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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 woke up at six in the morning, tried to order a cheese and chicken royale from burger king at about nine in the morning, with no success, donned one of the charity shoppe dresses I bought years ago in Woking and my Bloch ballet shoes stained with period blood. I don’t really fit into many flat shoes because I have “weird feet”.

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Theres an Iraqi punk artist I like called Jason Atomic, and I read once that he had a jacket that had all sorts of bodily fluids on it (vomit, saliva, semen, blood) and actually – that directly inspired these ballet shoes. He used to be married to a Japanese woman but he ran off to date a stalker that made him feel beautiful, I imagine, and if he hadn’t of, he’d probably not have become the person he is. I found him on SuicideGirls many years ago.

lh1olvje

My job as a self proclaimed artist is to make a vision from my life 
experiences and the terrible things that I've been a witness of. 
I'd sell bloody ballet shoes but I wouldn't know I wasn't selling 
miscarriage blood and that's really quite a strange thing to make 
money from. 

I found that shell by the sea. 
That was a plate with a peacock on that broke awhile ago and I 
intend to sand down the edges and collage it to a piece of art.

I sauntered on over to the corner shoppe and bought myself a £1 ham and cheese sandwich (I don’t enjoy brown bread but I bought it anyway) and some ferrero rochers because my angel guide Lucifer LOVES them. “Delicious” apparently. (I can’t afford the angel Gabriel. The angel Gabriel doesn’t like cheap jewels or metals or clothes and it gets altogether very sexual when I have to take them off because they physically BURN.)

(But not really. Sorry, I can’t make actual jokes anymore because I can’t be certain that the people reading them won’t convince themselves I MEAN IT.)

The angel Lucifer is not the BaphOMet. The angel Lucifer is a balanced being with both male and female energy and the BaphOMet is physically a female being and I imagine the reason she has been depicted here with a goats head is because you should be able to love something without needing to ever see it’s face.

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OM is a vibration and I’m sure you can enquire further with any hippie. All I know is that I wanted Abe’s paramite and scrab tattoos and I got the letters O and M.

“What’s in a name” MORE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.

entirely of my own learning the moon became a symbol of a deception
and through non judgement where it was appropriate, a symbol of that which is illusory
here the baphomet says, the light is an illusion and the dark is an illusion
(My name is Anna Karina, I fucking wrote everything here)

And at a time she must have existed on a Planet that allowed her to see
and to see the moon

This is an illustration by Eliphas Levi Del sourced on google and the tattoo on the forearms of the baphomet read “solve coagula” – and it’s an alchemical formuli but it is also latin for greet (I know because my form tutor at Saint James taught latin and thats how she’d greet her students, “salve” – I was never TAUGHT) and I think, part. It is a cycle we experience with those we stand most to grow from being with and experiencing some new form of love with. There are many forms of love. If you love with your penis or your cunt you’re probably not really loving anyone. Especially if you wake up the next morning feeling like shit, and make the other person feel like shit too.

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I bought myself a memory board from a local charity shoppe. Actually I bought two of them. I wanted to decorate my living space a bit for a Miss Kittie video. I have no idea how those handmade (they were handmade and not by efficient Chinese factory workers but by someone VERY insecure because the insecurity transferred when I touched them.) (If you really loved them there is no way that you’d of let these pieces go.)

_MG_5335.JPGIt is actually perhaps strange also that when I read the words “if you really loved those pieces there’s no way you’d of let them go” that I also thought – if I loved a person I’d very easily let them go if I thought it would make them happy, so I wouldn’t be an inconvenience to them. I am much more possessive about my belongings.

The psych ward stole expensive jewellery from me, a cat ear Maison Michel headband made of metal with spikes that I once channelled Queen Khleopatra wearing (there was a dance, I did where segments of the metal changed colour and I recorded using a heat sensitive setting on my laptop camera. The video magically disappeared but I know that I can get the video back – a lot of people saw that and a lot of people downloaded it.) amongst those expensive stolen things.

My family arranged to have my belongings sent to storage and a lot of them did not come back. I put so much effort into my belongings actually. I love belongings more than I can ever allow myself to love towards people. ASK before you take something and if I let you keep something, GIVE ME SOMETHING BACK. If you have stolen I’d prefer the item to be returned to me, to a replacement or even to cash –

my items are often difficult to price because you can’t put a money on ‘love’ can you?

WOW. THAT. “you cant put a money on love”. First of all: I am not stoned. I am sober. I am very, very, PAINFULLY (I mean it) sober. I can be occupied by complete fucking retards and I’m sorry but something has to be done about them. They are not doing it by accident, they are adamant that they can get away with it. They are doing it on purpose.

What I meant to write, though, was:

it would be tremendously difficult to assign any kind of price tag to my belongings, because it is extremely difficult to quantify the value that I personally offer to everything that I invest my money in. I buy things I know I will want forever, even if my tastes change. My tastes actually don’t change though.

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I don’t have a lot of money. I’m owed a lot of money, but it isn’t in my account. It really should be and I know it will be.

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I was channelling Maxime Avet to take these, I’m trying to go back in time to all of the photographers that were looming in my subconscious. I imagine that if we all stop being cowardly, come back and claim our former positions the internet will stop being a fucking MESS. 1!!!!!1!!!!1!!!!!!!!!!!!11111!!!!!one

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I have two new plant friends. Apparently – and this is a note to self – they water from the bottom up. So you put a little bit of water on a plate and the water travels upwards.

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More examples of internet mess and I’m going to go into some detail here because they deserve it. Yesterday I told my “mother” that I wanted a restraining order against Cherrene and her friends and I could hear (not audibly, it’s a turn of phrase – you know ‘I could just IMAGINE) her god-awful fucking histrionic marzia-voice screeching down the phone at her in their defence because what really stings is the embarrassment that her and her friends invested so much uninvited attention my way and never bothered to admit to it because they preferred to steal. Because they preferred to be ‘inspired.

These women are too ‘old’ to pretend that they have any business stalking people my age, which they do, authoring “style” blogs (I keep defining that word and you clearly can’t read so you’re just looking at the pictures.) and that is not because of their age, it is that there isn’t even a reasonable exchange. What do they have to offer back? Because I don’t want their ugly clothes or their money. Or their ugly kids. Unless they’ve stolen some since we met, and it will come out if they have – and I’ll want them returned to suitable parents.

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this is two of my stalkers. really trying to do casual. On a style blog. Why bother? What is this an attempt at really? The questions are rhetorical. I am not inviting a response. Someone will want answers though because you fucked over a lot of people and to pretend otherwise will be some new low for you to drop to.

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Did they. Is it because you worship the divine female form or because you’re really, really taken by art? Especially art depicting the nude female form? What inspired that? Was it, perchance, because you might’ve read somewhere that Princess Charlotte of Wales was taken by ceramics?

WHO THE HELL WOULD TRUST A CHILD OF THAT AGE WITH CERAMICS?

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I don’t actually know what is military or even utility ‘chic’ about these satin? hella cheap jackets. These are not military chic and these are not ‘utility chic’ either – you couldn’t wear these in the rain, they don’t have lots of pockets for carrying your items in (so, the military wouldn’t find them useful – do you just like to throw words around, or?) and you couldn’t wear them sauntering through the Amazon on expeditions so they’re not that ‘utility’ either. Or do you mean utilitarian?

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{It was not founded by Jeremy Bentham. And actually I’m not a fan of utilitarianism as a political movement because of the potential the ideology has to remove the individual from the realisation of an identity that could contribute towards their personal evolution – which would benefit everyone else so IUNNO DUDE, IUNNO. BUT DO YOU SEE HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT MY KIND OF PEOPLE, WERE NEVER MY KIND OF PEOPLE, COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN MY KIND OF PEOPLE – WERE THE DIMINISHMENT OF MY KIND OF PEOPLE – LITERALLY – they’d of had absolutely no invitation into my life. There was never any suggestion of consent that my interaction with them could acceptably go beyond the fact that I was doing graphic design work for them and that it was insultingly underpaid. And unused.

They purposely made sure I was given a memory stick containing photographs of them and their family – I mean the kids, the ugly little boys in ugly tracksuits and – really – the kind of family gathering that makes me GLAD I don’t have one. I had thoughts like “are you going to sell it to a publication” (“no, these are boring photos, no one wants to see this” I thought back). I imagine they thought those photos of their footballer husbands were really valuable but I think, I looked through about five images and closed it because I was mortified (was it one of you that was mortified?) at how fucking boring they are. You probably know better, the affect of my making eye contact with you – so what really happened was I was pass the parcelled amongst Cherrene’s friendsssssss. Again.

My “sibling” (again, I will be legally disowning her and arranging for a restraining order. Which is the correct thing to do to stalkers.) liked to rifle through ‘family’ photographs and take the photos where we looked attractive (probably the unattractive ones too but they’d see the memories anyway I imagine) and put them up in her room. I recall a psychic once told me on the phone that afew people had photographs of me and that they used them to “communicate” with me. Work on a psychic line for long enough and the stories repeat themselves, with names, with particular details – that fucking pathetic.

This is why muslim women ‘cover up’, this is why muslim women don’t make ‘physical contact’. Do not lie to me because then you’re shitting on a lot of religious truths. Do not try to protect yourself, tell the truth. I won’t judge a person who can tell the truth. (I mean, if you’re a zoella or a hannah or an emma or a joana etc, I will judge you because I already know you’ve abused me. You are all that fucking repetitive.)

(by the way, a once-a-friend-not-a-friend-of-mine-anymore-did-you-have-anything-to-do-with-it-cos-it-all-happened-in-surrey brought the use of the word ‘chic’ into the internet lexis, accept it. Her mother is a renowned fashion photographer. A lot of people, myself included, were probably urged to take photographs because of her.)

Embarrassment makes people do very peculiar things.

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Chintz is not your thing. Nothing in that photo is chinoiserie. Not even mock-chinoiserie. Don’t call it chintz. That is weird. Do not throw words like ‘minimalist’ around. You don’t know what that word means. It’s a movement. I know you ladies know I was watching some youtube videos about minimalism and then I watched this in Denmark and the lady in florals used the word maximalism, which I’d never heard before. Learning new word is the sad kind of thing that makes me really, really happy.

 

There were a lot of these women, that were in some way affiliated with footballers and residing in Surrey. They had arranged for my sister and a friend of hers to be moved. At the time I was smoking a lot of weed. I recall being introduced to a few of them and being invited to two of those women’s homes, I recall walking through their ‘shop‘ too. 

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This was taken from their instagram. So fashion. much style.

 


But yeah, no: I don’t quite know if you have an accurate memory of fifteen years ago, when SuicideGirls and Graphic Novels and Movies and people’s favourite bands were everything to everyone. Do you mean “I had no nice stuff, I found someone to copy and I tried my darned tootin harfest/hardest? to make it impossible for people to find out and I failed”

You did fail. You did.

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This is a pararaah (wow) a paragraph, taken word for word

I wat to

^ Trust me, it’s a real thing. People can occupy me. Easily. Its a human rights abuse and if they can do it to me there are a lot more people that they can do it to.

Leading bookshops of London is one of the best sentences I’ve ever read

(Is it?)

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Carol Ann Duffy is a really special person/writer? to be compared to because she authored a poem that I’ve referenced at least five million times, and it likened the female orgasm to ‘pearls’. Anyone in the online adult industry will know that I was an integral part of us collectively understanding that the female orgasm was real. I DONT MIND YOU DID IT. I WONT HOLD IT AGAINST YOU. JUST TELL THE TRUTH AND ALL IS FORGIVEN. (I’m talking to my shitty babysitters from suicidegirls and godsgirls, I’m over Ahmed so I don’t care that you did what you did.) (You were led into a trap by people I hadn’t met yet. Spend a night at a footballer’s house trying to do some work and years later you realise that they had a really great time making you ill.) (My enemies were picked for me years before I was even born. Their names were picked for them years before I was born.) (Accept it and don’t fucking lie.) (I don’t care if you watched my child self get assraped on a doctors’ table, that’s a pretty anime thing and if I wasn’t sure it’d give me PTSD I’d probably enjoy my childself experiencing that too because sadly we’re all into fucked up hentai and all I ever wanted was to be not only anime, but also hentai)

It was a poem I studied when I did my GCSEs in one of those dreadful government bog standard poetry anthologies: and it was written from the perspective of William Shakespeare’s wife, who I believe must’ve been somewhat affected by the idea of him being infidelitous (her character in that poem was) – more so the idea of people assuming that they didn’t have a sexual relationship. The poem is about a guest-bed in their home.

One sec I’ll find it.

‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’
(from Shakespeare’s will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, cliff-tops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights I dreamed he’d written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love –
I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head
as he held me upon that next best bed.

 

OH! No! Right – the idea being (god memory flashes) that Shakespeare had bequeathed the guest bed unto his wife and that there would’ve been some suggestion of insult because why not the “fancy” bed? Carol Ann Duffy would’ve argued that that was the bed they used to fuck in. Hence the poem.

{Poem sourced here, 10 August, 2019}

Someone that I actually fancied and hung out with and watched on youtube while I was in Denmark homebirthed a daughter called Pearl. People did not know that she was not actually blonde nor that as far as genetics are concerned, it is impossible for a person with dark brown hair to have a blonde child. It was important because it was deeply connected to “if you stick up for the blonde, it’ll make you really popular”

I could hear my form tutor-cum-headmistress (the word cum, used in that context doesn’t actually mean what you and your really cool boyfriends/friends would like it to mean and I feel compelled to clarify that) in that youtuber’s voice sometimes, months later. Her voice is distinctive and I am really, really good at voices. As in I can hear an actor’s voice in a film and then years later if their voice struck me personally I might be able to identify their voice in an animation. No face needed.

that font, though, it’s called ‘Journal’. It was a godsgirls thing. Do not pretend you have been internetting and that your tastes in graphic design and typefaces are not DIRECTLY RELATED to me

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so i know you’ve seen godsgirls. which explains, to some extent the mess of the lives of everyone involved in that entire industry. (Don’t lie, don’t attempt to lie – when they have the truth they are psychos. these kinda people.)

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If you want to masquerade as some kind of style or fashion icon, or any kind of voice for the nature of clothing – it’s advisable that you’ve some understanding of clothes. That you aren’t regurgitating a style that has probably been influenced by me or some version of ME. An understanding that you didn’t steal from ME – quite badly considering your budgets. If you emulate me, fucking CREDIT ME. I DID THE WORK. A navy waterfall jacket from warehouse goes a long way though, doesn’t it

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Anyway. Yesterday and today I spent the last of the cash in my bank account on some books and I probably ought not read them until those women are no longer allowed to use the internet, no longer allowed to astrally project or whatever it is that they do to stalk me, no longer alive ideally but … thats really some kind of Planetary decision that I suppose I am too biased to be neutral about. I saw a book in the shoppe about the death penalty and I think it’s important that we consider

These are creepy women. Don’t pretend you don’t know what ‘inspired’ this shit.

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Do not accept CHEAP imitations (some of my most dedicated stalkers are finally getting the attention they craved and that they really invested towards making my life difficult to get, and I hope they sleep soundly into their 100% Egyptian cotton sheets/pillow cases)

Capsule wardrobes are a thing that Peaches write aboute

That ^ Kill me

Years ago, when I was studying Fashion, Peaches Geldof edited/wrote? an article for I think, the Metro, about Capsule wardrobes. For people who didn’t have a good budget but wanted to be able to dress well. That is all I wanted. Actually all I wanted was to have a lolita/nymphette/dominatrixy wardrobe (just the look) and summer dresses and playsuits to roll around in at home because it’s weird to dress like that at home, or it was to my younger self. I didn’t make an effort at home because my home was hideous. Any money we had was spent on my older sibling.

Capsule wardrobes are for professionals and also for people who are really fucking poor. Not for ‘celebrities’. Again, someone wanted to ‘defend a blonde’ that didn’t need to be defended.

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Note: YOU WERE BULLYING HER. I NEVER BULLIED HER. AT ALL. [image taken from ref]

Peaches Geldof arranged for me to be friends with a girl called Stephanie and – SHES ALIVE. SHE WILL TELL YOU THIS HERSELF. IT’LL BE FUNNY. WE REALLY GET EACH OTHER. I FANCIED HER. SHE WAS ABUSING ME A BIT BECAUSE SHE REALLY THOUGHT THAT WHEN I FOUND OUT WHAT WAS GOING ON, I’D BE IN A THREE PERSON RELATIONSHIP WITH HER, HER HUSBAND TOM (I GUESSED that he was a taurus – from how he served his children food.) AND THAT WE’D BE FRIENDS FOREVER. (I mean say sorry first and let me be a bitch and you can replace the beanie baby in my one man show) (yeah but beanie babies are mine and don’t you dare go back on it or I’ll stay here) – She had seen a lot of my memories, probably been present for my reading with Lisa (was) where Lisa told me that I would be the HEAD of a SECRET SOCIETY – in my next life. (I’m on that life but at what fucking cost.)

Peachy and Kremé both wanted to be elegant gothic lolita girls but they were kept away from the things that they liked. I was peachy’s inner stylist. She was my biggest fan and most dedicated stalker and actually fucking ruined my life with that shit. It meant that any future fans would unconsciously do the same fucking thing to me – pretend not to be a fan, pretend not to have been reading the stuff that I put all of myself into sharing and CURATING on the internet before anyone else was doing it. I put myself in a lot of ‘danger’ with people who tried to control me by making me take stuff down when they didn’t actually know the true story AT ALL. And made her life WORSE by “DEFENDING” her.

 in other news – I realised a girl I went to school with called Joana is prince harry’s twinflame. She is also one of my stalkers and it’s nice to know you have something to talk about.

 

NONE OF THIS IS COMPLIMENTARY TO ME. THESE ARE NOT THE KINDS OF WOMEN I WOULD BE FLATTERED BY HAVING BEEN STALKED BY. I AM REALLY, REALLY CREEPED OUT.

<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

DNTLVAPL

 

I HAVE TWO THINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TO

FIRSTLY

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An email alerted me to the fact that there is a new season of Aggretsuko. She likes Cradle of Filth and does a holding-in-pee-dance. I also like Cradle of Filth and do a holding-in-pee-dance.

SECONDLY

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An Etsy seller who deserves a polite link has apparently dispatched my miniature butcher’s cuts of prime meats. #modestylpriced

THIRDLY

I’m gonna get vaguely cute & then I’m visiting Laine tomorrow to collect some magical custom orders.


If you need to laugh-smile and also do the most soul crippling kind of posi thinking manifestation

(and you should, because it is healthy. you don’t necessarily get what you are wanting at the very front of your mind. The stuff you wanted growing up comes first that it is easier for you to accept into your life.) (I have improved vastly at art)

try playing this

(if you press play and then hover over the video and press cntrl + click and then ‘loop’, the video will auto replay.)

at the same time as this

DO BOTH

My mobile phone remains unfound but I’ve managed to tidy my flat up in the search for it so it’s not an altogether terrible thing to have lost.

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I put lipliner, a lipgloss and some blusher on today. I’m thinking of making a youtube tutorial about it. (I’m not, that’s a joke. I’m trying to be funny. Sometimes I try to be funny on the internet and I am unsuccessful at being funny because most of the funny things I write are short statements that can be taken quite seriously by people who don’t share my humour.) (I am actually quite offended by people who do make up tutorials but haven’t studied make up or worked as a make up artist.) (Or studied chemistry, so that they can explain the ingredients. Why are so many women ‘famous’ for make up tutorials? I appreciate the idea of using your ‘personality’ to entertain people but so few people on the internet actually have a personality or care to admit what might’ve inspired their tastes in interiors or make up – and that kind of theft will only ever make you “famous” for a little while.)

The idea that people who studied and worked – and got bullied – for the notoriety that they aspired to just as much as uneducated celebrities that aspire to act but probably couldn’t write dissertation length essays analysing in depth the personalities of the characters they’ve been cast for is also offensive.

I am complaining a lot on my blog but my audiences, I’ve learned, only seem to enjoy knowing that I’m suffering.

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I like my outfit today. It’s a hand-me-down H&M shirt dress that I was given about twelve or so years ago now. I’m unsure it’s ever been washed and I’d quite like to have it taken in, in places.

This is what I look like without make up or fake tan.

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This was brunch. A pork steak with egg, mushrooms, sliced tomato and a spring onion.

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This might be the worst photograph I’ve ever taken but I love the edit.

I need a frame for this. How cute is my guide? (Well, I have a few guides – but how cute is this one?) (the female one with the eyelashes) (a lot of people/beings come with other halves, if you’re going to pursue a spirituality it’s wise to start with the ten commandments – basics – “don’t steal” “don’t covet” – you know. Before you decide between light and dark, know that you’re responsible enough without labelling yourself as either.

“Know thyself” is a really important one for spiritual people pursuing fame. Or have a teacher that knows the real you – so when you lose yourself she or he only needs to say one thing and she’ll have you running to your room crying happy tears because she remembers who you are, even after you’ve been through hell and back.

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If I do get invited to act – I’ll be taking this role. You won’t find anyone better.

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The image above is Toph from the children's Nickelodeon series - Aang the Last Airbender. 
The story of how I came to like this show is pretty good. I'll save it for my INTERVIEWS.

I’ll upload a picturegraph of me soon with make up to justify why I’d also be a great Azula incase you can’t find someone else.

I know I could do both.

EOS |

I’m having a snuggly period day. I contacted the Citizens Advice Bureau regarding my issues with the Job Centre and quite frankly that was exhausting. I have emailed their ‘manager’ and he’s yet to respond – either he is stressed out because he has to fire at least three people or he’s in on it. I read somewhere that 83% or so people in the UK have a job. If that is the case – why did the Job Centre fight to justify giving me £317 pounds a month to live off? As if this country is struggling? The amount increased after a conversation I shouldn’t of been forced to have – but they really tried pushing that I should be able to live on £317 a month.

Either way I have to locate a small diary of mine and start an official complaint with DWP. I can’t locate my phone either which is a nightmare. Not because I use it to socialise but because I missed a call from Tescos about a shop and I was asleep when they were scheduled to arrive. I’ve no idea how I didn’t hear the bell, the bell is loud and my flat is small. And I quite like it like that.

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I’ve finally invested in a clothing rail. It’s from John Lewis and it’s very sensibly priced. If you’re looking for a rail that’s under £40 that won’t slide to the left with a few heavy items then click here. I’ll get a better picturegraph soon, when I’ve colour coordinated and arranged as many garments onto it as I can manage.

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A neighbour is coming over to help me organise my flat, install a lock in my bathroom and on my window and to put up a feature wall with some wilko wallpaper (I want to insert one of those big grin emojis but it’s actually a very nice wallpaper). That bottle of wine on my counter is for him. I’ll need a better photograph of that too – the art is inspired by a Titan Goddess called Eon and I bought it from a local shoppe here. It’s not an old wine but I think it’ll look nice ageing in his kitchen. I ought to get him some other bits too.

Edited to add: Here's the photo of the wine that I promised myself I'd upload.

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And the back.

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"Eos is a Titaness and the Goddess of the dawn, who rose each morning from her home at the edge of the Oceanus to announce her brother Helios, the sun. 
As Goddess of the dawn it was her duty to open the gates of heaven so Helios could drive his chariot across the sky every day."

[edited Wednesday the Seventeenth of April, 2019]

I watched a few episodes of Salad Fingers and Marie Antoinette today. I want to invest in adding sleeves to everything I own. I am a sleeve person.

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I had elderflower cordial, lemon and nectarine noodles with lemon, red pepper, sweetcorn and garlic and a ferrero rocher today, before having 1000 mg of a painkiller (paracetamol – every tablet is 500mg) that has yet to help the pain at all. I know that people have been prescribed weed for my bowel condition but the fact that women can have period cramps like mine and sooner be encouraged to take harmful medicines that stay in your body for twenty five years (and trust me – they do) is terrible. If you really think that both the NHS and the pharmaceutical companies manufacturing these medicines don’t benefit from the lies that pharmacists and doctors are often bribed to tell, to endorse these drugs you’re completely foolish. Did you know that as far as the sciences go, we’ve reached breakthroughs that mean that technically NO ONE should experience pain? It shouldn’t be a thing anymore. As in the NHS and their manufacturers sell you medicine that keeps you ill and test their new drugs on you (they do, and they do not have to tell you they’re doing it either) – you might’ve heard the phrase “it’s a new drug” – thats code for “you’re a test subject”.

When I was about seventeen or sixteen I had a birthday in Camden. My friends and I smoked shisha at a bar there and some strangers came and sat beside us. It was a heterosexual couple and I remember them often. The woman, as I recall, wore a hat and had short hair. She told me that she worked for a company that manufactured drugs for people with AIDS and that the disease officially had a cure. This was years ago. She told me that it was technically an inexpensive drug.

A teacher of mine once told me, knowing that I had an “audience” of sorts of promiscuous and irresponsible gay men who weren’t pursuing love but were pursuing as much sex as they possibly could – to avoid gay men. She did not explain why. She taught me (a person who sort of used to wish she was a boy and who used to scream “IM A BOY” at her mother and who might’ve been born a hermaphrodite but whatever) not to have sex with someone until I’d been in their company for two weeks. Some people can have sex without getting attached emotionally, those people – she told me – make fantastic prostitutes. Some people get attached emotionally when they have sex and obviously they do not make fantastic prostitutes because it ends up damaging them psychologically. The gay men I thought of at the time – some of which were actually probably more effeminate than me – ended up having successful, first attempts at serious long term relationships using her advice. If you have sex with someone before a two week period of spending time together constantly – it will only ever be about sex. It’ll be a prolonged one night stand. At the time I didn’t realise why she’d said what she said, about homosexuals – an uncle of hers had died of aids and had not been told he had it by the STD clinics. It is a form of population control. She is a person of colour, and the virus was initially administered to people of colour and it was easiest to do so through homosexual men. Do not trust the NHS or STD clinics – if you are promiscuous and if you have unprotected sex (I am not promiscuous but I do have unprotected sex – I am severely allergic to latex) invest in a private GP. I recommend Dr Coxon – Lady Diana visited her. She was tested positive as pregnant shortly before her murder. (Not awkward at all)

Fortunately people can be moved into new bodies, a fact I’m sure people have become aware towards. (They’re not ‘computers’, they’re new bodies. AWKWARD ISN’T IT)

The NHS refused to continue employing Dr Coxon after she made a habit of insisting treatment for children whose families were being lied to about whether they could benefit from said treatments. As in – children who were going to be left to die by the NHS.

Nothing is free, the NHS convinces you it is – but it isn’t. And be careful with giving out sperm for STD checks – they do sell it on if you’re fertile and free of STDs. Why on Earth do you think that they need to check your SPERM for STDS?

If I am given a prescription to smoke weed – and I should be, if not for my condition then at the very least for the PTSD that the NHS are responsible for and a life story that would  probably make me quite eligible for euthanasia in certain countries – I will probably test the weed being provided by the NHS, but realistically when I know (trust me on this) that most of the weed being sold on the streets is being sold by the police (sad, isn’t it.) and that the pharmaceutical companies are so deeply invested in keeping people on drugs that give them more problems than they solve, and that the uneducated social “elite” (we can’t call you that anymore, you are comparatively less educated than most of our countries poor people that you keep poor) are still convinced that cannabis perpetuates proletariat subcultures and gang warfare when – it is really just our police – I will probably have to research the laws on growing. And even then I’m uncertain and uneducated about the strains attached to the seeds being sold on the market.

I recently telephoned the police with regards to making them aware that I was pretty certain my laptop was being hacked by locals (I went to University with a ‘youtube celebrity’ so I have no doubts that there are ‘youtube celebrities’ that know who I am, I was unimpressed by ‘youtube celebrity’ then and I continue to be for the most part. External beauty I am always impressed by, for a time) and I did discuss the local laws pertaining to weed here. No one will share a contact with me because they all know that I’m stalked by the police, too.

Who cares that I’m in constant physical pain. Haha. Who cares that I’m probably tired because my body has to exert energy to not feel that pain. Haha.

Imagine if all the footballers, police and other stupid people just dropped fucking dead. Haha.

O0o Dinner is an avocado, an onion, a tomato, lemon and seven prawns. But it’s being served with vintage silver wear on a tray (I think the fork was a tenner from the local brick-a-brack) so I’m still fancy. #5vegetablesaday

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(I’m sitting here laughing that people actually think that this is a legitimate meal portion. And technically I’ve eaten more king prawns today – fourteen – than most people are served at Chinese Restaurants in a single portion.)

#widt

I overate today. For breakfast I had two bacon in Vietnamese rice paper rolls coated with lemon and caramel. Then I ate a salad. I ate a lot of bacon in moments between that. I also ate a lot of biscuits. Then I had a pasta with pesto and salad for dinner. I’m about to serve myself another serving of pasta. I have cooked enough pasta for about thirty people this evening. No like. come on, self. Probably three or four servings worth for very, very hungry people. I used half a jar of pesto for my first serving. I imagine I will use the other half now. I am still hungry.

So as avid readers know – I know I must have a few of you, though I imagine most of you have downloaded Tor or some other anonymous browser. That’s actually really rude but whatever. I’m sorting out my flat a little bit every day. I moved the boxes by my cupboard a bit.

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gradual. a process.

the living area of my flat is “art studio slash games room slash “wardrobe”

my kitchen vibe is chinese/japanese/tibetan/thai cottage cum apothecary cum acupuncturists medicinal cabinet

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I made some wings using pressed tulip petals. i enjoy pressing flowers. I placed them on the illustration above. If you are into 3D work or  special effects, I recommend using tulips as fairy wings. They dry really well and have ‘veins’.

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I’m putting together a collection of greetings cards, called “seventeen”. Iunno when they’ll be done but I’d like to sell them locally.

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If I “inspire” you, credit me. I have no doubt that my ideas have made countless people money – the least you can do is credit the person that inspired you. That kind of decency comes back to you many times over.

And remember that just because you can access a memory where I get a psychic reading, doesn’t mean it’s free. I had to pay for those – so once again, have the decency to credit me for paying for information you convinced yourself was for you. Also – I have made it abundantly easy to get in touch with me on the internet. If you want a psychic reading you can BUY ONE off ME. I am amongst the best psychics you will EVER meet and I have helped more people to realise truths about existence on this Planet than I will ever perhaps be given credit for.