Posts from the Nagging Category

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

I have had several bowls of coco pops today. I was actually really dwelling on how I am now one of those people that consumes cereals more than once a day. I’m a poor sim. (Nono, this is the second or third day I’ve been eating cereals. I’m in it for the chocolate milk. My budget doesn’t permit chocolate milk. My guilt function makes it really difficult to buy things that I need to recycle because I hate to wash the packaging so I leave it sitting in the sink and end up binning it anyway.)

My Tescos shop is coming in on Tuesday, I think. I’ll have to snoop around for a pound or two for some extra milk.

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I am waiting for paint and glue to dry. My artists studio? um flat? has gotten twenty times cuter. I am pretending to be riche with a £12 William Morris-ish wallpaper I bought from Wilkos by pasting it into the cupboard. It has changed the vibe of my flat from at least one angle.

I bought that trunk for about ten pounds and I’ve been doing little things to it. The lady in the shop said it was from the Victorian Era (she might’ve said inspired by or something to that effect) but I don’t know that they had turquoise dyes back then. It’s unimportant because I love it.

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Here is me donning some shorts I dyed purple when I was living at Bernie’s.

I’ve had a productive day and the laxative I took yesterday hasn’t worked. Apparently you’re supposed to take another but if you have this condition in the long term it’s a bad idea. Your body starts to rely on the laxatives. If you take a laxative just before you manage to go and your stomach is empty – then you get serious cramps. Actually if you’ve ever wanted to know what period cramps feel like, it’s like that.

The level of friendship between my audienceship (I was delighted to learn that a viewer read my blog yesterday) and myself has sort of evolved into an exchange about my bowel movements.

We’re in the over-familiar stage of relationship territory. We’re basically related now. Nono, yes.

I say this laughingly but actually toilet jokes and that humour in general grosses me out. I have momentum about speaking about this while it’s bothering me, while I try to sort it out again and I know that there are other people who suffer this that don’t have the guts that I do, to discuss it. Some people are triggered by toilet talk and it isn’t because they demand a super-human-feminine-performance from other human beings. It’s cos it’s a very real form of suffering.

You could be having the time of your life but this is the most like, silent (stop) form of bio-torture you can imagine.

I will stop writing about it because I want to manifest health but my intention really is that other people acknowledge that it’s technically a disability if you shit less frequently than a day or two apart.

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This is a thing I did today, to be productive, for my future self. If you want something to do, find a site that lets you do a thing you like to do and be your most unboring self on it. my most unboring self warns you that it is a mess and it doesn’t meet her standards of graphic design at all but my heart is warmed by my own note to myself so I’m inclined to share. I mean um. Do your future self a favour today. It could be organising a stocking/hosiery drawer. Not that millennials have those. (No, I don’t have one of those. I would like to.)

Bigcartel is one of those customisable sites that let people sell things. I wanted to make a depop account but apparently the entire universe wouldn’t let me do that, so I mosied on over to Bigcartel who are apparently doing a lowkey beta test thing, so you can sign up for a shop for FREE. I actually think that Bigcartel is quite a chic little site for selling things on. This is a designer I like who uses Bigcartel to sell clothes I have dreamt of buying for years and years and years of my life. If you are a weeb, you will like her clothes. 

She is famous because the oui/non tshirts were her thing. This is the director Sofia Coppola in one of those tshirts. Sofia C. directed a lot of films that a lot of trendy hipsters like and that a lot of under twenty-fives don’t know about. My favourite of her films are Marie Antoinette and the Virgin Suicides.

Sofia Coppola is in no small part responsible for Instagram Pastel Goths.

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In the Fashion World it is a big deal if you start or bring in a trend. Eeeven if the trend is leggings or wedges or ballet buns.

I was thinking of this L’ecole Des Femmes dress

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(which I bought after thinking about it for a million yearws) when I bought…

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Didyoureadthispostabout

The most beautiful bag in the World?

I am actually rarely taken by handbags. This handbag is my favourite ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

this Roald Dahl

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

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

Fafi: a Parisian Graffiti artist

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Miss Van, also a French artist

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and the fifth character along’s everything

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I imagine her character was somewhat inspired by this

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This page from my Brighton Sketch Diary

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

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

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

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

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

 

It’s taken me longer than usual to write this post. I should really tidy and make my bed. I took these photos on Friday morning. It’s now Saturday afternoon. I have to run out to meet a few of my daily errands.

Here is a rule I’ve learned as someone who has been consistently fucked over – whether I knew about it at the time or not – the people that fucked me over paid for doing it. Like – they really, really paid. If the people that fucked me over knew me at all they also would’ve learned to “carry on” as if they were not suffering: because that is how I suffer.

I would’ve learned that from my mother – dancers are in constant agony and that is why their careers very seldom last for longer than a period of twenty or so years. I am sure the span of their careers are also related to how little they typically ate throughout the lives they spent training – they eat little to avoid having ‘body builder’ physiques and even the men don’t particularly want to look like inflated wildebeast/brontesaurus hybrids leaping (sometimes their own heights distance) into the air, amongst delicate petite women as ballerinas were encouraged to appear. It is a digression from what was supposed to be a concise paragraph about karma but I am still in shock at how stupid people have to be to believe that footballers really are that bulky. I eat more meat than most human beings do and have done so all my life. There are plenty of things I know nothing about – but their bodies, you can’t lie to me about. If only because I’ve met too many physiotherapists and specialists. I’m still trying to work out the memory of me going to a doctor because I wanted to have my leg muscle “shaved down”. You know you can affect my memories and most people I have personally known that liked football have later realised that it was quite likely that the worst moments in their lives and their torn apart families were probably affected by footballers doing the same to them. These men should not have been made celebrities of. Their wives should not have been made celebrities of. These are not the kinds of people that we should encourage young people to idolise. And whether we like it or not, we are constantly looking to other people for qualities deserving to be emulated. It’s probably an evolutionary trait.

And when it comes to people paying for fucking you over – if people are suffering over unacceptable decisions they made out of selfishness – they often do everything they can to hide the fact from you. A person who had made your life difficult to suit themselves or to soothe whatever you were doing that was fucking them up (I was just living and uninterested in football.) is paying for it. You might not see it, but know it.

I don’t like to watch people suffer and nor do I like to know that they’re suffering either. If you knew how much pain dancers were in, you wouldn’t want to watch them dance.

It’s all relative. This is a big deal to me and you might think it’s okay because I don’t seem pissed off – I am pissed off. I am furious. I have been through so much that it actually isn’t really possible to work out the time length of my reaction. I mean my sister told me she was gang raped and woke up with two men in a hotel room and many, many condoms scattered across the floor. It took me a few years to explode – and I know that there were consequences – and to add insult to injury I know that everyone knows who did it and I know that the people that did it or had any remote involvement whatsoever know that I don’t even know their names.

I despise my sister and I probably wouldn’t get on with the kinds of women that are mind controlled into the idea of enjoying rape fantasies with men that they might’ve convinced themselves would’ve been able to cope with being in relationships with them. I would not be friends with those women, I sometimes think my sister would be worthy of the death penalty for the stuff she did to me as a child – I am still that pissed off it happened. It’s not about those women in particular – it’s about the fact that someone has to be accountable for this and if society allows it to be those women they have ruined the lives of every woman they know. It’ll take time to realise and I have plenty.

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I feel quite awful because I still can’t find my phone and a gentleman was supposed to come over today to help me tidy my room. It’s funny how one can coincidentally lose things in such a tiny living space when one has appointments that they need to make. I don’t believe in coincidences though.

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Today I donned Kari’s Naked Dress

(Dear Kim Cattrall, I heard along the grapevine that is Wendy Williams – that you had a fall out with your co-stars. I know how it feels to fall out with people – especially younger friends – that you look out and that actually quite took your influence in their life for granted and I know how it feels to feel betrayed (women betray one another all the time and usually we don’t care or turn a blind eye but when we actually feel it – it’s terrible) through your most difficult and hardest times, but there are lots of women – amongst them myself – and men, actually – straight and gay – who dream of a SATC come back. I don’t have the stomach for watching sex scenes unless it’s you girls… and actually I think it’s a very important time for women to stop regressing to the 50’s. I am not asking you to be FRIENDS with them – I am begging that you ask your management to ensure that you are the highest paid cast member – and publicised for being so – and interviewed about it “well ofcourse, Samantha is the star of the show. They’re nothing without her.” ALL THE BETRAYED SAMANTHA’S NEED YOU TO DO IT – and to dedicate all that fury towards the angriest-Samantha that the World has ever seen, we actually haven’t seen her truly angry – apart from when Bailey okayed you for flypostering your cheating monster boyf – I swear on my life I think I heard an agreeable gunshot outside) (I also think that if they can manage to include within the script that there has been a fallout amongst the cast it would help a lot of women learn to apologise to other women – who deserve apologies – and how to fix friendships.) (YOU DON’T HAVE TO MEAN IT – PLEASE DON’T MEAN IT AT ALL – BUT IT WOULD HELP A LOT OF WOMEN. TRUST ME.) (I mean my “friends” were only ever “acting” as friends anyway and I’m sure most friendships between women who are in the same line of work would be the same)

and a leopard print pyjama shirt with a pair of nude tights from Bloch.

I don’t have the budget for such fantastic pairs of tights but theres an online sale and I advise this brand before any other. They’re made to be worn and not to tear or lose shape because they’re for dancers.

They sucked you in in all the right places before people knew that underwear could do that and – not that I am – I’m legit not actually –  I shower like Keith Flint back in his rockstar days (UNOFTEN – unless my shower is really pretty – it’s not right now) they are made to absorb a lot of moisture and it’s difficult to make them smelly.  Notice the marks from where they were sucking me in. FYI I’m into tights and the marks that clothes that fit too tightly leave. I know that makes anorexic women want to cry but thank GOD they’re out of fashion now.)

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FYI I’d like to think I am a little bit of all of those characters, (Or Big’s mother. Tell me that Mr Biggles isn’t one of my future sons)

Actually it makes sense that biggles would get jelly about the Jazz Man.

I love like Samantha has sex – and I fantasise over the arts and domesticity and bento lunch boxes like Charlotte does (but I am more kawaii) and I have a lowkey admiration for SINCERE, bald, Jewish guys – WITH DEGREES – with hilarious temper problems that I can bully (there is little I can bullied for back about), I guiltlessly overshare my personal life and obsess about myself at inappropriate times and prefer the idea of having a wardrobe full of my own handbags and shoes rather than sharing one with a husband, like Carrie and I think that I aspire to someday be a Miranda-esque cut-throat professional of somekind. Also they all sort of bully men in their own way and what a time to be alive. Men have been bullying us for years.

went grocery shopping, had a look – both – in & around some of the local charity shoppes and visited the brick-a-brack. (Actually it isn’t a brick-a-brack; it’s a fantastic shoppe that sells pieces you really won’t find anywhere else. I’d like to make a proper video about it in a month, so Brighton has some time to learn to mind their manners.)

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(I imagine that biggles would say “like HELL are you my mother in those shoes, but thanks for taking back Vans”)

This song came on when I was snooping around in a charity shoppe. (poor biggles)

I had to avoid the Vintage Workshoppe today because I’d of spent ALL OF MY MONEY. If you live in Brighton it is your favourite shoppe that you did not know existed.

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I have Tiger-Lily feet in this photograph. I can dance like Tiger-Lily – IN PUBLIC – and make all the other girls wish they could dance like Tiger-Lily IN PUBLIC too but. If I’m not doing it you don’t have the guts. I know I should delete it from history because I am hunching a bit and I am not accentuating my curves the way that Betty Page would’ve expected all of her slutbaby-sittees to, but if you can’t comfortably do this – don’t pretend you can comfortably do otherwise.

(Remember, the upside down pyramid represents FEMALE energy. So these are men with male bodies and female energy – before we are physical forms we are energy, so.)

Also it’s worth noting – and this is the real reason why Big won’t have babies with Carrie – that in Peter Pan that it’s an OLDER woman carrying a baby on her back in a papoose. The Levis and the Bigs have ‘milf’ fetishes. It makes their lives really difficult.

Like women who are into men carrying babies and being maternal and shit,  Levis are into women carrying babies. This fucks some people up because it leads to conversations that they do not want to have or otherwise can’t have outloud. Trust me to tell you all.

So – some women and men go into “BABY VOICE” mode (I live in baby voice mode – remember though, that I spent most of my life asleep and alone. And that by the age of about. um. thirteen? Most human beings have left the house more than me at twenty nine and spoken to more people than me, at twenty nine.) and I know that I attract people who are into that – for whatever reasons – but also those people then get accused of being ‘pedophiles’ and all sorts of nasty stuff like that.

At some point we will need Madeleine McCann to come out of whatever Russian Hideyhole they’ve got her in to explain what a REAL pedophile is. Real Pedophiles have evolved, they have lots of pretty children – even though they’re very rarely in love with their partners – and get jobs where they’re entrusted with positions that let them into people’s homes – like becoming “police men” or “firemen” and they do all their pedophilia stuff within the safety of their police and firemen appointed blocks of residential flats while their wife prepares them a meal. They like to get their pretty kids to hang out with other pretty kids and watch them do all sorts of weird stuff – they occupy the bodies of those pretty kids and those kids end up with memories that keep them mortified late into life. Fortunately that doctor ass raping me with an enema while four nurses held me down gave me such severe ptsd that I have forgotten MOST of the stuff I did in those pedophile rings. It was so kind of my colleagues at University to have reminded me of those terrible stories that I had to consume drugs to forget, with the kind of nonchalance that has me until now wondering how they got into University/survived into adulthood at all.

See you think that I’m the only person that this can be done to, but actually if you were a Jewish man you’d have been taught to be grateful for not being born a woman because it can be done to ALL women. AND SOME MEN TOO.

I have no idea how the fuck Jesus Christ controlled his erections when he was posing for those paintings but men get them ALL THE FUCKING TIME. THEY CAN’T HELP IT. MAYBE A CHILD BRUSHED UP AGAINST HIS CROTCH. WHO THE FUCK KNOWS.

I don’t know about Big being portrayed as particularly spiritual but if you are spiritual you believe that your baby and it’s mother are sharing energy when they’re pregnant. That is a nice way of saying “they take turns occupying the mother’s body”. A lot of women don’t know about that and there aren’t many men who will be prepared to explain it the way I can.

I did go to a spiritual school that taught it’s students NOT to have sex unless they were specifically trying to get pregnant. Government schools do not teach you this because they encourage young people to fall in love and have sex – they sell on the fetuses that young girls get aborted and do plenty of weird stuff for the wealthy – who often aren’t in love and who often aren’t raising their own children because they know too much about the World to be able to fall in love. Then there’s the fact that – AND IT IS IN THE BIBLE – it takes THREE to fall in love AND have babies. Scientists will tell you that “falling in love” is a chemical imbalance in the brain – that is why people who are in love all the time seem completely drunk. Men and women who go around fucking everything in the absence of love are important – for a few reasons – women NEED slutty women because those women put men in their place. This is a good thing for social evolution and it is also a bad thing, because some men get led away from relationships where they could’ve genuinely loved a person (and having sex before you’ve hung out with someone for two weeks is not going to make him love you, nor will making him marry you/making him so jealous that he marries you to stop you cheating on him/fucking with his abandonment and mummy issues that I irresponsibly joked about in my early twenties and which women used to coerce men into relationships that have fucked them up so much and that they can’t leave LITERALLY because they’re too embarrassed for me to know that I – AND MY SPIRITUAL TEACHERS – MANY OF THEM MATURE WOMEN WHO WERE PROMISCUOUS IN THEIR YOUTHS – WAS RIGHT.)

I am anti BDSM. I think it’s grotesque. I think most people aren’t mature or intelligent enough to really acknowledge the affect it has on any living thing’s brain. The ONE – ONE argument I can honestly advocate for towards it’s benefit is : if you want a sex life, sometimes you have to do stuff that would keep your weird spiritual child – THAT YOU STOLE – out of your bedroom. By doing stuff that scares them. I don’t know.

Anyway. POOR LEVIS AND BIGS. Also if you were to research the archetypes in the Greek Pantheon you’d learn that we have a karmic history wherein daughters/sons/mothers/fathers fall in love with one another and it affects families. If i humped your leg as a child, I’m very sorry, I wasn’t in love with you and I probably wasn’t attracted to you – I was bored and I really didn’t think you knew I was doing it. Also I wouldn’t of associated it with sex because I didn’t know what sex was until I was at least eight? I did pretend to be stupid for a lot of my infancy because I learned that if you pretend to be stupid you can eavesdrop on conversations and the ‘adults’ will think you don’t know what they’re talking about. I grew up with a brother ten years my senior, who was a drug addict at fifteen and a LOT of his friends. I mean most of my memories are very isolated but I have a few cool ones and I held onto those like that guy in Cast Away holds onto Wilson. His friend.

I think at some point in my infancy I genuinely decided I wanted to sleep until I was an adult. And for the most part I actually did that. So take that as far as you want. I think that I love like a child does (and I think Carrie’s character and her friends – BAR SAMANTHA YOU GODDESS do too) (do you have any idea how much guts it takes to portray a woman with a man’s sexual appetite? probably not because that requires empathy and apparently most people don’t have that unless they’ve grown up experiencing serious, serious abuse.) thats quite nice for people like Big – and probably Levi (apparently his mother IS a prostitute but I’ve not seen any episodes with her in them yet and I’m KEEN to) who are professionals in psychotic industries, surrounded by sociopaths who get married for status and visit dominatrixes because thats the only thing that actually gives them an erection – and women who know too much to be genuine and really do only want you for your money.

And then that is how “the game” happened. The game is a thing that men do where they basically do the stuff every man they think you’ve loved has done to you – you know how you rudely watch my memories? Ladies? Men can do that to you. They tell you they can’t – but they can. And they do. Sometimes they make you think that you are sexually turned on by being abused but you’re not – if you read Germaine Greer’s “the Whole Woman” you’d learn that sexual energy comes from people with penises. So no – YOU’RE not turned on – HE IS. It’s SHARING energy. And sometimes you are sharing energy with men who aren’t even physically in the same room as you. But lets return to “The Game.”

Some men, for example footballers, are retarded. They have never been in love, mostly. They wouldn’t want to have become footballers if they had ever been in love. They play the game and that involves seeing how much they can get away with doing to a woman under the guise of ‘unconditional love’. This means they steal “personal jokes” from your first relationship, they create ‘levels’ through which they engage with women, if you were one of the lucky ones that got bought lots of gifts by ‘daddy’ then they’ll buy you lots of gifts (fucking HAHAHAHAHAA by the way) – a lot of men have been leaving their bodies since infancy to stalk women and watch them do stuff, going to the toilet, showering, bathing etc. So they aren’t very clever. If you want to know what books they’ve read, you have to find out which women they’ve been stalking.

So if you’re one of those women that had tingly feelings reading Dave Pelzer – that’s probably one of the men in your life, don’t worry. But they do later use that to fuck you over with and make you feel guilty about. They might’ve heard stuff about “twinflames” or read about BDSM – and guilt is a form of controlling another person. If you have never loved anyone, if you married the first person you slept with – they’re not your twinflame. Gamers will understand. Twinflames are your “final boss” in IN-LOVE relationships. They’re all of your life lessons condensed into one person.

People that play football left school at sixteen – and if they have learned too much about social hierarchies like the Illuminati, they try to dominate everyone that they know to climb a ladder it takes many, many, many familial generations to climb – TOGETHER -, even if it means stalking women and faking all of their in-love relationships by doing stuff their first boyfriends did

Now I’ll explain MY family. My sister is not an academic. She was good at GCSE level maths and manipulating men. Not as good as me, but good enough. The difference between us is that she grew up with Omi – who told her the truth about boyland.

I was not told the truth. I listened at Sunday School and I actually concentrated on watching my favourite shows – which taught me how to speak. Even if I could manipulate men, and perform an attraction – I wouldn’t – because it would be dishonest. She wanted to be a ‘lawyer’ when she grew up because my mother encouraged that aspiration, and I think that’s great. Whereas she could only get so far because even though she had a private education, and I mostly didn’t, she hadn’t paid any attention to spiritual laws. If you ignore spiritual laws – which are a bigger deal than the laws that make police feel im-pow-tant – you aren’t going to get very far with the Illuminati, thats for sure.

That is why people like Tupac are important – that is why people like Ville Valo – who sang about LOVE were important. That is why Disney films are important. That is why secret societies like O.T.O are important.

Your shadowself might want power but if the self you show to everyone isn’t as flawless as how the Catholics like to portray the Virgin Mary (who was a compulsive liar – and had to be – or she’d of been buried in a hole with her head sticking out and stoned to fucking death) – your shadow self is fucked. And we are constantly alternating between the two of those. And all the selves in between those.

My shadow self and my “light” self are quite aligned. My Shadow self loves the idea of power – because she can use her power to do “good” things. My lightself likes pot plants and enjoys watering them. My shadow self enjoys how much it pisses people off that I can take care of pot plants. My lightself likes to make food that is pretty so she can take a photograph of it and also because she likes food that tastes nice. My shadow self enjoys how much it pisses people off that no one has taught me to cook and that generally, my meals taste better than any of the food I’ve been served by chefs that weren’t working at my favourite junk food franchises. My lightself is actually much crueller, to other people, than my shadowself – my lightself will say out of honesty if she doesn’t like what you’re wearing. She’d feel like a liar if she didn’t and she’d feel terrible for it. My shadow self would tell you that you are beautiful as you are and would justify doing so using spiritual laws that teach that it is wrong to be superficial.

You cannot be Illuminati if you have not had a spiritual education. It will kill you.

Another thing: if you want to be Illuminati, you have to be good at something. And not just one thing – you have to be good at lots of things. The idea is that we evolve through learning. Not playing a game and competing with people. That is not evolution unless you are doing sports – football is not a sport because it is actually quite UNSPORTSMANLY. It is a game – but it is not a sport. Martial Arts are sometimes a sport, but that is only if you have learned about honour and respect. It combines philosophy and all sorts of humanitarian arts and sciences that footballers have no braincell capacities for.

My talent is communicating. I am so good at it they had to put me in a hospital and render me afraid of expressing myself. That is a very stupid thing to have done to someone that you believed was mute. And yes, I suppose I was. People certainly thought so. If you want to converse with me I have to feel safe in your company – that means I have to trust you. That means you have to be your vulnerable self. You can act fake and disingenuous around me if it gives you an upperhand, but I will do the same. And what I have to say will stick in your memory and what you have to say will be swiftly erased from mine. More often than not it is. The PTSD. Thats what happens.

So to that.. the shock that people get that I can write but that I won’t speak to them, and when I do sometimes try to write to people they occasionally won’t reply or get obnoxious about it and start playing a word game with me when actually a conversation with me has the capacity to take you out of that “game” you shat yourselves into – because I have social status – whether you OR I like it or not – and actually the truth is that my being a mute child was a result of feeling I was being lied to and that people were unable to communicate honestly.

I think at some point some of these men accessed information from the free masons – who WORSHIP WOMEN (and not in the way that people who practice BDSM “worship” women – as in they truly believe that women are divine) or spiritual schools – but never got an education that accompanied that information. Or 4chan. There’s a lot of weird stuff on 4chan. These men could not compete with me conversationally because I would embarrass them – we’d both know they were repeating things they’d learned from stalking my family, my teachers and myself or that they’d seen on TV. They’ve since learned that the media is endorsed by all sorts of financial entities (they’ve even been stupid enough to invest in a few – whereas they’d only previously done so to have their wives appear as celebrities in “Hello Magazine” or to arrange to have their wives insulted for having cellulite and stretchmarks two weeks after shitting out a baby that both of them ought to have known could not have been theirs) and that not a single one of their opinions is generally their own.

I would encourage you to read ALL OF DAN BROWN’S BOOKS. I learned a LOT from DAN BROWN’S BOOKS. YOU TOO MIGHT ALSO LEARN A LOT FROM DAN BROWN’S BOOKS.

We’re coming up to the worst bit, one sec. Imagine falling asleep at five or six and waking up very occasionally in between to go to school on days when you didn’t need to take a shit – and then going to University so you could finally do drugs and dance like your big brother did. And then realising at some point that everyone in life was competing over the most fucking ridiculous shit and that neither you nor they had even the vaguest understanding of how stupid it would be to compete with someone who had never had any motivation to do stuff when she realised she was never going to be a famous actor.

As in – you are this threatened by someone who has been mostly asleep since she was a child. And that the years she spent awake she was on drugs that supposedly make you “stupid”. I went to school once or twice a week, on good months, my entire life. Your sixteen years at school definitely beats my .. um. Maybe year or two attending school. And you are that rude to someone that has been a victim of a system that you think you have any business running, when actually you are perpetuating it into an oblivion that will – honestly – have you all wishing for your own deaths.

Obviously that is a very sardonic version of a life story but if you wanted the abridged version that would be it. I know you like the bits with abuse, you can read my entire blog for those. I am bored of those. I am bored of the idea of your girlfriends using Tor (i think an ex-crush of mine programmed that because he was embarrassed that I could see who was lurking my tumblr – literally thats why Tor exists. EMBARRASSING ISNT IT) or private browsers to read my blog or watch Zoella videos and that you actually use them to do so and the idea that you might do the sexual energy thing when I talk about how shit my life was, on my blog, is also. ugh. so. embarrassing.

But lets return to slutty women and slutty men and sex and the city.

Slutty men are also important – but not for any good reason, and particularly to the NHS – because they can be used to impregnate women who are only sleeping with them to get over the fact that that they’re in love with someone who prefers the town bicycleta (I LOVE THE TOWN BICYCLETA – IF SHE STAYS AWAY FROM MY BOYFRIEND/S SHE IS THE BEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD TO ME AND SHE’LL BE DAMNED TO FIND A BETTER WINGMAN TO ENABLE HER FEMINIST-FORWARD SLUTTINESS), to transmit STDs and STIs that get fertile women into clinics where they can do all sorts of tests on them and tell them all sorts of lies, and generally they are only tested for fertility (because every guy you meet is planned for you, in advance, particularly if you’ve attended a government school – but especially if you attended school with ME) and later arranged to have abortions. That’s right – every abortion that you – you and you have had was PLANNED. BY SOMEONE ELSE. SOMEONE YOU’VE PROBABLY NEVER MET AND WILL NEVER MEET.

If you think your ‘state school’ education was free, you’ve been lied to. Nothing is free. SOMEONE pays.

You can give someone a gift, but if you are giving it as a “GIFT” from the “heart” – that is, your highest self wants to sacrifice something out of true and sincere generosity – that means that YOU are paying for it on their behalf. A friend once said, after I joked – and really I was joking – that I wanted a “gift back” after I took him to charity shoppes and bought him a few things (I LOVE giving people gifts, it brings me so much happiness).

If you give something to someone expecting to get something – or worse – TAKE something back – or out of some engagement with a ‘game’ or because you might’ve somehow come across the story of Hades and Persephone – well fine. Lets explore that.

Archetypes are important to me. Who is Hades? Who is Persephone?

Persephone is the daughter of the demi-Goddess Demeter who controls the seasons. She is so close to her daughter that when her daughter goes to Hades she spends Autumn and Winter in absolute fucking misery and depression. The entire Planet suffers for it. Animals die. Harvests die. People die. But both she and her daughter stick to the agreement.

Then lets consider Hades. As an archetype – not a sexual archetype. It could be but I don’t think thats a spiritual path that many people could cope with taking.

To me Hades represents an archetype of an immortal being who was betrayed by his brothers – his entire family actually – and who resided amongst the dead with a three headed dog to guard the entrance of his home, the dead – that is –  who were living their karma as non-physical beings in a dimension or thought-landscape that probably wasn’t especially pleasant. Although I’ve never read descriptions of his home or seen depictions of the interior detailings of his home.

You’re told by Disney that “he rules the Underworld” but I don’t know that it means the same to us – species that have ‘monarchies’ and hierarchies – as it does to non-physical. It could just mean that his body is occupied by the dead.  He is surrounded by beings who are suffering because they DESERVE to – because they NEED to – to GROW.

He gives Persephone some food. Apparently all he had was a pomegranate. Karmically the seeds were so valuable to him that it cost her half a year of her life in his company. Eating that little of his food put her in that much karmic debt. Try to see it as a means of illustrating the Theory of Relativity, try to see it as a means of explaining that our interactions and our actions have prices – before making it a sexual fantasy through which you could somehow fashion your romantic relationships.

And then consider that they were chatting while she ate his food. He might’ve shared a lot of information that sped forward her karmic lessons. He might’ve taught her things that he paid a lot to learn – that’s not free either. What did it take for him to acquire that pomegranate? Her mother being in a good mood, perhaps.

Do not – please – do not romanticise archetypes for stories that have nothing to do with you. That is another reason that stories like Sex and the City are great. “I want to be a hard working woman like Miranda Hobbs, who doesn’t adhere to societal norms about what it means to be feminine, who spends her own hard-earned cash money and who has been decently educated and could probably hang out at the country club with fancy barristers and judges but cultivates a meaningful and genuine friendship with women she shares very basic things in common with and that it brings a lot of pleasure into her life to do so.”

We all have varying levels of education and they do matter. You can intrude upon and remotely watch someone having an art class but that doesn’t really being to prepare you for what it takes to be in an art class. It doesn’t teach you how to cope with competitive, insecure artists, it doesn’t teach you anything. You might watch a youtube video about pottery but that still doesn’t have even the remotest comparison to being taught by someone that has travelled the World and had to adapt to be able to learn a craft like that. Don’t compare yourselves to masters – don’t sexualise being a master. Masters very rarely have friends and their life paths are fucking tough. If you believe you are stupid, that is something you can take straight to an interview for an adult learning course.

And that on this Planet if you mistreat a woman carrying a baby it probably renders you infertile for a LONG TIME. If you decide you’d make a better parent than that person, first of all you have no idea what karmic lessons their baby (if it is their baby) would’ve wanted to learn and what that baby’s life purpose was. There’s this thing in the bible about “judging” – it is very rarely your place to judge. If you want to be a “judge”, study the law and learn to argue for both sides of an argument because you have to be able to do that to meet any kind of truth. And if you want to start playing a spiritual teacher – learn spiritual laws. Learn all of them. Appreciate every religion because our species would not have evolved if religion served no purpose. I do believe that you can transcend the need for religion, particularly when it has the tendency to become dogmatic, but first know the laws and the truth that they afford humanity. It’s not an instruction, but it’s a very important suggestion.

Try watching Sex and the City from a man’s perspective – that everyone that any of those women dated or fucked was arranged for them. The one man that Samantha could have loved – as in a man who was as driven as her professionally and successful and attractive enough for her to introduce to her gaggle of babes – ended up cheating with a woman or many – probably many – by far beneath her in every respect and ruining her life. Which would have affected her career. I mean if we are talking Illuminati the narrative changes entirely. These characters were kept single, were kept sexually active, were somehow kept away from their families (and for some people – that is a good thing I’ll admit.) and were kept in jobs where they were qualified to do much more.

I recall that an ex “friend” once commented (lets just say I was her sexy babysitter and that I should’ve been paid but I wasn’t. All I got was a crappy “benefit” lipstick that I would never have worn and a tacky cross necklace that again, I only wore once on the day it was gifted to me.) that the “charlotte” character has a miscarriage and that “carrie’s” character is so self obsessed that she makes it all about her.
It is ironic to me that she could have made such a comment, when she did so much worse to me in our friendship.
But where spirituality is concerned – why did she have that miscarriage? What men are they connected to – that could have been eaves dropping influenced that conversation?

I mean – you use what I’ve written here to explore your favourite stories. They’re all of our stories. I am really interested by history – why did Bloody Mary keep having miscarriages? I mean – obviously because the country hated being catholic – and why did people pretend that Elizabeth the first was going to marry any of the men she was being introduced to? Were she and her ladies in waiting being drugged at night and then raped? PROBABLY, YES.

SAD. Almost as sad as the World making my family – who have lived so humbly – responsible for something that has nothing to do with them – and through our being humble, have decided that they can COMPETE with our family. A world that would venerate someone like “The Queen of England” when we all know she had Lady Diana murdered, while she was pregnant.

I mean how stupid are you all? Why is it too late to insist that she is not given a percentage of your taxes? Or to give her a lie detector test? (Many, in fact)

FEELING STUPID IS HARD. I WAS CALLED STUPID ALL MY LIFE. Do you know what you do? You accept that. Thats what I did. I agreed that I must have been – I didn’t get the same grades as my peers. I wasn’t in the top groups. I had no validation to suggest otherwise.
I learned to find value in other kinds of intelligence besides academia. That does not remove the value of academia – you might suck at school but there might be other things you’re better at doing than everyone else. Sadly mine was winning arguments.

The idea that you knew anything that I didn’t and you are STILL THIS STUPID is SHOCKING.

Back to the Peter Pan Video. Up there amongst the text.

Actually I’ve been thinking lately that it would be really cool if we had a sexy effeminate/raver/pop/electro/goth Native American popstar that was too good for white women and still lived with and probably toured with his aunts/mothers/sisters. We have never had one of those.

Because I haven’t got enough to do, I’m starting a blog about Brighton Streetwear. I really liked people’s outfits today but I think you need a link to redirect them to if you’re going to approach them to ask if you can photograph them. I’ll get onnit today. I updated my LookBook. I have had three views and I credit them all to myself. A’thankyou. (Maybe I am also Charlotte’s Jewish husband’s mother as well)

This song just came on YouTube and I think I’ll leave it here as a post finale.

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.