Revenge is a many layered thing

I am on-sofa because my bed is probably where Magnus sleeps (it’s really not a forever thing, Magnus.) (it is) and by some coincidence, I’m too lazy to put on my sheets.

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This is Magnus and Sabel in 2D. Their 2D karma appears in episodes nine and ten of  Inuyasha and I’m not sure I believe the story at all. I think they did it on purpose because the story I identified when I saw them in their insect forms was actually very, very, very intense.

Sabel asked me to help him with his twinflame – who I did not see until she made a very frightening appearance. She taught his spider sisters to build web-bridges, he spent all of his time meditating. He would create a barrier with his web and snuggle inside the underside of the glass star one of his sisters lived inside of. I taught them that if they get lost, to follow the lines to the top of my building. I used my eyes to show them.

One night I watched a video with Whoopee Goldberg and that evening the light from outside was so perfectly cast in my room that the shadow across my ceiling created the illusion of a spider and I believe it was the spirit of Anansi. Anansi is a male spirit but I thought Anansi female. Lisa my spiritual teacher taught me that there is female energy and male energy, I also learned from reading a Dan Brown novel that the pyramids that point upwards (they appear on military uniforms) are symbols that denote masculinity and they are subtly engrained in EVERYTHING.

 

said that if they grew too large and reckless that I would have to destroy them, and it is not the male spiders I had concerns towards it was the female ones. I had a thought-vision (like when you imagine something, not a hallucination as you might experience if you do hallucinatory drugs or if you were in the desert and you were to see a mirage of water upon sand.) of Abraham chanting and making them blow up. I was so attached to the affect that these creatures had on my life and the faith they restored in me that there is kindness (even if it is not from human kind) in the World that I dont care all that much if they grow huge. They share DNA with me, they will only evolve if they are abused.

Do not abuse spiders, is my warning.

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[ref] A game I played as a child. You can watch the games footage
online if you type in 'Play Through Abes Oddysee'. I would choose
the bad ending, Abe is immortal and his being is eternal.

HE and he alone was chosen for escape from that factory.

One time when it was raining very heavily I was so scared to lose Sabel and his sisters that I brought him inside and it was an absolute fucking hellish nightmare, I had to don some boots because I was scared of making physical contact with the maggots and then I had to grab maggots that were leaping from my window sill onto my carpet and return them to their home. This all took place very shortly before Killi made her appearance.

That night I brought in Sabel and I lost balance and he fell and touched me for the first time and then he hid underneath my fridge and I almost cried because I was scared that he’d get hurt. I put some string from the fridge to his star on my balcony and told him that he could use the string to get back home. The next day he was back in his spot. I decorated their balcony with feathers. I watched this episode of Inuyasha (i had watched it before – once – when I was on terrible medications, YEARS ago, and the episode hadn’t stuck in my memory much at all.)

Sabel Spider made me feel that if he wanted to be a paramite that he would need to be frightening to touch and that if I wasn’t afraid to touch him it would be dangerous for other spiders and he’d be an unsuccessful paramite personality profile.

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Say hello to my new aloe-vera plant. My local floristress and her daughter told me that they like the sun. It is sunny here but it’s also pleasantly cloudy.

I’m trying to go back to my one-shot and I’m taking macro photos of my flies. They’re all very different and it’s so difficult to capture them. There are so many different looking kinds emerging from the habitats I’ve made for them.


I suppose if you want to manifest a reality where there are Pokémon, you ought to start with insect and plant kinds. I don’t particularly want to make them fight though. But if I did we know I’d be Sabrina.

This one is brown eyed with that pearlescent metallic effect and I think it’s a he.

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This one is blue with brown eyes. I think this one is a he, too

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I had a ham and mustard sandwich for breakfast, co-op layers the ham and I really like that. And this is my luncheon.

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I had one of the desserts I bought yesterday from Brighton’s Open Bakery in Kemptown. It’s always been full whenever I’ve passed by and when it wasn’t, I didn’t have the money to invest in a dessert. Also I’ve not really been feeling to eat sweet things. It’s an eclair  with nuts, strawberries and cream, from my local bakery. I had some cinnamon sticks sitting on my little oven, so I broke them up into bits and garnished the eclair, I also added icing sugar and I added nutella (which isn’t technically chocolate) to the glazed strawberries I took off the pastry cos they’re the only bit I really like.

:/

Did you know that biscuits were included amongst foods considered necessary, in the WW2 ration books and that I am a history buff? Probably not

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If you are OCD, try eating foods that leave residue on your fingers with chopsticks. I am not OCD about touching many things anymore but I really like eating with chopsticks.

WE ARE SHAPE SHIFTERS.

Okay you need to, well, you ought to at the very least: listen to this if you want the right vibe for my post. It brings a meditative session to a close and if you did not PAY to witness it, you’ll wish you had but you have time to.

If you don’t think the person in this photograph didn’t come from MY ovaries you are deluded. He has no loyalty. I value this, because it means if someone abuses him he will run to someone scarier. I don’t value this because he only cares about looks or something. I don’t really know whats wrong with his head. He was badly raised.

Also he has no idea of who is “scarier” than me, and to be scarier than me you need money, you need to be sexually involved with a lot of very big men, you don’t know what being ‘scary’ really means actually.

And actually those very big men are probably running from a version of me. Most big men that would run to someone that they think is ‘above’ me don’t realise that person is probably COPYING me. A hairdresser? A makeup artist? A dancer? An athlete? A SINGER? A fashion designer? A performance artist? A linguist (I give the individual letters in every alphabet more attention and more meaning than your being taught by someone who did all of the work first and had help doing so.) A GRAPHIC DESIGNER? A footballer? A sculptor of some kind?

Oh wait – a spiritual teacher? Well, do try your very, very hardest to avoid the ones that want magicckal kids. Which will be most of them.

Find an industry I could not succeed in if I were so boring as to put all of my energies into a single talent.

He’s stupid too.

 

Scary is OMAR – a person that two princes wanted to copy and they were vewwey jellay because EVERYONE was in love with him, even his sisters. Scary is Omar’s bullies from military school that I’ve been sexualising and secretly crushing on since I was about five years old. I TOLD YOU THAT IF YOU KILL HARRY I WILL LET YOU SLEEP SEX ME. IF YOU PUT HIS HEAD ON A SPIKE OUTSIDE MY FLAT I WILL LET YOU ALL HAVE SEX WITH ME. IF YOU HAVE GUTS AND YOURE HOT I MIGHT PUT YOU IN ONE OF MY PORN MOVIES.

Scarier is the person that – on her own – would hang out with people that most “Scawie” people wouldn’t want to hang out with, (the scawie people avoid me and pretend it’s because they don’t want to hang out) and prostitute herself to whoever necessary to get a mercenary she had released from deathrow in the congo released. And then when he didn’t show up for a date she rolled her eyes and picked his scarier superior instead.

Not a ‘prince’ and his rapist dads that kept having girls choose their little dogs over him so he started arranging for the dogs to be hurt to get them alone (it was all a cover up for the more sordid truth: he actually likes VERY LITTLE GIRLS.), not a celebrity like zoelaa that would invest in having men weigh someone like me down to keep her safe (the worst is that actually I don’t even think I could cope with making physical contact with her, she repulses me) scary is the person that could walk through crowds of neonazi wannabe kids and their big brothers and their fanny belly mothers  and gypsies MOSTLY BY HERSELF

but you picked the ginger ronald mcdonald bitch that called my ex and her ex a ‘half breed’ and you thought the sex would be the same because when insecure men made me think I was “bad in bed” you really listened

THUMBS UP


My body changes DAILY. I mean – it dramatically changes – daily. And if I put on fake tan, I look like a different person entirely. If I put on MAKE UP I look, again, like another person. ENTIRELY. This is my #OOTD.

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One day you’ll all wake up and realise that not only how you dress and what you get upto in your spare time changes depending on who your ‘friends’ and closest are (there is no such thing as a friend) – your face changes.

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Your body changes depending on the metabolisms of the people you hang out with too. Sometimes it is noticeable, sometimes it really isn’t until your face is totally different to how it was years ago.


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When I think about this fucking racist, (you want unconditional love and revenge?) that I telepathically told off for not fucking eating once when I saw a video of him in a hotel room, not wanting to eat a chocolate.. I get SKINNY. FAST. I mean over-night fast.

He bit into and ate a variety of children’s chocolates for taste and then he spat them out into a bin because he was on a regimen that had been advised to him by a ‘certified’ gym instructor for muscle development. Not weight loss.

Then I got angry at him in my mind, for being an asshole to a guy called Joe who was really rather pathetic looking to me and not defending himself against what felt, as an observer, a lot of guys bullying him. Joe later repaid the kindness by being rude and astral projecting to my place in Denmark without permission, at the time I had been made to think I was crazy that people could do that but it was also a kindness because I had my finger up my nose and he mentioned it. Which means that one of them did it. They claimed I had big nostrils cos I’m a nose picker. Ew, i know, but shut up. THERE ARE WORSE THINGS. LIKE INVADING PRIVACY. And he was with his older sister, so he should’ve been more mindful, thats actually what I think older sisters are supposed to be: but I don’t think his big sister is a very good big sister. I think that she’s an abuser actually and that her parents needed to know the truth. Perhaps their whole family are abusers. Although I think there’s a lot of Freudian material to psychoanalyse, if Zoe’s “ghost written” diary book is anything to go by.

Back to this:

I had to: actually, years later, once I was off medications that were making me overweight – SHOW Marcus and alfie (both of whom left their bodies to hang out with me, and anything that happened there was consensual. consent has been revoked, I can love someone and not want to hang out anymore.) that he could actually eat as many burgers as he wanted in a day if he was exercising the way that I exercise. Actually using all of your muscles. Which is tiring.

As in doing a demi-plie: is tiring. Especially in the absence of a barre.

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[ref]

If you want muscle growth, I’m your person. I prefer to be petite (I’m not) and so if I do things that make me develop muscle and I think of someone, they get the muscle. Fast. And I prefer to choose people. I know the grunts in the British army copied the footballers and the police that abused me, so it has to be this way. I will choose people eventually, that I am prepared to let borrow this nonsense. I think of the same few men anyway.

First of first of all: If you eat a protein heavy diet you will get muscles fast. Footballers like to befriend dancers because they like the muscles because they think the bloated look is sexy. I like skinny guys who are physically strong because otherwise I can’t jump on you. I won’t jump on a guy thats been doing steroids either.

First of all: You can exercise and not eat much and lose weight if you LOVE yourself as you are.
If you stop obsessing about “losing weight” or “being skinny” and really striving after achieving an image of faux-perfection that is probably quite far from the perfection you are capable of. If you want to see yourself as hot, get me to neg you.

I like having a little belly, I like belly dancing. I like fat jiggles. I ALSO like being skinny. I feel really hot when I am skinny, but I have been anorexic, and if you want something that wards people off anorexia: YOU LOSE YOUR HAIR. AND IF YOU ARE LUCKY IT MIGHT GROW BACK, BUT IT MIGHT NOT.

At the moment when I dance I feel to vomit because I think there are either a few people who are pregnant who have stolen some of my biohazards (TRUST ME – your life is OVER if you have stolen from me and I don’t really WANT those)

Second of all: If you want muscles, you will not get them at the gym. Perhaps if you invest in extras, like fat burners (Chinese dieting pills do work, if you get them from a licensed practitioner of Chinese alternative medicine but a consultation with them is expensive. But it is worth it.) The gym does NOTHING – you will not get muscles ‘like Drake’ by working out at the gym. Those are steroids or you have a person like me, who generates muscle fast in your thoughts. You actually get more muscles by doing stretches and actually using muscles you probably didn’t know you had.

This is a proper work out and it’s actually just a basic bitch warm up. It should hurt, and you shouldn’t do it much and you shouldn’t do it without a teacher present because technically this can injure you.

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If you are using the right muscles, your legs should look like this,
'flat' on the ground.

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Some people have a superior pointe, I haven't 'danced' with a 
properly trained classical dance teacher since I was about eight to 
ten years old.

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This is a difficult and painful thing to do. Accept that this is, 
for me, a substandard work out. 
And if you can't do this BETTER than me - you should not be doing 
pointe work.

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this was difficult to photograph and should be done with a very, very
straight back.

It is better than dumbbells and if it is done properly, it should help you tone more than the weird shit they have footballers doing in fields that would make much better rave grounds.

Going to the gym doesn’t teach you that.

Oh god I’ve a memory of a woman, a ‘gym instructor’ – in the gym, competing with me when I had drug induced parkinsonism – that gym in Ealing – DON’T GO. It’s overpriced. The men aren’t hot. The women DEFINITELY aren’t hot.

When I think about Killi the bird, I get skinny. I wake up skinny the next day. They have very fast metabolisms. Also I will at some point generously give people a healthy, protein AND CARB based diet that will speed up your metabolism, will give you the nutrients you need. It will be called the ’17’ Diet, because I illustrated the spirit I channelled before I had to feed the bird and I was concerned because she was skinny, and I didn’t understand why she ‘needed’ to be skinny, because that phase of beauty conditioning is finished and it is unhealthy, and it makes no sense. I thought “you have anorexia, I’m not encouraging or endorsing that.” and then when I lived with her as a bird, I ate the same food as she did. I went through three loaves of cheap white bread in a week – and hotdogs (with a white bread bun) (two at a time) and paté which is pure fat, and I got SKINNY. And the only exercise I did was scrubbing any mess that all-babies-make off the floor with a volcanic rock.

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He is my karma for sexualising this.

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AND ID DO IT AGAIN.
First of all this is hentai to me.

Not just Hentai. It’s YAOI.

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[ref]

This is my thing. This is also my thing.

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[ref] (For the love of anything that has at any point in time been loveable, please do not watch this with cute pets or people under the age of 35 that have not already seen disturbing things.)

And this
She is a military vampire that masquerades as a child by donning a school girl’s outfit after seeing a brunette in the bathtub that’s committed suicide and she kills demons.

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And this is also my thing. 

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(This image has been in my head for YEARS. It is pretend. It is not a real person. I hope one day to do this in real life but I’d have to be very stoned and I’d have to know the octopus’ and squid’s personalities really well and also that they knew we were just making art for me to look at.)


No one dating Marcus Butler in a monogamous relationship would need to exercise because they’d be emaciated. But it is a two-way thing.

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(the emaciated african, not the wrinkled bitch pretending to be lady diana, in FLIPFLOPS :|) (I am the best at racist jokes, after only Omar.) (WE BOTH WISH WE WERE BLACK. WE BOTH WISH. TRUST ME.) (Also my two Ugandan mamas called Penninah and Enid called me a ‘mzungu’ and pretended it was them being nice but ACTUALLY I AM NOT A MZUNGU – Mexicans say ‘GRINGO’. I can take it, and actually I did take it – from people I really loved.)

(I’d kill myself if I’d of had a ‘photo op’ of me feeding a baby that looked like that. First of all you look fucking obese next to that baby, so that’s not hot, secondly you’re ACTUALLY keeping your distance because you’re ACTUALLY afraid of catching that child’s potential illness. That baby was taught to keep it’s distance from you, and actually, I’d of preferred that they did. Do not touch other people’s children. I don’t, and they probably got them from me – so you don’t either.)

When I think of him, I get nausea if I don’t eat every few minutes. If I exercise/walk for about ten minutes I am physically exhausted. I had to invest in tablets for nausea to cope with all of his anorexic bitches.

I do bully his girlfriend online, publicly, (is she still dating you? is she? ugh) but thats because she is a STALKER. That is because I picked him AGES ago, BEFORE YOU DID STEFANIE. What is it with stephanies and stealing my boyfriends and crushes? STAY IN YOUR LANE. IF YOU STAYED IN YOUR LANE YOU’D OF ENDED UP WITH A MUCH BETTER AARON.

(She ended up with a guy version of me called Aaron who has my surname and who ditched his bestfriend, who is also version of me. I hate both. I am very self hating. Most me’s weren’t abused like I was and are much stupider than I am.)

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(this is a picture of me and my form tutor from Saint James being boys. Except we, under the very strict meditation guidance of the pretend-deceased Jane of Seth Speaks, genetically engineered super flies and possibly vampire paramites. The dad is really nice and I vampired him, he spent a lot of time in meditation – but the mums squabbled over him and the turf war got a bit ridiculous so they’ve all split ways. They are all vampires.  Vampires are more dangerous without bodies. Spiders are cooler than you might be inclined to think from appearances alone and they only grow in sunshine and I know that there are many more bodies for them to occupy if they hurt themselves.)

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In the future, if another bird launches into my vicinity I will be 
feeding it to my maggots. Unless it is a seagull or a vulture or 
a hen.

Also my 2D husband Sabel was there. It is better for ALL involved if you don’t believe he is real actually. Green is our colour.

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His brother Monten/Magnus was also there and it was a mess but it turned out for the better.

I have taught them loyalty, MY enemies are THEIR enemies.


Also how weird was it that I watched Breaking Bad from a halfway house I was put into because people were defending a “blonde” that people cluedo’d decided deserved to live even though she was breast feeding a baby while she was doing heroin, using me to sleep with my boyfriend and had been using an ACTUAL BLONDE and stalking me for years.

I’ll “save” you Peaches, but this is coming out whether you like it or not.

(My headmistress from Saint James is the headmaster in American History X and I’m not ready to team up with her yet. She wore heels every day. She can drive. She raised an Alex into adulthood, somehow.)

I once said to her, sardonically, in a Philosophy class: “Do you REALLY think people are BORN loving? was HITLER just BORN loving?” (She said that we are born as beings of pure love.)

First of all: If a guy had asked her that so obnoxiously she’d have probably responded differently. She sent me on a school trip to Berlin with my class, and there, I felt so much towards the English people that had died in service, the ANIMALS that had died in service, the disabled people that had died in service, the disabled people that had been killed in the holocaust, the Jews that had been killed in the holocaust, the GAYS that had been killed in the holocaust and I almost cried in bed. I said “I hate myself for sounding racist but I HATE germans for doing this.” A blonde cried “WELL MY GRANDAD WAS A NAZI AND HE WAS A REALLY NICE PERSON”. enough said. I was ganged up on, while I lay in bed, by girls defending the nazi’s granddaughter. I did not cry.

Years later I was beaten up by a lot of black girls and black boys while I sat on the ground, they’d seen me holding hands with a girl – as a friend. They came over and said “EXCUSE ME IS YOU A LESBIAN” and I said “I might be?” (They knew I wasn’t, and I wasn’t, I was in a long term relationship with a half Egyptian guy. A GUY CALLED AHMED HOSNY. AS FAR AS ARAB SOUNDING NAMES GO – THAT IS THE WORST ONE EVER.) I didn’t cry.

Second of all: If you are BORN as a being of pure love that has to watch your mother’s memories of her being abused, raped, used for parts, by not only the friends she’d of sacrificed herself for, but for the family she’d of sacrificed herself for – your chances of that loving reality are thrown out of the fucking window.

And then years later, I meditated so much that I realised that I was Hitler in a past life. I had a vision of him in a metal cell crying over his dog. Then I channelled Hitler years later and he said “you were my mother“, but that wasn’t enough. I learned that his book had been edited by publishers and that he had been lied about. He had no idea about the camps. He had no fucking idea. Which I think was embarrassment, betrayal. And more than that the loss of his dog.

Back to Marcus though, I left my fangirldom towards Felix and Alfie alone because they had girlfriends that were very easy to feel attractions to before I realised that they had been stalking me online for a very long time and copying me, for a very long time – long before I learned of them.

I added Marcus on snapchat while he was single, and he ignored me. I watched a video later where I found out that Louise (who has definitely been mind controlled by all the weirdos i despise) at a party, set Marcus up with a blonde model that had appeared on America’s Next Top Model, I think. And he said that upon meeting that model he had feelings of concern that he could come across as creepy.

Well my spiritual teachers, that he’d of been connected to, through my being connected to him (when you think of someone, you share energy. I have the right to believe it and you have the right to disbelieve it.) would’ve said that it was my empathy, and my intuition and that he was feeling HER feelings.

Marcus, my Stephanie was a stalker. Peaches was a stalker. These women actually took stalking to an entirely new level, and neither were known for being especially loyal to anyone, not even a person who would do literally anything for them to keep them happy.


If I wanted to be a doctor I’d be able to tell someone what’s wrong with their body by what went on with mine. I can’t see through a person’s body, though I have teachers that can, but I can take your pain. If I want to heal you. I probably don’t want to heal anyone, but I can give you all hope that you can be healed yourselves if you ask to learn how to heal yourself. If I can heal myself of my disability (I’m at a phase where I can shit out a 2 week shit in 2 seconds and some people that go daily STILL WAIT TO USE THE TOILET?)

I bought these off Asos. How cute are they? They’re by Boohoo.

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When I was younger I had a cousin who cut her hair off. I cut mine off too. I looked like a boy but I wanted to look effeminate. Someone said – before it was really socially done or considered – to my older sister “is this your little brother?” and it made me deeply insecure. Older me would’ve said “yeeeeaaaahhhh” but that me was hurt. I think they knew more about me than I’d of liked, for example: I was born with both genitals. I imagine someone thought it’d have been less invasive for me to have my penis removed and that while Professor Germaine Greer who said “I AM A WHITE NEGRO” and who wished that she was a Jew – might’ve rejoiced at the potential for evolution, I was not given to parents that would appreciate that a person could exist as both genders. The karma was the same, I had to pick between two cultures and two religions. I’d have regular visits to the A & E for all sorts of things and depending on which of my ‘parents’ were around, I’d be “christian” or “muslim”, or of “latina” origin or “arab” origin. It didn’t really matter to me, to be honest. (I’d rather be a Jap Jewrab Latina but I’m not Japanese. I’d like to be, but I’m not. But if I could be I would be.)

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I knew I was taken from a black person, as a child. I asked and there was no denial, but it was met with a joke.

And I know I was supposed to be the oldest. You’ll know by the fact that my mother was interested in animals, plants and that she was a dancer that was too lazy to warm up that I am the child that her body was raising.

Great lengths were taken to make sure that my family didn’t have me and there were all sorts of motivations that resulted in my ‘mother’ being segregated. First from her family, then from her friends, then from the people she attended church with and while one of her kids was very protective of her (my brother), the other realised that she got a lot of attention from people if she lied about what went on at home.

I was not the eldest but I should have been and I believe it very sincerely. My family would not be the mess that they are if I had been my grandmother’s first child, or my mother’s first child. There are some qualities and virtues in me that are unwavering. Would I commit murder? I would kill someone that deserved it, I could do it, I mean I could cope psychologically with committing murder but I would never do so unless it had been accepted as a consequence, in a court of law, and I had been given the job, and I agreed with my own judgement that I could answer to any and all notions of God and the nature of God, for my decision for doing so and only if I could say with sincerity that it was for the good of all.

I care about the laws society values, to keep safe. I believe that people deserve to live safe societal lives.

Many terrible ideas have crossed my mind in my life, many, some of them influenced by TV, some of them influenced by my mother (she once told me that her friend Pam’s? father, I think, had ‘stomach ulcers’ and that he died as a result of eating ‘spicy food’ and then I’d be in the kitchen looking at the ‘spices’ and encouraged to ‘poison’ her with them. As if I would ever have done something so stupid, even if she at times really fucking deserved it.)

There is a reason that a person has to be born the eldest, it is significant in many religious practices. And the fact that I was born with both genders was significant too. It does matter who the eldest is. My siblings would not have gotten away with the shit that they gotten upto if I had been the eldest, if I had not been entrusted to them. I know that I was sexually abused by my sister, but my brother took the blame.

And I am supposed to be a prophecy fulfilled for the return of a Queen of Zion but frankly you aren’t ready for that. It’d kill you all, wouldn’t it. I was stolen from a woman called Beryl and a man called Antony. My “mother” was infertile. They chose my sister because my sister has an afro. I think that people time travelled and made very great efforts to ensure that I was not born. FAILED A BIT.

It is significant to geneticists, because through me, my spiritual teacher’s family were able to produce a child called Matty, that had ‘white person’ hair. I actually sort of prayed that Lisa would be given a child and I was told “It will be painful.”

Well, yes, seeing a little boy with skin in the perfect shade of caramel fake tan that has never been taught ballet, walking like a ballet dancer to school was painful. But I think that for Lisa to find out that her husband had put her spirit into her sister’s body and put his sister’s spirit into her body and that that was the reason that the baby ended up confused over who his ‘real mother’ is, is hilarious.


Probably a black man, though, who must’ve fancied my mother for her hair because that’s really the only thing that black people seem to envy about white people. That is mind control. But I’d happily give my hair-genes to black people if thats what they wanted to ‘feel beautiful’ – but do you want the other stuff? The body hair? Probably not. But there are benefits, to my body hair, I am so physically sensitive that if the right person touches me its probably the same as when white people experience their first ever orgasm with their third husband.

LOOKIT ME PLAYING DRESS UP. I did this at about 8 AM. It all looks very elaborate but really I put my hair in a ponytail and put on some eyeliner and lipgloss.

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I used to look in the mirror and measure my nose with a ruler and I’d think “my father is a black man”. I once actually said, as a teenager, “mum, did you have sex with a black man, because this is a black man’s nose.”

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Black people ARE Jews. I was told “not all black people are Jews”, but they are. You can choose any religion that you like, you can choose any cultural identity you like – but you’re still semitic. There were THIRTEEN tribes, not twelve.

The Prophet Mohammed (trust me, we knew each other. Peace be upon him my ass, he’s a vampire. There is NO way that HH – the retard (IM FLIRTING) responsible for our genetic make up – would let someone that had that affect on the Planet just DIE.) was in love with a Jewess and her people wouldn’t let them be together, because Jews have laws that keep them apart from people that are not Jews. For their safety, it was for safety.


ANYWAY I ALSO BOUGHT THESE YUMMY YUMMY

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It’s not food porn – because I don’t have sexual feelings about the appearance of food – EVEN PHALLIC FOOD – so it isn’t sexual but if when you say ‘food porn’ you mean ‘it makes me want to eat it’ then yes it is food porn and yes I am adorable with lollipops/cute foods in my mouth.

X

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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WIDT

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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[image ref]

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