I share a name with a Danish/French actress – Anna Karina (see my featured image!) who, I think, was given her stage name by Coco Chanel. I used to think it was a little embarrassing to share a name with someone who was so flawlessly beautiful but I don’t feel like that anymore, it’s actually quite an honour. Anna Karina and Coco Chanel were friends. I was conceived in Paris too so.. thats kind of fun?
But when I was born – my mother said that on three occasions her God appeared to her in a dream and told her my name was AN-NA-KA-RI-NA.

My dad wanted to call me Fatimah. (Also see Hamsa) (Also see Hand of Miriam)

After the first dream – my mother told my very-very-very well read maternal grandmother, who was also in the hospital – and she and the Doctor that delivered me said “Anna Kar-ina? Surely you mean Anna Karen-ina” My ma was basically like, hell no – but she went back to sleep and asked her God to reiterate, and he did.. twice.

No one in my family had ever heard of the actress Anna Karina. But I do think Anna Karenina has it’s significance. This is my favourite page. (I stole this off a google search)


I’ve written before, about how when I was little I stared a little too intensely at a dead kitten on a roof, was a little too fascinated by the beautiful morbidity of it’s blood congealing in the desert sun. Blood drops dry around the edges first. A medium, a vampire, some kind of eternal and ‘hollow’ vessel. I’m being poetic but my karma took me through some weird stuff. It’s okay – I picked this life – and this name – because I wanted to embody vengeance.

Don’t know if you know what the AKashic records are… but um. Our generation is being prepared to acknowledge the existence of a lot of things that we’ve been taught are ‘make believe’. Would you believe the Deus Ex Machina of a story like 1984 would be a being that could kill simply by falling asleep?

Ironically… spirituality and ‘magic’ as practices have slowly been destroyed by science. Religion was deemed fine – and not for the reasons you might like to think. If there is an inability to prove something it is believed to be impossible – but when people are in my vortex, very strange and inexplicable things start happening. It takes time. It requires me to be absolutely myself, which I’ve found difficult. Being a medium and not being able to “hear” or “see” spirit; means that you can be occupied by non-physical without really knowing… I’m trying to become more aware of it and myself.

I know that to most people the things I have to say are strange – but embarrassment is the residue of social – well, societal – conditioning; and it’s roots develop in a soil not unlike the most irrational kinds of fear. Fortunately I’ve had minimal socialisation throughout my life… I’ve been magnetically repelled by most people – and I’ve been fortunate enough to learn not to fear anything.
I mean, after being unacceptably dragged out of two homes, sexually molested by police men who knocked on my door and took me to a hospital where I was violently raped (can’t prove it because I was on so many sedatives.) I get a little uncomfortable about unannounced visitors who knock on my door – but I know that everything goes full circle… Karma is seven fold, friendssssss

P.S Life hack… If you ever get sectioned… DON’T TAKE THE SEDATIVES.

My first pair of cat ears were stolen from my sister – who did a performance at her secondary school. I saw them sitting on her bed and I was obsessed with them. But they were a little tacky/made of cardboard and string.


Years later she would give me a pair of metal, spiked cat ears from Maison Michel. I wore them out and frightened – legit frightened – the village people of Farnham (I got sectioned not too long after.)


This was back before “Anime” was a look/a meme/acceptable. Isn’t it strange how trends just creep up on you. Actually the people hacking me used anime to attract my attention. Years later it’ll be proven my guides were occupying them.


There’s a video that’ll come out one day – of me dancing to

Infront of a heat-sensitive filter on my webcam – the metal on my headband inbetween the spikes bounced from colour to colour to colour (it was bizarre) and that’s why things that change colour are all the ~~rage now. Synesthete romance right?

OMG copy.png

The human/cat hybrid thing is mine but I’m happy to share. One time on a thought journey I spoke to the kitten that died “VII” and it told me that if it were a person it would be Karl Lagerfeld… who designs hats for Maison Michel.


These cat ears are from Accessorize. My Maison Michel ones were stolen by the nurses who took my things from me at Psychiatric Ward and never returned them.


Forget that though – I’m such a diva rightttt

Oh oh, this song is fun. I was “meditating” about my favourite time traveller – the thirteenth soul – kind of looks like Trunks from Dragon Ball Z – s|he doesn’t exist on this planet yet because we still haven’t learned how to get through our karma so the entire planet consists of literally twelve souls. I incarnated to come take all yer pain, donate my body to Lucifer and give you some kind of good time before informing you that yes I am involved with the Illuminati and the reason you’re probably thinking about me is we’ve created an exchange of karmic debt. Illuminati hang outs are purely non physical. I can’t prove it.. sorry.. but if you think about me for long enough weird stuff’ll start happening. Can’t stop that, I’m afraid. Also – there is no one head of the Illuminati – because that actually changes by the minute.

But yeah – I exited the car (I meditate best when I’m in a car) and the moon was dancingggg. It’s on my facebook. You can find it, if I haven’t blocked you.


i made a Pornhub account

When I lived in Hackney, I used to ask my spiritual teacher about different kinds of work – that I had – at the time – considered pursuing, but never really did. There were a lot of rumours that circulated that I was a prostitute, for years, and I never really cared because it was so far from the truth. Anyone that really knew me, anyone that took the time to have a conversation with me, knew that the work really wasn’t my thing. And not for the typical reasons you’d expect.

Rumours exist because ultimately people often prefer their fantasy of you, because it makes their often boring lives that much more interesting. I remember a girl once said to me “Karina, people talk about each other. Thats what they do.” It was certainly an interesting insight into people… I’ve never spent much time around them. I pick my “people” and everyone else is background noise. (That means, I’ve since learned… that they talk about us)

So lets put out some truth here – this spiritual teacher told nineteen year old me that if I wanted, say, a job doing sex-chat on the phone (I laugh at the thought) or even being an escort, or a sugar baby – She could’ve gotten me that work in a *clicks her fingers* – click of her fingers. The tarot/psychic reading industry and the sex industry are financed by the same people.

She told me that my personal vulnerabilities were this: firstly – she said – “if a man called you up and told you he wanted to have sex with a child, or some other strange fantasy – you’d be uncomfortable with it and you would judge him” – she got me there. This teacher’s thing was to be a professional first – if I was working for a sex-chat line she’d have expected me to accept I was doing a job. If you’re working for a sex line you’re catering to the person’s sexual fantasies, you’re not there to dictate their morality or lack thereof. You’re being paid to help a person get off.
Then she said – “and you couldn’t be an escort – or a sugar baby – because you’d get attached”. She had no judgements towards people in the Sex Industry – she had no issue with free sex – she understood who I really am and that was how she offered what would become the best careers-guidance I have ever had in my entire life.

I’ll continue this train of thought for a bit: I’m REALLY good at looking after people. People sometimes think they know how they need to be looked after – but they actually don’t. People mostly don’t have any idea of what they need.
So… while I was living with this teacher I asked her what she thought of me working locally at a homeless shelter, for free. She shook her head and I think felt that was a worse idea than doing sex work. She said I’d get depressed because I’d be surrounded by people that I couldn’t help, and it would really hurt me and make me ILL.
You get a lot of spiritual people who think that in order to be spiritual, you have to be philanthropic, do lots of charity work etc – actually spiritual people do their best work by living their best lives. When I went to Uganda, I did a lot of what on-paper would be considered “charity work” but it really didn’t feel that way at all – I learned that people with “nothing” (actually I met “poor” people who had a lot more than I did – family, serious bank-able artistic talent, were multi-lingual, knowledge in husbandry) had tapped into an inner happiness that I had never known. Perhaps you have to have experienced chemical depression and have been put on medication for it to realise how big a deal this is – but upon stepping on African soil my depression – that I was being treated for with prescription drugs – lifted. I just stopped taking the tablets. Thiiiink about all of those little details there, if you understand energy/karma.

Homelessness is terrible – sexual perversions that involve humiliation, degradation, pedophilia etc are indicative of serious abuse – when energy workers (there are ‘light workers’ – as photographers are – and there are ‘energy workers’… as performers are) enter your life … they will completely destroy it. I let abused people into my life and I let them hurt me – it isn’t conscious, it’s actually my stupid, cunting, mother-fucking “life path” – because I have to find a way of re-programming them. The work is not conscious, but it involves absolute sincerity. Not trying to be clever, not trying to be a good person, not trying to be anything that I am not at any given moment of interaction.

Moving on. I think that it’s important to try and link your various interests and qualities – so perhaps that is my niche. “Getting attached”. I’m not interested in sex work… because firstly: I’ve never really met anyone that was very good at sex. It takes me two minutes to give myself an orgasm and I actually don’t need to do that to function. Orgasming by yourself is a little “cherry” sitting atop a fabulous looking life-cake that probably doesn’t taste very good.
Secondly – I find not having sex with a person you want to have sex with – who also wants to have sex with you – is WAY more fun than having sex with them. Thirdly – I don’t believe in faking it. If I’m not IN love you – I do not want to have sex with you.
And in an imaginary world (a better one than the “real” world) where people respect each other, whether it’s love or an orgasm – don’t fake it. I know a lot of women fake orgasms and that a lot of men think women in porn are orgasming… If they’re not “pillow princesses” – they’re telling you a big fat whopping lie.

The best sex I have EVER had was with my Pleiadian GUIDES. I lay on my bed with my arms and legs spread, was asphyxiated, had the weirdest most intense orgasm ever and while my heart was palpitating one of them reached into my chest, abruptly stopped my heart from beating for a little while – and then it started beating again. I actually died.
A lot more stuff happened that day actually but it’s not appropriate to discuss.

I’ve heard a lot of guys – and girls… who were only ever comfortable with their sexuality BECAUSE of me – try to tell me how I should be having sex. None of the girls orgasmed during sex and … none of the guys left all that memorable an impression. I suppose thats why it was so important that I wanted to make Erotica at University – but I didn’t… because I think deep down the people I was at University with triggered a quiet discomfort that one feels when they are surrounded by people that they don’t vibe with. I was never really taught how to deal with being gossiped about, I was only taught that it was self-obsessive to assume people were gossiping about me.

“Funny thing about talking about me behind my back is that it just keep coming back to me…” < stole that lyric from someone who stole lyrics off me

I could probably write a 10k word essay on all the different ways that you could interpret this song that was written ABOUT ME.

And if all you’re reading is words related to the sex-lexis …. I don’t vibe with you. If your penis or vagina is your dominant thinking-feeling-organ…. I don’t vibe with you.
Go away.

The weirdest thing is that a friend and I used to have a blog where we used to write about our really, really intense emotional landscape and the female experience – and it was called “babiesdippedinsugar”. (That’s not whats weird) Some years later I was compelled to delete that, and I regret it often, my reasons for doing so were wrong.

I found out that my father had been looking at it, (That’s not what’s weird) that a lot of my family had been looking at my stuff on the internet. (That’s not what’s weird either). Most people used to be afraid of getting naked in case their family’s found out – they’d get in trouble – imagine being afraid of getting naked because some of the men in your family are perverts. Repulsive. (This is where it starts getting weird.)

I have a couple of cousins who are very comfortable with their sexualities, one of which .. I think is even low-key into S&M. He is my favourite cousin. We never speak but we understand one another. He’s really intelligent – he went to an amazing University, sold hotdogs to make a living and ended up working for prestigious banks.
I have some cool memories of him. He taught me that whether I liked Avatar (the movie about emaciated blue people) or not – it was important because it completely revolutionised the film industry. He taught me in the most simple way about the political system in Syria. He taught me about Syrian exports. Actually he’s the only person that’s ever taught me anything worth knowing about my culture.
I can remember about three or four conversations that have taken place in our time knowing each other and they have completely helped to shape how I interact with the World.
He has a deep, deep respect for his mother and treats women well – but it’s not an act. It’s genuine. I think if he saw any of the stuff I was doing online, which I highly doubt cos’ he’s a busy guy – he’d either want to throw up or he’d probably lurk to see if I was connected to any cute girls … then he’d put the whole thing out of his mind – or maybe laugh-cry a lot.

Other Arab members of my family would probably find a way to make money off me – without even asking for my permission. I won’t go into details – and ultimately I’m inclined to feel pity, and I struggle to create some kind of metaphor. Like I’d say “They’re like animals!” but I like some animals.. so that’s unfair. Perhaps “parasites” is a better word but I’m sure if I could communicate with a parasite I’d probably be able to find something beautiful about it – I can’t find anything beautiful about the other members of my “family”. At this point half of me would be inclined to say “keep the change”, but the dominant half of me thinks its fundamentally important that they learn about karma. You never stop learning right? Unless you die… Even then, actually. To be honest I was mostly brought up by my brother and he taught me in varying forms that amongst the best ways to teach someone is actually to embarrass them.

One time my brother was ascending the stairs, and I had a “shatter proof” ruler – something in me was compelled to test how shatter proof the ruler was. So as he was coming up the stairs I smacked him on the head with it and it broke in two (it also shattered a little bit, it wasn’t a clean break). He stopped, raised his head, looked at me – started sprinting up the stairs and I RAN into my room just in time to remove the door knob so he couldn’t come in. He didn’t bang on the door, I just felt very aware of a warning of revenge.
The next day I felt compelled to shave off my eyebrows. And I did. They’ve never looked the same. Fair.

There is a philosopher called Hypatia who used to teach men – who used to refer to herself as a brother. One of her students publicly professed love for her and basically she threw a bloody sanitary towel at him and told him that that was love. My teacher would’ve done something different – she’d have said “if you want to see love, picture white light”.

I have typically been taught to feel insecure – and it began with a resentment towards my dual heritage. British people have only until a few years ago… hated Arabs. English women would marry Arab men, move to Arab countries that operated under Islamic law and when they weren’t able to cope with abuse – they’d have to choose between staying to look after their children, or leaving the country and their kids too. Arab men have completely ruined any public opinion that people have towards the culture – the entire culture. So when there are people like me, women who are comfortable with showing their bodies, trying to find some beauty in themselves: including openly stating their heritage – we are cleaning up the mess you’ve made. If I were more blunt – and I am quite blunt – but if I were more blunt – I would sit Arab men down and say “you’ve FUCKED everything up. people think you’re DISGUSTING. People can’t even cope with hearing you SPEAK an ANCIENT language.”

The ONE stereotype that the world associates with Arab men is BORAT. This is not something made up – this is an exaggeration of a truth! You have NO ONE to blame but yourselves. I had an ex look at a photograph of my “dad” shaking hands with a sheikh – and he burst out laughing – he was literally rolling around on the floor in hysterics and announcing “YOUR DAD IS BORAT!!!!”
What could I say to that? It true!

I once talked about Middle Eastern guys with a woman who lives in L.A… she told me that Americans generally laughed about these guys who lived in poorly decorated shit-hole homes but wore huge gold chains and drove Mercedes Benz’.

How do you think that makes me feel? As someone who really wants to be proud to be Arabic? Thanks for reppin’ the team, guys. So… as per usual it has fallen on women to put things right.

When I was younger – like thirteen – I went to my cousin’s wedding (little did she know I was technically married to her father) and they played a Shakira song. I wanted to belly dance, a lot. There was a really refined gentleman sitting at the table and he furrowed his eyebrows and noticed I wanted to dance – he said “dance!” and I shook my head. I was embarrassed.

Years later, a beautiful half Spanish blonde girl (she looks like the blonde girl in Game of Thrones – not that I watch it) told me she had taken up Belly Dancing. It took a “white” girl (she only looks white) to help me appreciate my culture.
She linked me to a song by Haifa – and I saw a really beautiful Arab woman. I asked my family if I could get a Haifa tshirt and learned that Arabs didn’t really like her very much!? They called her slutty, they said she had had lots of plastic surgery (when we all know that plastic surgery is basically a right-of-passage to Arab women!?), they said she “couldn’t sing” (It is weird that a man, like my father, who has THE most hideous speaking voice imaginable can comfortably insult a woman for singing… I don’t think that triple-auto-tuning him would change how he sounds when he speaks). Later he took me to an Arabic restaurant and Haifa was playing and I think he saw a picture of her or something… And he creeped me out.

It’s like he comes from this sad generation of men who either despise a woman or want to fuck her instead. I honestly don’t think there is room for men like this on the Planet anymore. Grow or GTFO. Admit to and apologise for your mistakes.

It is absolutely fundamental that there is a scope for people with a rare genetic heritage to express themselves and find beauty in themselves. I disown my family but I’m a credit to my culture… Arab women deserve better than the majority of Arab men. Arab women are hilarious – we’ve had to become like that. Arab women are beautiful – who has eyes like ours? Belly dancers are amongst the best dancers in the world.

The issue with Arab masculinity is that it likes to claim ownership or destroy what it can’t control – it seems an inappropriate time to bring up the Israel/Palestine conflict – but it isn’t. Arabs have more money than people in the West can fathom. Muslims like to pretend that their faith teaches charity – so it’s deeply confusing that Palestine is such a mess of a country. One Sheikh could probably house every Palestinian with less than 1% of their personal wealth.

Wouldn’t you imagine that the appropriate means of handling that conflict would be to integrate? Wouldn’t you be inclined to respect a tiny nation of people who managed to protect themselves surrounded by hostility? Strong cultures like that are matriarchal. The Torah might say some weird things but you try telling a Jewish woman to go sit in a hole while she’s on her period… Pretty sure she’d punch you in the face or shit in your food.

Actually.. I’ll be honest here – the worst bit about it is that I know that none of them actually read what I wrote. When people ask me what kind of men I’m interested in or find attractive I generally say “wise, spirit-master female-energy geniuses” donning “good shoes” who know how to make, create and analyse good art – I’ll have to create some kind of pyramid. Also – someone who can roll a better joint than me and get to the Scrabanian and Paramite temples in PS2 Abes Oddysee faster than I can. No one related to me. No one married to any of my relatives. You’d think I shouldn’t have to clarify something like that but you’d be SURPRISED.

If you are related to me, if you are married to someone related to me, fuck off and learn something about the IDF, karma, consent, privacy, respect and taking a hint

…The sad thing is that a lot of girls came into my life whose fathers were doing something similar to mine… None of us had any idea – I know now – and they’re all about to find out. One girl told me about a “really nice” and well respected Thai politician who spread around naked photographs of his wife in strange poses, in a state of sleep…. She didn’t think “my dad is friends with people like this, so what is my dad really like?”
Really – I met a lot of girls being mistreated like this by their families. Most of their dads are now dead, absent or trying their darned tootin’ hardest to fix what they’ve done. Some people like to leave a little signature on their work, not me.

I only really recently came to terms with my personal reality… My dad confronted me about the little blog I had with my friend awhile ago and I blocked it out. Through living with him I’ve accepted that my dad is a pervert, has no respect for privacy, has no manners, doesn’t really respect women and probably roofied my mother at some point. About a week ago I gave my guides permission to “put things right”.
Aside from him being a pervert – I was getting sick of his sex noises when he was showering, of him farting all the time… He’s now got pneumonia… and my spirit guides say he’s now impotent. He doesn’t make sex-noises when he showers anymore so I guess there must be some truth in that. I don’t want to find out though, y’kno? Sometimes you just have to accept your inner knowing/intuition.

And that if I’d do it to him, I’d do worse to you

This has breasts in it but I wouldn’t say it deserved any kind of rating.
The sooner kids learn to:
– Appreciate a woman’s beauty
– The fact that man’s perception of beauty is a PERFORMANCE that often results in women enduring some form of pain
– not to sexualise a naked woman’s body – the better.

Lesson for the collective future you:
Sex is an ENERGY. Do not share energy without CONSENTING or OFFERING CONSENT first.