ARTING IMP

THIS DESIGNER HAD ACCESS TO MY MEMORIES.

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When I was younger – I wanted to have my legs shaved down. I was FOURTEEN years old and I, with my mother, said to a doctor “I want to have the muscle removed from my legs” because all the girls I knew had skinny legs. I played Street Fighter and my brother telepathically said “she has big legs and you fancy her, don’t you?” “yes”

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I preferred playing as Sakura.

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I liked playing as Rose too but a girl called Amy stole her from me because she was shit at Street Fighter and the scarf move gave her distance.

Then this was aired at 3AM in Paraguay when I visited Granma.

 

rose

[ref]

RUSSELL BRANDS BITCHWIFE STARTED EMBROIDERING THIS SHIT AFTER I ORDERED TOWELS WITH THE WORDS BLOOD RARE ON THEM. INSPIRED BY MY GRANMA CONCHITA WHO SEWED CUSHIONS FOR ME.

It’s fine, I chose – when she stole my character – badly

RAINBOW MIKA

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This is our signature move. The hair flip.

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[ref]

Which later inspired LEVI.


First things first. I’m cheating on Alexander McQueen. (He is gay. It’d start out with me playing dress up in his performance art mansion where he’d host as fashion aristocracy (because Karl is fashion royalty) all sorts of beautiful people making art and being art and eating ONLY art ALL DAY. He would eventually get bored and mind control me to have a sex change of sorts and we’d be responsible for unleashing to the world some of the most ridiculously beautiful people ever to have existed. And then he’d probably lose interest again (because that is the nature of fashion, that is the nature of artists) and I’d say “I HAD A SEX CHANGE FOR YOU!!!” and he’d say “HAVE ANOTHER” and guiltlessly so, because that is his honest self, because I value honesty and genius that accompanies cruelty, because I look for people that can TAKE MY ABUSE. And it’d be my fault if I agreed to it, because who the hell just does something like that because they’re influenced to? I’m a performance artist too, inside, damnit)

I WOULD have sex with Alexander McQueen, but he would be USING me to make people jealous. Thats it. He didn’t love himself until recently, when I really got upset that I thought he’d died and I actually really felt towards the him that probably created of him that artist. The him that was a bit chubby and terribly attired. This genius that could (WATCH PAPRIKA.) envision beautiful clothes for women, and still be so understated and really that wasn’t him. He didn’t like men’s clothes. He didn’t even have a chance to be himself.

If we got together prematurely, he’d LEAVE me for someone “BETTER”. And if he found someone “BETTER” I’d be like “oh. god, i won’t compete with that.” First of all, I’m HONEST. I’m a bitch but when I’m a bitch I am SO honest.

And then there might be some part of him that thinks “Why isn’t she fighting for me?” WELL ALEXANDER. The issue with loving people is you just think they’re right about EVERYTHING. (Well, me, thats what I do, when I love people. I listen to them. I stupidly fucking listen to them. ALSO. WHY NOT IZZY. WHY HAVE YOU NOT DATED IZZY. She was married, he’d say. Technically she is still married. Why didn’t you date both? SHUT UP

If you love someone, let them go if they want to go. If you really love someone you value their right to GROW. If someone picks someone else over you, and you know you are the one that can show them the love you know that they deserve – and they choose someone else – they are not ready for you. You might be a lesson they have to hold onto forever. A lesson that has them sitting in a rocking chair going backwards and forwards in some sad OAPs home because they were uncomfortable that you had more body hair than some bitch called ‘laura’ or ’emma’ or ‘rachel’ or ‘liz’ or – god – give me a name that sums up the hairless white-looking woman with a tan? (I have room in my life for one or maybe two of those, and they better be more magical than I am because otherwise I’d find them all quite annoying and what a genetic holocaust that would be.) (I have been called stupid my entire life, but at least I know that two dark haired people can’t have a blonde child.) (Were you defending a blonde to steal that child?) (Don’t worry – you can give her back all her blonde kids, and I’ll be having one of my Levis.) (Unless she says “no, I prefer this one – and you can let them keep those kids. Trust me: they despise of their parents.) (I’d reply “Good, because he knows what he wants and I think he makes good decisions. He deserves to feel wanted.”)


Whats that line? I’m the price you had to pay (If you have to ‘abuse’ someone to get a child, say “i’d rather fucking not.”) (Unless you were abused by that person first and you’re being KIND by returning the favour. Guilt is HELL.)

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Before you shit your lingerie – I can’t actually afford Alexander McQueen, I’m not REALLY cheating on Alexander McQueen. And if I were to cheat on him he’d be using me to cheat.

But once: I paid him in attention. For what? I have no fucking clue, to help him shit? Like it’s a compliment? To help him design? (LETS BE HONEST. I WANTED CLOTHES LIKE THE ONES THEY HAD IN FINAL FANTASY AND I COULDN’T GET THEM. YOU CAN DESIGN CLOTHES LIKE THAT MCQUEEN, BUT YOU WON’T FIND MANY PEOPLE THAT KNOW HOW TO WEAR THEM. DO YOU THINK CHERRENE AND HER FRIENDS WERE GOING TO BUY YOUR CLOTHES? THEY WORE SHIT LIKE THIS. IN PUBLIC.)

s-l300

[ref]

I will say though, these were a trend started by two Jewish sisters. I read through their ‘about me’ page on their site.

Let me, um. Get thsssspechificc about what I KNOW I did for you.

ONLY I CAN TAKE THIS (AND LOVE IT)

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AND THIS (AND LOVE IT)

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And turn it into a cardigan donning PERFECT ANGEL.

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“no loyalty” MY ASS.

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I will show you “no loyalty”. You and my old friends – further back than I care to remember anymore – that waited for ME to disappear to ‘do me’.

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I used >>PaletteGenerator<< To find these colours.

How fantastic are these colour pallettes? (I learned that word from Pokémon I think. I misspelt pallettes but how beautiful are double L’s and double T’s?)

The designers that watched my visions and saw the look I imagined for myself and made sure I didn’t get the things I DREAMED of having.

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"don't worry, it's not finished", is the thing it took me years to
say to myself about every single piece of art in my room. In fact
every single piece of art I have ever done, I have felt insecure
about. 

If you feel insecure showing your work, that is the best motivation
you have to get better at creating. If you created a piece of art
in a DAY, that is not an art. It is a creative journal entry.
You keep adding to it. Journal entries might even BE your art, 
in which case you should keep making them. I like to add three things
to every page of a sketchbook everytime I open it.

Even if it is a few dots, a slightly more dramatic eye sparkle.

The right thing to say
is 

"this is an art, it is incomplete but it will evolve, and when I feel
to: I add something towards it."

I don't know what musicians are doing, releasing new albums
every fucking year. You felt all of this in a year? DID YOU?
No. RERELEASE ALBUMS.

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I wanted to manifest a style and an artist's identity when I started
listening to Esther Hicks. I wanted an Art Gallery in a Squat.
I wanted to design a game. There are things I wanted to do and
apparently in teaching myself to animate, a lot of little kids
very creepy dads started picking up the skill too - and without
in any way crediting me but making sure that their kids weird
play videos were seen by me. It is great that I've given so many
parents ideas for how to bond with their kids though, I hope that
has lessened their kids suffering. Deeper down I hope with all of my
heart that those kids parents are not pedophiles.
To be clear - a pedophile is a sex criminal - a person who doesn't
even give a child the chance to knowingly consent or otherwise to
a physical or non-physical relationship of any kind. Who doesn't
tell the child the truth before that child makes contact with them
that the adult will perceive as sexual. It is very likely that child
has no idea that they are doing something sexual because children
are not sexual beings. 

I am going to embarrass someone here - but I do so only out of love
and kindness and it is an invitation to come back and be the head
of my family if you so choose to forgive my weird family for the sake
of my aunt who was & is loyal to you, if a bit of a material girl. 
I don't think she believed for one moment that you had really passed.
The 'psychic' gene comes from both sides of my family. That is, we
had to learn to use intuition because if you are really from a family
of many generations of humanitarian work or power, you need to go by
more than physical evidence if you want to survive. It is something of
a gift that you develop over many, many generations. Unless you are
connected to me - my first impression used to be absolutely flawless
until the police, the army, the princes of uk etc started stalking me
with such tremendous efforts that they didn't consider that I was 
a distraction. Kind of like this healer archetype.

soraka-celestine

I have been able to channel spirit since I was an infant. 
A non-related relative once was certain that I was the reincarnation 
of a wife he loved very, very much who he thought had passed away. 
Well I will tell you that I have no doubts that she was trying to
communicate but that she did so unethically. 

I can forgive anything once I have the truth. But it's a choice.

(Hurting my animals, hurting my older brother - is something I assure
you that no one who knew either my animals nor my brother will 
forgive you for. Maybe my 'sister', but she's a MESS. She has not
loved ANYTHING. IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. but as far as my animals and
my brother go, if you hurt either, you have made an enemy of all the 
little girls that would say "my friends (I was not) older brother 
Omar will kill you if you hurt me" and they MEANT it.) 

When you are a child you learn - if I tell the truth about this 
naughty thing, I've done.. it is likely I will be punished for it. 
Cause and Affect/Effect. Consequence.

That can be frightening and it can deter you from telling the truth, 
but you also need to learn in LIFE - that if you DON'T tell the truth,
it will eventually be found out.

You cannot hide the truth. The consequences are often much worse, if
you keep what you've done a secret. It makes sense that our british
princes would have run from the truth, would have arranged for the
police to abuse my brother and i, would have arranged for the 
military to abuse us. 

I return to this relative: I think he married me to save me a lot of
shit, thinking with sincerity that I was someone I was CHANNELLING.
I once wrote in a blog that those that you love but are not around
are energies that you pour into people that you speak to. If you
spend all your time thinking about somebody, you will make the person
that you project that love onto that person. 

I used to sit on his lap and tense/relax and somehow I had 
prematurely learned to enjoy that physical sensation and I am
entirely mortified that I did that to him. I mean obviously there
was weird stuff going on - it was either my mother or my sister 
that were encouraging me to do that, or someone who was time 
travelling that I would have had to of trusted as some kind of
authority. But imagine if you had plenty of reason to truly believe
that a child was the reincarnation of a person that you had lost -
to the point that you'd say so in a religious court - what could 
really stop you from interacting with that child as you would have
with the person that you had loved and lost?

The police only matter to a solipsist if they have attempted to
give themselves significance. Some people are desperate for 
significance. I was sexually molested and stalked by police who might
have given tax payers all sorts of excuses to escape the reality that
they were suffering with addiction. 

I am gifted in that I can help ANYONE overcome a physical addiction -
I can help people get over any drug or habit that i do not have 
myself. The sacrifice though, for me, isn't always worth it.
(Like you need to be hot, incredible etc - for me to be okay with it)
(the police know that the second that they put on that weird little
outfit, or start doing the undercover cop thing, they are essentially
walking irritation, they are acne on the skin of this country,
the are unattractive. So they use people they've touched without
permission to remotely view people.) 

Those Alcoholic Anonymous sorts that Russell Brand hangs out with are
a very controlling and weird cult that to an extent keep society safe
but to help an addict you have to have been one. 



I think it is sad that my belongings - belongings I had collected at
great personal expense to myself and my being were either left in a
flat occupied by people that had no idea of their value (Five
thousand pounds or so worth of Saffron flowers that had been 
individually picked in Syria - my stupid parent didn't have a clue
as to how much Saffron was worth.) and either sold them or trashed
them. Promise that some of my belongings are worth more than most
of the people's worth walking through that flat.



I'm sure my old landlord is mortified that he showed off that a girl
whose "dad was in iron maiden" was occupying a room of that flat.
Is that how you all introduce yourselves? Through your parents
accomplishments? Is that how you feign status? Your parents might be
epic, but if they are celebrities of any kind I advise that you do
not go around telling people, no matter how proud you are, because
it is a risk to your personal safety. And your "friends" personal
safety. (Unless your dad went around saying "I'm in Iron Maiden")



I still do. The issue is that everything I wanted seemed to be
assumed by someone that was listening in without permission.

First I will have to manifest privacy. Consequences met to those
who without invitation invade my privacy, thoughts, inner sight etc.



IT OKAY BECOTH I FIND BEAUTY WHERE OTHER PEOPLE DONTNAE FINDAE THAE BEAUTAE.

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DEAD FLOWERS. THE FAKE STUFF. THE TACKY, CHEAP STUFF.

(You want to tell me that my sister and her friends were the kind of people to ‘really like’ artists like Vince Ray?) (I once saw a metal trunk full of invitations that I helped to put in envelopes for events at a club called ‘AURA’ or something, it had invitations that had been illustrated using a Vince Ray graphic novel. SOo00000oo0o CHERRENE AND HER FREIHASNDKSFDSSSSSSS isnt it) (You chose the most DISGUSTING kinds of people over me – the insult of that will never go. EVER.)

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[ref, image accessed 17 August 2019]

Are you sure my “sister” was paying for those Alexander McQueen scarves with her Harrods salary? ARE YOU QUITE CERTAIN. She’s a fucking whore! (OR was she whoring someone else out?) (perhaps a few of their artist friends?)

There’s this line in Memoirs of a Geisha where Mameha says to Saiyuri after she’s been molested abit “YOU SOLD YOURSELF FOR A KIMONO?!”

And she’s like “I AM NACHT WORTHLESS” cos she really didn’t.

I liked Saiyuri because she had blue eyes and black hair and her character fell off a roof and she was reduced to nothing throughout her youth because someone encouraged her to do something stupid – and she did so to chase after a sister that didn’t give a shit about anyone but herself.

I liked Hatsumomo more – because she paid for fucking everything. Pumpkin wanted a HAUSU but didn’t put the work into having that HAUSU. Hatsumomo just wanted to love. She did not perform kindness, she was a cold hearted bitch and she made sure you knew that.

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[snitching ref]

This skirt was RIPPED OFF FINAL FANTASY X-2. THE ONE I REFUSED TO PLAY FOR SOME REASON. All I wanted was to look like this. I used to cut my hair myself, but also I’d ask hairdressers to cut my hair but leave a bit longer, for the plait when I got negged for my hair.

I was doing these hairstyles.

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yuna20wardrobe20theory

 

WHAT CAN ARTISTS LEARN FROM MATHEMATICIANS? Me included btw – but when I showed this I did say “these are not ALL of my illustrations, SOME ARE – these were taken from a storybook” but I didnt credit the artists, photographers etc.

 

In life you ought to value that kind of honesty – I always did. But it came with a threat – “I am the biggest regret of your life.”


I was meant to buy an iPhone. Just an iPhone 7, to replace the one that was removed from my room. It’ll be replaced again because stealing my things has really scary consequences. Ask all the people that have stolen from me.

I used my iPhone as a camera and an mp3. I chose THESE. There’s just so much I~N~S~P~I~R~A~T~I~O~N. I mean you could, quite honestly, base a whole collection on these shapes, colours, textures.

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It’s Tom Ford’s (CAN YOU TELL OR NO?) and it makes me smell good. And it makes me shiny. It’s not a pour on oil, it’s a perfume bottle, or I’d make one of those very tacky videos of me pouring liquid gold on myself.

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I have been dressing up and putting photos of myself in various states of nudity on the internet since I was about fifteen years old, and if you ‘did not know that’ you are lying. Or you are from somewhere in Vietnam and you genuinely don’t know me or of me because you don’t have access to the internet. That is one of the excuses they used to section me.

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No but, uh, this is about more than that. Actually it isn’t, I’m still fucked up over everything. The damage of this card is real. If you’re not arranging for me to be compensated, it’s because you’re going through something similar.

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If only because – I promise you – the person that’s been stabbed in the back that many times – the subject in the card is ALIVE. You know that video of that woman, singing on the table dancing in front of a webcam? She knocks the table over and then she rolls around on the floor a bit cos she’s in pain and uh, yeah.

I’ve spent my life recovering from something.

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Check out me Jabba the Hut earphones. Apparently you can wear them upto a meter under water, and I’ll do so when the suns next out. I live by the beach. I also need goggles.

 

You didn’t know that I am a very strong swimmer, did you. That if you were to go unconscious I would occupy you and swim you to wherever you needed to go. I can go through currents and I promise, the jelly fish will avoid you.

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I’m not talking to her at the moment, but Susie Whitaker sewed into her photography and in part that is what I was thinking of when I sewed into this scribble. I was also thinking of the cute boy in that speech Oprah did at Harvard that was sitting behind someone that looks like my uncle Carlos. It is an old scribble, and if you know whats been going on lately you’d know how weird it is. I like going back to things and working on top of them and thats something I learned from Steve Littman, a lecturer at Uni that guided me through my BA.

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If you want to DEFEND a BLONDE – do so by TELLING THE TRUTH.

Not by hurting the person that they HURT.

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This is a snapshot of art and ideally it will speak to people who were given sex changes as infants because mummy or daddy wanted a daughter (in some cultures having a daughter is death, in others it is very lucrative. Have a daughter that you treat well, have another daughter that you sell.) or even to women who didn’t get to be with the ‘posh’ english boy that they wanted because they were too hairy. I mean the excuses are endless but that’s really what it boils down to.

It is fine, because I know your hairless girlfriends feel nothing when you “fuck” them.

If I have ever consented to you snuggling me while I am in some kind of comatose sleep, if you have ever convinced yourself I was subliminally consenting to it – I UN-CONSENT. If I want to do stuff with you, you’ll know. Ideally you’ll get in touch. If you have the guts you can say outloud “I have rape fantasies and I can’t do them with my girlfriend because that emasculation I was avoiding by being with you is three times worse with her. I mean I still prefer her and I’d rather be seen with her in public and stuff but I really want to perform these rape fantasies” then I will do some weed and if you’re hot enough (you probably aren’t. thats why its rape.) I will even let you film (if we set up some mirrors right I’ll film you raping me)  one of those violent rape scenes with me for your wankbank. FOR FUH-RHEEEEE

_MG_5383.JPGThis is a PERIOD. THIS IS NOT ME CUTTING MY GENITALS. WHY THE FUCK WOULD I CUT MY GENITALS YOU FUCKING FREAK.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DOCTOR THAT WANTED TO SEE MY GENITALS AND THAT HE PRETENDED THAT HE HADN’T ALREADY. SO FAMOUS. SO IMMORTAL.

Don’t choose guilt prison over the truth, you’ll realise years into one of those loving relationships that either you or the person you love or both are being sleep-raped by ugly people or one another. And it probably isn’t someone hot doing it, it is probably either the military or the police pretending that they care about what happened to me when really they just joined in and want more people to do it to cos once you’ve done it one/two/three/four times it is weird. And waiting to die is apparently absolute hell

No, it doesn’t make you Christian Greys. It doesn’t give you sexy vibes. It gives you ‘that creepy indian guy that isn’t allowed in his mum’s house during the day’ vibes. (I CAN MAKE THAT JOKE. YOU CAN’T.)  The point of Christian Grey, I imagine, is that firstly: there is no one that would not want to have sex with him. I have dated that guy and wanted for someone else – thats really how you get Christian Grey. You WANT someone ELSE. That means that Christian Grey cheats on you throughout your entire relationship. He obsesses about his ex that ‘abused’ him. (Does him telling you that story help you to connect with him? Me was so hurted by this person and it left one of those unfillable BPD psychic holes.) (SAME CHRISTIAN, SAME.) (BEFORE YOU GO LOOKING FOR GIRLFRIENDS, PICK A BESTFRIEND.)

And that isn’t complimentary, everyone fancying you – and if Christian Grey NEEDS that to feel attractive then he is putting on a performance by gallivanting around as some kind of master of sex.

Someone encouraged me to get back with an ex of mine and I think it’s because he’s a middle eastern and I’m a middle eastern and I’m the only girl that he ever dated that didn’t actually abuse him (one threatened him with a razor, for example) – you generally have a choice between being abused or abusing someone and I can’t abuse people I love. I can make ‘awful’ jokes at their expense but if you look carefully, listen carefully, notice the subtlety, I am generally insulting myself much more than I am insulting anyone else that is the butt-of-my-jokes because self deprecation is the best form of humour I think that we have other than fake arguments. Most people can’t do those.


Sikhs consider cutting your hair a form of self harm.

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Actually there are a lot of behaviours that are technically self harm. Eating a bit too much is a form of self harm – not if I do it, I have a very big torso which means when I am hungry – I am REALLY hungry. Dating someone that makes you feel like you aren’t good enough for them is a form of self harm. Talking to relatives that abused you is a form of self harm but if you have been gassed and raped by strangers in your flat, who convinced themselves that you wanted them to, you have to pick the abusers that at least wouldn’t physically rape you, if only because it’d be a bit awkward. I couldn’t tell my “mother” or my “sister” or my “old friends” I was being raped because they got JEALOUS.

I literally called out for help, and it didn’t work. If you pretend you can’t see my life, you can contact local doctors in Surrey – because when I felt unwell, in any way, I communicated that to them. If I felt rage, I called up 999 and said “I FEEL to do XYZ, and this ISN’T normal”, when I realised I had anorexia (not one of those teenager fad diets) the kind of hellish anorexia that PREVENTED me from eating (that is, I felt no hunger and I physically couldn’t keep food down) – I TOLD a doctor. MORE THAN ONCE. I TOLD my “best friends” that I was fucking suffering and I got a “not my problim” (which would’ve been fine if I hadn’t of done all the stuff I had done for them)

Will I forgive you? ho ho ho, no. Will I love you unconditionally? I will NOT.

Breaking spiritual laws, like – stealing is a form of self harm. Stealing time from a person’s life – if you are a judge of some kind – what makes you a judge? I mean what qualifies you to be a judge? How can doctors steal women and men’s autonomy from them and hospitalise them and pretend it is to keep them safe?

ARE YOU SURE THEY ARE NOT BEING ABUSED BY THE PEOPLE TRYING TO PUT THEM IN THAT HOSPITAL?

WHY THE HELL WOULD HE STEAL FROM A SHOP AND THEN CALL THE POLICE?

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO PERPETUATE A STORY LIKE THAT. ARE YOU SURE. ARE YOU PREPARED TO DIE FOR THAT BECAUSE THAT IS A WARCRIME. PROMISE.

 

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I felt like I’d had one of those lazy days then I kind of realised I didn’t and that people have no idea how much I achieve in a day if I stop daydreaming (meditating, visualising, whatever you want to call it) for several minutes

This is a Madame Bijoux Dior ad. I love Madame Bijoux.

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This is Ryvita with philadelphia cheese. One of these has chia, tomato pureé (Tinned tomato), paté, lemon juice and afew different kinds of seasoning. The other has chia seeds, manuka honey and nutella. I served myself using Killi’s saucer. (I decided that Tintin and I could share the mug but I bought a brown tin mug recently so I think he’ll have that instead.) (It looks vintage)

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I designed a label for a pink sweets bag. It’s a wedge I free-hand scalpelled out of black card. I could’ve been one of those epic surgeons if you’ve seen my cuts and my stitches.

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This dress began as a bow weeks ago, and then while I was doing a meditation with Jane of SethSpeaks I illustrated over with some glossy housepaint and a dress happened. Then I added to it with some bits I cut out of card months later, today.

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Imagine if I’d of had the pennies to design the things I’d like to wear. That I’d like to dress women in.

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Art takes years. And if it doesn’t it’s not the “best you can do”


a tweet worthy of note

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THIS IS A FAN ART FOR PYROCYNICAL

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Ginger hair is a biohazard but you’re genuinely funny and probably the most hardworking ginger guy in the World that isn’t a wrestler? with a vendetta against me

ACTUALLY taking a moment to defend another ginger. There are three gingers I don’t mind. I don’t know any of them.

One is Lily Cole – an elegant redhead and I once visualised a very tall, very skinny Eve that had walked out of a renaissance painting. Years later I actually saw her modelling. (Years later I visualised another Eve, and she was a black woman with a bun, so I think she had very soft hair.)

Another is Pyrocynical who I think will be a hottie once he finds his look. I watched a lot of his videos on youtube when I was having a shitty time living with a rapist the NHS set me up with so they could take turns raping me at night through him.

The world isn’t really ready for people who were born after the 1990s – Lisa’s Ascended Masters – because they’re all here to have fun with their clothes and the only people who were remotely good at clothes were people who could afford very expensive ones and who were venerated as celebrities.

The third is Conor Mcgregor. I’m going to defend him because I’ve come to the conclusion based on kicking and punching a skinny gay guy that started on me in a bank when I was holding a bird (he was wearing a jockstrap, trust me – you can flick a penis and it’ll hurt the person) and he did a great performance of ‘feeling nothing’. I physically felt held back and weighed down by something when I made that little assault (I assure you it was a reflex and that it would have been correct to ask him not to threaten me before hitting him for it. And while I am prepared to take the blame, I have all sorts of explanations – it doesn’t change that these sports are unethical, the results planned in advance with all sorts of ulterior motives and whether I predicted accurately or not – it is very possible to cheat through a kind of physical control detailed in this post.)

Don’t fight to compete, pick a fighting partner that is your physical equal and evolve together because everything relating to sports, particularly televised sports that people bet upon – horse racing most likely included – is a fucking lie.

WIDT

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

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

lh1olvje

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

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

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

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

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

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[image ref]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What I meant to write, though, was:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Embarrassment makes people do very peculiar things.

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

 

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

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

 


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

You did fail. You did.

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

I wat to

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

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

(Is it?)

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

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

One sec I’ll find it.

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

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

 

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

{Poem sourced here, 10 August, 2019}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Capsule wardrobes are a thing that Peaches write aboute

That ^ Kill me

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

SHARING ENERGY AND SHAPE SHIFTING

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It is weird and I’m sure of pure coincidence how much zoe looks like my ex’s mum in this photo, the one that used to abuse me routinely – but also: if you are famouz and your ‘best friend’ is also famouz and she allows you to dress that terribly in public without also looking that fucking terrible, you are not friends

I found this using Hadassah Cordoba’s videos.

I really miss cool British celebrities. This is Katie Jane Garside.

This is an Adreena I made out with in a pub one time after turning eighteen. At the time she was in a relationship with Maxime Avet, a french pornographer AND the eponymous North West’s porn-doppelganger Skin Diamond. She is a british black person and her father was a kids television presenter. There were attempts to ruin her life by attaching her career and his career and that was a method employed by a lot of people for, I’m sure, many stupid reasons and all of them related to jealousy, ultimately. Excuses to control people.

i7arkbng

Image sourced by Google.

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Image sourced by Google.

North West has a cool big sister, to say the least. I believe that the conception of every baby demands that at least three people fall in love or are mutually attracted towards one another. I think at any given time there are about twelve fertile people on the Planet and that changes minutely. It’s a chat for another time.

I believe that the title of the diary entry is self explanatory though and if I showed you photographs of my mother who looked NOTHING like Zoella in her youth but who makes a cameo in a photograph of her holding hands with my siblings in their infancy you’d probably be as fucking disturbed as I am but I’ll SAVE IT

Here is a document that kind of looks like it was cosigned by my ex boyfriend and zoella in 2012. If I say “this person is a stalker”, trust me.

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LOUISE IM REALLY SORRY FOR USING THIS PHOTO OF YOU – BUT THE TIMING IS SO PERFECT AND ZOE LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE LUKE’S EX AND IT IS ALL SO PERFECT TO ME.

MY INTERIORS MAGAZINEANEENENE

Awhile ago I made a post where I said “I LOVE my flat.”

Before I moved here I will tell you about some of the places I’ve lived in:

– A number of psychiatric wards filled with nurses and doctors who were not “caring” about or towards a person they believed was ‘ill’ but who felt safe abusing me, invading my privacy knowing that I was neither a danger to myself or anyone else (which you HAVE to be if you get sectioned.), punching me in the stomach, raping me at night, sedating me and otherwise ‘defending a blonde’ to be ‘popular’. I was not ill. I was put with a lot of nurses that had been raised in spiritual homes and who chose to abuse me anyway. They knew I was real. They didn’t even bother trying to talk to me about my spirituality.

– The floor of a drug dealer’s home while I finished the last year of my degree, where my ‘lecturers’ were abusing me. Where I was being roofied occasionally. He did his best and he treated me better than any of my fucked up friends did so I accepted it.

– A halfway house where I could HEAR myself being recorded in my room and where the creepy fellow male residents seemed to know a bit too much about my toiletries.

– The floor of a box room in my mother’s home while my sister slept in a double bed – she had not been living in that house for as long as I had. That is – she was sent to boarding schools, expensive flats etc to live in (and I don’t believe any of her salaries were paying her rent.) I could’ve slept on a sofa but the sofa wasn’t long enough for me to be comfortable.

– A single bed in denmark that I felt uncomfortable in, suffering with my bowel condition and with drug induced parkinsonism. I experienced excruciating levels of pain when I was given parkinsonism. I also was in so much shock I couldn’t speak.

– A room in a house with a psychiatric nurse I had been set up with. He was declining sex with me and preferred to rape me at night. I’ve no idea if everyone else in that house was raping me or not. I don’t want to know.

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My flat served, at that point of its primitive interior journey – as simply a place that was oozing with all kinds of potential and that is, for me, something that brings genuine happiness. I mentioned that I knew lots of youtubers that had amassed all kinds of wealth have fancier living arrangements and that for me it was nothing worth envying because I could see that when I had found the look I was going for, my flat would be better. After I posted that I became physically exhausted, as if people were really determined to make sure I didn’t love my flat.

Anyway.

I love my flat even more now.

EDITED TO ADD: True to my feelings upon posting this entry
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My landlord is a reasonable guy and I’ve not been kicked out. But actually the above email was a response to this:

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(I actually said a lot more than Jack could remember. He was staring into space for most fo the conversation.)

My landlord is an elderly gentleman and I think he’s at his wits end with everything. But it’s difficult for elderly people who have to rely on trusting their ‘contacts’ and probably even MORE difficult to realise they’re all fucking LIARS.


Back to the original post:

It’s obviously no where near finished. I live by myself so I have to move everything by myself. I have to do the construction work by myself. I love learning new things so while there’s some delay, it’s worth it. Don’t you think it’s worth it?

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This is me, with Killi’s cushions. The purple one I bought recently from ‘Home Sense’ (one of the weirdest shopping experiences ever but there are little things that you’ll be inclined to find if you look carefully.) It is a reference to Blue Velvet. I am easily triggered by David Lynch films but I enjoy his erotica.

www.christianlouboutin.com1_

Image above taken by David Lynch. 
The Shoes are by Christian Louboutin and are OBVIOUSLY not meant 
for wearing in public. The image was sourced via google.

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Oviosuly this is not a flattering photograph of my feet. I know that. But whether I play Toph or someone else plays Toph, these are the kinds of feet you’ll probably have. Realistically a “blind girl” would’ve had to struggle to learn how to balance and that is how my feet happened. If I can make anyone feel less insecure about their feet, that’s awesmoe because when I have cash I am getting my toes filed down and if you get jealous of my feet – and you will hopefully be a bit jealous of my feet – I swear on my life I will have someone execute you.

Anyway, I’ll be purple velvet. In film the colour purple signifies that there will be a death. In classical Art the colour purple indicates royalty.

(Killi Update: She took flight, she wasn’t ready to as far as I’m concerned but I know she has a very discerning and observant and protective boyfriend called Sesshomaru who visited her often and who I’m sure will have brought her meals where I couldn’t. I know she can forage on the ground for food because she most certainly wasn’t even slightly hesitant to stick her beak into my magnus/magnet/maggot farm. I won’t ever do anything to control another being, even one doing something outrightly suicidal. You have the right to experience almost dying, Killi. You have the right to a vibrant emotional landscape that will shape your evolutionary growth and karmic growth for lifetimes. Yes I vampired this body – but I know your inner being will have plenty to work with based on your experiences with me alone. She has an inner being to honour and she was able to say yes and no – with her head. Before you teach anyone words like “mama” and “dada” teach them “YES” and “NO”.

I wish I had filmed her responding to my conversations before she left but I didn’t because I assumed she’d be around for a lot longer.

I even thought: I left her alone for fifteen minute sort of intervals so I could run to the shoppes to buy her food – I know mother birds have to leave their babies alone briefly sometimes in the wild and perhaps the emotions I was pretending I didn’t feel when she left are the emotions that she felt in those intervals and that is our karmic exchange. Killi if you ever read this through either time or space – how could I have taken you with me, when you hate being confined and held so that you cant move around at your own desire?) (and even if I had wanted to bring you with me, it was too hot for you.)

I’m preparing my flat with consideration towards the fact that I like the company of animals and that means I’m practising not leaving pens, scissors, pins, wires etc lying around. For people that do not want to control animals (If you have two dogs trying to kill each other, either let them kill each other, put one on a lead, separate them or consider who they are copying.)

or train them (Let them train you first)

or otherwise treat them like zombies

I care little for people who take offence to this, your treatment of animals is entirely your own business. You can choose any kind of guilt prison you like, it isn’t helpful to anyone. There are primates kept in cages smaller than my tiny studio flat and I imagine atleast one or two of them have found some kind of happiness in that. Suffering is subjective.

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There will be happy dogs belonging to wealthy owners that get luxuries most humans would covet, walked daily through mountainous regions amongst many other happy dogs who find as much suffering in not being given chicken snacks and hotdog snacks as the aforementioned primate. Suffering is relative as much as it is subjective. (There must be some disabled person who is really happy they have MUCH cuter feet than me.)

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These are MY values and the idea that you could ever want to manipulate someone for expressing their values or their opinions on their own fucking blog is uh. Bad weird.

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Stop trying to manipulate me, or anyone at all – because it numbs me to people who are actually trying to express real emotions and I can’t differentiate between manipulation and the expression of genuine vulnerability and I come across as an insensitive bitch. The opposite is true, that is how I personally became callous. I’m not callous.

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But before people start arranging for me to see videos of pathetic looking women with their equally pathetic anime-eyed pets exchanging cute dances that they were TAUGHT (taught, not trained – and i did NOT train Killi to do the ‘scissor step’ I learned in modern dance when I studied it as a kid) to make me feel bad for saying its wrong to ‘train’ animals – I DONT WANT TO SEE IT. DONT BOTHER. I WILL BE NASTY TO THAT WOMAN IN MY HEAD. It’ll hurt her feelings more than it affects mine and she’ll have someone to direct all of her lifes hates towards when actually I’m a person who made eye contact with her for a few minutes of my fucking life.

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if you said “LOOK. THIS DOG I HAVE IS A MESS. IF I DIDN’T TEACH HIM/HER/IT TO SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND STAY ON COMMAND – HED PROBABLY REALLY SERIOUSLY INJURE HIMSELF AND OR BE DEAD” based on a knowing of that dogs real personality, not one you had projected onto them but one you had become familiar with over time spent connecting with one another, then I’d say “fair enough” because I had one of those dogs and she had me climbing down a fucking 3 meter tall muddy ditch in the rain (I was about eight or nine or something and I felt very military chic doing it) and she was hella dopey but if I DIDN’T I would’ve lost my only good childhood memories.

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Dominos know I ordered double ham 
but they did not give me double ham. 

Whenever someone fucks me over I think 
"which blonde do you think defending will make you popular?" 
(If I give you some attention you will become popular and think 
that your abusing me is in defence of a blonde that I assure you 
abused me in some way. And in your personal lives - you'll learn
what that blonde did to me. And what you're defending her from.
Probably defending her from someone that had a crush on her and
was really, really nice to her until they reached a breaking point) 

It's fine

Most people train animals because it massages their own egos. 
It makes them look good to someone they need to look good to.

If you are connected to your animals and your animals are not being controlled somehow by outside influences (I know it is possible now, and that puts me off having children – that I can’t protect animals and children from stalkers who can’t control feelings of jealousy) then eventually – like me – you’ll have an animal friend that mirrors your closest relationships. A dog that can sit on your lap and snap at someone and you’ll know they’re about to do it so you can grab their mouth just in time for them to scare the person they don’t like talking to you and they don’t get put-down for it.

 

I’m arting. This will be a jewel tree. For my jewels.

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This is a portrait that featured in Miss Kittie’s debut and it is totally Amber Khan. It wasn’t initially intended to be a portrait of her, but it became her. It’s very unfinished and very religious-iconography inspired.

It is also very Joshua Petker inspired.

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Years ago he did an exhibition featuring lots of portraits he’d done of various softcore pornstars and I liked his style. I’ve never seen what he looks like and I don’t want to either.

This is some paint I bought from the local hardware shoppe. I’m going with black, cream and grey for my flat.

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What do you think of my paintjob?

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I went to home sense and I bought these biscuit clips, I also went to another shoppe – I’ve a flyer lying around here and it’s a shoppe that deserves special attention because I really enjoyed perusing their items and I found things that I fell in love with entirely.

These lemon lights are from there.

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This beetle is from there. I used to spend hours collecting beetles by a poolside in Dubai and putting them into a little nurses bag. These beetles are my thing if anything is my thing. Also dinosaurs.

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