There is an ever consistent compulsion in me that urges me to delete the things I’ve written and I refuse to do so. It’s just a continued cycle – when I was younger I’d start writing about my life and something would make me feel like it had to be disposed of. I’d start writing my life story in some episodal depression and then days later everything would feel “okay” again and I’d forget what I’d written and it’d disappear. Or I’d be sitting in the art room doing art and something would make me feel insecure and I’d throw the work away. So I do refuse to delete my sUpEr WeIrD journal. There’s no one else authoring anything like this, this is all I’ve really got.
I got a call about my Law A Level today. It’s an inexpensive qualification – like, it’s payable in increments – so if anyone is thinking about picking up some new skills in life I’d strongly recommend that they consider studying. I’ll be learning remotely – which means I could technically travel anywhere while I do the A Level. Anyway so
I was sitting in the new kitchen absolutely fucking desperate to go to the bathroom while I was on the phone. Like I was doing the most insane wiggle dance, sitting on the chair. Y’know those Egyptian dance hands? If you do those you can hold ANYTHING in, tensing in particular ways helps you to control energy. And iunno about you – but when I had my exorcism-esque-alien-asphyxiation-sex experience it was through tensing that I managed to orgasm without being penetrated.
If a guy tells you that you’re doing sex wrong (he’s been watching too much porn and has probably never, ever made a woman orgasm) and that you should be bouncing up and down and all over the place, I think you should ask them to explain to you in detail how your own body works, clarify that you obviously don’t know. I guess to some extent it depends what you want out of the sex TBH
I prefer the stuff that happens before, personally
Oh god I just had another flashback of a guy trying to shove his weird, bloaty and at times somewhat limp penis into me and then telling me my vagina was “just a hole”. (Lets just call it a “lazy penis”)
Why are girls so polite about mens penises? They are NEVER pretty to look at. It’s okay – my vaginas not the cutest but it’s functional and I don’t think it’s as easy for anyone to orgasm as it is for me, save people who have some kind of sexual dysfunction. And thats great – because when you can orgasm, that means you’re super sensitive and don’t really want to have the kind of sex that lasts for hours. (Men who think sex is supposed to last for hours are probably a blessing to women that can’t orgasm – I did experience that when I was on medication I should never have been put on.)
Okay so check this out – a few posts ago there’s a photograph of me with a load of fake blood on my leg. When I did that, some of the fake blood dropped on a postcard. I picked up the postcard, and rubbed it on my leg. You can’t see it in detail here but by some coincidence I got a perfect profile portrait of a baphomet. It has eyes and a mouth. You don’t have to believe me that it literally happened by me trying to rub the fake blood off my postcard, but das the truth. It’s actually really funny – I see these two women kind of insanely depressed about man troubles and the poor Baphomet is just sitting there staring into space, perhaps quite unable to fathom the extent of the stupidity that is innate to the human race.
Ages ago I rewrote the Earth creationist story, someone joked about it as being “Lucifer fanfiction” but my spirit guide told me that it was the closest humanity had ever been to the truth about how the Planet happened. If you could see this Baphomet upclose you’d be really weirded out about how perfectly positioned it is, how perfect the details in the Baphomets face are. How expressive the face is.
It’s probably the most valuable art work on the Planet right now. The most valuable item being the stone that carries the fetus that was removed from my body – without blood or pain – which was stolen from me. Like many of my valuables have been. I’d scan this in but I’ve got it framed. I might do an exhibition on religious art but I’d only bother for a serious deal. Which philosopher said that we killed God? Did they not realise how cyclical human behaviour is? For me – I see the phases of humanitys thought evolve plainly. We realise God and Lucifer are real. We realise that God and Lucifer are aliens with many bodies throughout the Universe, etc. We realise that whether we like it or not – whether those in power or not choose to accept it – diamond shaped hierarchies of power exist and have nothing to do with cash, fame…… facebook likes… twitter followers etc.
This is a photograph taken of an excerpt from “The Whole Woman” by Germaine Greer. A book I bought in a charity shoppe some time in my teens. When I lived in Farnham I went to see Germaine Greer and I arrived late – and she quietly noticed me with some deep irritation, as I moved towards my seat. At the end she asked if we had any questions and at the time – my troubles with girls gave me the perfect inspiration for a question. It was to some extent about how feminism can progress when there is so much bitchiness between women. It felt like she knew my question, and she chose to ignore my raised hand. Well, I was late for her seminar so I suppose that was fair.
I read a page in the book – really I’ve mostly flipped through. And it’s really strange – upon flipping through I got to the perfect page to answer my question – feminism can only really progress “when sisterhood stops being a fantasy.”
Anyway so one time me and that mediocre dude I was dating (NOTHING on Kitty) were in the flat and THIS SONG came on
I have to stress here, and I’m sure you knew – I wasn’t interested in him, I had just lost everything and everyone in my life and I couldn’t cope with another loss. But it was relevant wasn’t it? Take allll the men, Jolene, thats what your good looks are for. Actually I think the fact that a woman like Dolly Parton could ever sing a song like this is really quite sad.
If I wasn’t so lazy I’d cut over it with “TAKE HIM PLEASE TAKE HIM. TAKE HIM”
Being single means I’m happy with my husky voice, happy with my weight, happy with my mess, happy with who I am as a person, happy to do whatever I want without a person making me feel less for it. Every dream and any self esteem I’ve ever had was robbed of me by some mediocre guy.
It would be easy to blame men for pitting women against each other, I certainly think they’re responsible for that tendency in some part. Making women afraid of being alone, making women feel insecure, making women feel like they can’t do better etc. D’yu know that if they didn’t bother trying to massage their egos and maintain their sense of security by controlling women in that way, there’d probably be a lot more men happily in relationships with more than one woman. And the women would probably be into each other because women who love themselves love other women. Most female to female relationships are actually pretty erotic to observe but not even remotely sexual.
Girls exchange naked photographs and get undressed and swap clothes with one another like it is nothing. Do you know, that all sort of stops when men enter the equation? When men start quietly making them compete with one another?
There’s a girl I don’t speak to anymore who has the black and white version of this underwear, which on some blog some place I referred to as “poor woman’s Missoni”. One time I was having a shower in one of my old homes in Surrey, and she and some other girls casually strolled into the bathroom and sat with me while I held a hot shower-head to my stomach because I was experiencing excruciating period cramps. It was all super chill, nothing like the stuff you might see in girl to girl action in pornography.
Whats really funny – and what I had never mentioned to that girl – was that years ago, back in the myspace era LONG before University – she had been flirting with my ex-boyfriend online. The one I’d been with for almost four years.
I knew because I’d been logging into his messages and reading their exchanges. Obv. Anyone who knows me or has ever known me, knows I am inclined towards this kind of behaviour – and that even if someone is outright cheat-flirting on me I probably won’t even respond to it or care all that much.
If she sees this I’m sure at this point she’d laugh – (he did when I told him this story) she sent him a message while he was in the toilet and his phone was beside me. It was one of those old nokias. He was quite sly and seldom sentimental, so he’d delete messages from girls (which they often were) (knowing I was the kind of person to snoop through his phone if he left it unattended) and she was the first girl, after my sister – that had made me genuinely feel any kind of jealousy. Actually growing up with a pretty sister who got EVERYTHING she wanted (I’m not just saying that – I mean it.) – who people fell in love with upon first sight – meant that later in life I would have a tolerance to jealousy that is not dissimilar to the one you might get when you repeatedly do a certain drug and have to use more and more in order to feel anything. But this girl really triggered unknown capacities for jealousy in me. And whether it was online friends, friends in real life, or my boyfriend – they all in some way picked her over me.
It’s weird because she was some kind of strange soulmate karma that would repeatedly enter my life – my first long term relationship via myspace and my second long term relationship, where I was actually cohabiting with the loser.
She is way hotter than me, and sweeter, and sluttier – and basically everything guys look for. She looks good in everything and has prettier eyes than me. Blahblah.
What is weirder is that after I went through the myspace message exchanges between that ex (I called him Kitty, he called me Kittie – the nicknames came about after an argument in Camden when he and I were walking to some weird place that friendgroup hung out with. He had an emotional outburst because he had wanted me to come to his house and I didn’t. I was so flattered by his outburst that out of nowhere I exclaimed “OH KITTY” with a sad face.) I went to draw a picture to distract myself from this new girl (I’d only just gotten over the fact that he’d cheated on me with a cybergoth who called herself Daisy – who was not hot… but very …cool?) and then when I finished the picture I realised I had drawn the pretty girl messaging my then-boyfriend.
I thought she was a lot hotter than him.
My room is such a mess. But it looks perfect in the sunlight.
I really learned to resent this girl but I remembered something – one time I read cards for her and the stuff I’d said would happen to her all happened. Someone was making fun of me for being interested in Tarot and she said quite bluntly that regardless of their opinions of Tarot, which she had apparently formerly shared – my reading for her had turned out to be accurate.
It was nice that someone would believe in me, even if our friendship didn’t work out.
It would’ve been nice if the two guys that saw me make a fire and put my hand in it, and keep my hand in it for an extended period of time might’ve done the same thing.
It’s weird because I got called crazy and yet for all the witnesses I had for every inexplicable thing – none of them ever kind of discussed in unison the fact that I had done impossible things. But she came closest to doing so and that was nice of her.
Trent Fimmel has lots of Easter Eggs in Vikings and World of Warcraft for that girl and I think she’d enjoy watching a lot.