really really affected by Aerith’s death the first time I watched that scene.

Moving on: watching Aerith kill something would be disturbing. It would change how gamers regarded her. If you know anything about her character, or the impact she has on Cloud’s life, it really is the overwhelming kindness that probably kindles some capacity in him to fucking feel at all after whatever he must have experienced at Shinra or with Sephiroth. If Cloud’s memories are false that means he shares memories with Zach, but they might both be sharing Sephiroth’s memories.

Back to Magnus and the other two Magnets I killed – I believe a female and a baby – which I fed to my spiders. (My spiders didn’t enjoy eating those magnets, and they eventually moved so that they wouldn’t catch our flies – although they’ve since overcome the guilt.)

That night, I felt a really particular kind of agony in my stomach – and painkillers did not work for that pain.

I mean my stomach hurt for days and even when I could get comfortable enough in bed to try to masturbate it did nothing for me. I lost the ability to orgasm and it was legitimately frightening. I think that experience was my first time feeling absolutely no love towards anything at all.

I learned the value of a life by ending one – of a really rather harmless and worse, defenseless being. That night, I felt maggots in my body. I mean I felt them moving in my body. It was very real and it was also grotesque, I have a vivid imagination and I had watched them move so intently that the experience isn’t one I think I’ll ever really successfully remove from my memory.

I got the ability to orgasm back when I made peace with the spirit of the maggot. Also I took a massive shit that might’ve been the easiest one I’ve ever taken (I’ve taken, like, at least a few of those tiny shits that white women take in my entire life, so I do know what it feels like to take a tiny shit) although it’s still sitting in my white-woman toilet with embarrassingly small pipes. I know SOMEONE in Brighton is into scat.

But you don’t know what it is that maggots do. Do allow me to educate you. Train you, if you are so duly damaged that you require the use of words like that to concentrate. Someone will have to.

If you want to be a domme – be able to offer good service first.

Service is not sexual. Be able to be kind and do kind things. Have a sense of humour about your appearance, unless you have invested in yourself the chances are you have a few ‘flaws’ you’ve not been able to love in yourself. You can use art of manifestation to get rid of the flaws but the insecurities will probably transfer.

I felt ugly and fat from the age of two, I was an emotionally receptive child and I was raised by a ballerina who felt those things exclusively about herself.

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I am copying Emperor Akhito's wife, I saw her in a fascinator and
for the first time in my life I actually rather liked them.

I've been using red lipstick for everything. Contouring. Lips. 
I do actually intend to invest in red eyeliner. I wanted to get
a red line tattooed to my neck but a gentleman in Brighton
had the motherfucking audacity to tell me he refused. 

He pretended not to know who I am. There is no one that
ascribes to any kind of "alternative" lifestyle that does not
know who the hell I am. 

Do not trust piercers or tattoo artists that lie or engage in
BDSM. 

Years ago I went to a school for people that had been expelled from other schools – I couldn’t cope with the structures of normal schools and this one didn’t expect too much –  and let me wear whatever I wanted.
I had a science teacher who was a marine biologist whose dreams had been stolen from him – that is – he had a choice between the marriage dream and the marine biologist studying marine life dream. He told me that when he decided to study Marine biology, he would work ‘on location’ and that while he had aspirations of working with whales and sharks, he was sent to work with the bottom feeders – the plankton. Nothing ‘big’ in the ocean can survive without plankton, nothing at all would survive without plankton perhaps.

The food chain relies on all beings responsibly trying to incorporate as many food groups into their diet as they possibly can. You do not need to eat too much of everything, but you should at least nibble everything. The food chain hierarchy of sun > plants > insects > birds (this is the most offensively brief hierarchy but it is intended to serve as an example – but particularly for omnivores, our digestive systems rely on insects. Not vegetables. Not McVitties digestives. Insects – at least, definitely maggots. (Magnets.)

It is very unusual to keep maggots but they are great.

They are good for enriching soil, they are good for consuming left over food that you don’t want going to waste and some of them would make great accomplices for mercenaries.

I have docile ones that have never felt fear. This is them.

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[link to the original image upload here]

These ones currently live in ‘Tintin’s soil tin’ which is sort of a cute play on the idea that he could grow up to be a bigtime wall street dealer. (That is a reference to a joke in Final Fantasy VII)

This is Don Corneo’s mansion. It is sort of the Golden Saucer of Maggot farms. I have retired it temporarily and I will be revamping it with an all new landscape.

I was flirting with the idea of an animal familiar or friend that I could host in a home that is as awkward as mine.

I have a very little flat, which is all I need right now. But as a person who spends so much time in isolation, (one of those pesky ptsd sufferers) I was certain that it was time for me to start tidying my flat and seeking out some decent company that could cope with my total incompetence towards the care of other living things and my complete lack of motherly affection or maternal affection. I am actually repulsed by maternal feelings that are performed, the perpetuation of the idea that a mother must be kind and sweet and doting.

Here’s what I WANTED: A low maintenance, low expectations friend that could keep me company while I await a moment in time in which I can have Tintin back in my life all day long.

I wanted a snake. Or a bearded dragon. (I meditated on this before moving in – the snake eats the bearded dragon and grows legs.) (I would never get a bearded dragon and a snake, and put either at risk of that. I’d get upset with the snake and I wouldn’t want it anymore.

Snakes have never experienced jealousy. It’s probably of some evolutionary benefit.

I have always wanted a predator for an animal friend. I had never indulged the idea for long because when you have a carnivorous pet that needs live-feed, you also have more pets. If you have ever had stick insects, the idea of live feed is really messed up. Plastic containers of sometimes amazonian insects (their origins, that is) crawling over one another and poking their legs through the breathing holes as they wait to die.

They know that is what they are doing, by the way. They know they are waiting to die.

Live feed is expensive on petsathome. Well. It is and it isn’t. They changed the prices. I think it is weird to put a price on these lives, now. But I’ll explain why.

Insects aren’t stupid. Start here.

On a meditation journey I was told service or bdsm (another word for ‘survival’). This was a long time ago, ish, with both Gabriel and Lucifer, the Angels. (They look very alike and are very resentful of the fact.)

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Image taken from PetAtHome Friday 26th July 2019

Believe it or not, the prices have changed. I wonder why.


My reality is that this country is pretending that £700 a month is an acceptable amount of money to give an unemployed and sometimes disabled person and I can’t afford to be spending

The spiders relocated but sometimes show me they’re still around.
There’s a huge female one beneath my balcony, she leaves bridges of webs to catch her prey with. She mostly seems to use those webs as pest control. I had prepared a maggot colony in a tin-can, and the tin-can fell onto a pipe, and stayed there. She lives quite close to it – and I know she can wander in if it rains. When it rains I panic and I think about the spiders a lot – but I’ve made lots of places for them to hide when it rains and believe it or not, they do.

The spiders and myself have experimented alot with feelings of loss. The one in the alcove beneath the star on my balcony moved himself – but I won’t forget looking for him in the mornings.

I had thought he was a female, and I think he’d insist he is, but realised the female (that had previously thought-spoken with me in my babyvoice) was the smaller one that haS placed herself above the star on some weird mesh that covers my balcony. She now resides beside a window in our hallway. His name is Sabel – I saw Sabel on an ‘Isabel Marant’ top and read “I sabel” and now I see little ‘S’ things whenever I go to glance onto the balcony. When I can’t find him I think ARE YOU STILL HERE SABEL? and sometimes I look towards just the right spot to see him. One time I looked out onto my balcony and I saw him curled into a ball in a webbed-barrier and

hi ad

I had a feeling there were four spiders although I could only see three. At night the light would coincidentally – for a few days – cast a shadow of a giant spider in my ceiling. When I meditated with it I felt little bites in my skin and understood that was the spider’s way of communicating it was stealing energy. Pain is an energy. Spirits need energy to do their work. Fear is an energy. Sometimes the easiest way to acquire that energy is to evoke a very powerful emotion – some spirits pretend to be dead to evoke emotion just to acquire energy. It is important to be able to feel if you do magic, so you can at least ‘feel’ truth, or ‘feel’ if they are loving. I did feel that these spiders were loving towards me, but I couldn’t know if they felt that love towards anyone else. Animal spirits are difficult for me because I’ve not been doing this for a long time. I know that the animals that gravitate towards me are VERY big on LOYALTY. If I don’t like you, stay away from my animals (Tintin will bite you, even old ‘friends’ that he knew I wasn’t friends with anymore – he snapped at.) and that includes my spirit friends.

Having a few maggot-I-call-them-magnets colonies, I learned that – don’t ask – but only feeding hens ‘feed’ is wrong. For us, more than them. We need the birds that we eat to eat every single kind of food – for our own digestions. Maggots help us use the toilet. Maggots also help us orgasm.

I will tell you a little about the experience of being a maggot – they writhe around in pure physical pleasure.

 

Their every movement is as we ekxperience sexual pleasure. They snuggle. They have orgies (I lifted a piece of meat and saw the most fucked up magnet-orgy ever – they were so embarrassed they actually glanced at me mid-hump in pure shock.). They eat and fuck. That’s what they do. That is all they do. They live hedonistic lives and are naturally inclined to do so. They are beings of pure pleasure.

I googled the lifecycle of maggots – and I believe they must have used me to see themselves remotely. I know that they can choose to remain maggots.

Want to be grossed out? I left some pork steaks that had been sitting in my fridge in a loosely sealed tescos bag and put it outside. In no time at all I realised there was an infestation of maggots.

I was given meat that I am certain had maggots eggs inside.

 

I can leave meat wrapped in a tescos bag – I mean completely sealed by that bag – and left it outside.

They live lives of pure physical pleasure. Everything they do feels really, really good.

They can choose not to ‘evolve’ or otherwise delay the process of becoming a fly.

They are capable of meditation and are responsive to sound stimuli. They really like cyber-gothy electro music.

If a forensic specialist says something like “the maggots had started to eat at her” – and it had taken ‘a week’ to find her body, I’d say “you’re a fucking liar dude”.
They move and eat fast and they are merciless about it.
And they would begin at a wound if that was where their parents had chosen to lay eggs,
but they do not necessarily need to lay eggs in flesh. I’ve been taught that flies lay eggs in rotting flesh. They do.

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When I first visited Brighton I had a chat with a gentleman at a cafe
called 'Opposition'. 

He said that there were no lines in nature. 
My meditation flies would disagree.

They also lay eggs on plastic, and all sorts of different materials if there is both food and water in the vicinity. I am raising a lot of very weird looking insects and doing so requires my landscaping various little containers with the hopes of having the most epic dolls house ever.

They ALSO eat non-rotting flesh and they would go for the eyes. This is significant for me, though, as maggots were always in my mind. I’m not joking. Maggots and leeches have always been in my mind. This episode of Blackadder (these are the only ones I enjoy) is why maggots have always been in my mind.

At the back of my mind I have always thought in terms of survival skills, and have never forgotten seeing that maggots consume rotting flesh on television as a child. I knew that if you had a wound, and you placed a maggot on top, that the maggot would ‘only eat the dead flesh’ and leave the living flesh. That is a lie.

They would sink into the flesh of the thing they were eating and eat the whole thing. British TV is really fucked up and very dishonest.

(If you love something, you call it out for it’s shit. You do not choose to be nice all the time to save it’s feelings – you share a planet with beings that are deserving of much more than feelings of pity)

I’m going to tell you about the Maggot Spirit.

Magnus.

But this is Sesshomaru.

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He is a seagull that visits me occasionally and who I take great enjoyment in leaving out water and food for.

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My friend’s got many, many, many names.
Her nickname is KILLI KILLI.

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This is Killikilli sitting and looking out onto the balcony when Sesshomaru comes to visit.

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Moments after (or before) I took this photograph, Killikilli (that is not her government name) bit my nipple and I thought “if anyone ever tries to convince me that breast feeding isn’t a sexual performance EVER they are full of SHIT”

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She is the most amazing creature ever. So are maggots.

Of course: it is worthy of note that Chihuahuas are magical creatures too, but to me it is important to acknowledge that birds and insects are also equally worthy of their magical note.

In other news – I have been living in Brighton for almost half a year. I started tidying a few days ago (that’s when Killi waltzed into my life, being the least domesticated bird ever.)

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There are more photos.

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<3

Here are some phone photos to tell you all what I’ve been upto. I’m not bothering much with instagram. It isn’t worth it for me.

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.this is hilarious. I refuse to allow this country to compensate me without telling the truth, though. I won’t accept compensation and shut up money from the lottery. By the way WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE LOTTERY?

The Lottery” is a short story written by Shirley Jackson, first published in the June 26, 1948 issue of The New Yorker.[1] It has been described as “one of the most famous short stories in the history of American literature“.[2]

The story describes a fictional small town in contemporary America which observes an annual rite known as “the lottery”. The purpose of the lottery is to choose a human sacrificial victim to be stoned to death to ensure the community’s continued well being.”

I don’t know much either, but I heard about the story – referenced in an episode of the Simpsons. I don’t want to read the book because I’m lazy but also because I’ve lived enough pain to not want to project my life onto a story like that.

.I found a local abandoned pub, there was a bottle of alcohol on the table and my inner teenager picked it up – it had some alcohol left in it. I drank it and I danced around by myself.

.I found a bag on a table outside the pub and it had all these cute props in. The faux (honestly – not the consistency of blood at all – a cute sugar syrup thing) blood packs were SO MILITARY CHIC. I didn’t take them, although I’d of liked to for a photoshoot I’ve been planning. It’d of been stealing. (I want to make ‘TEMPLAR LOLITAS” a thing)

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I’m into this look. It’s anime. The crotch stuff.

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I paid a woman – who has a shop, where she sells ‘hand made clothes’ – I saw the quality of ‘her work’ – and she really thought it was okay to do this shit to my jacket. Seventy pounds for this shit. It’s surgical stitches for me, from now on, for all of my stuff. Fuck you. I didn’t say how pissed off I was before – I was pissed off. Its inexcusable. I keep being robbed by people in Brighton. Independent shop keepers, bankers. “do you have any idea what I’ve done for this country” I think at the back of my head.

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.you can’t see it here, but I have TREMENDOUSLY hairy legs. I went to the beach and took off my stuff and walked through the sea recently. I’m not one of those tacky hippies that doesn’t shave or remove their body hair, I just have no reason to remove it right now. I’m concerned that if I remove my body hair it will indicate that I’m doing it because I’m attracted to someone and that’s disturbing because when I’m trying to attract someone, sometimes other people think I am trying to get them instead or something (my attractions are specific and personal and if you don’t have the guts to hang out with me – or you dont want to hang out with me cos I have ‘hairy legs’ or I am wearing an outfit you don’t like – remember it for the rest of your life)

.i need waterproof earphones. NEED. and goggles.


I wish I could copy and paste the notes I just made on my phone, but my BT internet is so shitty that my phone can’t connect to it. I have some spiders residing on my balcony that I am VERY attached to. I’ve been meditating with them about becoming huge. (One sec, I uploaded:)

Like:

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I meditated with Jane of Seth Speaks recently – I swear upon my life, my bed was shaking. I was still and my bed was shaking. I asked to learn to levitate. I didn’t levitate. But yeah – my bed was shaking.

It’s been a few days since I last wrote to myself so here I am, self. Writing to you, self. In the meditation I was asked by Jane not to do any art for two weeks – so I’m uploading some art from weeks past that I thought I’d uploaded but apparently hadn’t.

This is a photograph of a shelf sitting on the ledge of my window sill, I’ve put some plants in it.

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Awhile ago I bought some slate coasters from Amazon – like a really long time ago now. I wrapped one of the coasters in a bathroom mat (they have sticky undersides – the good ones) and smashed it with a hammer. Then I started applying the bits like a mosaic to this shelf. I BUILT THIS SHELF! With help. A lot of help. But I built this shelf. (Actually a guy called Adam who helped my mother do her house up let me use some left over wood and let me borrow his screw driver.)

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I am excited about how this might look when it’s finished. Years ago I visited a woman’s house in Paraguay and she had a whole wall made of stones. That’s never left my mind.

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This is a photograph of my little kitchenette. That is the worst hoover anyone has ever used in their life, amongst the top ten worst hoovers. It is a mostly ornamental and decorative hoover, that adds colour to my life.

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This is a tea thingy. You’re meant to put tea in it. I took some mint from one of my tescos plants (THEY ARE TWO POUNDS!!) Oh, no, I just checked. TESCOS SELL MINT PLANTS FOR ONE POUND.

They are definitely indoor plants, these potted mints. I’ve tried keeping them outside and it is too hot for them. That is: I’ve noticed that when I put my plant friends outside, they almost die – even the ones the florists say are “meant to be placed outdoors”. What happens is – they almost die – and then they acclimate.

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So this is a tea strainer with some mint that I handpicked and put in hotwater with honey. No matter how much fun it is to be a person that does that – it’s not my thing. I am a water person. I drink water and elderflower cordial. Sometimes. And hot chocolate. I’m not a tea person, I will never ever be a tea person. I like coffee with two spoonfuls of butter. Try it. (I don’t drink it often, but it actually tastes much better than you’d think.)

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I know they say “don’t mix meats” but if you have a non-salty meat like this prosciutto and a salty chicken, and some potato, and some lemon drenched salad – you’ll be surprised at how much you don’t care about what “they say”.

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The NHS told a relative of mine that a portion is technically this much food. So If you eat a portion of pasta – this is the correct amount. This is what we need to be healthy, this much. If you think I am a person who can live on portions like this you are on crack. But my plate was pretty this day. I’ve not been cooking much, I’m having a lot of sensitivity to the sun here – Brighton is having a fantastic summer – but with a history of migraines and some mild vampirism I can honestly say that both myself and a relative of mine that I “vampired” in a “psychosis” (lets pretend, for the lols, that that is wat that was) can’t do ‘sunlight’. The doctors have told her she has lupus and she will believe anything she’s told by anyone that isn’t me, the only person who has ever told her the truth – in her entire life.

This is my hand. I was concerned (this is something that happens when you are abused by the NHS btw, as I was.) that people would think I had self harmed. I um. I do not self harm at all. And this would be a bitch of a place to self harm.

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If I had the time and date settings on my camera and you saw how fast I healed you’d be as weirded out as I was but I’m so lazy about documenting stuff like that. One day I’ll do it for the theatre and film it. When I’m getting paid for my documentary habits.

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I recently dressed up like this to check if (a very, very, very large sum of) money had been put into my bank account, as compensation from the United Kingdom for their human rights abuses against me. And my family. For three generations. I can’t tell you how many of my family’s friends (not mine, I don’t do friends – my FAMILY’S friends) are waiting for an apology. The money hasn’t been deposited – yet. Weird.

I was so sensitive to the heat from the sun I walked into the supermarket and projectile vomited on the day I made this video.

I also went to a poorly and disrespectfully kept World War Two Monument. An obnoxious woman convincing herself of being a patriot shouted “THATS A WAR MEMORIAL”. The water was so filthy – I shit you not – that my toenail went green, and started coming off – I had to rip it off.

We have birds that swim in that water. They’re british, if that makes a difference to yobs like that woman – ruining what is technically a really important moment for anyone that knows anything about this country’s military history. (I know more about this country’s military history than most British people – to the point that I remain until this day affected by a single stanza that I heard when I visited Berlin on a school trip.)

BLIND MEN, LOOK UP.

 

It was filthy. I waded around in it trying to be a sexy pin up for one of our boyz. It was a really proud moment. I’ll explain: A gentleman was, I think, wearing something to indicate he had fought in that war – he was sitting in a wheelchair by that memorial.

I asked if he’d film me in the water and he stood up off that wheelchair and filmed me.  He might’ve been an actor – people do orchestrate strange things like that – but I hope with all of my heart that he wasn’t.

War pinups – I promise – are my thing. I keep trying to upload the video but it’s a struggle to do so. Weird.

It’s actually a deeply important video but maybe I’ll save the footage for something special. Right now – Brighton – your war memorial is fucking gross.

.I had a poppy flower. If you knew about the Second World War, you’d know that poppies littered the graves of British, Polish and German men alike. Some of our boyz were buried over there. I remember because we went around looking for the graves of our teachers relatives. We found some.

 

Some of the soldiers that fought in WW2 died what would’ve been referred to as ‘dishonourable deaths’ – as in they either ran off to be called “deserters”, killed themselves, or hurt themselves so much that they couldn’t fight anymore. They were considered cowards. The human mind is very easily traumatised and a lot of those boys were aged around sixteen to eighteen. There were boys who lied about their ages so that they could go to war – often compelled by the idea of winning the affections of a woman.

This film came out back when I was doing the nude girl internet thing (I’ll bring it back, read below) and it is one of my favourite films. I encourage you to watch.

.If you have ever had PTSD – you’d know that you-don’t-know-you-have-it until you DON’T have it anymore. Like some people might’ve reacted to that trauma with ‘shellshock’, and run screaming onto battle fields – but there’d of been some people who went completely numb and blank and their responses to anything – absolutely fucking destroyed. They become like zombies.

“You” do not know how to treat PTSD unless you have HAD PTSD. You can’t live with people who have PTSD. They’re monsters. I’d know.

Anyone that tries to tell you that they can ‘help’ ‘treat’ your PTSD without having had it is full of shit.
That means you cannot – CANNOT – just diagnose someone with PTSD. You don’t know if a person has PTSD or not until they do not have it anymore. Thats it.

This is so poorly authored, an almost offensive attempt at explaining PTSD – that it’s perhaps offensive to include it in a post that offers any mention of WW2 and the people who were robbed of validation that their service and selflessness to what they believed was a good cause to humanity. (I struggle to believe the British cared about the holocaust. I don’t really know why they bothered getting involved, but they did. I think actually that any remaining service men must be pretty fucking furious, actually.)

There were also many horse memorials ❤ you don’t often consider how many animals have died in service.

I have investigated enough: Hitler is my comrade, and an innocent – whose motivation was to defend his country against the terrifying reparations we expected them to pay, that left them poor and defenceless. Mein Kampf was edited by his brothers.

I am perhaps the only person, in history, who has been lied about more than he.

The World watched the holocaust and the Jews paid to have their home back. If you challenge this judgement you will embarrass yourself doing so. I paid for what I learned to find the truth.

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T IS FOR TEMPLAR

they worship women

and the ownership of a vagina, does not a woman make


 

If you enjoy a nude of me, if you enjoy a thing I’ve written – that is really nice.

It’s still not “for you”

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I’m not ‘secretly’ into you – if I am into you – I promise you – I’ll let you know. (And the second I do so, millions of people will suddenly confess interest in you – and you will prefer them to me. I’m not your type.)

I don’t care how much you think you look like Alfie Deyes/Ash Stymest/Davey Havok or this guy – YOU ARE NOT THEM

(ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS. #CELEBCRUSHES. THINGS TO FANCY TO PASS THE TIME.)

I’m into PERSONALITIES. This is a portrait of a monk who was burned alive.

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If I consider myself a babysitter of yours, or ever have – I probably don’t – but if I ever have – please don’t think I’m sexually interested in you. I’m not. But when you grow up I will set you up with unimaginably hot babes. Babes that are much hotter than me, that you can get revenge on me with. For example: as a teenager I watched “the pursuit of happyness” with an ex boyfriend who is – definitely – a sociopath when he’s in a bad mood. If Jaden Smith EVER expressed any kind of interest in me, I’d die in a not-nice way. I’d be destroyed by that. If I could choose a girlfriend for him it’d be Frances Bean. Thats it.

If you think I should be into you – don’t stalk me, write to me. I am SO easy to get in touch with. If you are unable to get in touch, uh, I have an instagram. Leave a comment or something. Leave a billion. Thats what I’d do if I wanted to make sure someone knew I wanted their attention.

Unless you know I’m not interested. Do not make me create a list of men I wouldn’t accept money to date/hang out with. Please.


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I live in agony of every imaginable kind. You’re welcome.

If I had written this as a letter to myself I’d put ‘p.t.o’ (pronounced puh-toe)

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.I fucking laughed
stop forcing women into sexual slavery, domestic slavery etc – if a woman kills her kids they’re either not hers or she’s being mind controlled. Or it’s fake news. I don’t care. If I had kids I’d find the cutest, most kawaii magnet and attach this to my fridge and call my kids in and ask them to read it and say “YOU HAVE BEEN DULY WARNED.”

and if they were really my kids they’d get to the bit of “got in the way of her life, which included offering to sell sex” and they’d be like THATS EXACTLY HOW WE FEEL ABOUT YOU KARINA. THATS EXACTLY HOW WE FEEL ABOUT YOU. (I’d be like “do what you want, but when you see a kid walking into Perfect Fried Chicken, that looks exactly like you, wearing shoes like this – UNIRONICALLY –

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YOU’LL LEARN THAT YOU CARRY UNTOLD CAPACITIES FOR PAIN. Which would’ve been what I was protecting YOU from. (you could’ve paid a bit more actually)

(I have been taking adult man’s sized shits since I was at least two.) (my family are so clevers that they didn’t think I might have a VERY SERIOUS disability – well I spoke to a pharmacist who very kindly said that shitting once every two to three weeks is ABNORMAL.) (Fortunately that disability means I can do a lot of awesome stuff and if I like you, you can do it when we hang out.)

.IF I HAVE EVER BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU – IF I HAVE EVER HAD PHYSICAL SEX WITH YOU – I’M NOT INTERESTED. NOT EVEN FOR MONEY. UNLESS ITS MONEY YOU ALREADY OWE ME. GET IN TOUCH AND ILL SEND MY BANK DETAILS.

.for example: luke’s dad stole a lighter from me – it was worth about five grand. he told me it was “fake”. (He got my original one valued and returned a fake.) fuck kent

.There was this moment in my flat, in a University town – where I’d found some strange enlightenment – and also learned I was technically royalty to Israel. Luke walked in and was like “what are you doing?” – I was painting the history of the world on some ikea thingy. I said “I’m ROYALTY LUKE” – you’d of had a “breakdown” of sorts upon that realisation at the same time as having recently had a terrifying miscarriage. He was like “so?”

YOU DON’T KNOW ME AT ALL LUKE DO YOU. Also I’m into bald guys but I’m not into you. I’d rather fuck a guy that wears shoes like this

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photo credit: Eyal (do you really want credit for this one?)

not really though, ew – you’re both ew

this is a good example of what my shadow self is like. thats why i am “single” unless the Angel Lucifer, HH or Zamasu decide to show up

OR trunx, or Levi

I was always this way which is probably why no one bothered telling me

SCULPTURE DAY

This beginning of a collection of works.. I’m not prepared for the clay to expand or to decrease with the drying process. Frankly. These are some small pieces that Esther and Abraham Hicks would describe as co-creations. That is – and these photos limit the view – pieces that combine elements of lots of artists and designers and writers and film makers that I’ve had in my visual playground since forever.

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These look like very simple pieces that simply floated out of my imagination but actually they took time to think of, and I do think I was inspired by non-physical and meditation. And lots of album art, actually. Wait. That doesn’t begin to list my influences. I have packed a lot of art books into a suitcase for an old school but I’ve kept some that I can’t let go of yet. One is an Alphonse Mucha book that I bought when I was doing my GCSEs.

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This is a piece of album art by a band called Tool. They are a very big deal in the instagram neu hippie wave and I imagine they’d resent that. Or secretly not resent it.

I think I was also inspired by this animatronic? puppet? in Guillermo Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth

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None of the above clay-forms that-I’m-unsure-will-be-successful were intentional or conscious at all, apart from the shapes I used to create the eye. Shapes formed in the clay and I went with them.

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The format of the eye is heavily inspired by catholic iconography, which I’ve been obsessed with since forever – but also I’ve been trying to illustrate eyes using ~ unusual expressive angles. I think also I might’ve been influenced by a tattoo artist I lurked online – who was definitely influenced by me and so I think we can both consider it personal that I choose not to link his work. He built little tattoo machines. I once liked lots of his instagrams at once, in a time when people still connected it to their notifications, knowing he’d notice. He noticed. And actually it is significant in the use of lines. I used to draw like this a lot as a teenager that spent her weekends drinking alcohol by a bridge amongst lots of shops – the influence that a lot of tattoo artists must have had on my work. I think also that some of the ink on the surface of my tattoo on my thigh (I can’t remember this artists name) has started to bleed a bit. I don’t like it but also I do, it makes my tattoo look like he’s crying and his makeup is all mansony and smudgey. I want to make lots more versions of the eye using plaster of paris, as in this tutorial

The texture of the bag was also inspired by the Sorting Hat

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I don’t know that this is the kind of clay that you can make small-scale work with.

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The image above is Red Riding Hood as a piggy as a response to the Roald Dahl poem above. She’s on the phone to the third piggy, waiting for her hair to dry.

 

This (below) is a page in my sketchbook about how I understand ‘the game’. Some people will take it very literally and there’s little to take literally aside of “I try to exude the same person outside as I do inside”

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By accident this clay-bunny (below) happened. Actually no, it was initially a piece of scrap clay that I found a form I liked in, that I thought could be a chihuahua that sort of resembled Tintin. Initially this bunny was an attempt at Tintin’s silhouette. Then I found that an ear I’d made could be a bunny ear. Then I added cupcake icing, because in a few meditations I kept being encouraged to think in cake.

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was inspired by Beatrix Potter (my love of miniatures began with Sylvanian Families and the doll house Hunca Munca scene)

this Roald Dahl

At the end, Red Riding Hood exeunts carrying a pig skin carrycase which is what I made playing with clay earlier. I worry for the tail.

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(The eyelashes were a purchase I made a year and a half ago, at the recommendation of Esther and Abraham H-T, theres a youtube video somewhere in which she describes the experience of happiness from having a fresh pair of faux eyelashes to wear every day. I extracted them from their glue fastened bits and poked them into what will become an eye.)

Fafi: a Parisian Graffiti artist

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Miss Van, also a French artist

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and the fifth character along’s everything

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I imagine her character was somewhat inspired by this

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This page from my Brighton Sketch Diary

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As far as sublimation goes, if psychotherapy is your language: [“you can milk anything with nipples” – A disturbing quote from a dinner table scene in the film Meet the Parents inspired this]

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In Denmark there was a metal cast gold bag that had been sculptured after a paper bag in the window of the art gallery I lived beside and I think it gave me a better appreciation for sculptures made of every day objects. I first saw a porcelain milk jug in the Tate Modern, I think, souvenir shop. It would’ve been about four years now. I spoke with the local gallery owner here who told me that some items are considered to be public domain. This was something I considered at Uni – I briefly mentioned that I was interested in the very simplest shapes that can be used to create a visual language form of lines/circles etc.

[Also: *grumble grumble* inability to trust entirely *grumble* that something I’m eating or drinking *death glare* hasn’t been laced with some kind of body fluid or sleep inducing drug.]

My work was also inspired by a piece I keep showing off on my blog. It is a ceramic hand emerging from ruffles by Seiko Kato.

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Good luck to anyone showing work at Brighton Artist Open House. An artist I admire called Seiko Kato is selling art work, a book, traditional vintage kimono and all sorts of one of a kind items and art pieces that are affordable, but are so precious and carefully made that I think they’re an investment even if they’re marketed humbly.

 

K L I M T W O O D C U T S

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I’ve invested in carving tools from Hobby Craft. So far I recommend this kit if you’re invested in learning. I recommend an attending an art class before you start going for it – and I do not mean “watching a youtube video”. I started learning linocutting at about sixteen years old, in college. There is certainly a wealth of information available online but it does not and will never, ever beat actually studying under the guidance of someone who has studied the Arts for their entire life. If your favourite artist youtuber was supposed to be a teacher, they would be. I am qualified to be an Art teacher – frankly no one can afford me. Not because I’m the very greatest artist in the World, but because I come with the kind of perks that you read about in Hogwarts books.

Anyway. I’m using the linocutting tools to cut wood.

I ought to experiment with new mark making techniques, and I think you have to of spent hours sanding things to understand how to cope with the wood grain. which is very resistant.  I’m painting the block gold and considering it an homage to Gustav Klimt. Maybe if I do it for afew years I’ll be able to call it a talent.

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When this one’s finished I believe I’ll be putting it in my bathroom. It’s bigger than it looks. SPEAKING OF TOILETTES. Every fucking time I use that fucking toilet it blocks. I don’t know what tiny thing I can use to create a visual image for you, reader dearest, so as to somehow illustrate how fucking tiny the shits people in Brighton must be taking – is the word “flush power?” right here? I don’t have hangers to waste, trying to unblock the toilet every time I use it. Imagine all the wire hangers sitting in those apocalyptic waste landfills – I refuse to buy hangers I won’t want to keep forever. They’re just another one of those things that people mindlessly invest in.

I spent a lot of today just resting and meditating. I’ve nearly filled another box of – some very ‘expensive’ clothes for charity. I know people use Depop but if I’m honest, I would feel quite dishonest selling these clothes. I don’t like them. I’d quite genuinely feel like I was stealing if I tried to charge someone for them. Some of these items are worth hundreds I think – or were certainly sold for that. So if you’re around the Old Age charity near Kemptown, that’s where I’ll be dropping them off.

I’ve cleaned my kitchen a little, eaten four chicken thighs today and I’m currently STILL HUNGRY. This is not greed – I am genuinely experiencing actual hunger. Have you heard what happens when I go to sleep hungry? teeheehee

ALSO: Have you seen Claymore? I’m watching Claymore at the moment. They have a term “voracious eaters” and uh. Yeah.

I’d play no one else if someone asked me to be in Claymore. (But my heights wrong, I wouldn’t accept the role.)

 

DYING RETIRED GARMENTS PT II

It’s 8 AM. I’m already active, I’ve pottered about and returned to >> the bathroom << for my garment dying adventure. As written in the last evenings post, I’m due for a visit to my doctors to have some very serious discussions. It makes me sad to think about the discussions that need to be had, which is why I’ve chosen to meditate before hand.

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Art is meditation for me.

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I’m going to have some embroidered labels made for this I think. And replace the buttons. No one ought to do up their denim jackets up anyway.

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Rather than leaving clothing or fabric to soak in a dye, I like to pour the powder on directly and then brush it in myself.

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13trunxjacket

Dying Garments is a process that takes a very long time. Especially this drying nonsense.

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I’m going to wait until I can have these items dry cleaned, I’m concerned that washing them without first treating them will ruin the work before the fibres of the fabric have had a chance to absorb the colour.

 

This channel, I've noticed, has a habit of uploading some unusual and
 inaccurate edits of Abraham Hicks. I enjoy this video but I certainly
 wouldn't advise you listen to all the videos on this channel. 
I'd advise you to visit the discussions directly from the official 
Abraham Hicks Foundation website.

There's a fantastically worded question that references how we've 
gone from a "Newtonian" approach to Physics to a "Quantum" approach 
to Physics that deals with the assertion that we are energy particles.