Shame bell, nagging, all truth

Incase you run out of abusers to defend for popularity, this is hilarious to me – it’s a concluding statement in an email I sent to the guy I had to call ‘dad’ in exchange for cash.

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If that was the trip in which I visited Dubai with the girl I was told to call my “sister”, she slept in a double bed. It’s so weird, she once told me a story – my “sister” that is: about the “princess and the pea”. She said that the “princess” was ‘tested’ for being a “princess” – if there was even the tiniest speck of dirt in her bed she wouldn’t sleep in it. Apparently someone hid a pea amongst a pile of mattresses and the “princess” could “tell” it was there or something. Iunno. It is a terrible story.

Iunno, Conchita (Our Granma that absolutely hates my “sibling”, actually) would’ve said that ‘a princess’ isn’t too good for anything. I mean – I can sleep on a train. I can sleep on a bench etc.

Most military strategists – like Sun Tzu – would say that you are only as good as your weakest link.

Please don’t EVER defend me, or get involved. You cannot do a better job, unless I ASK you to. If I want to be defended, or if I am lost for what to do, I am really particular about who I will run to. Don’t bully them unless they’ve bullied you first, don’t make it about me.

They were people that just wanted to be loved but didn’t ever accept that I am the most loving person you’re probably ever going to have the chance to meet. I would say I’m more loving than Lady Diana – I mean give me an ounce of weed and I will laugh off a life of abuse for a couple of weeks.

You don’t have to, but the real reason you won’t is because – again – you envy that I’ve found some happiness. She’s happy, without FRIENDS? Without.. FACEBOOK FRIENDS? Without LIKES? Without VALIDATION???
THAT IS SO RUDE. WHAT A BITCH.

YES. IM OKAY. I LOVE MY PLANTS. I LOVE MY STUFF. I LOVE MY HAIR. I LOVE MY SHOES. AND WHEN I HAVE NONE OF THE ABOVE – I LOVE THAT MY TASTE IN STUFF IS THAT MUCH BETTER THAN YOURS. THAT YOU CAN HAVE ALL OF THAT CASH AND YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW HOW TO SPEND IT.

I don’t NEED the weed to feel happy. I am in all sorts of agony all the time. But I choose weed, lets be honest, over your inability and incapacity to love.

Look: start trying to learn how to be funny by poking fun at yourself. If you have friends that poke fun at you but don’t poke fun at themselves, don’t bother with them. As in ditch them.

Look at all my old ugly friends that got hot. Some, I can’t fix – because they don’t listen to me when I give them good advice. Don’t value sincerity etc. Some people are stupid.

Like if you design a hoody, this is important, and I suggest “do this to it, and I’ll buy it because I will genuinely LOVE it” or if I say “send me a sample, I’ll make it good” or if I say “you should buy this” – I am trying to level you up. It is not some kind of sex game, or some kind of BDSM thing. It is literally, my lifes work, to make things not shitty. I’m not negging you.

Get boots. Get hair straighteners. Stop telling lies compulsively. Stop defending blondes, they might deserve the chance to defend themselves – because they keep being defended – and they don’t know how to defend themselves. Some of them are abusive, and someone has to fix the mess their parents made.

NOT ME. I STEP OUT.

Imagine Biggie realising you released this song for the money

Or Lady Diana realising through my facebook messages that Harry was ‘investigating’ because he didn’t get his ‘will money’ (“there really wasn’t much. and it was no one’s business. and he was conceived after a rape.) and listening in to stuff about ‘karma’ to justify stealing from me, because he decided I was Lady Diana’s ‘future life’

haha, i typed that and felt to vomit

One time a guy called Will Pitt told me that his mother had depression. He told me his brother was tantrumming because he was excluded from her will (how the hell did he know that??)

I passed on two messages:

pick your mother

and

I said she should eat saffron – and I had some myself – apparently it has the same affects on the human brain as MDMA. Which means it makes you happy and it makes you fall in love. (Someone, thought at me “I actually did”)

and at the time, I was eating saffron too – and I flavoured steak with it. Lots of steak. I had serious anorexia at the time. I was a size zero – and my phone had been hacked to make me look much bigger than I was at the time. Everyone I knew was abusing me –  to defend a girl that had done nothing but abuse me. I invited her to my hometown because she rang me up crying because she hated her life in Northern Ireland and then she came over, lied to everyone about me, had sex with my boyfriend who would creep out of my bed while I was asleep and sneak up the stairs. They heard they’d be popular for it. And believed it. Well, you guys must’ve felt popular thinking of me when you went out and had fun while I was at home having memories of being abused in my childhood home that I’d dreamt of escaping. I had “friends” that knew I was being abused but they told me I was attention seeking whenever I cried for help, so I learned to put on a brave face – and that brave face REALLY PISSED PEOPLE OFF. Anyway:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHKSHAKLFJGKLSDJFGKSDJFGK (okay.)

and FYI, I actually think I looked good when I was near death with anorexia – but I didn’t enjoy it because no one really cared to tell me I was hot. But thanks, now I can do-hot without the compliments.

My then-boyfriend Luke, at the time, bought me size fourteen jeans. It might’ve been the first thing he bought me. Size fourteen jeans when I was a size zero.

A psychic called Jim told me that anorexia and rape are less a means of expressing sexual attraction and more a means of ‘controlling’ people. I mean that was a pretty horrible thing for anyone with self esteem issues to hear – and I don’t think it was intended

I think he’d heard “if you defend a blonde you’ll be really popular” too.

From a woman whose name is EXACTLY the same as my “sibling’s”

Lisa – the woman who taught people to buy food from the ‘bargain’ section, Lisa, the woman whose privacy my fellow students and teachers and whoever invaded, the woman who taught me (my big mouth, huh – I told ONE girl at my uni and she told fucking EVERYONE, and pretended that it came from her) to learn how to cook and to tidy, because that was the only reason I didnt have a boyfriend. I dont want a boyfriend that expects me to do those things in exchange for his affections.

I got kicked out of my ‘mother’s’ house for being a good cook. Whenever I felt to tidy, and whenever I started to, I became exhausted.

Every woman that I treat as a mother – literally every single one – thinks they could’ve done a better job raising me, but ends up ditching me for a really stupid reason.

BERNIE kicked me out because she thought I’d set fire to her house? I’ll explain – I was taking a big shit (there was a huge drop of blood on the floor, from my asshole) and I was about to faint, so I ran downstairs and put sausages in the oven. I used baking paper, that belonged to Bernie. It burned and set the alarm off. I did not get to the oven in time because I had to take another big shit.

I almost actually fainted, and that was her timing.

The REAL reason that she kicked me out was that she

(waddling around like fat-Charlotte, the one that had never owned pets beside occasionally feeding Tintin pizza when my back was turned, after I’d asked her not to and a black cat that she got, and had only had for about.. three years before deciding she was ready to be a ‘vet nurse’)

took a BIG dog that I was helping one of her psychotic friends to look after OUT OF MY ROOM and put it in her gypsy office and it created all hell, because the dog ran loose – then Bernie started SCREAMING (you do not – do not start screaming – when animals start creating havoc with one another because then they have NO ONE to rely on to sort it out, and they are sensitive to energy, which means they will COPY your SCREAMING.)

and I HAD TO SORT IT OUT (Karina did, she is the only person stupid enough to break up fights with rabid animals. We’ve checked.) and I said to Bernie “I’m quite good with animals Bernie.”

I am not the kind of person to look at how you treat your animals and judge you. Unless I really, really feel to. It is a disgusting thing to do, actually. Unless you know that animals can use you to communicate. And they can use me to communicate, just like people can use me to communicate.

I have seen animals living on the streets with open, festering wounds. I have seen beloved dogs with hoards of fat, swollen ticks coming out of their bodies (which I’ve touched, with my bare hands, and felt only for the dog.)

We were living with many FERAL cats – and what most people don’t know is that cats are MUCH more dangerous than dogs are. MUCH MORE. Even your scary rottweiler is no match for a cat that wants to defend itself.

This dog is playing with the kitten, but it knows the kitten only has to scratch it’s eyes. They are that clever.

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Another thing: it’s energetic. The dog doesn’t mean it, the kitten means it. The dog is playing but knows the kitten is not playing. It really is a size thing. The chained up dog can use the free roaming cat to eat. The chained up dog can use the cat to go exploring because it’s owners have it as some kind of trophy animal. At some point I will have to teach people how to do ‘trophy’ animals properly. My little black dog is much scarier than most people’s big dogs.

Those people don’t know how to look after animals. Most people don’t.

Most people don’t know how to look after themselves.

Anyway: then I said “Bernie is this because of men?” and she sort of looked at her feet, ashamed of herself.

If you want to fix things – make sure that those three dogs are given to me. I choose dogs over men that NEEDED to date people like me, before they could date ‘people’ like you.

me and my babies at school/university reunions (actually my maggots are probably worth more than you. financially I mean. They are a kind of missing link. They’re basically human but they’re not human, theyre maggots, and this is a message for them as much as it is a message for whoever comes across my blog.)

I’d probably prefer to share my body with maggots. I mean it. etc.

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They do not only eat rotting meat. They like everything I like to 
eat but they aren't that keen on dominos pizza's desserts. 
They wanted the cookie because it smells nice, but
they didn't eat it. 

They've literally just left it there. 

Also, while it has melted slightly in their home, and offers
a nice texture for snuggling and orgies (I imagine)
they don't eat it. 

They also do not eat Peanut butter.
Nor do they eat Caramel.
They LOVE pork (which tastes like human flesh apparently)
and they love lemon.

They like lemons. And tinned tomato. And I think some of them
committed suicide in maple syrup today. 
They are not stupid.

(THEY CHOOSE TO STAY IN THERE. THEY REALLY, REALLY DO.)
(Being a fly is quite lonely.)
 but it is 

this will be my theme song

but this will be me as jenova in ffvii

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I fucking

ugh

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Also this is how I want mine and Heath Ledger’s and my older brother’s sexiest bully’s bedroom to look. Don’t copy me. I’m making a pinterest board of it.

Also you couldn’t date either of them.

They’ve accepted that every woman they ever knew (trust me, that was so, so many women) was pretending to orgasm and that their kids really, really aren’t theirs. Please visit my memory, year nine, where we learn about recessive genes and dominant genes.

The wikipedia pages explaining this are very boring. Okay.

I used to joke about this. If you have a naturally grey haired person with “big” features, such as a large nose and tiny lips

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and a naturally brown haired person with very “small” features, such as a delicate and tiny nose and huge natural lips and green contact lenses

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Unless you let the doctors and nurses wheel your newborn baby out of the room, or you have sex with a really stupid man (who spends all day thinking about me) and who ACTUALLY THINKS you’re blonde – and puts blonde people sperm in you when you’re asleep – (it happens) or you have been enlisted in a breeding program (you probably haven’t.)

if i am GENUINELY in love with you for five minutes, you are in the breeding program for five minutes. I mean you have five minutes.

you’ll probably end up with a baby that has dark hair and “big” features, though, if you have dark hair and big features.

i used to joke with people that my genes would jihad theirs. my ex ahmed and i would joke worriedly that our kids would be ‘really hairy’. because if you have a hairy boy and a hairy girl and they have sex without a condom on (im also allergic to tampons. as in they burn me and my vagina pushes them out. i once told someone and she implied i had a huge vagina but mine is actually smaller than most people’s which is very, very surprising because i have had some really big stuff put in there)

i casually flirt with people routinely by saying i “want” to have kids with them. it is a thing that i do. sorry. it is very easy for me to do that because i am allergic to latex. i don’t want kids unless it is one of the ones i ordered.

Sephiroth, mine. (Trust me, you don’t want this one – you have to give him to someone very, very, very intelligent that speaks a lot of languages. I can’t have him because I FANCY HIM. If you are not honest, he will probably justify killing you later, for lying to him.

He’s also muslim. Which means you don’t touch him. Which means in exchange he won’t look at you/sexualise you. If he does either, you have to be okay with TREMENDOUS levels of pain because he has my issue.

Which means you do not steal – muslims punish stealing by cutting limbs off and he comes from a person who only doesn’t kill people because she doesn’t have diplomatic immunity. She is entitled to diplomatic immunity – she doesn’t get it because she is genuinely insulted by the idea that she ought to have to ask for it.)

Trunks, mine. I promise you that it was arranged that I’d be the first girl that saw him on television in this country. I can’t speak for other countries, but I was the first girl to see him in the United Kingdom. Sorry. Again.

This one, you do not want. You cannot touch him, ever. You have to use a glove to wash him, you have to hold him with a scarf, you cannot do ‘skin to skin’ or whatever stuff it is that we all evolved to sexualise that is really.fucking.weird. You cant hold on to your boyfriend or husband with breastfeeding memories that he can watch when you’re asleep because Trunks will WATCH you WATCHING and he will RUIN your LIFE.

Blood, mine. Again – YOU DONT WANT THIS ONE. She has autism. She is very pretty but she has autism. She is so ‘void of feelings’ that she either loves you or can kill you. As in she can kill you emotionally or otherwise and she will feel bad perhaps if you get someone to tell her off who has something of a bribe for her. YOU DONT WANT THIS ONE.

Then there is 13, and then there is Kuja. I know Kuja is real. I could give you a lot of reasons as to why I think so, but I have a dark sense of humour and I’m sort of curious for him to prove it to other people.

I would love to have a child like this in imagination land but in real life I do not think I could manage a child like this.

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Now I will tell you about Khleopatra. I do not want Khleopatra. Which means if you think you do, you are being mind controlled. You all think that my old ‘blonde’ friends could be Khleopatra. That is probably really fun to her because she is not very well behaved.

Khleopatra can speak to animals. Khleopatra is the kind of person who would remotely live many people’s lives if she was bored. She’d sacrifice herself to make a philosopher’s stone and she’d time travel to have a few different bodies with names like “Khloe” and “Chloe” and convince you that you really wanted a child called “trunx” or a “thirteen” because she is a sex offender. She’d let you take the blame for it, and really if you do it more than once – it’s some kind of habit.

 

She will do anything to make you think that you are her. You are not her.

She would ask: “Did you ejaculate in my food?” and then she’d think “I will curse it just to find out.” Then she’d be like “I’m fucking hungry, so, I’ll still eat the hell out of it – but if you ejaculated in my food your firstborns and your kids first borns and any firstborns in your family will die by the age of five” is a routine curse for her. She means it.

 

If I have sex with person wearing a condom, this happens to my inner vagina.

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ask every guy i have had sex with that has gotten me pregnant. which is more guys than you might be inclined to think

 

UNLESS you are some kind of meditative spirit master teacher genius that can share a body with all matters of life (at honestly, great fucking personal cost) (my maggots air bend their scent to tell me they’re thinking of me, okay – and I NEED them so I can use the TOILET and THEY KNOW IT.) (the birds use me to share food with me. i mean the seagulls in brighton used me to learn how to speak human and then they literally respond to my TERRIBLE thought-jokes.) (the pigeons are protecting me from the seagulls, i think)

i will film it one time

When you make men trust you by telling them lies and then they realise that you were telling them lies they get really upset. So heath had about 10 years to go fully insane and come to terms with his life being a lie and he’s not going to say no to a post-humous pity-oscar  for a supporting role and an offer to play Sephiroth. (would you?)

 

Obviously I’m not dating either but preemptively, I accept a life of being seriously abused by all the people I trusted, in exchange for them.

You can daydream about having sex with them first (and who wouldn’t) but they’ll come back 2 me. Because I have really sexy feet okay.

Do i think you think i mean it? yes. Do i mean it? no.

which bits

the foot bits, everything else I mean 100%


I know some of my food was fucked with. I paid for that food.
I drank pure alcohol and lemon. Both are antiseptics.

You might think that what you’re doing will go without notice or punishment but sadly everyone gets caught and you can invest in ‘seeing the future’ but uh.

The future changes when I do something unpredictable.

MESCHT

No arguments, we’re the Friezas

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When baby chillis are growing apparently they are purple and green.

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Look at this baby. It is a real life CATERPIE.

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Look at these babies, too. Have you ever seen maggots that look like these? I haven’t.

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Does this babytalk trigger your maternal feelings? If you are under
35, get an animal friend. Love something that is not yourself.
Spend a few years doing stuff that has never been done before with 
your animal friend(s) and then come back to those feelings.

They’ve gone piggy, which means they’re telling me that the police are being creepy again. If I write it here, you know it. I think the reality of the thing is that the police are being held under a lot of scrutiny as people emerge from faking deaths to tell the truth about the kinds of things that the police get upto, and how they abuse the trust that comes with the responsibility of their positions.

There are alternatives to the police. Report crimes to the military police if you can’t trust the police.

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[ref]

I’m not suggesting they’re without fault though, but as someone who grew up with two very not-nice siblings I can tell you that the only way to defend yourself can sometimes be to find the meanest abuser. And if you are having a really terrible time, have a bribe for the meanest abuser you can find and try to know what they really want.
They often don’t really need or want cash. I like cash and I spend it fast.

Plus I’m into military boys. If you find yourself lost for solutions to abuse, call the military. Report crimes to the local media. The Police do NOT like you to do that – but people deserve to know whats really going on in their towns/districts.

I am constantly reminding myself of this and perhaps you should too: if I am having a hard time, everyone is having a hard time.

Not ours, but um. In theory this is actually my type.

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Sexy man keeps doing stuff with his SIBLINGS. THEY EVEN HAVE KIDS. (They defended these ones, cos they thought they were blonde-blonde.) (The British police should be protecting Lady Diana, if you need tips for how, ask me.) (Ideally not making the lives of the people-that-are-trying-to-keep-her-alive difficult would be a great nay – LOVELY – start, leaving the people keeping her alive alone. She’s gonna need ladies in waiting.)

I had to run to this one. The ones on the far left.

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The one on the far left had me run back to this one.

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BEFORE YOU GET WEIRD: “She’s too young.” is exactly what he’d say about me and he’d mean it. He’d never say no to me ‘fancying’ him but we’d never be able to date. But we’d use each other to make people jealous and that is amongst my many talents. People act VERY stupid when they are jealous.

Sometimes you have to accept running to Gods and Angels when people don’t do their jobs. Avoid the ones that are loyal to me if you have made an enemy of me. I mean it.

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Those men were doing service work with child soldiers in the Congo. LIKE SELF SUSTAINING FARMERS, YOU CANNOT SEND NICE PEOPLE TO DO THIS WORK. We need nice people. Nice people make mean people happy. (I can do both but I can also give you suicidal tendencies and skin dred, apparently.) If you are a nice person, choose to be a nice person because that is a tough road.

No but really: people who are exploring ungoverned territories, where there is armed warfare over DIAMONDS – not weed – CANNOT BE NICE PEOPLE.

YOU MIGHT ACTUALLY HAVE TO SHOOT A CHILD IN THE FACE IF IT’S BETWEEN YOUR LIFE OR THERES. (I left that typo there, as a gift.)

The police however, should be nice. Ideally little children should be able to run to the police if they are being abused at home, but they don’t trust you after what you did to me. VERY STUPID OF YOU WASNT IT.

Professional and seasoned criminals do not perform acts of crime in THEIR OWN AREA.

Petty criminals that need to steal something because they’re being abused by society – that NEED TO STEAL to fucking SURVIVE, MIGHT.

Domestic rapists do, obviously, operate within their own area because where better than to rape someone than in their own bed? but the police protect those. Why? BECAUSE THEY JOIN IN.

Because the police are involved with ‘non-psychologically-damaging’ sexual slavery. They are not doing undercover work. The police are pre-selected criminals, who have created stories of getting away with committing crimes.

The police do not want goody-two-shoe snitches like me, because I’ll rise up those ranks fast with my self righteousness and I will sooner choose to ruin my ‘friends’ and ‘colleagues’ lives than not snitch on them.

The police have identified that I’ve alerted women that men like this exist outside of movies and started inviting them into perceived sexual games that I would not even-for-money have invited them to play.

People like to call me a prostitute, (they’ve also called me things like ‘dog’, ‘paki’, ‘robot’, etc – I am not a stranger to being bullied and that is bullying, if you are a potential FRIEND – you can JOKE about it. I have a DARK sense of humour.) but I am NOT one. Do not pretend for one moment to anyone that you really think I am, because if I was one: I’D SAY SO MYSELF, EVERYWHERE. SEX WORKERS HAVE RIGHTS and if I were amongst them I’d ADVOCATE. MARY MAGDALENE WAS CALLED A PROSTITUTE. JESUS WAS HER BESTFRIEND. (Actually they had kids, they had kids together, the lineage of which are protected until now.)

The reason I am not a sex worker is because I WOULD GET ATTACHED. IT WOULD FUCK WITH MY HEAD IF I WERE ATTACHED TO SOMEONE THAT WAS FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE.

I do not bring ANYONE back to my home, I haven’t even had acquaintances over and upon hearing that a man (from him) was giving a woman who was taking prescription painkillers alcohol I reported it to the police AND to the military. (But yeah, am I ‘what you get upto’ when you’re meant to be working? Who do you really think is asking? I tweeted the head of the british police.) (It’s not exactly like I can lie about my life, is it.)

Do you remember what life was like a few years ago? It was very different. The police know very well I’m not doing anything illegal, I’m not even able to smoke weed – and they know I SHOULD be because I have a very, very debilitating disability. What they like to do, is create addicts of particular people (the behavioural traits are all there, especially if you’ve been raised with certain difficult familial situations – the police know that the people doing drugs, ALL people doing drugs, are in pain. THEY KNOW.)

There are two shits that probably outweigh their brains (certainly the bits of the human brain that they’ve accessed the use of) sitting in my toilet that refuse to flush. To confirm my suspicions, the last person able to sell me weed had been touched up by the police. The police are responsible for “dangerous drug dealers”. Trust me or trust them but I haven’t anything to lie about, have I – whereas they have p-LENTY to lie about.

It isn’t a power thing, if you assume power by stealing and lying, you will lose it when you are caught. It’s not about me, either. It most certainly shouldn’t be. I have indicated no interest in inviting anyone that aspires to do something like that with their lives into mine, or my space.

My phone has been stolen, a lot of expensive things have been stolen from my flat. I won’t call the police, curses are worse than prison. Mine are anyway.

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They really like lemons.

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Guys. Here is the worst crime I’ve got going. I have a stack of recycling. It probably won’t go in the recycling bin cos I’m low on energy, if I’m taking down trash, four flights of stairs, it’s TOUGH GOING. I told your council about it, I also told them about the subtle racism going on when I BUY THINGS, about people working for the Job Centre who had been abusing their access to my personal information and also stalking me, abusing my family remotely (We know you can. We know you did. We know you keep doing it.)

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I know you want to pretend that my relatives sending me cash means I shouldn’t be entitled to Universal credit, once again – UNTRUE. VERY VERY VERY UNTRUE.

First of all: I told the Job Centre that my father (abused by the NHS) and my mother (worser abuse by the NHS, might actually have had her body replaced with a stunt double for this – or else why did she not speak to me when I was growing up? Unless it was to abuse me?) gives me cash.

Second of all: I told the Job Centre that they are paying my rent, but that they didn’t want to anymore. I was told that if they stopped paying, that the Job Centre would pay instead. My family are still prepared to pay, so I haven’t asked for that money. I could have lied to catch them out for observing me and my memories by choice, without permission. I didn’t lie. (Bar some toys as a child (gave those back with help.), a butterfly clip from a charity shop that I needed because I felt overwhelmingly ugly (I was abused to think I was ugly. I believed the hairclip could fix it.), a failed attempt at an eyeliner once in London Astoria, and three accidents where I actually just walked out – an eminem cd I left outside the shop, a bottle of glittery fairy dust from ‘present and company’ in Pitshanger lane and a shell necklace and – when I get my compensation, I’ll pay all of that back to those companies – but uh. Are they going to pay for watching my life without permission? Do you know how much I charge a minute for viewing me?

£7.77 a MINUTE. That is IF I’d of consented to you viewing me and my life remotely. I would not consent to Emma Watson viewing my life remotely.

Here’s the truth of things: if there is a World War, this country will lose. This is pure fact. If we send our boys and the police out, they’ll think about me all day if I WANT them to. Which means they are USELESS. My strategy is to honestly tell you my strategy.

soraka_7
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The countries loyal to me (my relatives, even the relatives I hate, sadly.) will happily arrange for the people that owe me money that can’t afford to pay me back to be sent to North Korean camps (KIM, come on. Things add up don’t they.) and in exchange maybe we can find some versions of ourselves to have released from there and brought here.

If you ALL gang up on me the end game, I promise, is worse than this. Anyone who knows me will tell you “she keeps her promises.”

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[ref]

Back to how I paid for my lipgloss, lipstick, powderpuff and perfume (your daughters make up cost a lot more than mine.)

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It all looks WELL EXPENSIVE. That pearl necklace was a gift I bought for my ‘mother’, from Syria. Ten years ago. That box is a ferrero rocher box. Those shoes are about eleven years old. Those brooches are from tat-shops and second hand shops, except those honey brooches were £3 each. That handbag was about £30? quid (I round up.) That FANCY golden fabric was a dress from a charity shop that I ripped up. That pretty pink tulle fabric is um. Something I purchased off Amazon when I wasn’t on Universal Credit, about… a year ago… That little akatako brooch was a free gift.

I know you like my stuff. I invest in stuff that I won’t throw away. Stuff I’ve dreamed of having for YEARS. It helps me cope with a life of abuse, bullying, having everything I wanted stolen from me, having a broken family etc. You can do whatever you like to make my life difficult but I promise that you couldn’t take what I’m going through on a day to day basis. It took a LIFETIME of a SHIT TIME. That you watch in what feels like a second but felt like an eternity to me.

It is GIFT MONEY. Or shall we make it worse for the police?

LETS.

It is “I’m sorry you were abused, I’m sorry your life has been ruined, I’m sorry that we abused you so much that everyone you meet, when you try your fucking hardest to work (have you seen me work? It pisses EVERYONE off. Heavy stuff? I’ll lift it like a guy can. Huge black bags of bottles? I’ll throw them all in the bin at once. Huge metal items? Give me five minutes to run them upstairs. Need me to clean a TOILET? WANT ME TO CLEAN VOMIT? WANT ME TO CLEAN A HUMAN SHIT OFF THE FLOOR? Give me five minutes and a cigarette break.)

There are British people on Universal Credit whose parents buy them food, who have savings (under, I think it is 15k? Or is it 5k? You are allowed upto 5k in your account.). Actually, the gesture of being on Universal Credit is important if you want a job

I SHOULD BE ON DISABILITY BENEFITS BUT  I’D PREFER UNIVERSAL CREDIT BECAUSE IT MEANS I CAN GET A JOB. BUT THE POLICE DON’T WANT ME TO GET A JOB BECAUSE THEY ARE FUCKING ADDICTED TO ME.

YOU THINK PEOPLE DON’T KNOW – THEY KNOW. (And they’re realising that if you’re doing it to me, you’re doing it to them.)

CONTROLLING PEOPLE BY MAKING THEM THINK THAT THEY’RE PEDOPHILES BY GIVING THEM SEXUAL ENERGY WHEN THEY WATCH ME GETTING ASSRAPED, OR WHEN THEY WATCH ME GETTING BUSY WITH MEDICAL TOYS IN A DISNEY PRINCESS TENT IS NOT GOING TO WORK.

Do you think you’re a pedophile cos watching a hentai scene fucked you up? Did you get an erection? DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT. IT’S OKAY. I AM THE OLDEST SOUL ON THIS PLANET. CHOOSE TO TELL THE TRUTH. I am enabling you. Child me prefers you got an erection. Child me would’ve been quite happy with adult me having lots of hentai memories because I’m eternal in this body. Do not aspire to an eternal attachment to your body. I spent my life wanting to die but being too lazy to bother doing anything about it. I died a thousand times. Death is great.

My brother did not sexually enjoy that rape – he laughed. He’s my favourite for it. The police later copied him when I called them from that psychiatric ward, I got laughed at when I rang 999 and told them I was being hurt. I stared into space and hung up and went back to my room.

Don’t pretend you could cope with that. There are maybe a few people I’ve known/know that could cope with that and WELL. WE MAKE EACH OTHER LAUGH.

NO YOU WERE NOT “THE ONLY ONE.”

Heathinks I should play Jenova. In anycase this is definitely an interiors direction. What that really means is “If you play Aerith you get more screen time than I do. If you play Tifa you will have fan boys and more screen time than I do.” also it means “you will fancy cloud.” (duh) which also means “fine, play the jealousy game but we’re both good at it.”

“you’re going to have to get a boob job at some point”

“im actually okay with the weirdness of the thing but yes you’re right” (telepathically: YOU GET A BOOB JOB HEATH) (“no.”) (“you thought about it”) (“I thought about thinking about it and it wasn’t a good moment”)

“serious compromises”

“not really”

“boundaries that no monopoly card will save you from crossing, they exist”

“not really”

“really”

“okay”

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WAITING. FURIOUSLY.

I believe it is the Japanese and the Chinese and the Siamese as portrayed in the King and I who made me feel comfortable putting brooches in my hair.

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I bought these brooches immediately after watching a recent video with Louise Pentland and her sibling-daughter Darceshtino shopping in Stamford. It was a cute cobbled villagey street and appeared to be a fantastic preserve for older buildings. They went into a shop and bought brooches, I then popped out and bought myself two, hoping for an exchange of sorts. These are inexpensive items but you can’t find them elsewhere, and if they are desirable they are valuable. I felt Louise’s influence telling me she wanted THESE TWO and I liked the pink teardrop pearls but I didn’t like the sun one, but I changed my mind when it was on. BUT THEY’RE HERS OKAY. For an equal trade.)

I’ll tell you a funny story

When I was younger, I swapped some beanie babies for limited edition McDonalds toys because I really preferred them. Amongst them a tiny elephant.

I got bullied for it by my mother and “sister”, they called me a mug and made fun of me.

Years later I watched a documentary about the elephants that had been affected by Idi Amin’s rule that lived in Victoria Park, which I then visited on Safari in Uganda. The elephants STAMPEDED EN MASSE to my tour bus and we had to go. Until now I know I should’ve got the hell out of that bus to greet them, but they had PTSD. They cried at night for the mothers they watched die, they had to as infants be cuddled by their keepers. They were damaged by that. PTSD is a big deal.

Years later yet, by some coincidence I found the son of a man who owned the company that makes the toys for McDonalds and we spoke a lot online for years. We had a sort of closeness but he lives in the States and I’m VERY upset with him. We had an e-date and we watched Agora. Obviously it was my choice of film.

I said that I didn’t appreciate how educated she had been, and yet that she justified having had slaves. He said “baby steps.”

He showed me photos of his expensive home and told me that he’s both Jewish and AZN.

Years later I got sectioned in part because I told my “sister” about him. THIS IS HE. My “sister” doesn’t know me very well but she knows how to manipulate stories, and she called him “mr mcdonalds”. I give everyone nicknames. That was not a nickname I had given him, my sister is a compulsive liar.

Ian is far wealthier than I am. He is, on paper, apparently worth more than me. I’m royalty though Ian. But it isn’t really money that gives a person their worth, not in my World, that is not how I was raised. I think it offended him that I was unimpressed by anything he had, or his education (he is a university snob) and if he did not have a friend like me, he might not’ve done much with his life, might not have been compelled to search for people worthy of learning something from. Might’ve been quite happy with who he is.

Stamford though: it was, as I’d been told by a landlady, a ‘beautiful’ part of England.

I recalled for a moment all my associations with the word Stamford that deserved some explanation but would’ve been out of place in this piece of work I did.

Well there’s Stamford Brook. I once took an exam there, in what had been a prison for juvenile delinquents turned into a venue for my A-level Philosophy exam.

There’s also the Stanford experiment – which was sort of a psychosocial experiment in which people were given one of two roles in a prison. You were either selected to be a prison guard or you were selected to be a prisoner, and you were put in the setting for a period and forced to live under that dynamic with complete strangers.

The idea was that people, given positions of authority and without consequence would show the predatory nature of human kind. They knew they were being watched and that “nothing” was being done.

The abuse inflicted towards prison guards and prisoners both, was so terrifying that I think they had to terminate the experiment prematurely. I think someone actually died.

If you are not raised for a position of power, by people who have been raised many generations over – you cannot be responsible for it. The ideal person for a position of power is a person who wants nothing to do with it.
If you are a communist, or you are inclined that way as I am – you believe that people of power assume it and then step down but I do not think that humans really understand the nature of our existence to be able to do that.

I know I was raised to do that, but I had to experience a lot to be able to survive my life and I once said that you earth a current of energy to stop it going back and forth. I took and took and took abuses in my life that most people would’ve committed suicide over and I did so with a performance of sorts that made you all think I didn’t really care. The good bit about it was you believed I didn’t really care, the bad bit about it is that you actually believed I didn’t care?

That I had no idea that there was some truth I deserved to hear?

I was taught by a family that had been raised by a judge, that made a final decision for the United Nations. If you want to prove something, if you want to make a judgement in a court of law, you need to be able to prove it without ANY DOUBT.

Hints are not and were not good enough.

If you grew up with a family like mine, you also became accustomed to the habits of liars fast. Latin parents are strict and also, arabs talk to one another pretty abruptly. That is how we communicate. Give me a person, any person, and I will try to match them up in terms of how I speak to them. I’ll attempt to be appropriate.

If you ever had to become accepting of injustices like seeing your elder sibling having a wardrobe that was worth more than your ‘family home’, where you and your ‘mother’ were being given £50 a week (it might’ve been £40 but I prefer to round up.) for food, where your sibling was sent to a boarding school (at her request) and the fees cost about the same as your mother’s mortgage (she had a slight discount because she was offered a scholarship cos they REeeeEEEally wanted her and her weird friends there) and then pretending that any “salary” she had would’ve funded that wardrobe.

My sister has tiny dresses that she never wears, that cost what some people working under minimum wage earn. She got some discounts but she still paid hundreds for many things.

Whenever I complained, growing up, about the injustices of my sibling being given more than me, money to go out, money for clothes – she would screech with her irritating, shrill voice things like “DONT BRING ME INTO IT, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE IT ABOUT ME, DONT MAKE IT ABOUT ME” with as much vehemence as she’d later in your life scream things like “YOU ARE SO SELF OBSESSED” You really have to hear it to appreciate how embarrassing it is.

But the worst bit is that my ‘dad’ writes like this, the guy that liked to pit us against one another. He knew exactly what he was doing.

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He can speak Arabic fluently, French fluently and English fluently. That is more languages than you can speak, isn’t it.

So he’s not a retard.

He pretends to be.

I can navigate liars much better than you can, and what you mistook for naiveté was actually a behaviour you’d be a better person for imitating. The pursuit of truth from all perspectives available, the assumption of INNOCENCE because someone is ‘not guilty’ until they are proven guilty beyond all doubt – because you don’t want to be responsible for imprisoning a person that was innocent, but you also don’t want to be responsible for a dangerous person harming innocent people because you were too lazy to do the fucking work.


There was another experiment like the Stamford experiment, a person would be placed in front of a button and told to press it and that upon doing so they’d hear a person screaming in agony but they were assured there would be no consequence towards the fact. So they did.

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To the left is a chrysalis, I imagine, although something in me worries it’s passed but as much as I think so, I also do not. On the right is a magnet (maggot). I did afew things in this little patch, it was cleared of grass because I placed something on top for my spider friends when they lived above that spot and the grass stopped growing because it didn’t get any sun. I took Cici and Nyu (one of the plants had died, I put the remains in my maggot-left-over bin that is also a magnet farm) and one remained alive, I think it was Cici but I also know that they’d of happily shared a body. I planted them beneath the soil. I also put in some tinned tomato left overs in the soil so it makes sense that these two popped out at some point that day.

The cream blob is from a pastry. The magnet to the right tasted the cream, and enjoyed it, but did not consume much. These insects have no greed in them because they have never needed anything, they’ve been given everything they needed and had many options from which to choose.

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From an evolutionary perspective I think that having what is needed cultivates an environment that minimises suffering. I asked the magnet “who are you” and with it’s mouth, on the opposite end to it’s eyes, they gestured at me.

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These are some white tights I bought from ASOS and I’m quite happy with them.

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This is a new plant friend I bought from the local floristress and her daughter, who have many mentions in my blog lately because I’ve invested in plants which make much better companions than human beings.

I sound depressed. I was thinking of Einstein mostly when I annotated this. I’m perhaps a bit melancholic but also I was a goth growing up and that tendency I have to be a little bit morbid and a little bit too thoughtful fosters a kind of observational gift that I’d like to imagine enriches my capacity for storytelling. Another thing: plants have never seemed to be very conversational and one of my talents is actually just speaking. Which again, is ironic, because I spent my life mute or not mute. I used to talk to people all day if I could, during my teens, using MSN. It didn’t matter if they were ‘genuine’ or not or what they might’ve wanted from me, because I was sitting in front of a computer and typing.

I wanted to learn how to touch type because I enjoyed the noise of women’s nails tapping on a keyboard after seeing this beautifully attired receptionist cheerfully humming a lugubrious death-march.

 

 

I sent the locusts on the wind, such as the world has never seen

Songs you ought to listen to

Moses was a mute and his brother Aaron translated for him.

I like to think you all understand why arabs and foreigners struggle to find work in your country, it is because you are all racist and because you do not know how to value what other cultures have to teach you, even about yourselves and the religion you claim as your country’s but that could not have existed without Judaism.

Jesus Christ is a JEW.

READ THE FUCKING BIBLE BEFORE YOU CALL YOURSELF BRITISH. READ ONE FUCKING STORY.

My Matty.

You don’t want to hurt vampires, they are MUCH more dangerous without bodies. It would be good if you know the people who make new bodies – but you don’t – so you occupy infants instead. Let my family know when you need us again, I am the head of the family and I will be accepting letters of apology and begging. I know you know my address.

I vampired my flies and my spiders and my rules were pretty clear.

The flies are total show offs though and they do like me to see them.

One of my baes.

EARPHONE PURCHASE GUIDE

DO YOU KNOW WHY I HAVE NO TECH? Apart from that it was my brother that insisted that we were a techno family, and the British princies were jelly of him so they arranged to have him put in a hospital (trust me, when he looks himself – he’s a million times hotter than any guy ever, and the Arabs (being an Arab, I can say “the Arabs”) accepted it and kicked my family out – the British guys just lied. We are all British passport holders – my siblings and myself – and my family on my mother’s side SERVED here, POLITICALLY. We were INVITED by your ROYAL FAMILY to do so. Back when people took your royal family seriously – that was a long time ago wasn’t it.) (you look worse because what is there for me to lie about? They’re gonna have someone hold a weapon to your heads and have you tell the truth about this on live TV so prepare yourselves.) (Wait: the issue with having ‘disabilities’ – my brother is autistic but he is not stupid and he is not out of control either, and he is not a vulnerable dependent. He likes to have fun. What your country has done to my brother and to ME and even to Russell fucking dickhead brand is why the World is becoming a police state 1984 shithole. ITS YOUR FAULTS. WHOEVER RAISED YOU AND FAILED YOU’S FAULT. You will be held accountable. Trust me.)

I am serious about DESIGN.

My room is an earphone graveyard. I know I’m a Bang and Olufsen person but I think you have to shop around before you pick loyalties. Like premature-brand-love (it’s a marketing term, I did a term of an MA in Advertising and Branding and really misjudged the university and didn’t really talk qualifications with my lecturers before giving them the honour of teaching me.) your intuition might be right about a person’s ‘real’ nature but if you don’t know who they like to hang out with or do business with, their personality and their nature doesn’t matter very much.

There are some items that I use consistently. These are items that deserve investment. I need a good laptop from a reputable manufacturer because everything I do from animation and photography to daily entertainment is on my laptop. I need to wear perfume because I am a smoker, and because I know that the bathwater in the UK needs to be filtered before it is used or it will make my smoker’s skin worse. I need to wear good headphones because all I do is listen to music – and I actually do so to meditate.


Edited 19/Aug/19 to add: After posting the Salt N Pepa song I pussssheed the Earphones into my ear. They squidge out so I stay true to my initial comments. But it was a better listening experience.

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These purple earphones are from Tiger. They cost £1 or £2 quid. 4.5/10

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They were inexpensive, but they work with my laptops full volume – although I can hear myself finger-clicking if I finger-click loud enough. So far… they’ve lasted for a month or two. They fall out if I dance, masturbate or walk hard. They were not designed for people that can dance/masturbate/walk briskly. I like the colour and the design, although I don’t like the ‘jelly’ ear piece variety of earphones, and they aren’t hygienic. I have to clean my ears more than most people because I listen to music loud. And if I don’t this happens:

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I’ll still wear them, wax and dust and all, but it’s not-okay.

Also they don’t appear to have a mic so i can take a shit in them.

If I have a boyfriend, we can hold hands on the streets – but I’m still donning my earphones and they’re going to be full volume.

I am certain that either Omar (my elder brother) or I am the reason they have those consideration stickers on buses for people listening to loud music. I can listen to loudish music with them on, although I don’t think they could stand a heavy bass. But for the price that really isn’t a problem for me.

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These are Goji earphones. These are not good. The company don’t even have a website so I can’t link you to them. I’m embarrassed for you, Goji. They were a thoughtful gift though. A sincere try. I give these 2/10. They look good. They are pretty earphones. They make the briefest cameo in this video.

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The wireless/bluetooth function is also great but you can’t go up/down flights of stairs with them. Most people don’t enjoy the music I listen to because they think it’s embarrassing and these degraded slowly – I got the bumble bee vibration fuzz (that I enjoy and I’m sure it helps me when I meditate)

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This is a less attractive design with visible stitching on the leather, which makes them look cheap. I don’t really personally want to see the stitching work on leather. Sometimes it looks good, mostly it doesn’t look good.

These are Jabra “150-years-of-sound-innovation” Elites. I give them.. uh… a very honest and very generous 1/10 because as far as I’m aware, they have charged for fifteen minutes and they are not giving me the promised 1 hour. Why invest in a writer for the manual copy and lie?

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The one out of ten is because they are actually quite cool-LOOKING to wear, although I didn’t test them underwater.

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And I wasn’t expecting that they would look cool on, either. They do not stay inside my ear enough for the music to be loud enough, so wearing them in the SEA would be USELESS.

They are bluetooth, and that means that they can be hacked. But ideally that means they can be remotely fixed too.

I’m going to leave them charging for 24 hours and see if they decide to work a little bit better.


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This is Kylie J and Headphonesty giving you the side eye on my behalf, in the best earphones I’ve ever had. I picked the rose gold ones but these look so fucking good. I’ll get back to the design of them because thats what I struggled with. KYLIE I KNOW YOU DON’T ACTUALLY LISTEN TO YOUR MUSIC USING THESE EARPHONES. BUT YOU SHOULD. WE CAN TAG TEAM THE MOST EPIC FINAL FANTASY MEDITATION CHANNEL OF US BEING SEXY. (With Jane cos Jane is the best.)

I prefer them with the wire in. It might be a generation thing, the wire.

The Apple store in @Westfield gave us some Dre Beats as a gift, when we bought ourselves some MacBooks and an iMac. Lisa taught me to be more selective about the gifts that I accept and these were accepted absolutely without regret, but like Salt N Peppa doing anime, the design is ahead of it’s time.

(Who did Trunx’s look first you ask, a meditation-ESP sesh with babysitter Tupac who came to tell his me that black people did the military-anime look first.)

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..I think they want Sephiroth though..

OMG tHESE i WAnatA BuY ThEsE

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I’ll wear them with these

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I recently went swimming in Brighton with the Dre Beats bluetooth function and the waterproof iPhone 7 model. The iPhone can’t go deep underwater – and that’ll be what sways me to an upgrade.

“this wan goes to elefen” is a Spinal Tap joke. You should watch Spinal Tap. An ex bestfriends dad (the guy who basically runs the show at RADA but can’t fake being gay  to save his cotton socks and still hasn’t written to me about my honorary scholarship) told us to watch it and you need to. Need to. (Love you Hugh)

Anyway as far as sound goes, I choose tinnitus. It HURTS. The first night that you lay your head down on a pillow is terrifying because all you can hear is a frequency that makes it difficult to sleep, but eventually you sleep. It becomes unnoticeable eventually. But it is distressing at first. I saw in an episode of Southpark – written and animated by Jews – that theres this ritual where they place a bell on boy’s heads and bang on it and it induces tinnitus, telepathy and interconnectedness.

Cute styles.

My period stained shoes.

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Oprah said “don’t cheap out on shoes” and that’s partly why I wont buy these, but I do like the design of them. I’d be more inclined to buy cheap shoes if brands were honest about who they copied the designs from. I feel weird buying them now, because I felt that Karl Lagerfeld had endorsed this company – his cat Choupette was following Public Desire on instagram – and that felt like an okay from a fashion GOD that made me want to buy them, and now he’s fucking disappeared. I don’t believe he’s passed away, or the eulogy in Vogue would have been an entire fucking year of mourning. Do not EVER undermine what it really means for a man to have replaced Coco Chanel.

And by the way – Anna Karina the Danish actress’ real name was more Hanne than Anna, and Coco Chanel picked that name. Do you know what I am like about NAMES? I won’t even use a tumblr with a shit-name.

I don’t care whether he’s eloped with Alexander McQueen or not, the coincidence isn’t acceptable. I think that this company is owned by footballers wives and girlfriends and to pretend otherwise is to shit on everything I have fucking worked towards about telling the truth. Do I want these shoes? YES, do I want to endorse these people stealing designs – no.

I feel implicated, actually, in his disappearance, because I ENDORSED THESE. Whether someone bought them because-of-me or not means fuck all. At the time, I felt and even write – “Karl is so0o designing these, he’s doing a shadow-secret-cheap-brand-thats-sort-of-Fendi-but-for-POOR-PEOPLE”, and what is quite scary actually is that I really, really thought so. These women used me to time travel (yes, it sounds pretty stupid to me too but its not MY life we’re writing about) access memories and to access information from the School of Economic Science, who through many stages teach people to ethically access truth through meditation, discussion with teachers and proper guidance towards a life that makes you ethical enough to be trusted with the kind of truths that help you access higher consciousnesses. The idea that these women used me (they did, but it isn’t about me right now) to do these things is absolutely disgusting. It is terrifying.

If Karl and I have anything in common it is that we pride ourselves on the idea that we can be alone, can exist alone, that we take pride in making other people shine. And I think that I feel quite concerned deep down that he was abused by people who could afford to buy him and his clothes. Not many people can afford a heritage Classic like Chanel – but those women can. And I know that they used to traipse from Fashion House to Fashion House and that while they didn’t have a shoppe that could host Chanel nor Fendi, they could afford to arrange fittings and to meet him. I am genuinely worried that something was done to him and that it is being kept secret. The French police are not renowned for their honesty, nor are British police. Nor any really.

Why these colour palettes @publicdesire? What inspired you originally? If you are a designer this is exactly the kind of thing you need to know. If you are a designer, it is the kind of thing that will keep you the hell up at night.

Why hasen’t (I’m leaving that typo there, ugh) your brand appeared in any real fashion magazines? NO ONE considers GRAZIA a FASHION magazine. It is on par with HELLO magazine, and some weeks after appearing in it, Louise Pentland’s infant Pearl looks completely different. You can look through my memories – I could communicate with that child through a fucking screen. I’d make a face at her and she’d make a face back. She’d cry for no good reason (believe me, I’d know vibrationally if your baby was crying because it was SUFFERING) and I’d shout “CHUT UP” and she fucking chut up (I’m sure my kids through time and space would say “that is so her”, because thats 50% how I speak to things that I love.) and now she looks like a bloated version of her father and I know Louise is too polite to say anything about it but these women, and my “sister” and her friends need to be stopped. You can observe my memories to see me walking through the streets of Denmark on my toes because the ribbons on my shoes kept coming undone and some time later I saw her – A BABY – doing the SAME THING. WALKING ON HER TOES. And then there’s the segment in Louise’s video where she wouldn’t crawl on her knees, she did a military push/pull thing and I communicated that it was painful for babies to learn to crawl on their knees.

It’s so weird, there was this thought journey I took listening to music awhile ago where I was asked by an air hostess I recall meeting at an Emirates interview who asked “if you were asked if you’d give up your body for a ‘better one’ would you accept?” and I can’t help but think that baby agreed to something. I am secretly concerned that my sister and her friends are preparing alternate bodies (YES, it CAN be done) for themselves because when you realise what they’ve all done – you’ll all want them dead.

Cos people really weren’t wearing nudes until I brought a collection of pieces in tie-dye skin tones and khakis back from Syria, Penelope and Monica Cruz did a collection for Mango – which had also been gifted to me.

 

 

 

DOG GODS

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I’m thinking of selling underwear. Years ago in Farnham I sold a pair of knickers in exchange for a trunk. I never sent the knickers. The guy that purchased the trunk for me and never got his knickers got a really good time and used the unsold knickers as an excuse to do some very strange stuff, to make me feel guilty, not really considering that when he invaded my privacy – he stole from me first. Stealing privacy is theft. It is a choice. So he lied, stole and paid in advance to do so with a wooden trunk and consider it equal now. It isn’t equal your life is hell and I know it but I accept apologies and I prefer apologies in writing.

When I was younger I saw that there were these amazing candy-dispensaries for school girl’s underwear in Japan, on television. The girls would basically visit the stalls in the morning and get their underwear, wear them to school and then return them in little cute pop boxes to be sold. It is a novelty-cultural-thing that I imagine is very much to do with hentai, and I am all for it actually. I don’t think anyone is actually sexually into sniffing underwear but I do think that people enjoy being weird and having weird gifts/objects that belong to specific people.

There is a cam-girl-gamer-girl selling her bathwater to a youtuber that I’ve co-adopted as an incestuous nephew – he is over twenty one but he looks WAY younger but he acts WAY older (none of it matters, I’m offering a description of a person, not giving sex criminals ideas for how to justify something that is inherently fucked up and weird. Family that are sexual with one another would be right to be honest with and to replace one another, as an infant I failed my older brother who was on drugs when I gave him a blowjob in his bed – and once we have our revenge I am finding him about five women to replace me with, in his life. And then I will find him another five or so to replace our fucking weird sister who I hold responsible for that.)

I am not naive, I know that people have sordid sexual fantasies. I know we all feel at liberty to explore a sexual landscape and that sometimes if we do so it feels as though nothing else will work. I actually experienced that for a very weird month or two! I didn’t enjoy masturbating unless I watched someone being beaten the shit out of (they had to enjoy it too.). I’ve done weird things and most of those things were done in childhood. The last thing I did that felt weird was that I murdered a magnet to feed a spider that didn’t really want to eat the magnet because he felt GUILT. (He got over it when he realised that they have a sense of humour – but suffering of any kind is primitive. If you are going to do live-feed, if you are going to kill an animal, cover it’s eyes – drug it with weed. A LOT of weed.)

 

There are not many people that can honestly and void-of-judgement both find you genuinely attractive after confessing to doing something weird like arranging for someone to be hospitalised so that they can be drugged and put to sleep so you can rape them (HARRY. WILL. IF ANYONE ACTS LIKE THEY DON’T KNOW IT IS BECAUSE THEY’VE DONE SOMETHING THAT RIVALS YOUR CRIMINALITY. I’ve never found either physically attractive – but I am confessing FOR them – on their behalf – what they did.) (Getting your friends to do it too doesn’t save you from what you’ve done.)

The reality is that in every culture I come from, the things that those princes have done (and trust me – the reality is that their mother is probably writing this) to ME specifically – are the kinds of things that would get them shot. And then taken into warehouses with underground warehouses and underground warehouses and they’d be resuscitated where they’d be tortured etc. If you know how the world works, that is a kindness to them. I prefer to wait for their mother to return and for her to tell people the truth, and to see who she chooses.

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This is female discharge. It is clean and it is not-clean because discharge is how your womb cleans itself. Mine smells faintly of dettol on days when I use dettol – which is a medicinal grade antiseptic. You should be able to FEEL your vagina’s health, and see it in your discharge. Yes our vaginas also lubricate themselves but discharge is how your body removes stuff that isn’t wanted in there. It is a normal and healthy function.

You think it is no big deal that I know that, and you probably ALREADY KNOW THAT but there were, for example in the United States: women who were cruelly tested on, some women purchased as slaves by doctors that used them to learn about the female body. These doctors were so stupid that they believed that everything to do with female sexuality equated to pain. That women had no sexualities to speak of and that stupidity was probably a very large part of why men and women are at such different stages of sexual evolution.

When I first found discharge in my underwear it was terrifying, I was prone to hypochondria and I thought there was something wrong with me. My first period was horrible.

I have to be a bit extra-careful because I am still afraid of my insect familiars and that they like to come in and perch on my things sometimes and I’ve been taught they are unclean animals. They really aren’t, I’d think they’d say “you are messier than we are!” Especially spiders. Spiders are OCD.

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This is some green ribbon I purchased from John-Lewis. They have a good in-shoppe haberdashery, if I recall correctly from my childhood. Everyone should have a flower or ten of choice and everyone should have a ribbon or ten of choice.

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Anubis is the fanciest Anubis around isn’t he.

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If Killi the bird reads this, that little green saucer is only a TEMPORARY solution to the fact that these plants do want to feel quite special. I’ll invest in pots and your saucer will be returned to your green trunk.

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These plants make me very happy but I probably make them quite depressed sometimes. I like to think they have an ever-expansive emotional intelligence and landscape and that they appreciate a variety of feelings, the physical experience is rife with lessons and occasions and to be able to respond to something in a way that no being has ever responded to anything is probably what makes anyone rich. Doing something differently. Appreciating depression and sadness and anger and fury and pure fucking rage and I guess what it really takes to create some of the most vibrant beings that have ever existed.

If you asked me, of my maggots, which were the most emotionally intelligent, it would be the ones that peacefully existed in the ‘Tintin’s soil stash’ that were left alone but were aware of stimuli, such as music that I’d play for them. A pretence that Tintin was a teenager growing weed, by enriching the soil first. I think maggots are as good as worms are at interacting with soil, but that’s intuition and not based in scientific ‘fact’. How someone would really test that, and I’m sure it is possible – is to me – very unethical. Again, it is my intuition that tells me so. Magicck is art and science and the absence of that which is clinical. If you were to ask me which of my maggots were the most physically interesting – I’d say “the ones that had been abused, had been raised in poor circumstances (a plastic bag.) created the most ground breaking results in terms of their metamorphose into becoming a fly. And they made sure to wait, made sure that I saw their bellies – they wanted me to see what they had meditated to become” the most intelligent ones – the ones that know to HIDE – are the ones that had to experience my bird-friend Killi haphazardly and without any kind of care towards her personal safety, launching herself onto the balcony and quite violently helping herself into their home and eating some. Esther and Abraham Hicks would say that the magnets (I prefer ‘magnets’ to ‘maggots’) chose that fate for themselves.

I had to accept from the moment that I brought her upstairs that I had a choice: that if I had chosen to kill her and feed her to them, it would create a very different kind of result. I chose her because I know that she was more obviously interactive, and cute, and because I could hold her and there was less struggle to interact and less for me to overcome in terms of growth. And that is speciesism.

I have learned to hold maggots that wander too far from their home with my bare fingers and that’s terrifying for me, even though as an infant I used to gather insects – beetles from the pool side. I’d save lots of them. And snails, I remember once going out after it had rained and I gathered snails and put them all on a lamp post outside of the place I called home in my childhood.

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Lucifer likes Fererro Rochers. That is a a lot of glorious packaging to be reluctant to recycle and I am using one of them as a propagator for some chilli seeds I scooped out of a chilli that I then fed to my magnet friends, and they really like eating chilli.

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When I was in Farnham, I had a lot of avocado seeds that had grown and grown – I kept them in water that I didn’t often replenish because something told me that the exchange of fluids and the avocado skin etc was actually nourishing to the avocado seeds. Plants are not for “clean” people.

There was a lot of jealousy because of my plants, the avocado plants especially – and I was enraged when I came back from a stay at a research hospital (that I was put into because a WHOLE TOWN was jealous of me) where a person had died after I said “someone is going to die” (and they did) to find all my plants dead. Coming back to find that these plants that I had poured love and memories and body fluids and TALKED TO -were just left to die. That was the last time I experienced genuine heartbreak actually.