Pls pls pls pay attention to all the soundtracks included in my post, infantile as they might seem
This is what I look like right now. I’ve got my baphomet tshirt on, inside out, with an illustration of me by Levi. And a little bun! I like to think of it as a ballerina bun but really a girl once called it a “samurai knot” and I like that much more. Did you know that the most valued part of a samurai’s anatomy was the little finger? It’s what keeps a samurai’s balance when he’s wielding his little weapon – without the little finger, balance is lost. Apparently. I have a rather expressive little finger, don’t you think? Samurais believed that suicide could be an honourable death. And when a Samurai would cut off their little finger, it was a kind of suicide.
Today I woke up and my little meditative journey took me to Islam? I had a rather important chat with a fellow-student from University about his faith and it seems I had a lot to tell him that he didn’t previously know. So I guess thats why it’s in my head. I’ve linked him to my blog before, I was really only repeating myself.. I guess he’s not much of a reader. That’s okay. Words don’t really teach anyway.
Here are some personal facts to offer some context for my thought journey. Firstly – I personally see honour in dying for a belief. It’s potentially stupid. Like whenever I see depictions of Mary Magdalene looking at Dead Jesus, is it a coincidence that she looks pissed off? Like.. “you fucking retard” kind of pissed off? This is a scan I got of a postcard from a charity shop, years ago.
But being a martyr can be revolutionary. I suppose it’s ultimately about the ‘value’ of the sacrifice of the life that you’re giving up for the sake of your belief, but maybe this requires more thought. How do you quantify the a value of a life? I haven’t taken my thought journey there yet so I can’t say – yet.
I know there’s always a risk in expressing opinions but I’d like to think that if you offer some kind of disclaimer in which you specify that you’ve not formulated any conclusions – you keep it all open. Thought seeds, you know. Personally … I don’t think there is another being on this Planet that can possibly know another person’s worth or potential. Value is something you give yourself, maybe even something you give to your other selves – but first it’s something you give yourself.
But I was thinking about terrorism, about freedom fighters, about self-sacrifice specifically in the realm of the Islamic faith. This sounds potentially profound maybe but it isn’t at all. Basically… Supposedly if you die as a Jihadi, you get sent to a particular heaven with SEVEN hairless virgins.
Is that really an incentive to die for a ..faith..? I mean, the root of Islam is Judaism, and there is no Heaven in Judaism. Do you think perhaps this Heaven was a lie? Like I said, not judging, just speculating.
It’s less of a religion discussion and more of an observation of the male mentality.
I’m making an effort – with some limit -to depict the things I’ve been made to feel insecure about, which is my entire physical body. I’d like to think there’s something here for any audience – a nasty girl or guy who makes herself feel better by looking at people’s flaws, a girl/guy who just wants to love herself/himself, a harmless, decided pervert who doesn’t actually bother to READ or familiarise him or herself with any kind of context or acknowledge the voice of the ‘object’ d’art he uses to create a mental picture with for a five minute masturbatory session. You can click on these, they get bigger, enjoy the details. Whatever your mental conditioning, there’s something for you.
The CEO of Godsgirls once said that she envisioned a porn site that allowed the viewer a glimpse into the “bedrooms” of the models on her site – I think of this statement in a figurative way… basically she wanted to sell a “personal” image that would appeal to a consumer that represented a market that wanted a real girl in her real space that was also hot enough to be a glorified porn star/super model, but was just chilling at home being ridiculously sexy on her own. Seldom was there a photo-set on Godsgirls that employed a make up artist, or a set designer or a stylist.
At the time (years ago now) that Suicide Girls meets American-Apparel aesthetic was everything, and she wanted her members to experience a cinematic masturbation journey.
That brief but golden age of internet porn shaped my aesthetic and my sexuality and the time that I spent looking at “real girls” and reading their blogs has kind of had a part to play in how I define Erotica. I once wrote in an essay (I can’t remember if it was my own essay or an essay I authored for someone else) that the myspace selfie was the next generation of Frida-Kahlo-esque Self Portraiture but isn’t it sad that the current nude-via-whatsapp-exchange culture we’re in has robbed people of the ability to make any kind of statement about what they’re sending?
Moving on – I’ve spent the last 24 Hours thinking on and off about one of my favourite Artists, Nobuyoshi Araki. When I was sixteen, there was a really wonderful American woman working as the Photography technician. She was probably one of the most important interactions I have ever had in sculpting a vision for erotica – and that really only came as a realisation yesterday? She had a criticism for Araki – that she found it quite sexist that in an interview at an exhibition she visited, he emphasised that all of his models would have sex with him. That they were all sexually interested and attracted to him. As a feminist I experienced an inner conflict for many years – I LOVED this man’s work but took issue with his work ethic. For a long time. I really judged him for this.
As I grew up totally fascinated by the structure of professionalism in the porn industry – it was important to me that a paid photographer didn’t sexualise the women he was capturing. It’s creepy, isn’t it. If you’re a pornstar you’re doing a job. If you’re a photographer you’re doing a job. There are means of combatting this – some porn-patrons don’t like it when a girls ‘faking it’. So y’know, that was probably how we got self-shot porn, couples porn etc. A little more realism for the fantasists.
Here is some hairloss. My hair hasn’t been washed in ages so it’s “greasy”, flat and it’s much easier to see that it’s kinda getting thin. If you want to help someone get over anorexia, or teach them not to spend any extended period of time starving themselves – feel free to show them this photo of me.
It’s slowly growing back, but I got set back by spending years of my life being depressed, stressed out, spending years of my life on psychiatric medication, being vegetarian, taking those hormones that stop you from getting pregnant – etc.
If it never grows back fully (it will) but if it doesn’t, I’d happily get some kind of creative tattoo or something. I love head-tattoos. I could get a fringe but fringes are so high maintenance.
Ok lets do a meta-time-jump. When I was in Denmark I met this guy who… Lets call him Lassie. was a drummer… and a ‘friend’ of a guy I was trying my darned tootin’ hardest to make envious. (Genuinely sorry on all accounts, it was a failed ambition)
On one occasion I was talking to Lassie in a smoking garden in Copenhagen while guy-I-was-trying-to-make-jealous (he did it first) was taking a break from a performance. This guy was kind of flirting with me – maybe – he invited the girl I invited and myself to his place, and I invited guy-I-was-trying-to-make-jealous too… The hang out never materialised, because I said to Lassie “you like women you can’t have”. He stormed off. Child. In any case I later explained to him that the appropriate response to a statement like that, was I can have ANYONE I want. Kind of teaching him some self esteem through being an asshole. It’s my style – I don’t recommend you steal it. Really. Don’t compare yourself to me, don’t adopt my methods, don’t do as I do. Just don’t. Intention is everything. The ability to reflect is everything. If your motivation is “get laid” or “get paid”, you are not in any place to be playing my game. Not judging, just being honest
Have you ever seen that Die Antwoord interview where Ninja says “You’re not on my level”??? I can’t find a gif of that on google image and it’s just… so appropriate.
This Aryan inner-fat-kid never got over his insecurities, that came from growing up fat. Lassie. Oh Lassie. Poor, poor Lassie. I have had on/off fat phases my entire life. Who else could’ve helped you really?
Now – I hate to make such a broad statement about a culture, but it’s not observational. I was taught that Danish women are very into “free-sex”. I have so many issues with this notion that I don’t know where to begin – but nothing in this life is free. Nothing. Danes comfortably have sex with whoever they’re interested in, commitment is a huge deal.
However, I didn’t really experience any couples or people in relationships that I believed to have any kind of in-love connection. I’m an empath – I spent a lot of my life as a selective mute and in doing so I learned to “think” in “feelings”. I was lied to a lot as a kid too – so often I had to choose between reading the “atmosphere” of a situation or what I was told. I learned far too late that what I was told was often a product of a speakers self deception.
In any case… I like to play the “challenge” game. I’m still learning it – but I think it is my favourite “game”. For example – I might reeeeally want to sleep with someone, but that is SO rare. So why not prolong it? Lassie told me that he wasn’t looking for love, or a relationship. That didn’t upset me.. I didn’t want that from him either. Poor thing. He accidentally used “lines” on me that I had used on his friend… the issue being that my “lines” are actually fully sincere. You don’t need a line when real feelings exist. You just need to say something that you really feel.
Lassie very abruptly put his hand on my butt (Do not fucking touch me unless I touch you first) and said “you’re beautiful”. I was in such shock about his ineptitude at creating at least the illusion of a connection that I smiled.. put my hand on his chest and said “you’re beautiful”. I guess I triggered a lot of issues in him with that (sexless) night we spent together. He must’ve heard about me and his friend spending ages touching each other… so he uh. He coerced me into spending the night (I had made no efforts to be sex-ready by the way. NONE.) and there I was, in his double bed, staring into space completely mortified that this guy was touching me. And he was a good looking guy but there was no substance to him, just him kind of …recreating the conversation I had with our mutual. Telling me he wanted kids, telling me the only thing he was good at was sex… I was trying desperately hard not to know what was going on but I did know, and it was awkward. I think I really triggered his insecurities. He told me I was intense… that is a really weird criticism to hear from someone who claims to be good at sex. If you’re good-at-sex you don’t even really need to talk to a person. An exchange of glances is really all you need.
So… some time after, I wanted to send him a nude. I only had two nudes in my phone at the time. I’ve dubbed it the “pity nude” … I sent him a photograph where I had a weird shadow line going up from my pubic area to my belly button and it really looked like hair. Maybe some of it was, I am Arabic. You can’t see it in my skin tone but you can see it in the shape of my eyes. I felt like he showed it to all of his friends. I wasn’t remotely bothered by it but I was bothered by something else: he had a real issue with my body hair actually. But everyone has their preferences and a right to their preferences and most importantly, most crucially: who am I to judge your tastes.
Back to Araki.
When I was studying for my GCSEs a really, really, really amazing woman told me about Araki. She told me that there was a period in Japanese Art History in which having a roll of film developed that featured a composition depicting a woman with pubic hair was illegal. Documenting a woman with pubic hair was ILLEGAL. Fucking hell.
Soo0o Araki took hundreds upon hundreds of polaroids featuring women with ‘unkempt’ vaginal hair. I’ve never managed to find the work online, I’ve only heard about it and visualised it.
Thinking about Araki, I took & edited this collection of photos. Now, I have to admit: I’ve shaved a little bit, and trimmed not too long ago.
It’s not a depiction of the admittedly-pretty-extreme extent of ‘unkempt’ that my personal genetics can afford. Isn’t it bizarre though, that Islam, a typically Arab religion, has such a hateful regard for female body hair???
Araki is a fantastic artist who creates vibrant & powerful images of the female form that are both erotic and glorious painting-with-light works. I discussed him in my personal statement, which I submitted to get onto my film degree course. I had help from a guy called Walter, who I met through Godsgirls, and was a kind of babysitter (I was nineteen but in my opinion… nineteen year olds are babies that need sitting. Just because you’re ‘legal’ doesn’t mean you’re not a KID.). Walter was a great-flirty babysitter, he was a genius, had had self esteem issues, studied Art and really helped me develop my academic opinions. He linked me to a site that gave me links to stream Disney movies – something I really needed at the time because I was very lonely. He helped me to write my dissertation (using a first draft I had composed but taking it a bit further) andddd although I disagree now, he told me that when the female form is captured it becomes an object. But it was an interesting insight into the male sexuality which has always been fascinating to me. Walt was a feminist of sorts, much more so than most of the women that I e-encountered on GodsGirls.
Walt and I talked a lot about various erotic artists, and it was never ever energetically-creepy. He was a pretty amazing companion for that phase of my teens and his art education influenced the direction of my own. The exchange of ideas that the internet affords humanity is something that often gets undermined, or at least not properly acknowledged. But I remember sharing what I had learned about Araki – that I was upset because I felt he was sexualising his models… and that this was really, really unprofessional. Unethical. Wrong. That is – I thought he was wrong. That online porn-community illustrated a PAST phase of the sex-industry that was fundamentally important. What a friend of sorts called Ian would describe as “baby steps”. (We once had an e-date where we watched Agora and I got upset with Hypatia for being so intelligent and forward thinking for her time, for being a feminist before the word existed & yet having slaves…)
An old bestfriend I met on Myspace (that looks a lot like Peaches did before her plastic surgeries) – through lurking Chase Lisbon (who made a film about us… years after a chat with me in which I told him that I wanted to direct Erotic movies…) and she once told me that her favourite bit of me was where my legs go in behind the knee. We’ll get to that later. Cute though?! What an unusual compliment.
She might not admit it or ever really acknowledge it but we were sort of … weird internet-Girlfriends. We didn’t meet for years but we were so emotionally dependent on one another, we shared life stories, intimate secrets, nudes… insecurities… exchanged boy advice – everything. We were going to write a coffee-table book about the “Female Experience” based on a pretty successful tumblr that we posted free nudes on, in exchange for a platform to express ourselves on. It garnered a lot of attention, most of which was anonymous. I find anonymity pathetic.
We lived together for awhile in Farnham… She left her country to visit mine, move in with me and ruin my life a little bit. Haha. Maybe I’ll see it as romantic in years to come. We had a lot of funny stories… half assed stoner-girl attempts at making money. We sold underwear (I never sent my pair… but I got a beautiful wooden trunk in the post…) and even webcammed a bit.
Here is some underwear with period blood. Funny.. I had an early period this month. I am an on-the-dot regular with periods. I have a life-long history of having very painful periods with a to-the-date consistency. This particular period was early and very unusual. I don’t know much but I know my body.
Anyway… I’m really into blood.
Back to that girlfriend… what was important is that we were writing, somewhat ambiguously, very-strange open love letters for the boys that lurked us. We made an attempt to create an imagined, visual world that reflected our conjoined sexuality.
She might know it now, we certainly didn’t know it then, but I had a dream about her – she is an astral traveller. In this dream she penetrated me with a sex toy. Without asking. I think I was like “no”, or something, but she went ahead and did it. I woke up in a puddle. This might make you think that it was a rape fantasy – but it really was not. For a start, we were both conscious in the dream, which put us on an even playing ground. And we were – I think – both naked. Iunno. It’s something important to write about – but this isn’t the time.
But this brings me back to that issue I had with Araki. Firstly… it was deeply important that he said what he did – he was capturing images of women being tied up. He found a romantic-ish way of poeticising something very important about sexuality and erotic art – he discussed consent.
There is this particular Kim Kardashian interview floating around on YouTube, where she is asked to offer advice – she says pretty succinctly – “be authentic”. Constructing short statements that are applicable advice to the human condition is the work of a genius. Typically … I think that has been something that Pornography has lacked in.
Kim Kardashian is fantastic to me – d’yu know that she has been a perpetual victim of abuse? And yet actually – there is no victim “mentality” about her. She trusted someone enough to let them film her having sex with him, he released the video, she and her family took control of the situation and she benefited greatly from it. I guess it must be wonderful to have such a fantastic family that can dialogue so honestly.
I don’t really acknowledge anyone as being my family except for my ma (sometimes >:P), my big brother, two aunts (one maternal, one paternal), an uncle on my mother’s side, and a cousin on my dad’s side. For the most part my family ignored the fact that I existed and I thats exactly as I wanted it and always will want it.
But the beauty of how Kim’s “journey” came together was it was illustrative of another narrative… Kim is technically by all accounts a pornstar. And that video release was essentially the product of a relationship that I assume must’ve been strange, a somewhat unacceptable control game.
But: the bit that really matters is that it’s an Authentic work. She was really into the guy she was doing the-sex with. And more importantly, she was into herself. She wasn’t doing it for cash.
And so Kim Kardashian, thankyou for letting me feel comfortable in feeling love for one of my favourite Artists and helping me to justify a form of Art that means so much to me.
Araki might be a womaniser… but there’s no deception – no attempt to hide it. His work is AUTHENTIC. The expressions and energy and emotions in his photography are real! He has a harem of models! Women he doesn’t have to abuse, roofie, lie to or make feel insecure to be his muses. That’s amazing! That is really, really, REALLY amazing!
People direct a lot of negativity at Kim K for her success, people – men and women alike -take the piss of her, call her stupid – etc. She has constant abuse directed at her and she has pretty masterfully owned it all. She and Jennifer Lopez have literally shaped a huge-ass mould perception of beauty. Thankyou, on the behalf of woman-kind for embracing yer generous behinds ladiez.
I lived my life being really embarrassed about how big my ass was y’know!
There isn’t much on my body that I haven’t been insulted about. Lets start with my face. My eyes are one of my very favourite qualities. They have a weird shape, they are a bit big in terms of proportion (So is my head tho) and.. I know theres no continuity here but lets include a clothed photo for a moment… Here are the individuals that made me love the shadows under my eyes. They both suffer with insomnia. I do not suffer with insomnia. I sleep plenty. I get criticised for that too. People will insult ANYTHING if you give them permission to.
I had a childhood friend that at one point in our teens, taught me the word “feminism” but also told me I had “thunder thighs”? And told me that another of her bestfriends said I had “rats eyes”. I didn’t get insecure on either of those occasions, but sometimes hateful comments sit with you and quietly grow into something that can really damage your self esteem. A woman with poor self esteem has the ability to ruin the lives of people she has never even met. Sometimes you see people who have the audacity to leave comments on, Iunno, BEYONCE’s page – from insulting Blue Ivy’s appearance to insulting Beyonce’s. These are people who empower young girls, lets accept that Beyonce has learned how to ignore nasty comments through her time in the public eye – lets accept that she probably knows exactly what to say to Blue Ivy about how people have a tendency to thoughtlessly insult a person’s appearance – but what about some little girl or boy reading Beyonce’s comments? What about some retarded guy who sees a new insult and uses that to hurt a woman who has spent her life being bombarded with media and other people’s perceptions of beauty that makes her feel unattractive?? Some people haven’t been raised properly, some people do not have a good sense of self esteem that allows them to cope with the hive-mind mentality of bringing other people down. Insulting other people does not give you hot points. (Although even I do it sometimes, if I get a bit jelly. I am working on it but y’know. At least I am self aware. Change begins with self awareness.)
In my teens I once told a doctor that I wanted to have my legs shaved down. He said that when I was older I would probably change my mind. He was right!
My brother (aquarius) was a gamer, and he once showed me Chun Li. I had a crush on Chun Li. He did it just to show me that big legs aren’t unattractive. Chun Li’s legs are huge. Later in my life I would come across Blood the Last Vampire – she had “big legs” too. My favourite ever ex (aquarius) got an erection from her shouting “SWORD”.
I have a memory of having a “foot-battle” with a best friend… we were on a train and we sat on opposite one another in a narrow carriage. We put our feet against one another with our knees facing North. The winner of the game was the person who could get their legs straight. I am extremely reluctant to do any kind of exercise so he assumed he would win… I was quite chubby at the time but also… He didn’t know that I had spent my life swimming, doing ballet (and other lesser forms of dance [insert devil emoji]), gymnastics, acrobatics and that kind of nonsense. I won!!! He’s bulked up though, so I think he would win now though. Ha.
Something to tell your kids – do exercise now, so when you’re older you don’t really have to, but when and IF you do you won’t be building muscle – you’ll be regenerating muscle memory. And the thing about Ballet is technique. I once watched this Flamenco dancer talking about dance and he said that he was told that no matter WHAT kind of dance you do – you HAVE to study ballet too. Foundations.
Segueway… I’ve never really been all that taken by (I stole this term from a Germaine Greer book I read years ago) pop pornography. I loved the Spice Girls, I loved the tacky electro-pop-colourful-hair aesthetic of the musicians I grew up glimpsing. Before I reached my teens. A discussion for another time. But my understanding of beauty has come from cartoons. The 2D Universe. It’s been a process. If you like cartoons I’d advise you to watch the ones featuring the characters you fancied as a kid and work out the real narrative behind their character make up. I think Walt Disney was a genius. He had some terrible opinions to add some shadow to his make up, an imperfect man who found a means of creating childhood fantasies, using animate-art to narrativise the archetypes of humanity in a tolerable and enjoyable way. Sure you can make a Greek vase move if you spin it around fast enough but does it really compare to these magnetic caricatures?
Isn’t it interesting how “evil” archetypes like Ursula are depicted as being ugly? “Fat”… Short (unfeminine?????? wat is femininity????) hair… Harsh “masculine” chain-smokey-cigarettey voice… Callous nature… How did she HAPPEN? Do you know there is a VERY brief moment in the film where Ursula tries to explain her intentions to Ariel and we don’t get a chance to witness that. We never hear this woman’s story. We never get an explanation. All we know is she’s conventionally unattractive compared to all the mermaids, that she keeps agreements, that she lives with two electric eels, that she knows magic and doesn’t need a trident. Y’know. Basic details. Thats all we know.
Now. Take a look at the muses! Different shapes and sizes. Different hairstyles. Different expressions of feminine movement. This film came out when Western culture was still struggling to depict and portray the sexy black woman. Sometimes it is simply too difficult to reach adults – they’re kind of set in their ways. Kids brains are more receptive to necessary change. Kids are the future. The shape of evolution exists within the potential of the little-humans that understand the world MUCH better than we do. It’s just a shame that most of them have ‘parents’…
Back to the muses. Do you know… I feel like I’ve met all of them in different forms. I mean… People who embodied these energies. Almost as if I spent lots of my childhood thinking about them, and manifesting them, a chance to experience them as real beings.
My very, very favourite is the short – chubby one. There are better words to describe these physical characteristics, like shapely, voluptuous etc. But I think using these words out of some kind of sympathy, to make her love herself more for example, is sad. She deserves better. In fact why does her physical really matter…? What words would you use to describe the physical build of the skinnier muses?
Anyway. “Short” muse… She’s fucking hilarious! She’s OCD. She’s DAINTY. She’s a …harmless… pervert. I wish I could draw hentai so I could depict how hot she is.
At some point in my internetting, I learned about movie “cross-overs”. Which helped me to better understand the recurring stories and energy pantheons in film.
“Short muse” reminds me of the oracle in the Matrix. I talk about her sooo often don’t I.
A mature woman, who embodies a young at heart spirit yet also a demeanour one might describe as ‘maternal’, who carries that I-knows-stuff-you-don’t-and-you-better-listen-to-it-if-you-want-to-survive vibe with such grace that she even offers you a cookie, or candy… that false-submissive energy… a character who literally affords you the illusion of feeling empowered just so she can help you.
Here is my conclusion.
I’m interested in producing high quality images that depict a false sense of what I perceive to be perfection. I know my script – people get upset when I look good. So I’ll put up all of my insecurities for you to oggle at, hotlink to people that might find me attractive etc – basically I apologise for the Worst of Me which is yet to come.
FYI I haven’t photoshopped anything – and not because I can’t – but because I’ve chosen not to. The only thing I’ve altered is the colour, contrast and light. If I didn’t do that, I really wouldn’t feel like I was making Art. And that goes against my personal values, against my justification of using the female form in Art.
Until reality reflects my dreamscape, I do not want to create work that reflects it. I see perfection and beauty in even the people I despise – so once again to almost-quote Kim K – (In response to “be authentic”)
That is REALLY good advice – but I’m not going to take it!
Final point… How amazing is this – North West is so little and she’s already an amazing photographer? She’s so lucky to be inspired by lots of muses. She’s an artist. My mother is very conservative but she never had a problem with me taking nude photos of myself or other people (EVEN HER!) as long as I could justify how and why they were art. When I was seventeen I doctored my passport so I could apply for a porn site. Someone told on me, I got removed from the site. I was really, really upset. I remember being in my room infront of the computer, unable to log in. I think I cried, contacted the owner and she told me that she had realised I was underage. She really told me off. My mother came in and asked why I was upset – and I told her what I had done. She did not give a fuck. This is a born again christian woman who at times is a little too judgemental towards exhibitionists, but also she knew that I really wanted to be on that site so I could express myself and become a photographer. She said maybe the woman that owned the site would let me reapply when I was eighteen. She did. But uh. The girls on that site had an excuse to be hateful towards me and they took it. The site got really boring after all that…
This is a model that used to be on that site, called Skin Diamond. Doesn’t she look like a fragment of North!? This is a conversation better suited to a time when people understand the truth of this Planet a little better, though.
OMG imagine if Kanye and Kim hired epic photographers to tutor North? My mother always knew for example that I was never going to do that well in science exams – but she always said that what was important was the conversations I was having. Perhaps there is no artist on this Planet that can really tutor North – but at least trigger things she already knows… so she has a head start on her future?
I wonder when she’ll have her first art exhibition… When she’ll make her first movie. Own her own fashion house.
Don’t you think it’s artists that should be teaching people sex education..?
Here’s an experimental test shoot exploring potential colour schemes & showing you the progress of my set (it doesn’t look anything like the final version) for a kids channel I’m putting together. My little Bastet candle holder is coming along so nicely! Also no where near finished. More than I enjoy the process of things, I am actually result driven.
I worked out how to use my macro lens with a single hand! I need a reflective surface though
In NO small part inspired by various findings on Pinterest!
Incase you can’t read my writing, today I’ve been building a set for a kids-channel I’m setting up on YouTube. (In between making atleast 3 x memes and… another thing I’m gonna try)
I’m going to take a break from all the multitasking, tidy up my room & hopefully-maybe I’ll have time to make a mini movie about my ‘beauty’ regime
Here is a self portrait I did last night titled “and I woke up like this” (and then maybe later a thought discussion – as to how writing is actually a visual art – with myself – as to why italics are absolutely necessary. and then maybe some kind of visualisation session as to how twitter could be improved)
you can choose to be offended by perceived imperfection or you can choose to enjoy it. appreciate arrangements you’ve never observed before. through appreciating, that which you find strange or even incompatible with you, you may – actually – come closer than ever to your true vision of “perfection”. before you were conditioned
but thats a lot to let go of, isn’t it
I have had many spirit guides. Sometimes Spirit Guides have to incarnate into physical when you really can’t connect with spirit. Often your difficulty in connecting with spirit begins with some difficulty in your childhood or maybe even some frightening experience in your early teens. My personal issues were a fear of the “demonic” that I inherited from my mother & then later, being lied to by people I trusted when I used my intuition to sense things & then later a fear of being sectioned by people who were either extremely jealous or trying to stop me from telling the truth.
My mother came from a family who had converted from Judaism to Catholicism to Christianity. My father is Muslim. But technically, your parents are supposed to be your first set of “spirit guides”. Or at least be, in some way able to offer you some connection – or means of connecting to your first set of “spirit guides”.
I personally grew up feeling indoctrinated. A lot of the things I sensed as a child – my mother was afraid of – because she’d been taught by religious teachers that they’re demonic.
Growing up – her own mother was really spiritual. A very intuitive lady who could leave her body – maybe not at will, we never discussed the details of it – but one time she recalled an instance where she watched herself being operated upon by doctors. Years later I would have a surgery to remove something from my side and during that sleep, I watched my ex boyfriend sleeping with this girl (a fragment of my mother) that I had been introduced to by friends, who I had let move into my flat with me, who I had trusted enough to teach things I knew. Perhaps irresponsibly. I remember when I was starting to gain back consciousness I kept telling myself “BREAK UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. PLEASE DON’T FORGET THIS. IT’S REAL”. All these sorts of unusual mantras, pleading with my own brain to accept a reality. When I woke up from that surgery, my boyfriend wasn’t around. I was just lying in bed feeling furious, and I was in a lot of pain. I was given morphine, and more morphine, and more morphine. I think I had up to ten doses. I had joked before the surgery that I would use it as an opportunity to try the drug but it actually had no effect on me – not even as a pain killer (non physical pain and physical pain included. It had no effect.) It just really made the depression worse.
My boyfriend eventually entered the room about forty five minutes into me being awake and I asked him where he had been. He said he’d been in the waiting room but I knew it was a complete lie. I was still in a place where I had been conditioned to listen to lies over my own intuition. Iunno – the whole little incident was very weird. My mother and my boyfriend walked me to a taxi and I was so depressed and still coming off anaesthetic, that just got straight into the car and lay down in the backseat.
My mother’s leg broke, it just snapped. Out of nowhere.
My ex went back to our place, I went home to my mother’s. Some compassionate part of me had really, really died – perhaps either through the morphine or watching my boyfriend have sex with a friend (I did a LOT for her. A LOT.) – but I didn’t stay at home to help my mother recover from her injury. I got up and left.
She spent months trying to recover from that break – mostly alone. I still hated my mother over the upbringing I found painful, and I was really suffering my own problems so I didn’t really feel ready to connect with her. Yes it was selfish but sometimes you have to heal yourself before you can heal others.
We choose who we are born to – we choose our parents and their creed. I guess it’s down to the individual to try and work out what their religious upbringing had to teach them and whether they were born to evaluate and challenge that or to reject it and maybe return to it when they realised that it carried teachings that aligned with their truer personal values. I grew up resenting and ultimately rejecting my family faiths. So… check this, I felt I’d been mistreated because of religion. My mother and I used to have heavy arguments and she’d stand outside my door (I learned how to remove the doorknob at some point so I could run and take the doorknob off to stop her following me in – the TEMPER on Latin Mothers. Lets not be dramatic, some cultures have perfected the art of fighting) – she’d stand outside my bedroom door pleading the “blood of the lamb” and rebuking the “spirit of rebellion”. I DESPISED christians.
Andddddd lets just say I found Islam to be unjustifiably sexist – but it is a means of escaping what a Spiritual teacher called Steve would euphemistically describe as “The Male Gaze”. Ever felt like you were being watched? Disconnected your webcam – but somehow you’re still being watched? Have you considered that someone’s watching you without a camera? Islam is a means of tackling that feeling. Works for some people – not for others.
And actually I need to make an important point here – about Islam and ARAB culture, and “upbringing”. These are three separate things but ideally, a religious person believes that they are intertwined (This is wrong – Jesus – the PHILOSOPHER – highly regarded in the Koran – firmly believed in the separation of Religion and State, for a reason. Work it out.)
– Islam offers a means of escaping the “Male Gaze”. However my issues as a person who identifies as a feminist are thus: firstly, their prophet engaged in what modern society would call paedophilia – it is not for us to judge him or his behaviour but we have learned over time that there is a potential for inflicting great psychological damage to a being by engaging with them sexually, before they have had the time to develop. Secondly there is a surah that specifically permits a man to beat his wife under ambiguous circumstances.
I believe that removed from my beliefs and judgements, an “adult” could potentially engage with a “young person” if it was discussed with their guardians, a wider, sincerely involved community who had a part in that “young person’s” upbringing and knew them personally, and most importantly with that “young person’s” absolute understanding and genuine consent. Also … I’ve been in relationships with guys and we were physically abusive to one another. We had play fights where we would hit each other but we also expressed anger physically – kids have play fights and also beat each other up. But I can’t even remove myself from feeling anger towards an author of a text that doesn’t permit you to question it. If your word is law and your word permits abuse… your word is a law that has to be broken. Your word is not divine. It cannot be. That is not to say it does not carry elements of absolute truth and divine inspiration – but it is flawed.
ARAB Culture and upbringing.
Arab culture is matriarchal. The women run the show. I wish I had a recording of one of my Aunts speaking to her son in his infancy. Like, these are women you do not fuck with.
However… sometimes this creates child-men with severe hatred towards their mothers and sisters … and who later take this hatred out on the women that enter their lives. Sisters, wives, aunties. Whoever the Koran has given them power over.
My father and I have a weird karma. I am a fragment of his mother. He carried a lot of resentment towards his mother for sending him to boarding school at seven years old. I’ve only ever really chatted with her in “dreams” but I’m under the impression that it was because he and his brothers were sexualising his sisters – and I guess sex just isn’t something that was generationally or culturally discussed. My sister is a fragment of his sister that has typically been kindest to him – and she’s kind of been given almost everything she’s ever wanted. I uh, haven’t. So I try not to hold anything against him but it’s difficult – I resent my dad. I kind of think he’s gross. People have always thought I had daddy issues… but I actually have mummy issues. People don’t generally consider the potential for girls to have mummy issues. Lets just say my karma is to be treated … quite inconsistently by a family I want to love but would be justified in choosing not to. That is part of the reason that I pick friends that abuse me and then run from me. My family have never really apologised for mistreating me, have never taken their share of responsibility for the hard time I’ve had – or my drug problems. A teacher told me I can’t live my life blaming my parents and I absolutely agree – so I live with them amicably – but the reality remains and it’s evident in my karma with whoever I hang out with.
My karma is to be alone. I’ve struggled with it but for the most part I’m very comfortable with it. It’s only really through solitude that we can learn the greater truths of the Universes.
Woah what a tangent. Ok sooo – my most important point here is that the Koran is basically a “third wave” of Judaism. Christianity is a “second wave” of Judaism. The Prophet Mohammed (pbuh? or? is that realllyyyyy an appropriate a thing to say for a warlord?) (and FYI – some of my idols were warlords.), like Hitler (not an idol, just an example of someone who was), was rejected by Jews. Who uh. Also have some deeply questionable religious practices particularly concerning women’s welfare – that I would like to discuss sometime, but not right now.
Lovingly destroy one religion at a time, y’know?
One time a fragment of myself called J, who introduced me to Lisa actually – & a guy who often takes me on my very best adventures – introduced me (online) to a guy called Zach who could leave his body. He offered to do a healing session with me through non-physical. He did that – and he told me that a part of my soul had left me, and that he spoke to Jesus Christ who tried to help him get it back to me. He was like “I have NEVER said this to ANYONE – but JESUS LOVES YOU”. Hoooo man, was I PISSED OFF. I was polite, grateful, donated some cash (not a lot to most people, but a lot of money to me – though I guess the experience actually would’ve been more valuable to him than it was to me, and he shouldn’t of taken that money ) But at the time I was like “Fuck this guy. Jesus Christ has ruined my fucking life”
Two of my spirit guides are called H&H. I typed that into google once and got “YAHWEH”… Christians believe YAHWEH to be the “Father” of Jesus Christ. Funny, when you’ve spent your life running from your parents religions …to go full circle and find out that actually the YAHWEH your family worships through varying religious texts is actually your personal spirit guide.
I first connected with them (In non-physical, H&H is two female entities that appear as ‘male’… physically they are one.) almost ten years ago through the guidance of a woman called Lisa. She is not unlike the Oracle in the matrix. (She’d probably tell me I’m not unlike Keanu Reeves, ha) I’ve written about it in greater detail through a website I made for my “spiritual” pseudonym. I’ll post that sometime.
Shen < * typo I’mma leave there.
When I was living with Lisa, I was nineteen. She once said to me “You’re closer to sixteen right now!”
In psychology and counselling, you learn that in order to learn to cope with traumas and exit cycles you have to acknowledge that there is a person inside of you of every age. So a counsellor will tell you, when you are confronted with problems that affected you as a child, your adult self has to communicate with your child self to resolve whatever problem they are having with a situation. I’ve started to learn through listening to meditations with Abraham Hicks that actually your child self is far closer to your real self, closer to source. Your child-self before the various abuses most kids experience. Your adult self is full of strange conditions, rules and coping mechanisms it’s acquired through engaging with the game/hive mind/sheep mentality.
This year I’m trying to consciously listen to how my child self would want to confront situations. She was really nice, really bratty, thought she was the coolest, only liked to play alone or with boys (or girls she crushed on) and when she was angry – she was ANGRY.
Here’s a funny tidbit – when I was younger I used to watch a lot of Frasier. Like when I was really little. I got called stupid a lot, sometimes just because I couldn’t understand a joke… but I don’t think a kid who finds Frasier funny is stupid. And the show was so deeply ingrained in my subconscious that I would have dreams about details like the books featured in the mis en scene – Frasier’s bookshelf.
Later when I would have my “psychotic breakdown” – what spiritual people would describe as a “spiritual awakening” … I channeled both Freud and Jung. And I was led to a wiki search of Freud’s bookshelf.
Edited on 6th February 2018, 07:21 AM to add, RIP 😦
I learned so much from you and Eddie.
So when I started being introduced to psychiatrists, I dominated them somehow – just verbally. And.. they didn’t like it. I got threatened with injections, kept around for longer. Put on medication that gave me Akathisia – a symptom that a psychiatrist discussed in a journal floating somewhere on the internet experienced and described as TORTURE. And I had it for months. And when I described it as a “build up of energy in my stomach” to my doctors they didn’t know what it was. They gave me GAVISCON. And that helped a little bit – but not really. It got to a point where I spent days on and off convulsing and shaking on this medication.
An insecure psychiatrist can’t engage with “patients” – because insecurity is mental illness. Do not confuse insecurity with being humble. Being humble is the capacity to accept there are people who know and understand things you don’t.
A psychiatrist has to be able to prove that they are qualified to “help” someone – & if they cannot – they should not attempt to “help” that person. And shouldn’t judge them for being more intelligent. If you want to study psychiatry, you should study drama and film – you should learn how to analyse character. I engaged with a particular psychiatrist that I felt to be a racist, whose energy was so all-over-the-place in response to mine and the things that I was saying to her – and I really hurt her feelings when I told her that the person who was in control of the room was the black nurse dressed in white, like a story-book angel, holding a clipboard and simply observing.
I went through a series of female psychiatrists who could not cope with me at all. The issue was not that I hate women – it was that I was assigned to women who hate women.
I got told on one occasion, by a woman, that I was “grandiose” – that is NOT an indication of mental illness in anyone but the person throwing the word around. And if a woman is threatened by another woman being “grandiose”, there is a deeper self analysis needed. Why? Why would you be more comfortable in me feigning humility??
And then I was given male psychiatrists who also wanted to control me – who impressed their own morality onto me. Who projected onto me. Perhaps it came from some good place – but they made a mistake by talking about me to family members who hadn’t spent much time around me at all. My sister had been asked to discuss me, for example, and this infuriated me – because she didn’t know me at all. She could’ve said “she’s been acting very strange” – but omitted how she had treated me throughout my life. Sisters aren’t always that nice to each other. It’s a fact of life. This particular psychiatrist was attracted to my sister.
Eventually through quiet observations, I just accepted there was no psychiatrist that could really “help” me, so I played stupid to escape a system that was not advanced enough to “help” me out. I took my medication, I did all of that. It only damaged me physically. I lost years of my life being medicated with tablets that had such awful affects on me that they gave me entirely new traumas to deal with.
My “mental illness” – that is, the strange behaviours that I exhibited, were really an aftermath of repressed childhood rage at being mistreated & constantly learning that people can’t be trusted. Every time I stopped taking my medication I got angry again. And I communicated things that upset me, and the doctors mishandled me, and perpetuated that cycle of not being able to trust & gross mistreatment. Eventually I just “played the game”, I learned not to trust, I learned to tolerate mistreatment.
If a person is self aware enough to be able to “pretend” to be normal, they are not mentally ill. I mean, it’s fucking sad that ultimately THAT is what normal is. That sad behaviour is the end-goal of psychiatric medication. Accept the truth or don’t.
I ended up with a great psychiatrist who eventually took me off the medication that made me shake uncontrollably and put me on another – that made me a little overweight, extremely lethargic & gave me Parkinsonism.
When I went to Denmark I spent a lot of time alone, very, very tired. It was an intense healing process. I listened to a lot of Abraham Hicks (and watched *so many* Zoella & Alfie Deyes videos. I watched like, HOURS of them playing the Sims and it was like hanging out with strange childhood friends) & gradually I started wanting to make art again. It wasn’t great, ground breaking art. Abraham Hicks says that in order to make great art you have to start reeeeally small, with stuff that “doesn’t matter”. I started with this >> tumblr << (I know I’m getting repetitive & that I’ve said this before in previous posts – but 1.) I don’t know that anyone actually reads what I write and 2.) it’s important, just incase someone ever finds my blog because they’re going through something similar.)
And I remembered that in the past, I used to be kind of cool and interesting and even kinda fun to be around – but I really learned that all the while being entirely “alone”.
Before Denmark I was in a relationship with a guy I’ve kind of discussed before – a psychiatric nurse who was a low-key compulsive liar, emotionally & sexually dead. Some higher version of me would say that he was living in a state of deception not too dissimilar to the one I was living – ignoring a reality I had been given ample proof of.
In his company I was boring, never really laughed and had become accustomed to and accepting of the idea that I might never laugh again. Sad to say – but that is what happens when you share energy with a person who has to take fluoxetine to function. He had a lot of hateful, childish, superficial opinions, he kept telling me I had no personality – lots of stuff like that. Two people on psych meds probably shouldn’t really date but we both needed each other, I think. He needed to feel needed, I needed to feel “normal”.
Eventually I was like “out-of-nowhere”, compelled to sit on the floor of our room in a big house in Ealing and outright tell him I was unhappy with the relationship. We both kind of accepted it without argument, but over the next week or two this break up triggered in me a fear of being alone – I rang my friend Jason in tears. Some time before the break up I’d coerced him into leaving London, and he was living in the countryside, in a cute mansion with some creatives.
They invited me to a super Halloween party and “everything” came back. “Everything” had come back before that – gradually – but I wasn’t paying attention. More – I was ignoring everything. But on the evening of that party I remembered that I have an ability to know things that aren’t attached to bodies, time or facts.
Later I met a person in Denmark who was honest enough to repeat a – really embarrassing – telepathic conversation I’d had with them. Later yet – a friend of theirs was honest enough to describe the flavour of an e-liquid I had in my room, and there was no way that they could’ve known that unless they could leave their body. Through these confessions from people who had – without ANY consent – invaded every concept and illusion of privacy I have ever really needed in order to survive – I was finally able to accept that everything I’ve experienced is real. So I’m telling you now – I do not tell lies. I am not mentally ill. The World you live in is nothing short of a lie.
Abraham Hicks says that words don’t teach – as always Abraham is right – but they do trigger the realisation of the truth to look out for. I know part of my purpose is to find a means of explaining the truth, but I know there are people who already know some truth. And if for example, you are a Doctor that can leave their body – how dare you take an oath and then allow people to be filtered into a place like a psychiatric ward to live a lie that you’re being paid to force feed them meds to believe.
Ultimately I feel pity for any Doctors that specifically lied to me. They will have to answer for it sooner or later. (I accept apologies in the form of verbal or written communication and cold-hard cash.)
In one particular ward, a Doctor masquerading as a patient sat with me and I said “Someone is about to die” – and they did. That interaction was documented. You can live a lie if you want to but you can’t run from the truth.
Some place else my inner being left His body to incarnate as me.
“Me, a name I call myself”
I am one of a Pleiadian three.
More than anyone I’ve ever met – I’ve been the kind of person that needs a lot of evidence to believe anything. I believe that means I’ve manifested a life that will force me to prove things for everyone else too.
I’m kind of learning that the physical body is a portal for travelling time & perhaps dimension, but I’m not certain. Imagine that throughout the Universes, even throughout this Planet – you have bodies that your inner being (made up of many inner beings) bounce between to catalyse the growth of the collective consciousness.
The most important thing you can learn about being on this planet is that although there are some consistencies – such as suffering in varying forms – you’re here to have fun & live your dreams.
I look really bad in the next photo but my vision is less about the over-all image and more about the little details. Or… I guess that is the lesson I’ve learned through having eyesight that causes me to struggle to see into the far distance. Basically I couldn’t focus on the moon if I wanted to, without some kind of visual aid. I’d be better off observing the moon by looking at my finger. A psychic I visited once in Kent told me that there was a significance in my finger print – that I’m a self sufficient eco-system. My finger print is a perfect echo of circles. In the middle is a circle, and then a circle surrounding it, and a circle surrounding that circle – etc. In various physical details we can find deeper truths about our inner selves, that is why it is important to wait to understand yourself before you get plastic surgery.
For example – if you are insecure about something because of someone else – that is not a good reason to get surgery to “fix” it. If you are insecure about something because you genuinely feel that is not how you are “supposed” to look – that is a better route towards finding the right reason to change. For example – if your proportions are wrong and you truly value symmetry. My nipples aren’t symmetrical! My right nipple is a lot bigger than my left one – so, that means that my ovaries probably aren’t symmetrical. That also means that throughout my entire inner body – I’m probably not symmetrical. That also probably means that the right side of my brain is bigger than my left. It’s nothing a simple surgery can’t fix – but if I’m inclined to invite people who are inclined to be critical about my physical appearance into my life (my “karmic” history would validate this) – changing my breasts would really only give them some other thing to be critical about. Like my feet! Omg don’t get me started on my feet, I could write a 10k word essay on my weird feet. (But: my feet are PERFECT for ballet – my knees… aren’t.)
(Funny story… my knee dislocated in a traumatic incident running in the rain – the muscle on my outer thigh pulled my kneecap out of place, my leg locked and I fell onto cement, ON the kneecap – and that was synchronised with the collapse of the twin towers.)
I can’t understand how I got a double light reflection in my eye with two different colours. Ofcourse I changed the colours around when I edited the photos but that still doesn’t explain how the photo turned out.
Here is another “bad” photo of me with super greasy hair. Did you know that not-washing your hair allows it to produce healthy oils that condition your hair?? Did you know that in the 90’s it was super hot to have unwashed hair? Like, not giving a shit about your appearance was super fashionable. Have you ever watched Kurt Cobain live?
He is one of the sexiest human beings that has ever, ever existed. Hot is a vibe.
Y’know it’s difficult to write about this stuff because I guess it’s potentially embarrassing. Embarrassment is mind-control-residue from societal conditioning. The shame Eve felt about her body when she ate that apple.
I go on about it a lot – but I get really upset when people insult people that have the guts to show body parts we’ve been taught to hide with clothes, on the internet. It’s common with vloggers, streamers – keyboard warriors who get really angry & political when a girl gets her vagina or something out online.
Your job wouldn’t exist without the veterans who got naked on the internet. There was a time when girls who got naked online were the original “internet celebrities”.
Did you know I was the first person to use tumblr to write about sex? I deleted a pretty celebrated blog because of a guy who hung around for three months, who judged me for it. He used to attack me a lot sexually – I mean, he read the stuff I’d write or see the photos I took when I was by myself and expect that confidence of me in person but he never really understood that sex requires a lot of trust, a lot of feelings he had never learned to create with even his closest friends. And because our relationships are cyclical, I kept meeting guys that would try to control me and stop me from expressing myself at all. My TEEN dream – I’ve been posting nudes online since LONG before it was legal for me to (In the UK we are acknowledged as being able to consent to have sex at sixteen, so lets assume it was around about then that I started being what everyone calls an internet-slut) was to direct Erotica. It was never really about sexuality though, although I think people never really understood that. It was just about finding a real beauty in the depiction of the female form, and I guess when I looked at girls who were comfortable getting naked online – my favourite bit was reading their blogs and/or listening to them speak. I believe that personality is an art – and when you’re on a site with a bunch of gorgeous naked girls, the thing that makes you valuable is your mind. I’m forever nostalgic over the golden age of the internet, a past when I was captivated by SuicideGirl blogs. When the web-craze was to be different, not to do the same thing-differently.
Some of my favourites: Manko (THE inspiration behind THAT Vice photo), Reagan, Venla, Nemesis, Cherry & Twwly
And believe it or not – like it or not – these women had a collective part to play in whatever your idea of beauty is now. And they kinda unknowingly?? raised me.
Y’know how you think “normal” looking girls with tattoos are acceptable and super sexy? That’s because of these softcore pornstars. People used to get treated badly if they had tattoos.. ridiculous, I know.
Here is me doing the internet-slut dancey dance in tights. Which FYI are my favourite thing to wear.
I met this gorgeous girl in Copenhagen who told me she had “kinky” sex at a party, and she told a guy to choke her and he got weird about it. She told me that this guy was going down on her and then got weird cos she was coming off her period. Some version of me would poeticise the whole thing, and try and find a kind way of saying you need to learn how to create trust between the people you’re intimate with. I told her that this guy was intimidated by her telling him to choke him – and I stand by that – but what I should’ve said was “How the fuck can you trust someone you’ve just met with your LIFE?”
Older me wouldn’t bother with all that.
Older me would say this:
If you find someone you would like to have “kinky sex” with, understand that “kinky sex” is psychological. this means that your interaction stays with them for life.
do not stalk the person, do not lie to the person. do not rape the person. do not create excuses to justify being a coward – that means – be upfront with the person that you are interested in them and start off by being a friend. and be genuine. and if you don’t know how to be genuine that means you do not know yourself, and that means you should not be having “kinky sex”. there are different kinds of pain you can inflict on a person and some people enjoy pain, but there are some kinds of pain that you absolutely should never inflict – you cannot possibly know all of those (you’d imagine that some are common sense but maybe not). therefore if you are not a person who has learned how to say sorry and truly mean it, you are not ready to have “kinky sex” because you are either socially retarded or an infant masquerading as an adult.
infants and retards are not suitable candidates for ANY kind of sex. (I can say this as an infant who engaged in a lot of weird sexual activities and still, until this day, gets the occasional flashback & uncomfortable eye twitch)
1. do not have kinky sex with people that you wouldn’t take a liquishit in front of. There is one person I have ever sat on the toilet in front of – in absolute pain – I was on my period. My period makes my body erupt in the most violent liquid-diarrhoea – and I vomit too. It took many, many years to be okay with a guy seeing me in that light. And until now, we can both laugh about it. At the time he was just freaked out that the human body could naturally experience so much pain – and produce so many liquids – AND SMELLS – from every orifice he had ever penetrated.
2. do not have kinky sex with someone who thinks rape is acceptable. If you have rape fantasies, without judging – you are not a suitable candidate for kinky sex. I’m not judging, but you are perpetuating a terrifying, archaic fantasy that non-consent isn’t harmful. If you’ve ever really been raped – most people these days don’t even realise it because guys often just drug your drink – your capacity to trust is forever lost. If something has happened once, it has happened numerous times.
3. do not have kinky sex with someone you do not think is hilarious. do not have kinky sex with someone who does not think YOU are hilarious.
The bigger version of my ass is on my tumblr.
4. kinky sex is preceded by years of mutual psychological exploration
5. the “sub” is always the dominant one
6. do not dominate people unless you want to make them feel amazing. or you will do irreparable psychological damage.
7. “treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen” <– this is beyond inaccurate. do NOT treat people who are trying to trust you (WHICH TAKES YEARS) badly. DO NOT.
8. there is a difference between a polite no and playing hard to get. if you can’t tell, then simply don’t-touch. in fact just leave the person alone and you’ll know soon enough.
Ooo Story time. Explanation deserved for #6.
So… I play a lot of mindgames. That is my thing. Always some new mindgame. Guys who befriend me know I play mindgames. They work it out eventually, atleast. This is not something I’d admit verbally, but growing up with a psycho brother (I LOVE HIM FOR IT, YOU HAVE TO LOVE THEM FOR IT) and his psycho friends I uh. learned psycho mind-games in my infancy. I get really upset about it sometimes because it made my life difficult – but ultimately it built a strength in me and that strength kept me alive.
Soooo.. I’m a prime candidate for explaining the weird dom/sub dynamic. I’ve created a lot of psycho-guys who befriended me and who … have, I think, learned to understand a means of manipulating women. As a person who believes intention is EVERYTHING … I feel like I’ve done wrong.
I sat with a guy-friends girlfriend and told her that I questioned whether I was a “Good person”, based on my friend – who I love unconditionally – manipulating her into thinking he really fancied me. This friend and I have a weird history, we’ve known each other for a long time. He and I are weird “family”. She decided that I am in love with him, and that I was making some kind of confession. Ironically, he took advantage of that stupidity. It’s all an Oscar-Wilde-esque farce actually. (I was apologising for his manipulative behaviour that I feel he learned from me… She decided I was apologising for some kind of secret romance?! If either of us were truly that way inclined she’d have never even have come into his life.)
I kept telling her how pretty she was – and meant it – she was convinced I was trying to steal her boyfriend.
She found nudes of me on his phone? Laptop?? EVERY GUY I’VE EVER BEEN FRIENDS WITH HAS PROBABLY GOT NUDES OF ME – it’s not a big deal! I’m the kind of person to send a guy nudes to ask if I look fat, before sending it to another guy. I have old guy friends with pictures of me looking 15 months pregnant with triplets on their phones.
If your boyfriend has shown you a nude photo of me “by accident” or you have come across one, it is because he is trying to make you jealous. FYI – YOU PROBABLY DID IT TO HIM FIRST.
So when I said I was concerned I was a “bad person” it is because I feel like I’ve trained a bunch of insecure-but-super-hot-psycho-guys into having secret S&M relationships of intense-feeling-play, where their partner legitimately has no idea they’re being fucked with.
Y’know that prodigy song where Keith Flint says “DON’T PLAY MY GAME”??? It’s a game of FEELINGS. And I think we can agree it’s my game now. And I have stepped out, no one on this Planet has the right sense of personal values that equips them to play with me.
Imagine if these guys raised you.. that was my brother and his friends.
It is only when there are real-love feelings that there is any value in “kinky” sex. “Kinky” sex is not for people who don’t have feelings. I myself – do not compare yourself to me – often subconsciously find guys that don’t connect with their feelings because they’ve been through so much and go through a lot of horrible stuff. Guys I have loved have done really messed up stuff to me – and often the first step to triggering their emotions is to make them feel guilt. The issue is that my “game” is over when I have sex before they acknowledge that they love me. I attract guys that have bad sex – and because it’s so easy to make me orgasm they think that they’re great in bed. A LOT of girls fake orgasms – did you know that it was only about five or so years ago when the internet stopped telling people that the female orgasm doesn’t exist? Thats with thanks to girls who blogged about sex. The fact that female sexuality is acknowledged now is because of girls who blogged about sex. If I were friends with the kinds of girls and guys that insult girls that get naked on the internet, I would tell them all of this and say “don’t you DARE bad mouth a girl for getting naked.” The only acceptable use of the word “slut” is when you’re being non-judgemental and observant, or perhaps as a means of identifying yourself.
Here’s another thing – I’ve met so many guys who had far too many opinions about sex – too many guys that criticised how girls have sex. Guys watch porn or have sex with girls that “do all the work”. Both details are fine – watch porn – have sex with girls that do-all-the-work (you know when a girl mega-bounces all over a guy? That’s not going to make her orgasm. It might make her squirt – I can do that, so I know it’s real – it might make her release lots of water – I can do that too! But lets be clear – neither of those are an orgasm.)
If you are not a girl – you do not get to tell a girl how to have sex. At University I had a boyfriend that I often talk about – and he used to have a lot of unacknowledged childhood guilt or something, he also had an erection problem. I know the girls he cheated on me with would confirm it too, so it wasn’t that he “wasn’t attracted to me”. (A lot of girls are made to believe that they’re responsible for a guy’s capacity to orgasm – wrong.) In the space of two seconds he could lose an erection that was pretty pitiful in the first place. But I never made him feel bad about it. And there was no fidelity in our relationship. I used to fall in love with people all the time, he’d cheat physically. See – he was having sex to scratch an itch and more so, make him feel good about himself. If that is why you’re having sex – you should not be having sex at all.
He used to talk to people about me sexually – he’d say things like “She doesn’t move” etc. He never discussed that with me. If he had of done, I’d have informed him that I might make him think I don’t move – but there’s no other way he’d have been able to make me orgasm unless I was guiding him. Also I’d have explained that this is my style. Frankly if you can’t communicate about sex with the person you’re fucking – don’t have sex with them. Most people on this planet shouldn’t be having sex at all. Shouldn’t even be thinking or day dreaming about it.
Above photograph taken by ArAKi.
If reading this kills you, good, it should. If you think you’re great in bed.. you probably aren’t.
I don’t care how much porn you’ve watched. Porn is not the answer to people with sex related questions.
This ex and I started meditating together – nothing pretentious – we’d just put a guided meditation on at bedtime to listen to while we slept. After some time, on one occasion he got an erection and it was like his penis had grown by inches. But I had never insulted his penis the way he had insulted me to MY friends – and the thing was that my friends were comfortable with expressing their sexuality because of me. One of my friends had a sex-blog, inspired by my own. And she had an abortion – which she discussed on her sex-blog. Fucking brave.
People thought I was “sexually repressed” and that wasn’t it. They were projecting. And their understanding of sex was ALL WRONG. But when you’re any kind of minority, a majority talking about you will always make you feel weird. Don’t have sex with people you feel insecure around, don’t have sex with people if even the furthest distant thought in your mind tells you not to. Don’t have sex with someone you don’t trust with your life. Sex is not a trust exercise.
If a guy is criticising you over your appearance, or you start to feel insecure (y’know, that thought-trap where you start becoming hyper aware of everything you think is wrong with your body) Get the FUCK away from that guy! Keep fucking-off until he understands that it is not acceptable to judge your appearance.
If you trust a guy enough to let him put his tongue near your vagina (and I don’t know why you would – I don’t care how long you’ve been together for) and he has the audacity to verbalise ANY criticism about your body.. get up and walk out.
Feeling insecure is the easiest thing in the World. It is EASY to make someone hate themselves. If you’re already insecure, it’s SO easy for a person to try and gain power over you by finding things wrong with you – you know your insecurities off by heart – you like this person, so really you don’t want to argue with them, you already agree. If a person triggers a negative thought pattern, don’t have sex with them. Sex is non-physical before it is physical, that means your thought-scape is a really good indication for whether you should be having sex or not.
The sex won’t make you feel good about yourself. It is SO easy to insult yourself and explain or justify why and how you don’t look perfect.
I personally find that boring. The only good reason to insult yourself is as a last resort – as a means of making someone else not-feel insecure. But don’t be obnoxious about it
So here’s my “spiritual love story” – my personal “Twilight” saga. I have what hippie-spiritual folks might call a Twinflame. We all have one but most of us are nowhere near in the right phase of growth to find them. He’s a fragment of Jesus Christ and on the 7th Dimension (No one’s ever really been able to talk about it because no one’s really reached that part of their inner selves yet – don’t worry, at some point I’ll reach the confidence and level of communication with my inner collective to be able to HELP you to) he’s my twin. He managed to find me because I was a blogger on a pornsite called “GodsGirls” as Magdalene. My account was deleted. He’d see these really cute photos of me online and then he must’ve stalked me or something and I didn’t look like the photos. Basically – he never wanted to pursue me because he thought I was ugly. That was kind of okay to me because I saw lots of photos of him all over the place when I was growing up and I wasn’t remotely interested in him. Abraham Hicks would say that we were on two different vibrational fields and that was why he wasn’t attractive to me. My Oracle would say that we had a very difficult karma – it’s never really been acknowledged that Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene had a physical relationship – and it’s always been a mystery to me as to why. Lets start here – He was a Mediterranean looking Jew. Darker than most of the Renaissance portrayals of him. She was a black Jew. Stories between twin flames stay the same. So if I’m not with my twin because of my appearance, that is how it has always been.
I’m ok with it. Firstly my Guides insist he’s actually about thirteen years old even though he’s physically about 15 years older than me. Secondly… He really isn’t the be all and end all of my personal, physical tastes.
I’d rather date a “weird” looking alien actually… And maybe some day I will
I think I made this for my twin & whoever he ends up with after his divorce
An important thing to remember though is that this is kind of – conceptually – a much more honest portrayal of how you look non-physically
There’s this bit in Troy (the movie where Brad Pitt’s accent keeps changing – love you dude) – where Achilles tells Briseis that the Gods envy mortals for their mortality. No, we don’t. You’re trapped in cyclical behaviours that keep you chained to a Planet you don’t understand at all. Gods incarnate into the bodies of people you deem “weird” or “ill” to SAVE YOU.
I’m going to make a promise here: One day humanity – if it is lucky – might get to look back on the mistreatment of beings like me and think… “wow, we really did kill god”
and in THIS world, on THIS PLANET – “god” is lucifer
When I was younger – in Dubai – my brother had a bestfriend called Shiva. He took a lot of acid and used to hallucinate a lot – he had beautiful hallucinations I’m told. I was too young to be a part of any of these conversations. If I met him face to face again after all this time I’d say Hi! I’m rama’s little sister kali
Or if you feel to go back to the Egyptian pantheon.. I’m anubis’ guardian
Accept no imitations
Inspired by – and by inspired I mean I completely ripped off – >> this pin <<
I was thinking of some shitto from essex who clearly failed year 8 biology & probably doesn’t know what beta means
(I fucking LOVE urban dictionary like, it’s just so much more fun than the oxford dictionary. It’s a kinda more comprehensive take on the English language isn’t it? who really gives a fuck about the oxford dictionary??? does ANYONE?!)
[I can’t take credit for this, I’m pretty rubbish at the sciences too but it’s called a genetic diagram & basically explains how two dark haired people can’t actually have a blonde haired and blue eyed baby]
That’s what you get for marrying a cheating picasso painting (like, once you’ve seen one of them you’ve seen them all & they’re only “valuable” because of the name of the dude wot painted them and they’re not really all that nice to look at, lets be honest) & calling me
(P.S I might be HIDEOUSLY ugly but I know THE best plastic surgeons in this country and I really don’t think I’ve got anything wrong with me that can’t be fixed.)
(P.S.S So0o. Tell me… super-hottie-ultra-good lookin’ sex-bomb…HOW are you gonna fix this tiny problem????)
What options do you have??????? Gee I guess you’ll just have to master a way of getting laid without anyone seeing the junk in yr trunk, won’t you (what happened to the other half of it?!?)
I’m actually contemplating having this made into a t-shirt, or postcard or frame-able of some kind. Is he still doing a book tour? I could set up a little table outside & live my merch girl teen-dream, selling fantabulous memorabilia to his super-creepy fans)
(P.S.S.S Jesus Christ, you could’ve grown some fucking pubes cos the effeminate thing doesn’t work for you.)
I’ve always *loved* effeminate guys… They’re the most beautiful thing this Planet has going for it. Sincerity, kindness & sensitivity are kind of like aphrodisiacs or something. I mean I know some guys fake it to get laid but the truth always comes out in the end.