In an attempt to reconsider how I use my blog, because I love to write: I’m going to follow a photo and no-more-than-a-mini-paragraph to accompany it structure. I don’t think people read my blog. I’m not in pursuit of a vast audience either.

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My university life, the nature of the stuff i got upto removed from my studies was important. I developed what appeared to be a “drug habit”. When I no longer had that drug habit I realised I had spent my life in physical agony. Not the poetic kind that literary artists use to describe depression (although I had that) but I was in pain all the time. And I only realised as much when I had no access to drugs.

I think it’s of tremendous importance to clarify the nature of addiction, and I can do so, I grew up in the company of addicts. I was – at three years old – surrounded by drug addicts. Here’s a good way of identifying if a person has an addiction of sorts: they will break the law to access the drug they want.

I don’t care if a person abuses narcotics, unless it affects me. If I have £20 to my name and a person I’m close to steals it, knowing thats all-I-had-to-live-on for example, then that “affects me”. An annoying drunk on the streets isn’t an addict, a person who consumes their own vomit in an attempt to consume alcohol is an addict. If they’re doing it in the privacy of their own home, it’s none of my business. It’s none of yours, either. Unless that person says “I WANT your help”, it’s none of your business.

Not even angels interfere without direct invitation. And the universal-you do not compare to angels. As I understand it from my meditations, being an angel is a very tortured form of life. A “hungry” angel occupying a starving humans body would not permit that human to steal bread to feed itself with, without feeling very tortured for having done so, and for a very long time.

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I looked at this photograph and had quiet concerns my hair made me look ‘crazy’. I spent my teens being very repulsed by the idea or notion that a person should perform an appearance for others, especially if the accompanying motivation could be to ‘fit in’. Einstein is/was team #crazyhair and I’m sad that I’m validated by that – “I need someone else to join me in my looking crazy”

The internet used to be a not-place-place that necessitated people aspired to curating their individuality, because in not-doing-so, you were believed to be very boring.
It later became a place that employers would use to learn things about you, out of the understanding that people use their CVs to lie. Boring people started using the internet and I resent that, quietly.

I preferred the internet when it was exclusively a place for weird people.

If you think that the mind can be reduced to any kind of science you are so wrong and that’s why your Planet feels like a simulation.

This film clip sums up how I feel about society. I don’t believe you can empathise with this archetype unless you have lived her life experiences and I hope for your sakes that each and every one of you experience being persecuted for attempting to be an individual, if only so that society learns to value individuality.

Recently a woman working for a holiday/travel/tourism company was sitting in a job meeting behind a blacked out window. I changed from a sweaty mens shirt into a poncho and that involved being seen in a bra. Literally beside the seaside. I wonder if she screams at women in bikinis by the seaside. I don’t know that-that sensibly her lane of work.

She started banging on the blacked-out window. She exited the holiday company and told me she was ‘protecting’ me by and I have never heard someone so naive. When I tell people what my family have done in terms of service to humanity, and how they have been portrayed for doing so (For example, as a nineteen year old, my series of letters resulted in a girl being released from slavery. I got no credit for it.) – makes people feel threatened.

To explain: my university experience, as a result of Jews who considered me male – meant that many people learned what they are too lazy to read in religious scriptures. I have never been influenced by religious scripture, I think you’d struggle to find a person who had been ass-raped at three years old, who was inclined to be religious.

Wait: there’s more here – do you know what it takes to emancipate a gender? Do you have any idea how women became so comfortable with their bodies? It was because of people like me who allowed themselves to be documented naked, with pubic hair and belly rolls, looking terrible, in states of undress. I wanted to appear in erotica but it’s underpaid. I should direct but it’s probably also underpaid work.

The other side of it is, I could walk around naked in public and no one could suggest I was “slutty” or “promiscuous”, neither of those are insults in Karina-land but the reality is I don’t even often masturbate and I don’t even have sex unless I am trying to have kids. Once every few months perhaps. Throughout my life I might’ve had a single one night stand. There were potential relationships I ruined with premature sex, but really, I had one-one-night-stand. I had a sex blog that was entirely motivated by making an ex boyfriend I’d had for four years jealous. I deleted it when I started a new relationship and the guy then left me.

I was the victim of the exact opposite to slut shaming, I was told that I was frigid because I didn’t want to have the kind of sex women have in adult films. People loathe to admit that we know women can orgasm because-of-me. That is how big an affect I had on the internet actually.

ANYWAY. For now I don’t spend any of my money on anything I really want, mostly on art materials.

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Here is a fabric I found awhile ago in The Vintage Workshoppe. It is not a fabric that many people would like and I don’t believe for one moment it would have appeared in that shoppe if anyone really thought I could use it for an idea that could make a blonde’s life difficult.

It’s difficult to steal someone’s ideas when you do-the-work in a sketchbook, when you document the process of how you arrived at an idea step-by-step.

FYI, the insects died, introducing oxygen and water into their ecosystem killed them. If you see something flourishing and alive after spending two years in darkness, responding to light is probably enough of a shock to them. Mice are thought to die from PTSD because they are in tremendous shock – it takes afew years to recover from PTSD and thats if you got PTSD as a child, and if you’ve been triggered non-stop since you were a child and even thinking of taking a shit gave me PTSD. Now I have to cope with every person I make eyecontact with choosing to watch me get raped as a child and that they empathically experience the sexual energy of the pedophiles who were also watching. If you are not the kind of person who looks at these disgusting things and thinks about all the exciting sexual things you can do with them, you’re probably not a pedophile. I’m personally quite repulsed by children and I find the criers especially annoying. I know child psychologists say that children don’t cry for no reason, I’m sure that’s true – but the attention that doting mothers and fathers give their kids in public so that people don’t think that they’re terrible parents is very addictive for the infants. Also sometimes they are in physical pain and you can help them as a parent by – non sexually – holding them from their bottom. My teacher Lisa did it for me once – she stroked my bottom non-sexually. She once used the toilet infront of me non-sexually too, when I was in the bath. All I could think about was that she looked like she was in pain. One time a man dressed as Santa Claus gave me a cuddle and he put his hand on my bottom in a very non-sexual way and I felt really safe actually (the birds are laughing) and he was wearing Disney gloves which meant the energy didn’t transfer.

You can read about energy transference in this book. It’s written for children so you might actually be able to appreciate it more than the bitchy matter-of-fact tone I keep using in my blog because I write to sublimate anger, at the moment.

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I bought the flowering tea thinking about this scene from Marie Antoinette, in which Marie serves her brother a tea and asks him to watch it open up when you pour the water in.

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The above is an homage to a character from Claymore, called Ofelia.

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[image ref] No, she’s not you

All of the claymores are silver haired, white haired or blonde and I think it’s amusing. What if ALL women were blondes for you to defend – or who had learned to – dundundun – defend themselves? Do nothing motivated by popularity. It’ll be done to you later.

Actually, I’ve a good character reference for people who compulsively need to be liked, for people that crave popularity. There’s a character in a Johanna Louise Spyri book (Heidi) called Alm uncle, a man who lives in the mountain with goats and who rather resents societal life preferring the truth and accepting isolation. So – while people might idealise the company of many, they are wise enough to prefer their own company. Fortunately you can manifest friends that are other-versions-of-you, it’s only ideal if you’re at complimentary phases of personal growth.

The archetype appears in tarot too, the Hermit. The light represents the truth-that-is-known (the darkness represents truth that is hidden) (the moon serves as a reminder of the fact – the opposite of truth known is truth hidden.)

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[ref image accessed 18:22 pm on the eleventh of November, 2019]

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Before I can explain the paint on my leg, Meet Jenova, my Blythe doll.

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Initially I thought ted (the emoji) was a Paris archetype, but I think he’s Hector.

Jenova’s incomplete. I painted her body and I didn’t like it, so I started filing at it to create what would appear as markings that I’ll later airbrush over with indigo and purple. I’ve designed her in a sketchbook so this is really a project that I imagine will take many years. I wiped some of the paint on my leg, and I filed some of the paint off so we’d be matchy.

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I realised that Grimes must’ve used me to timetravel and that I inspired her calf tattoo. A lifetime of issues with women called Claire or Clare etc. That inspired this meme.

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Truth: both the ophiuchus and their evil childhood bestfriend (probably a cancerian) are evil.

Segueway: Ophiuchus are just as feeling as cancerians but they hide it. Even from themselves. Actually it takes us about four months to a year to know how we really feel about anything. We’re already-feeling about millions of things at once (it’s how we interact with the world: how do I FEEL about this) so there’s a feeling queue.
It’s a sagittarian influence thing. you know, Chiron the wounded centaur? He could not have taught AKillis (the archetype of the greatest warrior that has ever existed) if he spent the entire time of their knowing one another complaining about how difficult his life is. Keep it to yourself, you’re at a war party. Unless it is a war party of who has had the hardest time. In which case step aside, akillis

The “evil-when-pissed-off-but-you-wouldn’t-realise-until-it-was-too-late” one is the one thats actually very nice – she’s the one that everyone hates (because she’s cute or gifted or something) but the really evil one is the one sitting by herself.

I am not one for social engineering but stories repeat themselves. One of them has been abused all of her life, and learns from the abuse and through choosing to be responsible for the abuse, she evolves.

The other is an abuser that finds friends to defend her and racks up a lot of terrible karmic debt in doing so, racks up a lot of terrible karmic debt for any friends she meets throughout her life too

Later in life they send the cute-evil one ‘hot’ replacements – often blondes. You will be inclined to pity the blonde and rise to her defence but the only person that can defend the blonde is the person that she fucked over. Who often only wants a sincere apology of some kind.

They also create instances whereby people meet versions of themselves at different phases of personal evolution and pit them against each other, because thats what you do when people keep ‘winning’, so imagine if Regina George (oh god) had been abused all of her life (people assumed she ‘liked it’ rather than that she was numb to it and knew that people pay for abusing others, because she’d learned early on in life – you do have to learn very early on in life because if you learn LATER in life it’s so much worse.) and they had to send another Regina George to go be mean to her because no one else could do it.

Imagine if you could suspend disbelief.

TL;DR the reason I can do weird stuff is because one time – I wrote this in my University application to study fashion actually – was that my brother and I once sat in a flat and I saw Michelle Yeoh leaping across a building and it didn’t look real, and because it’s impossible and I said to my brother “IT’S UNREALISTIC” and he told me to CHUT UP and taught me to remove myself from my notions of reality, or else film becomes boring.

I learned martial arts from watching Phoebe’s brother Frank practising on the balcony, pretending that he didn’t know his sister and her friends were watching and taking the piss of him for doing so. His sister works in the service equivalent of retail (massage) and hasn’t managed to hold down a long term relationship, and the only relationships that work for her seem to be ones that involved very invasive stalking. She is a survivor and did so perhaps through being a social climber of sorts (it’s difficult to climb socially when you’ve no idea of who you are socially) who maintains a friendship with someone (also insane) she used to rent-a-room from and if it were not for their friendgroup they would not be able to be friends.
Phoebe’s friends are all comfortably very mediocre and come from families that were quite well off, except for Ross, who is a palaeontologist. I imagine David Schwimmer was the least paid of all of the cast.

Her brother Frank ends up dating a teacher and being a very loving husband, a very comfortably inept father figure to triplets (I’d kill myself) and is brilliant at pretending not to know that his sister Phoebe is a bitch. People confuse that performance for ‘unconditional love’ and to an extent, it might begin that way – it’s a habit that begins in childhood – but you don’t see much of his character in that series and it’s quite true to life.

I learned martial arts from watching this film. Twice.

I maintain that the real challenge would be doing it in heels.

I owned Jackie Chan in college when I realised he covered a Mulan song

And that’s probably why I lost Bruce Lee for a dad, but I might yet get him as a brother and I mean it the way that black people do. Much more meaningful.

Art that doesn’t take years isn’t Art, it’s ‘crafts’.

An old friend that interestingly – the worst he did was snitch on me, when I lied about my age – so LOVE YOU – but I’m concerned (really – thats the correct word here) I wasn’t lying about my age at all, because the age I gave people when I lied about my age (which I didn’t do to real-friends that I’d of introduced to my relatives) were exactly the years I spent sleeping non-stop, to escape hell. The hours I spent awake those years I lied about my age were conveniently when I wasn’t at university trying to get a degree that many people tried their hardest to prevent me from getting.

Actually if we’d of stayed friends we’d of ruled the World from his bedroom. Mine was too small. I’ll leave it there. Anyway

Al had read the book of this film, and I hadn’t. There’s a scene where Astrid’s mother illustrates this point that continued to plague me – because all I’d wanted to be was an artist or a performer of some kind: that there was a difference between art and cartoons. The actors that I liked could do everything from singing to acrobatics to theatre and I cannot begin to explain the associations I have with acting. The mayhem scenes kill me inside but if you can’t cope with the embarrassment, it’s unlikely it’s the career for you until you learn how to. I don’t really feel embarrassment anymore.

It is the truth though. Life drawing versus illustration. And it isn’t coming from insecurity, it’s not faux humility either.

I’ll go on. As I do. But this is a movie to watch to understand and this post is more of a – play-list for people who are in tough phases, these are songs that resonate and also very easy movies to get through if you’re feeling overwhelmingly alone. When you learn how to cope with feeling alone – it’s a eureka moment of sorts, some soulmate or other will surface somehow and if you want them in your life you have to keep walking away. Don’t fuck them. They’re probably your bestfriend.

I imagine the scene with the oleanders in milk inspired this song.

and this piece, which will take years.

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The moral of the story is: you have to think about it FIRST. You have to develop the talent first. You have to do the work. Or it’s just a mum-at-home-coping-with-loneliness-by-pretending-she’s-not-obsessing-about-her-husband-and-her-lost-one-night-stands hobby. 

Feminists who have studied what women have been put through for generations can probably better explain this than I can, but women didn’t have occupations until the last fifty years or so. And monogamy has never ever ever been a reality but a cheating wife was the worst kind of female criminal to men that had been encouraged to believe that they were the superior sex. As a teenager I considered myself a chauvinist of sorts and I’ve gone full circle and perhaps thats with the realisation that my female relatives wanted my penis cut off. I was born with both sexes. I’m not especially upset about it, why would I be? It’s really just the idea that they’d of allowed me to be left alone with doctors removed from any kind of emergency – women I find – are prematurely trying to emancipate themselves but we need to know what we’re emancipating ourselves from. And the only way to do so is to pursue an education. That’s the only way. And enslaving people like me, so that you can remotely acquire an education in the Arts was wholly fucking wrong because, if only because: I am an introvert. That means I lose energy in the company of others and I HAVE to spend time alone not to be exhausted. I mean without people watching my dreams or using me to time travel, you’ve ruined my life doing this to me. I haven’t achieved 1% of what I could have done, if I’d of known the truth. Have you noticed how much the World has changed directly because of my learning the truth? How your parents for example, aren’t waiting to die but are considering the gravitas of parenthood and actually want to live their lives again with what they know? That they are being encouraged (probably by the influence the adult industry and my granma, who had make up tattooed to her face at eighty with ZERO shame -) to get plastic surgery – if only because insecurity keeps people from living their real dreams? Love yourself as you are, sure, but if you have the cash – get hot.

The alternative to women pursuing dreams, is the idea of women like Emma Watson, who sought an education in something she had no interest in, in a first league University because she had a Hermione-persona that she was pretending not to be perpetuating but actually, she really did. Or otherwise she heard my spiritual teacher Lisa tell ME that I was to head a FRATERNITY – and so that she could compete with men under that illusion of something that she had no business with. You have no business competing with men Emma. Or me. And most men have no business competing with me, especially when I’d rather be friends with them. Which is the idea of fraternity, by the way. It’s sort of the point.

Years ago I watched a documentary about this flamenco artist. His uncle was a flamenco dancer and Joaquin Cortes said to his uncle “I want to be a flamenco dancer, like you” and his uncle said “then you go to the royal ballet first” – you have to study technique in the arts, before you are an artist.

Ed Norton was told that before he could ever consider himself an actor, he’d of had to of coped with RADA. It’s just whats done, you might aspire towards an art like that of performance, but you have to study it first. I did speech and drama, I did the embarrassing – the MOST embarrassing – plays – but I avoided ever studying it and I know the real reasons why I justified it to myself.

First of all: I didn’t feel pretty enough to be in films and I knew that was a big deal. I got my lips done and I lost some weight – so I feel a bit better, but that doesn’t mean I’m removed from that – you have to do the psychological work – does someone insulting your appearance bring up memories of not being good-enough? Well acting for the screen means you’re okay with being called told you have cankles. Especially if you actually have cankles. I don’t have cankles, I have big calves. I’m okay with that because I wanted athletic roles. I’m okay with being insulted, my first boyfriend did the damage. I told him I wanted to act and that I didn’t feel pretty enough and he said “Kathy Burke is an amazing actor and she’s not-pretty” (She can afford to be, though.)

My memory for learning lines was not good and now I know why. I know that girls were using me to time travel so that they could cheat on their exams and their homework. That affected me in every respect, including that I couldn’t do a lot of subjects that involved the use of my memory. A very abusive one night stand was very aware of the fact that it was possible to erase my memories and he suggested I had an illness. No one’s perfect, weirdo. (No you actually deserve to be shot in the head for that, but that’s on you. You arrange it. No notes for me.)

Even if you’re a very talented portraiture artist, and I’m not – at my most dedicated I am a talented illustrator, which is a form of cartoon work – theres a lot that comes with being an artist and there are reasons why your work isn’t being sold in galleries, even if you’re technically some kind of master (this is specific – to the person that used to sit in Camden with his spray paints and tinfoil and create masterpieces – you’ll return to all of that but you have to do the hard stuff first. SAME though. So do I.), if you haven’t gone through the shit that the artists exhibiting their work in galleries have, you won’t survive in that World for very long.

Thats how I was raised too. First you have to learn from the greatest people, and you don’t ever remove yourself from the people that paved the way for you. Hole have a lyric that I once wrote out in a mirror in Syria before taking nudes (I should’ve kept those, they weren’t that flattering but they were very brave) and it’s “spit on mirrors” – oh thats not the one it’s “it’s okay to kill your idols, just pretend you have no rivals”. It’s not. It’s really not. I get angry at my heroes and my teachers because I felt abused by them but I suppose I’m reminded of a brief chat with a guy called Dom. I was I think, important to him because one time I had an image of a mother in my memory – I was looking at a friend of his and I described her and he said “thats not what my mother looks like” but I had described Dom’s mother. He didn’t say so outloud. Later he was watching a Muy Thai fight and he asked, without my knowing that he was testing my claims of being psychic – who I thought would win. I didn’t use my “psychic ability” (that thing that people assume psychics have – that should tell them the lottery numbers) – I looked at the men and said “the latino guy, obviously”. If you saw him I’d assume you’d of said the same, but if you knew who the fighters were, perhaps not. I think he was Brazilian – but um. You don’t really survive in my world – what I know of it – if you compete with Latinos. I mean the kind that come from the streets, because the posh ones do not pursue careers as fighters. I was using what I understood as logic. Now I’m concerned that I abused my abilities as a solipsist, or that someone time travelled to tell me, but where I can show my working: I know what I was thinking of when I said what I thought. I can show my working. I can validate the claim without using information acquired out of thin air.

It’s difficult though, when you know that every mother that attempted to have you over many many generations would have you stolen from them because you’re a hell of a snitch.

If you want to know who my real mother is, right now I’m going with Mary Magdalene.

There are plenty of women that I could (and would, also) call my mother and I have plenty of synchronistic reasons for doing so but it’s an insult to every single one to pick only one of them.
Lisa told me that I’m an elephant totem person (an ex ‘best friend’ said it was ‘cultural appropriation’ to use words like that but she forgot that I have two women who called themselves my African mothers and who initiated me into a tribe – they do not like her very much and that should serve as a warning.), and the beauty of the idea is that elephants are matriarchal animals that raise one another, they stay together throughout their many generations and share what they learn. There’s a video of an elephant mother pushing one of the baby ones out of a ditch and I have a feeling it’s because she saw me having to push my cockerspaniel Goggles (the first creature I’d ever seen in a crystal ball, and what a delightful friend to spot – and anyone who had seen Goggles would’ve known immediately that was her.) up a ditch as a child. I felt very military-proud of myself that day because it was raining and very cold, and muddy.

And yes: I have no doubts that Mary Magdalene been preserved somehow and that she’s alive. That’s sort of the thing about the templars and eternity of life. I invited her in and I felt nothing of a chill but I looked at my noodles and my chopsticks and laughed to myself as if somewhere to her it was ridiculous that I thought she wasn’t always around me.

Watch the Fountain, that’s what I’m doing today.

It’s a deeply important film about reincarnation and it was released in not-too-long-ago but long enough ago for it to have been a really difficult film, I imagine, to arrange the release of because didn’t follow the narrative structure that sold very well at the time. People are into crystals and reiki healing and a lot of holistic stuff now, but that was wholly weird then. This film would’ve come across, to the majority of audiences, as a fairytale art house film. Much like real life, you go through experiences with particular friends that come to you in different bodies and often you’re reliving the very same struggles. My story, I could only exit when I learned that people were so desperate to be loved that they thought defending a blonde would fix their problems – and that I kept not defending myself against compulsive liars and people who used their looks to manipulate boys in my life that had not removed themselves from unrealistic standards of beauty. I kept not really walking away at the right time, or walking away at the wrong time and under the wrong circumstances.

So… I was thinking about the demon Balthesar, I have been for afew days. One time before I was whisked away to a terrifying collection of experiences in psychiatric wards – and it is one of the most undermined of my experiences around about the time I got a chill down my spine when I read the words “I am Lucifer” (waiting for it, there it is, happened again sort of and isn’t it fun for us all to know that you can feel it too) …

was that I did this coin trick. I am not a coin trick person. It was something I’d never done before and if you watch closely, the coin in my version is moving by itself.

I posted this, and watched it until it reached Papa Midnight and in half Lisa’s and half Mrs Hyde-Gyatso’s voice I thought to myself “we’re waiting for thisss one” and the birds chimed in with a half laugh and a half “YES WE ARE YES WE ARE” – I can’t imagine soul 17 would enjoy going out unless it was to clubs that demanded you perform magick tricks like this to enter. Her trick would probably involve asking the bouncer ‘do you want me to use your eyes to see the card? I can do something better’ and she’d use a fluid of some kind, she’d take the card and rub it on the fluid and get an impossibly perfect image and she’d either be copying me or the artist that used spray paints and tin foil in Camden (she’d tell him she was copying me, she’d tell me she was copying him) (a bird outside screamed with laughter quietly)

I remember it because it was with a £1 coin that read the words:

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(Also my stomach made a creepy noise, and I’m used to those)

Imagine if this – not the actor, the personality – was one of your dads

The jobs where I don’t advise that you follow that advice: mercenary, self sustaining farmer (because your animals know what you’re planning on doing to them: and they’d rather kill themselves), politician, diplomat, hunter etc

This is a self portrait by Arnulf Rainer.
Untitled (Face Farce) 1970-1 by Arnulf Rainer born 1929
[ref image accessed earlier than this but it’s now 9:43 AM on Tuesday the fifteenth of October 2019 and it’s a self portrait by Arnulf Rainer]

I haven’t clicked on the host-site to research the piece but apparently this image was hosted by the Tate. I have so much to say about it that I’d prefer my commentary to the research, but that is a kind of obnoxiousness that contributes a lot to the artist identity I’d like to cultivate years from now. His artist statement would matter much more, on this piece, than my observations of it. But I think he’d enjoy hearing what it means to me. So I’ll say.

I’ll now tell you what I know, based on A Level research. This portrait probably took him about twenty years. It probably inspired this Sia music video.

I’m being a little bit sardonic, a little bit bitchy, but it’s important: because when I was doing my A-levels, I was very harsh about this artist. I included his work in my artist research but I did so with tremendous irony towards the fact.

I just thought of this youtuber, who I do believe is an artist of sorts, and I thought while-thinking-of-him, to look closer at the shapes made by the paint strokes. I can see the grim reaper in Rorschach like inkblots and even a scythe. Scroll up and you’ll see. Then come back here.

I’ll tell you what I think of, what I’ve always thought of, when I’ve looked at self portraits of distressed artists. (Apart from trying to understand myself.)

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[polaroid taken by Catherine Sparrey in 2015]

A response to this song.

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These were self portraits I’d taken for my GCSEs.

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A sort of homage to Gingersnaps, too. The idea of Gingersnaps was to create a narrative that drew parallels between the female experience of puberty and werewolves.


This is a scene I particularly enjoyed.

 

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A photograph I took of a barbie doll I’d purchased in a charity shop, in 2005. I’d placed some red nail polish on her mouth to indicate smudged red lipstick and on her hand to indicate blood, I placed a Sephiroth wing I’d taken that had fallen off an abandoned sculpture of an angel my “sister” had in her room at her back.

I believe I might’ve been emulating images I’d seen of Cindy Sherman’s, certainly stylistically. She’s important to me because she worked almost exclusively with self portraiture and she never really looked the same in any of her photographs. She wasn’t trying to model.

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[ref]

My A-level artist research considered the works of international (but mostly American) female artists that were very drawn to portraying women on the poorer side of the middle class socio-spectrum, women who had been trapped in the domestic housewife role by societal expectation, or who worked so-called-menial occupations who – culturally at least – had nothing to do all day but sleep, clean or cook for daddy and the babies.

I really think I must have been more drawn to the clothes and the interiors, than the artists documenting them would have wanted me to be. I blame this.

I was particularly the adoption of late 70s, 80’s and 90’s use of cosmetics ad packaging to brighten up their homes (how else did they introduce the colour pink, for example, into their homes – save for having a daughter because until now I find so much beauty in that. What the fuck did these women really get upto when they weren’t sleeping? That’s the significance of the idea of art versus crafts. Crafts were the occupation of bored women, and removed from the insult of the idea of that – you cannot emerge into a male dominated industry which the Arts have always been – without

I know there was a piece she did that incorporated graphic design and typography, though I struggle to find it.

and on livejournal, various members posted photographs of their Blythe dolls in scenes.

And Mark Ryden too.

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That wing was an ’embarrassing’ motif in a lot of my scribbles and watercolour paintings. The truth is I was very bothered by the fact that I struggled to illustrate two wings that looked identical to one another.

Here’s an embarrassing one, a candy, a heart, blue and red. A crescent moon and five stars. A strange S. An ex of mine got this tattooed on his neck, and then he got it covered with a blue rose. Blue and red were really important to me.

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I used to autistically feel happiness when I saw blue and red together. I confuse happiness for laughter now. I do experience happiness, in the buddhist sense of the word. I’m very content. With very little. Which is good because as far as the state of life in this country is concerned, I’m living on the poverty line. Which isn’t good, I’ve made a lot of people that pretend-to-be-decent a lot of money, and all they had to do to get it was abuse my trust.

 

But it all amounts to this. A piece I’d seen in my brothers room.

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[ref accessed 09:37 AM, UK time, Fffifteenth of October 2019, | Edvard Munch, The Scream]

The point of this painting, which tied in nicely to my philosophy a-level, was to depict existential angst. EXISTING IS TOUGH MANG. (why is it though?) (well, we all have a struggle of our own.) (that word – ‘why’, is funny, to me. My mother would have me stand facing a corner for hours every time I attempted to defend myself, trying to work out a reason she’d like to hear for my being ‘rude’, when I told her the truth she’d send me back while she went back to sleep. I’m sure the time passed in seconds for her and perhaps even you – but it didn’t for me. Years later I realised what she was really upto while I had my face in a wall and then people defended her. HAHAHAHHAHDKGHSGKOHG) (The only person that can defend her, is me, and the only motivation I’ll have for doing so is when she tells the truth. She doesn’t even need to say sorry. She only needs to outrightly tell the fucking truth.)

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So, at the time I was studying existentialism.
(Life is meaningless and your life is given meaning when you die. An ex of mine once likened people to cattle, which was a very grim suggestion but it came from a place that affected a lot of goth kids, this idea of not wanting to be the same as everyone else, not aspiring to the same things and not wanting to liken ones entire life experience with the rife possibilities that )

But: that painting doesn’t need a learned philosopher – it’s about ‘existential angst’, the anxiety of existing. And notice those white scribbles.

It isn’t a great painting if you’re comparing it to this. This is a painting by George Romney, of a woman called Emma Hamilton – who changed her name to Emma Hart. Footballers wives used me to time travel to her time because one of their names was Emma, she did/has done nothing interesting with her life to be able to insult this woman with any kind of comparison but I’ll get to that so much later.

She is portraying the Goddess Circe in this. It would be pretentious to draw your attention to the paint strokes and the textures and colours used to create the illusion of depth and dimension so I WON’T. That’s BORING. I’m more taken by the white scribbles.

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The thing about paints is that the ingredients can sort of have a life of their own, especially waterbased ones.

Years ago, and I am proud of this: even if it involved cruelty. Which is sort of the running theme of this post. Forgive me because I do know that my variety of cruelty is the worst kind.

I pointed this piece out to my mother. I said “apparently this took him about ten years” and to me, it was a portrait of Marilyn Monroe and some scribbles atop the portrait.

Why are the scribbles important?

Well I’ll tell you what my seventeen year old self was really thinking about those scribbles: Why do they make this guy a famous artist and not me?

Well, on the scribbles: they’re emotive? The use of colour? I get it – that is sort of the issue that people have with modern art. It’s somewhat of an insult when you compare it’s nature to renaissance art. BUT IS IT.

Give me a million years (and I do have it, the time. That amount of time. Actually I have much more time than that and it should be terrifying but it isn’t, at all. Sometimes it is a bit upsetting but whats worse is that I’m starting to not need to drink much water – especially as I’m drinking boiled water everytime I eat right now – but soon I’ll have to accept that I am thirty and not in the euphemistic sexualised way but in a very real ‘water isn’t making me not-thirsty’ and I’m a vampire, and I’ve vampired a lot of people – and when vampires go to sleep hungry the ones that read the news learn that a lot of people have died.) to think about it, and to be honest, not having the patience to listen in on teachers and lecturers offering their opinions and definitions of art has been really important to my journey as an aspiring artist. I still cringe when I suggest I’m an artist because I know that I am but I also know that if I accept that identity at this point of my personal development (long story short: going to art school ruins your chances of being an artist and destroys you as a person, but if you can survive that you can return to the dream with experiences that you can transmute into your work later when you’ve grown up a bit.)

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Want to enjoy a coincidence? Here are two images of me, cropped out, so that Sabel can be the main character. I did not mean to do this, actually it was entirely by coincidence. I should probably be offended that he is so narcissistic but I’m tremendously amused by it and I’m grinning as I type.

To the right and beneath a magnifying glass, only so that he is more visible and not because he is in anyway affiliated with glass (actually we’ve thought to adopt glass and make it our thing, there’s no need for glass to be associated with 9s,) – actually he’d say that I am the origins of glass to him because I come from the desert. (As in I have a decent amount of memories that are entirely occupied by drives through sandy terrains, as you probably know. Iunno.) and he is a unique form of one of my spider friend Sabel’s children, I found the body on the bottom fhelf (what a typo, I meant to write ‘shelf’ but I prefer ‘fhelf’) of a three tiered mini cabinet that I bought for my art stuff. I’d been thinking to use it to house a snake but I know that any pets that I invest in hence forth will be very snobby and expect that I make this flat or whatever place I live in as beautiful as possible. I talk more about Sabel here.

It’s funny, after all of that maggot research I did this summer (it was only months ago but it seems like years ago because every single day of my life is so different) I walked into the Warhammer shoppe and I had a quick chat with one of the staff there, who told me he had studied philosophy so we briefly discussed the psychologies of a few varieties of the kinds of beings that occupy the Warhammer-(uni)verse and amongst them are insect people, which he said operate with a single mind. So it is a form of Sabel’s, rather than one of his children. He works very hard to be the head-boy-spider. I return to the discussion I had with the Warhammer boys because I’ve so much more to contribute to the discussion. I think that some of the greatest conversations are those that you return to after a period of thinking, not ones that are easily improvised.
I know that Abraham Hicks is capable of accessing all manner of thought that already exists through a connection to the Universe, which is how he answers his schools questions: but imagine if we gave him wayyyy more time?

After a one night stand of sorts with a glass maker I’d been pretending not to be in love with for years (one night stands ruin everything – do not for one minute pretend that someone you slept with the night you finally got a chance alone with them will ever be anything more, even if you marry them, even if they impregnate you – it’s a one night stand. Even chances of ‘genuine friendship’ are over. Blame it on prudeishness or ‘strict parents’, or my, therefore your spiritual teacher Lisa, or the School of Economic Science – Love first: then the other stuff. Love is spending two weeks with a person non-stop without expecting to put your genitals inside of them or vice versa. But mincing about the subject of why getting to know each other first with pleasantries or romantic verbosity makes it easy to evade the reality of WHY thats so difficult.)

Long story cut short: a girl I loathed became pregnant with the first hobbit and I went right back to being entirely alone, while he went on a holiday. It was a repeat of sorts of something that had happened ten or so years ago, apparently I hadn’t learned my lesson.

My response to that lesson is that I’m apparently done with having one night stands with humans.

And I would not risk that with aliens unless I was desperate to get off this Planet, because if human men have managed to avoid getting to know women by simply making arrangements to rape them rather than getting to know them, I imagine aliens that want-to-have-sex are much worse.

Anyway, here is what I have been upto. When I’ve finished the concepts I will consider it a section in my future toyshoppe. I know that I can’t stop people stealing my ideas, but if I find out you’ve done it: it doesn’t take much for me to embarrass you.

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If I were sneakier, if I could be: I’d email the people who had made these Poopsie Unicorn toys – an attempt at competing with me over my decision to design toys (in no small part, a result of being little and being bored of the toys available on the market – and that I’d never find the toys my ‘friends’ had when I went to the shoppes. And Kanye West – who said toys were boring, I think buying his kids toys was depressing if he spoke about it publicly.)

and I’d ask

“Why do they have such colourful hair?”
I adore the colours. I’d ask because I’d want to hear what they had to say about the use of colours. I’d ask to embarrass them.

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I know that the person responsible for this would say that they were inspired by starbucks, slushpuppies, iced gems, emojis and those gelatine sweets that anorexic people are encouraged to consume to avoid hairloss and they’d avoid mentioning my illustration style, animes like Rose of Versailles.

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[image accessed via google on 15th October at 16:56, URL reference]

You don’t need to credit all of your influences, you might not even notice you have influences, you might think that no one would notice. I do think that I was supposed to notice this work though, I think it was supposed to make me very upset that there was a toy depicting a bloated unicorn and that the suggestion of it was that this unicorn exists to shit and to go out and drink starbucks. I think I was supposed to be outraged and that I was supposed to advertise it on my blog, at worst I would ignore it and that’s great too. These women have a lot of money and high hopes, trying to sell these toys for those prices. But I would’ve bought these toys if they’d admitted that they were inspired by me, the GodsGirls only forum and The Last Unicorn. Would these women of even known that there is a unicorn on the one pound coin if it was not for me?

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[image reference]

If it’s an >independent business< or >twenty< that you’re running, and if you’re selling something to children – I think perhaps you ought to be able to offer some literature to accompany your identity.

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they’d avoid mentioning Sara and Lola Al Saud’s label. I don’t like them but that doesn’t mean anything to semetic, we all despise of one another and our families. It’s normal for us. But this is theft.

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It’s tremendously creepy.

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If you asked the women responsible for ‘you will get everythink what you can see in the pictures‘ (I imagine they put them on ebay too)

“what inspired the body proportions”
“what inspired the ‘poopsie” unicorn?”
“what inspired the colour scheme?”
“what in particular inspired the use of words like ‘magic’ and ‘sparkle’ and ‘shimmer’?”

You wouldn’t really need them to answer but it would be so funny if they tried to.

Then theres ‘Le Toy Van’. These are not unattractive pieces. They are Montessori inspired ergonomic designs with the influence of Fisher Price. When I tell you that they just ‘appeared’ on the market, I’d encourage you to believe me. I KNOW TOYS. There were years of my life where I only ever left my street to go to TOY SHOPS. THATS IT. I’d go to school once or twice a month and once or twice a year, my dad would take me to a toy shop.

When Louise Pentland posted ‘Le Toy Van’ pieces on her youtube I was actually pretty livid about it. They marketed themselves as a business being run by a man and his son, and that the CEOs name was ‘Mr Le Van’. They’d apparently existed for many years and were initially based in Surrey (they’ve since moved to London, according to changes on their site, if I’m in Brighton for long enough I’m sure they’ll move if they haven’t already rented a local place) and

WALT DISNEY

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Can you see the skull in the wing? This is so significant to me because I’ve never been able to illustrate or sculpt or otherwise imagine a skull that had not already been done. It just happened here.

It looks like Walt Disney. He’s one of my heroes. I thought of him a lot yesterday, and I thought (perhaps as the Empress of Japan – who was in my thoughts – perhaps as Conchita – who is always in my thoughts – perhaps as Esther or Auntie Norma or Lisa) “he is so full of love” and I thought back with one of those looks you’d give a naughty child: “I know.

He thought to me, not in these words: you cannot exist and grow without people to admire, with talents to aspire towards – or you remain the same person forever. I thought in my auntie Norma’s voice and Esther Hicks’ Tarantino’s voice: “I didnt know you were into this stuff!” and in any voice he could’ve used really (I didn’t hear it, like doing accents in your own head when you read a book) he thought back “yes you did.”

I went through the shops on my street and I just felt so full of love towards everything, even my enemies, anger was there but it was only disappointment. “heartbreak.” Actually, many of my ‘enemies’ are people I tried very hard to love and befriend first and who hurt me very deeply. When I wrote the words ‘even my enemies’, it was out of anger towards women that I consider teachers whose personal lives and personal feelings interfered with the position that they knew I held them to. I pedestal teachers and I often consider them above people I consider parents. It means so much to me to call someone a teacher and I don’t really afford them the capacity to still be human. That might be wrong to do but I don’t think he would think so.

It is not wrong, if you choose to be a person’s teacher, and these women knew that was the dynamic through which I invited them into my life: to hold yourself to the standard you expect of teachers.

I don’t think highly of parents because I’ve never been treated very well by parents.

I can be a friend to anyone that believes that friendship is real. I have always been a loyal person to someone I consider a brother of somekind, but as a child – for however much I loved my brother, I became very angry with him when he hurt my dog. He used to bite her nose sometimes, my ‘father’ used to sometimes kick the dog. That made it impossible for me to seek relationships with either, but that doesn’t change who my brother is or what the cultures I came from taught me about brotherhood.

In the Middle East and particularly in Islam, your eldest brother is, for example, the first benefactor in a will. I would give half of everything I have to my brother and that is a very genuine cultural reality to me that I do not consider myself above. Likewise I am sure that he would forgive my callousness as a child, towards his treatment that was synonymous with imprisonment.

I do not practice sisterhood because no one, has, as of yet, been very sisterly towards me. Regardless of my gender identity I am a feminist and pretty staunchly so. I do believe that women deserve to be empowered and sometimes my personal feelings skew my judgement and thats wrong. It’s something I’ll need to develop within myself.

Feminist as I am, sister I’m probably not. But I’d sister Louise Pentland, I feel that we’ve a lot of room to develop. We’ve both experienced familial abuse but we’ve both learned unconditional love and I think that where I have decided to disown my ‘sister’, I have a place for anyone that would like to fill it. You don’t have big shoes to fill, she was terrible company to me.

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His work and legacy perpetuates an archetype that encourages women to be kind, loving and to seek whatever they find beautiful. That is somewhat sexist I think, but what men have failed to honestly express to women is that it’s those qualities that make women ‘fertile’. You all want children, but you don’t really treat animals or vulnerable people or children the way that the men you’d like to invite into your life as ‘lovers’ would think those children deserve to be treated and that might be what prevents many of you from being fertile.

If you want to have children, begin with a dog. Here are the mistakes I made with my pets: I left my dog Tintin with a girl I did not know very well, for a brief period, but that was so that I could work and earn money. When I felt for whatever personal reasons that caring for Tintin meant that I wasn’t taking proper care of myself, I returned him to my ‘mother’, and his brothers. For a period the dogs had to be tied up and my second mistake was that I ignored my own judgement about how to handle the situation and I put hers above mine. That affected my entire ‘family’, that I did not assume the role of the head of the family when I knew it would be correct to do so. In both Judaism and Islam, men might think themselves the heads of their families but that’s not true at all. I did not find a way to be unthreatening about the reality of what I had been put through and what I had worked towards, and that my judgement had pretty consistently been correct about the consequences of our ‘family’ decisions and as a result, my mother’s home was mortgaged for far more than it was acceptable so that my ‘father’ could own restaurants that did not do well. He stole from his family so that he could have those restaurants and he lost those restaurants.

If you steal, you will be robbed. Sometimes we accept inspirations but we do not credit those that helped us, perhaps, make the money from what we produce out of those inspirations. You can pretend otherwise, but you will see it in your life. I once broke up a relationship, and shortly after I developed a very frightening tumour on my side and I knew inside that it was the product of her hatred towards me. She stole my autonomy and used me to access time frames without any sense of responsibility. She and many other girls believed themselves justified in stealing my autonomy and I feel that they were encouraged to do so to their own detriment. As far as the law goes, I believe in equality. As far as personal relationships go: I encourage people not to pick sides in situations that have nothing to do with them.

Don’t get involved. Do not fuck with my food because you’re ‘defending’ a blonde: especially one that wouldn’t even treat you well, or be friends with you – when she might’ve had plenty of opportunity to do so.

Walt Disney encourages women from early childhood (his target market) to find beauty in themselves regardless of their financial circumstances, and to have beautiful things around them. Disney encourages women to pick personal stories in which they find magicck and love.

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I know that Walt Disney must have seen the form Magnus took, in my duvet. This is a cat in Cinderella called Lucifer.

Lucifer the angel is one of the first guides I ever invited into my life. When I was little in Dubai, I used to see – SEE – a little black wolf with red eyes beneath my bed. Years later Tintin came into my life. Tintin was my very first guide, I believe.

Yesterday Walt Disney lovingly and laughingly put the thought of Lucifer the cat in Cinderella and through my thoughts, said “I think Lucifer’s mind changes all the time.” Lucifer is not a consistent being who sticks to decisions. I think to have survived in a Universe like ours, feeling quite alone and betrayed, he would’ve had to change his mind all the time and his experiences would have shaped his personalities. Plural. People and beings who have experienced abuse and who will have had to acclimate to many different, difficult circumstances, will have a collection of identities that help them to interact with different kinds of people or beings. I would not, for example, act around Lady Diana the way I would act around Charles Manson. (I actually probably would – a better example is called for.)

A man called Jim taught me that green eyes usually indicate that a being is quite oversexed. I don’t think the angel Lucifer wants to be my guide. But that’s my personal journey, and I like to write my personal journey here but as a reader, accept my reality as I document it and value that you won’t ever read anything like my diary. My inimitable life won’t be lived by anyone else through time and space, and that is where I find my self esteem. That’s where I found a self esteem when I was being abused by society, that there’s still no one alike to me.

If you have ‘the sight’, we’re reaching a time where that will not indicate insanity. I personally do not advise that you put any kind of deeper meaning to a relationship with Lucifer. I have been defending Lucifer in the company of staunch, nasty, misled Christians since I was an infant and without any indication that Lucifer was real, without any indication that Lucifer could have been listening. (I know Lucifer feels because I want to cry and very little makes me want to actually ‘cry’, save a stray eyelash or dust or wind irritating me.)

I know that out of that Lucifer is as loyal as Lucifer is capable of being to me. You might have sex with Lucifer non physically but sex is just sex to Lucifer. He will not breed with you because he doesn’t think that humans are responsible with physical forms of angels. He might lie for the sex though.

I thought that if Walt Disney were to adopt at this point he’d be prepared to adopt: Esther Hicks-Tarantino, Louise Pentland and Felix Kjellberg.

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He said Felix was never going to get his Disney contract, because he was always going to jeopardise himself, because he was never taught that boundaries exist and with good reason that needn’t be explored. They knew he would do something, upon tentatively hiring him, to affect himself the way that he did.

Disney did not seek to hire him without knowing exactly who he is and what he is like. Disney thought-said that the men that Felix employed through Fiverr for that embarrassing display of themselves did so for fame, and reminded me vibrationally that people will do a lot of silly things to become famous. That was not reason enough alone not to fulfil the contract.

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He alerted me to this mess on my floor, smoking papers that had fastened to one another to create a mermaid’s tail. Theres green glitter beside it. He said that that inspired the Little Mermaid. He said that he would want me to ask the Emperor and Empress of Japan to adopt me and the truth is that I don’t feel good enough for that responsibility and that association, but when I do, I will ask.

As a child in Dubai I used to illustrate a particular kind of kimono sleeve and then sometime later I saw animations that depicted little mice wearing kimono. That is everything that inspired how I envisioned how I might like to look when I grew up. There is a little Japanese girl I know that thinks of me sometimes, she showed me a book and that she’d like her name to be ‘Mineko’, after the author of this book. She is my ‘yakuza’ princess and I think it would be correct for her, when I do, to ask them to adopt her too. And Bruce Lee.

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When I was in Twyford C of E – one of the many secondary schools I visited, I recall having a chat with two teachers outside a tech room, about Walt Disney – where I’d learned he’d been “cryogenically frozen”. Walt Disney’s legacy has been associated with racism but I really felt Walt’s proudness that Kanye West had called him a genius with whom Kanye would like to compare himself, and I don’t imagine that Walt still feels any prejudice of that nature now at all.

I also felt that he was deeply upset that someone had said that Disney is just a “business” because of course it isn’t. It is the fabric of many children’s ideals of romance and love and has shaped many perceptions of what relationships could be, but is also an archive of the values we associated with our evolution that we can share with children, and discuss with them that they can aspire to much more now, than simply to marrying a prince – but at one point, it was those fantasies that helped women and men to pursue ideas for the future.


If you pick me you can have a fresh logo. Anyone in Brighton will tell you birds are mine, but all the blackbirds are Lady Diana’s.

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[ref]

3 + 4 = 7

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Sephiroth is the one winged angel. I’ve got the genes for white hair… so.

My grades were not good enough for me to be a skull and bone. It’ll be awhile off.


Lisa taught me to use a glove to wash myself, that is – to wear one of those body-gloves when I touch my skin to clean myself. I saw some in Boots beside some cucumber products that I bought, and I thought I saw some very small ones – and I thought “wouldn’t it be fantastic if they had baby-sized gloves so that babies could learn to scrub themselves!”

Louise Pentland did a half eye with liquid eyeliner and I copied.

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This necklace, I bought for £2.50 at a local charity shoppe. This bra, I bought at Primark about .. a year and a half ago. This hairclip is from The Vintage Workshop in Brighton and it cost about £4. These shorts are also old. The ribbon around my waist is old. The crimson bracelets on my ankles – one is from the packaging of a Lalique bottle and one is a lindt bunny bell. I can’t work out who my lindt bunny is.

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I’ve got green glitter in the hairs on my head.

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Today I’m thinking of David Bowie and his wife, and if they’re the same person, a lady I shared on facebook some time ago: that said she found other women attractive, (because, at least if you have all the body parts of a female person,) if you do not find other women attractive it’s quite impossible to be attracted to yourself.

_MG_5500(That video was a fast forward response to all of the meditations I was doing – I wanted the truth – I was telepathically being made to feel ugly, I was too insecure to dress up, I was robbed of the energy to be able to go to school, I have a disability – shitting twice a month is a big deal apparently.)

I met a guy called Porter when I went to uni, he faked a death I think? I know he’s not dead because his toes changed the shape of mine a bit, but they’re going back to normal now. Wherever he is, he’s wandering around barefooted.

I’ve always found other women attractive but they’ve always been the abusive ones and I have to stay away from those because I let people that I love abuse me. It’s actually quite rare for me to find men attractive which is why it’s so rude that you’ve been stealing from me all these years.

But trust me, if I were into BDSM, if I could justify being an abuser… I could do worse than all of you.

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this uh. This is not BDSM. I mean, these looks might be a thing that ‘turns you on’ but it is not BDSM. If you don’t have the guts to walk around in outfits like this then it’s a performance and theres a dishonesty to performing, be yourself when you’re having sex.

To adopt a Mark from Peepshow voice: I know the Eurythmics released a song years ago that said “some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused” that is not an either or spectrum of life. I do not want to abuse people and I don’t want to be abused either.

I hung out with this guy that I nicknamed ‘kinky artist’ or something. I did it to make a guy I’d been ‘secretly’ in love with for about ten years jealous. Then I developed real feelings – the first time I met him I gave him evil looks. I fancied him a lot but I saw my first boyfriend in him and uh. Well we didn’t do anything for years.

He was too insecure to have floral dress and thigh high boot sex with me. His idea of bdsm was to put me in a bathtub and cut my pubic hair off?? I laughed because I’d let a ‘best friend’ do all of that nonsense. Literally everything he and I did was snuggling and it was not sexy, or sexual. We had the sex but it was uh. It was better when I refused. I am not endorsing rape here – it is a lot more fun for two people who know they are in love with/attracted to one another (don’t flatter yourself too much, I can fall in love with anyone) to mess around with each other by pretending otherwise.

It’s a “I could have anyone I want” thing.

It was tough to play that game in Denmark when I had PTSD from a series of abuses at the hands of the NHS who have avoided responding to a letter about it, because I know and the NHS know that their staff are probably losing a very significant portion of their licenses to practice. Maybe you guys can emigrate to Denmark.

I was being raped – in the hospital – by ugly people that I wouldn’t of accepted MILLIONS of pounds to have sex with, (sold by my “sister” and “mother”) and I was on medication that made me lose a LOT of hair (I mean, I would softly brush out huge clumps of hair. And it was visible. It is growing back – slowly.), affected my brain chemicals (which made the PTSD MUCH worse – what the NHS pretended to confuse for ‘insanity’ was actually just my personality, and they asked my RELATIVES about me – my relatives knew nothing about me, they didn’t even really speak to me when I was growing up), slowed my metabolism and gave me parkinsonism, and also – you really have to TRUST people before you start having sex with them because when you have sex with someone you’re connected to them forever and that is an STD of it’s own. If you are psychic and you hang out with untrustworthy people, you will feel it and it’ll affect you a lot. You might not know why they’re untrustworthy, but the first impression is correct.

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Because um. I can’t say this to you once I think it, can I

  1. I take shits bigger than your dick Heathcliff
  2. What kind of a fucking name is Heathcliff
  3. I’m legally married to Sabel’s 2D alterego, Hiten, but he’s bisexual so it’s okay and if I’m into you he’s into you and can “do both”
  4. love you whomp whomp
  5. bok bok
  6. I exorcised the Joker out of Heathcliff (do not fantasise about acting as a career if you are not okay with being possessed, I mean it.)
  7. The spirit is in my room. So, the white eyes with tiny pupils and purple scarf that form hair, the GREEN eyelashes, the red mouth, a moustache, a blue mouth? (Perhaps he comes with aliases)_MG_5494.JPG

    I don’t hallucinate when I’m not in hot countries or when I’m not squinting a lot, or when I’m not on drugs that make people hallucinate. This is not a hallucination.

    Objects take other forms if you have terrible eyesight and they become THOUGHT FORMS. Sometimes, by coincidence, they take the shape of things we’ve already seen.

    Joker is a bit Ronald McDonald, don’t you think?

    That is what I like about this song actually. There’s this bit where Phfat says “you can feel the vibe get crazy when your eyes get lazy.” I have, VERY bad eyesight. I see in macro. Not magnified, macro. There’s a difference. Not HD. Macro.

    8. I replaced the Joker with Sephiroth. The personality file – is in Heathcliff and the baby is in my teacher Sarah who um. It’s not that we are encouraging you to steal him, we’re not, but he will kill you if you steal him.

  8. 7ac-denzel-2
    You might have two. Apparently this one is Denzel. 
    
    Actually you know, its funny, an ex of mine used to say
    DENZ-ELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL a lot. (His humour does not translate
    to text, very well.)
    
    No one planned it but I think Sephiroth wanted his geo-stigma 
    eyes.
    
    Screen Shot 2019-08-26 at 22.22.58.png
    
    Tifa is the worst babysitter in the World and I think he'd prefer
    not to be trapped there.
  9. If you steal him – because you are foolish enough to do the thing I tell you NOT to do, that every spiritual book and every faith says you must NEVER do:you can abuse him, if you like, into pretending – that he loves you – but if he learns that you are manipulating him with energy work, (and he will) and that his feelings towards you were never love but were closer to you manipulating him with thoughts that he ought to ‘pity’ you or ‘laugh at your jokes at his expense’ – he will kill you later.And he will do the worst imaginable things to you. So, you can say “the worst thing you could do after all of this is kill me” but he will energy-determine what you really mean. “the worst thing i could really do, is tell people what you’re really like.”
  10. I invited some spirits for women I can trust. This is Ophelia, she was brought here by Ilena. She is intended for Katey Hopkins. Trust me, you. *looks pointedly* do. not. want. to. steal. this. one. If you already have I am worried for your safety. Genuinely.It is fitting that she got point ten, and unplanned. Her emblem is IO which is binary, which is also ‘new beginnings’ in numerology. Also X. Which means she is Jewish. Like Katey.ophelia-claymore-7665

    Her story is quite sad. Her brother was abused. Pissed her off a lot. This is the ofelia blanket I bought from Ikea.0587647_pe672712_s5

    Also there’s this thing she does with a sword, I can do that when I bake cakes. And it looks all weird and stop-motiony. Like it’d look really cool on camera if cameras picked it up.

    This one I sent back. Our karma isn’t great, Sam. You don’t know yourself and you don’t know when you meet yourself do you.

    philip-v-wikia-image

    I’ll show you what he taught me.
    He choreographed this, using the lines that form in wood.

     

    Edited 3rd September 
    (If i'm bringing myself I'll bring you girls down with me, sorry,
    friends or not it's the truth.)
    
    I was edited, somehow, in this webcam video, to look MUCH thinner
    and more petite than I am. I've not photoshopped my photos for
    awhile, my photoshop was corrupted. It was great though because
    I think you deserve to see what I look like without 'filters'.
    I prefer how I look in person on a good day, but even canon
    cameras can now be hacked.
    
    I am not chubby, I have a belly that I like having very much - 
    and I hide it with clothing because I like a particular female 
    silhouette for myself, but this is not my size. 
    
    Someone has started using auto liquify pinching tools on live 
    cams. It is someone with money, who can afford to arrange for a 
    programmer to help them to hack. They are not a seasoned editor
    because it is amateur work.
    There are probably 'hacking apps' now. Here's an example of
    a photograph of me that was uploaded years ago when I was
    suffering with very severe anorexia.
    
    2013.
    
    Screen Shot 2019-09-03 at 09.45.59.png
    
    This was done to me when I had anorexia. Here: I was a size 0.
    
    My hands were not that big, but that should give you some idea
    of how tiny I really was. I felt fat and I had a very badly
    raised boyfriend with a terrible family unit of users,
    who liked to make me feel fat too. They regularly abused me for
    anything from what I was wearing to not accepting a cup of 'tea'
    because I had never drunk tea at home. 
    My phone was hacked to alter my shapes and proportions.
    I recommend you consult anime or artist's representations
    for a good idea of proportions - I once saw a video of Beyonce 
    and I knew she felt she looked bigger than she is, and I 
    thought 'you are about four ankles wide in this.
    
    The kind of women that would have been able to do this in 2013
    had money, and I know a lot of those were stalking me at the time.
    There were wives in Farnham that were very threatened by me, and
    the fact that their kids would love to talk to me and obsess over
    me. Well the reality is I'd be a better parent. Sorry.
    
    There were also footballers wives who were stalking me, I said:
    'Emma Thatcher', 'Louise Redknapp' etc were women who knew of me
    and who arranged for my 'sibling' and a friend of hers (I hate 
    both my 'sibling' and her friend, but they were a million times
    hotter than those women without trying very much. Both are very
    attractive to men in little more than tracksuit bottoms.)
    
    You might think its a COMPLIMENT to be stalked by women like
    this, but it's annoying.
    
    I'm now experiencing the same problem, and my Spiritual teacher
    Lisa is experiencing the same problem. Both she and I have been
    robbed in many terrifying and irresponsible ways of the opportunity
    to be parents, pit against one another by those women who would
    use physical insecurities or our gifts to make us feel negatively
    towards one another. Taking ideas from their taste in men.
    I was "inspired" (Zoella has ruined this word, with her tacky
    company.) to author this because I know that Louise is losing
    a lot of weight, and I really want to have her in my life.
    I don't want her to think that I'm hotter than her, I've seen
    how she looks when she loses her 'mum chubb' and trust me she's
    the hottest one. If she plays my game she's the hottest one and
    she's not gonna be playing YOUR game. I mean, bribes work a bit,
    do bribe her, we'll have stuff to take the piss of later.
    
    I noticed that Amber Khan's proportions are being made to look
    a bit strange since she got a breast augmentation (she's had a 
    child, he's eleven or so years old. She works damn hard, so it's
    quite fantastic that she looks about sixteen.), I've noticed that
    people quite like to hack women whove had augmentations to
    appear as though they have bigger arms than they do and thats 
    fine. Weird, but fine. But I want those women to know what
    you're doing.
    
    Stop choosing lesser women to befriend you, or to think of.
    
    My teachers are not flawless, but they need to be knocked off
    the pedestals I place them on when they start misbehaving -
    those women you'd of wanted to choose over me were my
    abusers.
    
    They are stalkers. If they'd abuse and stalk and SELL me, 
    (they allowed their husbands, their husbands boyfriends etc to
    RAPE me, my "sibling" - she's no longer that, but this is truth)
    and my "siblings" one attractive friend. 
    
    I had to "set" those terrible women up with the most evil kinds
    of men. Why the fuck would I set my sister up with Sascha Baran
    Cohen, why would I set up Vanessa with Floyd Mayweather?
    
    These are not nice guys but if I pick a winner you better believe
    they're going to win.
    
    

    I thought “PLANK?!”

    ed__edd_n_eddy___plank_by_ali_srn_dcrpun1-pre

    Plank is a character that hangs out with a character called Jimmy.

    (He is funny, and when we’re ready to host him on this Planet – I don’t know that we ever ought to – we’ll get in touch again.) (I will level him up, but the only way to fix his story, is to give him the bad ending in his series. Maybe VAMPIRE him in the series. But he gets the bad ending, and as funny as he might be, HE deserves it.

    I invited someone VERY special here and her gifts will be carrying VERY heavy shopping. 

    diana-in-the-forest-league-of-legends

    I think that William will enjoy a sister that looks like a female version of him very much. I also think that she will kill Harry.

I have no reason to lie.

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.

cute_kitten_scares_dog

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.

LOOKBOOK DISCRIMINATION

krrr.jpg

This photograph was deleted from Lookbook because apparently it’s pornographic.

AP.jpg

This photograph was deleted from Lookbook because apparently it’s pornographic. Well. Was that because you were aroused? (That still doesn’t make it ‘pornographic’, lookbook.)

There were more but I’m so bored, waiting to hear from the staff at Lookbook to tell me whether they would delete a photograph of a topless man. Cos um. I was forced to have gender reassignment surgery as a baby. And they want to pretend they don’t know that. Which actually makes it all so much worse.

_MG_5492.JPG

It’s weird that anyone who pretends to be interested in Fashion would consider nudity pornographic. Really weird.

_MG_5458_MG_5459

Did you just wake up one day and decide you were really into fashion????

_MG_5436.JPG

In other news, this is my mood.

_MG_5438.JPG

But if you want to know how Germany became so hateful towards the Jews and the gays, I think we’re onto it: jealousy. Killer

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.

Screen Shot 2019-08-25 at 18.52.33.png
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

69452750_923622541348700_1444609578539941888_o

I fucking

ugh

jenova_ac_2
[ref]

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

Screen Shot 2019-08-25 at 19.23.08.png

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

final-fantasy-7-remake-screenshot2

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.

tumblr_podrkc0zun1uutesio1_1280

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.

_MG_5479

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

_MG_5485

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

_MG_5481
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.

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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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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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[google credits]