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I’ve had a productive day and the laxative I took yesterday hasn’t worked. Apparently you’re supposed to take another but if you have this condition in the long term it’s a bad idea. Your body starts to rely on the laxatives. If you take a laxative just before you manage to go and your stomach is empty – then you get serious cramps. Actually if you’ve ever wanted to know what period cramps feel like, it’s like that.

The level of friendship between my audienceship (I was delighted to learn that a viewer read my blog yesterday) and myself has sort of evolved into an exchange about my bowel movements.

We’re in the over-familiar stage of relationship territory. We’re basically related now. Nono, yes.

I say this laughingly but actually toilet jokes and that humour in general grosses me out. I have momentum about speaking about this while it’s bothering me, while I try to sort it out again and I know that there are other people who suffer this that don’t have the guts that I do, to discuss it. Some people are triggered by toilet talk and it isn’t because they demand a super-human-feminine-performance from other human beings. It’s cos it’s a very real form of suffering.

You could be having the time of your life but this is the most like, silent (stop) form of bio-torture you can imagine.

I will stop writing about it because I want to manifest health but my intention really is that other people acknowledge that it’s technically a disability if you shit less frequently than a day or two apart.

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This is a thing I did today, to be productive, for my future self. If you want something to do, find a site that lets you do a thing you like to do and be your most unboring self on it. my most unboring self warns you that it is a mess and it doesn’t meet her standards of graphic design at all but my heart is warmed by my own note to myself so I’m inclined to share. I mean um. Do your future self a favour today. It could be organising a stocking/hosiery drawer. Not that millennials have those. (No, I don’t have one of those. I would like to.)

Bigcartel is one of those customisable sites that let people sell things. I wanted to make a depop account but apparently the entire universe wouldn’t let me do that, so I mosied on over to Bigcartel who are apparently doing a lowkey beta test thing, so you can sign up for a shop for FREE. I actually think that Bigcartel is quite a chic little site for selling things on. This is a designer I like who uses Bigcartel to sell clothes I have dreamt of buying for years and years and years of my life. If you are a weeb, you will like her clothes. 

She is famous because the oui/non tshirts were her thing. This is the director Sofia Coppola in one of those tshirts. Sofia C. directed a lot of films that a lot of trendy hipsters like and that a lot of under twenty-fives don’t know about. My favourite of her films are Marie Antoinette and the Virgin Suicides.

Sofia Coppola is in no small part responsible for Instagram Pastel Goths.

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In the Fashion World it is a big deal if you start or bring in a trend. Eeeven if the trend is leggings or wedges or ballet buns.

I was thinking of this L’ecole Des Femmes dress

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(which I bought after thinking about it for a million yearws) when I bought…

magdalene3.jpg

Didyoureadthispostabout

The most beautiful bag in the World?

I am actually rarely taken by handbags. This handbag is my favourite ever.

magdalena2.jpg

 

How do you inoffensively write a speech impediment?

The video above is a montage of >> Cheese << dialogue, a character
from the kids show on Cartoon Network called Foster's Home for
Imaginary Friends. Kindly uploaded by @Sara Nelowe

Here is a screenshot taken from his >> wikia page. <<

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It is 7 minutes to 3AM. My sleeping habits have changed, are not at all in keeping with what society would deem appropriate but certainly, I have improved energy levels. I’m having a cup of Cookie cereal and I think hemp milk. I can’t remember, we’ve about four different kinds of milk in the fridge downstairs (only one of which came from a cow – and that is because I’m having a desert making moment. I’m in a trial and error phase and it’s fantastic because it’s opening all these neural pathways in my mind and that is very, very exciting to me as a person who identifies as a problem solver and strategist by nature.) and the non-dairy kinds all taste the same to me, differing only in that I like the sweeter ones more.

peach is a shade of orange not pink

(I’m also a *ridiculous* multitasker – as in my brain is thinking towards many things at once. Not all of them academically inclined but all of them are always most definitely artistically inclined.)

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(I’m creating a categorised system within my note keeping, which is otherwise entirely confusing and a lot of good stuff gets completely lost. A word came to my mind as I was writing this blog post and I had to make a note of it. I’ve had a tab up on my browser about archivists for awhile )

This is what my browser tab looks like.

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If my life were a cinematic, a detail oriented/visual narrator type of media student would suggest that the detailing of my tabs probably signifies how I am constantly thinking – all the time. A spiritual person would probably say that my compartmentalised innerbeing’s ADHD is where confusion came in as to my preferred meditation methods.

I woke up shortly before midnight, after taking a nap beside >> El Tintino << (I’ve neglected his twitter but I think it is forever meta appropriate, if you’re inclined to understand his personality) and interestingly enough, he woke me up, without touching me at all – I opened my eyes and I saw he was looking at me. I said “PEEPEE?” and his ears propped up in an acknowledging but in-desperate “yes.” If he had been desperate, he’d of jumped up and off my bed and ran towards my bedroom door. In light of him not being desperate, I grabbed him for a cuddle (which was really that guilt ridden habit that originates for me, as the five minute  to fifteen minute to half an hour moment in which you plead with yourself as you might’ve done as a child being woken up before having to go to school) and drifted into a little sleep with him beneath my duvet. Ofcourse I later took him downstairs, came back up and listened to h3h3 (I LOVE their purple velvet sofa and the mis en scene) (and working out how Ethan would be if he enlisted in the Israeli military the way his wife Hila did – I also think it’s brave that he talks about God a lot – it is actually very brave for any Jewish person to discuss or allude to a belief in God at all. And their viewers are cruel sorts.) (I admire bravery in all forms) (He reminds me a little bit of a comedy character an acquaintance and I wrote about, based on an assistant teacher who was in charge of my sixthform’s trip to Uganda. He was a fun person to irritate and very inspiring. I later wrote a script for a two to five minute webisode at University. I’ll upload it, I really ought to.)

AND I STITCHED. I’m making a mobile. I mean I have the makings of a mobile in my head. Not because I am infant crazy but because I’ve always obsessed over them as sculptural pieces.

I’m listening to a lot of debates, conferences and discussions amongst literary types. Really in an effort to teach myself how to speak again. I enjoy hearing writers speak, because they put so much of themselves into structuring the delivery of a single sentence. I imagine it’s a kind of compulsion – there was a moment in which a lady discussed it in this video that I’m currently listening to as I author this post, that she witnessed Professor Germaine Greer’s dedication to conveying messages in beautifully written sentences for her books.

Professor Germaine Greer meets the Archivists
uploaded by @The University of Melbourne

I’m moved by Mr Lachlan Glanville’s speech, I’ve only just begin to watch it but as I’ve written many times, a sentence or a ‘mere’ few words can really trigger a very comprehensive thought journey of sorts and in this he discusses that a redefinition of rape is necessary in society. And it is true: I believe that administering any kind of penetration that has not been expressly consented to is for all intents and purposes, rape. For example – an injection that has not been consented to, is rape.

Here is something worth noting to myself: I enjoy paragraphs in which the use of tense – that is past/present/future interchanges and carries no consistency – I can’t cope with it in a sentence yet but in a paragraph, it is interesting. Perhaps that is my inner science fiction buff being seduced by the idea of a narrator, for example, playing with the concept of time travel as they write. It is grammatical incorrectness but don’t you think that there has to be some kind of artistic evolution in literacy?

The question is rhetorical, you give a reader too much significance by encouraging them to think that their opinion can validate or otherwise discredit yours. But I love a good conversation, I find those are lacking in my home.

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I love in-oven shots.

soss.jpg
RECIPE

Almond Oil, Apple, Double Cream, Garlic, Leek, Lemon, Mint, 
Paprika, Red Onion, Sausages, Sesame Seeds, Spring Onion and 
[a fresh] Tomato

table

A decanter? As a vase? Really? Really. MADNESS.
Ma is somewhat of a plants-dedicate and she doesn’t appreciate the lugubriousness of flowers. She associates them with death. My spiritual teacher Lisa, when I lived with her, had beautiful flowers brought to her weekly by her now-husband: a teacher for school children. It was charming to witness. I don’t think a man has ever bought me flowers without spending my own money, ha. British men… (I dated a dual heritage half Egyptian half Irish boy that lived on a council estate in East London for four years, he bought me a few gifts, and the most treasured was a perfect jewellery box from a charity shop in Ireland – I am not resentful towards him for having never brought me flowers.) (If he came across this he’d roll his eyes and think ‘she’s kitchen sinking again’ – I’m ACTUALLY NOT. I STOPPED PASSIVE AGGRESSIVELY ADDRESSING YOU YEARS AGO. I LITERALLY USE OUR ETERNAL CONNECTION TO MAKE MEN JEALOUS, OKAY) (“knew it” he’d say – but also privately not believe me.)

I’m sitting in the kitchen, editing a little music video of sorts that I intend to call “painting un marguerites pourpre”; as I prepare lunch. By the way, that should translate to Painting the Daisies purple, google is being a little unreliable today. As I posted previously, I’ve introduced a French Poodle called M’sieur Hugh Le Poodle to Miss Kittie’s entourage of co-characters.

My company in the kitchen as I type, is three chihuahuas who are very keenly and efficiently supervising the preparation of my meal and a glass of ‘cucumber infused’ water.

It reminds me of >> ‘tereré’. << In Paraguay there is a cold drink prepared that has a mixer (often water), it’s intended to be refreshing. It is a mixture of herbs, leaves and mostly anything that adds some flavour. It is drunk through a metal straw, that acts as a sieve – filtering out the excess of herbs etc. Typically you refill the cup, and reuse the spices and herbs in the drink.

Paraguay is a country situated in south to central America, it is very hot and very humid and people seldom drink hot drinks as they do in the United Kingdom. Perhaps to some extent that might be a disclaimer of sorts as to why my family and myself do not often reach for tea. Tea and Hot Chocolate are drinks you have at tea parties and typically at night time. It is not a casual affair, a lot of preparation is put into those drinks: typically at my Grandmother’s friend’s (Latina socialites…) I recall that hot drinks would be served in teapots not directly out of a kettle, dulce de leche, powdered milk – etc.

The success of the video project is undetermined – I’m not sure that children’s paint is the best tool for painting flowers by osmosis – though I imagine the Queen of Heart’s knaves would disagree. I had a little help from Levi to compose a song for it and it is so pretty. It’s in A Minor; (the very saddest key) I used the ‘delicate bells’ option on GarageBand and played around with the tempo. Inspired by the children’s song: “London’s burning, London’s burning”, and a scene from Spinal Tap.

The upload above features a scene from the film Spinal Tap - a backup
singer and guitarist in the band performs a delicate piano piece 
called 'Lick my Love Pump'. It was uploaded by @Nathan Noah

 

Here is the original sample, of a song I channelled Levi to play – that I then played with on Final Cut Pro.

My brother was training to be a sound engineer, drug dealers abused him out of his equipment – one time I took a song I’d made to a show and tell. No one seemed to like it so I thought it must’ve been awful.

Here is how my Final Cut Pro screen is looking.

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This morning, for the third day in a row – I took Tintin on a six am walk to the local park. I was still fully made up from shooting my video and donning the very fullest eyelashes you’ve ever seen. I came back and had to hoover – imagine hoovering at six thirty in the morning. And ma’s dyson hoover is AUDIBLE. I’m not used to traipsing muddy parks (although I did used to go on one to two hourly walks in Farnham, daily, twice a day… I didn’t experience dried mud latching itself to the crevices of my boots – more often than not I wore Moccasins or Vans and they are better suited to mud than Doc Martens. Doc Martens deserve better treatment than mine are getting but I like them to look battered.)

I won’t link the video here but I heard a strange faux edit of an Esther Hicks video where she said something like “Oprah won’t even let us appear on her show because we’re too weird”… Esther Hicks and Oprah are very deeply connected – Oprah was a long time fan of Esther Hicks, and Esther Hicks a long time fan of Oprah also. There is a video that lasts for approximately an hour and a half where Oprah interviews Esther Hicks at great depths about the Art of Manifestation. There is a section on Esther Hicks’ website where you can access original edits of her talks and I would strongly recommend that you do so. These were convincing edits, kudos to the remix squad – because it was not a one man job. No woman would do that.

Today, luncheon is sausages and some left over sauce I made a day or two ago.

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Actually – it is so much more than that.

Amongst this oven din (it’s an alternate word for ‘noise’) is those richmond sausages I’ve enjoyed since I was a teenager, not finely-chopped garlic, lemon seasoned with copious dried mint, onion, apple, leeks, spring onion I believe, and almost the very last of my Israeli Argan Oil. And I’ve thrown in some paprika too. A lot actually.

saussicon

And I’ve learned something – if you don’t like to smell of meat – if I do not eat a diet of mostly meat, my body suffers for it – put mint with your cooking. It overpowers the smell of flesh and tastes good with *everything*.

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I’m sort of the Bubba of pork goods, you know how he spends his entire military service describing the various and many methods of preparing shrimp?

This is one of my favourite scenes ever.

My favourite line is: “in the sea of mediocrity, I can be anything! Anything I want to beeeeeeeeeeeee”

I feel like, if Kanye and I had joined the army together – I’d be Bubba and he’d be Forest. Literally, Donda is Forest Gump’s mother. I wish Bubba’s mother was mine but there’s a scene where she says “I guess” – when Kanye (I mean Forest) says “Stupid is as stupid does” – I think about it often. It touched me. Not literally. Figuratively. Psychically.

But he could never join the army. He’s too famous. >:)

This may or may not be something only seasoned (see what I did there, aren’t I clever) Adobe users might be aware of, but CS6 is a superior version of Photoshop to CC – although I like the CC because I associate it with my spiritual teacher Lisa, Coco Chanel and Capsule Corps. The raw edit function was better, it was also much more fun to edit .JPGS. I miss having a 20d. Camera speak.

I don’t for a minute believe that the GQ office staff have the time nor the inclination to check to any kind of great depth everything that appears from an outsourced advertorial sponsor – that generates adverts based on the search terms used by individuals that peruse the articles on their site, as I sometimes do.

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I clicked the third of these options ‘recommended’ by a company called ‘outbrain’. I don’t know who owns outbrain but I know they use a lot of what I imagine are stock images

(By the way – the eggs-linked-to-diabetes post – took me to an article that I won’t post here, but at the bottom there was a disclaimer that this wasn’t a news article at all. Initially they used the term ‘Shen Nong’, as the name for a herbal remedy that was supposedly being advertised as a herbal remedy for people taking metformin (a thyroid medication) and/or other diabetes medication.

I googled Shen Nong and I got a wikipedia page – that said that Shen Nong was a Chinese deity. All the screen shots depicted were taken from >> “Shennong’s” wikipedia page. <<

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I think that its possible the individual who authored this page confused the words ‘mythical’ with ‘fictional’, they mean two different things, friend

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Here are some of Shen Nong’s credentials:

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(Did Shen Nong invent the shovel???) “well known” as the first Emperor of Ancient China – he invented farming tools *AND* HERBS.

THAT IS NOT A MURAL.

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What herbs did Shennong domesticate??

I got some other results that I wasn’t even remotely convinced by, amongst those an allusion to a television tower that didn’t appear on google maps. Do you KNOW HOW PROUD THE CHINESE ARE OF THEIR ARCHITECTURE?! AND THEIR DEITIES? THEY HAVE SO MANY DEITIES THEY COULDN’T EVEN BEGIN TO LIST THEM ALL ON WIKIPEDIA OKAY. THEY CONSIDER THEIR ANCESTORS OF OVER 50 GENERATIONS (WHICH THEY PROBABLY STILL HONOUR AT MEAL TIMES) TO BE DEITIES – SORT OF.)) (I am one of those AZN obsessives, I will never not be a little bit racist to cope with how much I resent that I am not AZN.) (It is a true hardship)

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My favourite bit is the bit at the bottom which says that Outbrain has a ‘firm’ policy against “fake news”.

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Actually that is a really immersive and drawn out little game for any advertising company or even a reuters kind of company to engage in – monopolising lots of google search terms to teach people first hand how easy it is to lie on the internet. That is amongst the many reasons I am so glad that I have cultivated a heart felt blog, with all of my family issues, weird photos and other kinds of content that would of made me unemployable a million years ago. You’d think that the only job I couldn’t do at this point was being an agent for the secret services but that’s incorrect. I won’t say why.

Also it is neither here nor there but a first edition, of a book published in 1981, that is leather bound and gold embossed – for less than a tenner? MOTHER FUCKING BARGAIN

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May I suggest some other books about the Chinese Identity as recommended by >> waterstones << at least some of which have been authored by people whose names also sound AZN

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I’ve made a habit of being quite kind to people who I felt were truly sticking up for their heritage and generational abuse or type casting, for example, in the media by making of the person responsible for whatever racially motivated hardships they experienced in their lives or their careers.

This is for people that choose to single out one person – that genuinely really didn’t have anything to do with your personal struggle.

Sometimes you are perpetuating the nonsense that people associate with your culture or heritage by being a dick, and you might be empowered by the fact but there will be other people who are not and who will suffer for your mistake.

Conversely – sometimes you are teaching people it is okay to be a dick. And sometimes it really is okay to be a dick, such as when you are defending yourself.

If I am a dick – it isn’t from nowhere. It is something of a feeling that has built up over a very, very long time. It is out of a personal insult. It is a response to something you did or said.

Don’t compare yourself to me. And don’t make yourself look like a victim, don’t manipulate people in benefit of your cause. For example – people used to assume that I was caucasian. I’m not at all – if I’m really related to my parents – I’m unsure – I’m part Arabian, part Mexican, part Italian blahblahblah. I have no cultural identity whatsoever. And I’m glad of it. It meant that my identity could be built from something that actually had meaning to me, and my own personal struggles and not that of a culture I don’t seem to understand or truly value at all. I resent the sexism associated with Arabs, even when their culture is matriarchal – I resent that a lot of Mexicans are criminals that kidnap little children that visit the country on holiday – I resent that my Italian grandfather was so highly regarded as a diplomat but actually treated his daughters and catholic wife like shit. His wife was not perfect at all, she was an orphan who was forced upon a wife who had her sent away to Texas for boarding school. She went to finishing school and married the son of one of the greatest men that have ever lived (in my opinion.) and she probably had a lot of serious psychiatric problems that now run in the women of my family. But she was a devout catholic and she never remarried and had to be okay with keeping the family name of a guy who left her for a woman that looked – I swear to God – like an actual human-pig hybrid. Only one of her children actually looks like her, and she’s fine with the insult, she can afford plastic surgery. Paraguay has some of the best plastic surgeons in the World. It’s okay – I was the ugly child in the family too. But that cousin will confirm that being the ugly one means that you develop other qualities – she’s a poet. She was kind enough to arrange for one of her poetry books to be sent over, written in spanish. I don’t speak spanish – it was the first language I had learned and it meant I wasn’t able to communicate with my ‘dad’, and I only ever saw my siblings asking him for cash so that was one of our first communicative exchanges. I’m somehow made responsible for my mother’s dark sense of humour (which I am grateful to have inherited.) The other one looks nothing like either of her parents. I mean you can teach a diplomat many things but apparently studying biology is difficult for our family.

I’d prefer to think of myself as Israeli, I’ve certainly been publicly outspoken even if the consequences of the fact resulted in my being bullied, even by people that I had shared food with (when I had no money to be doing something like that at all) – but the embassy haven’t even acknowledged my emails. My family are the reason Israelis have a home.

If your family make it okay for one another to abuse and mistreat you, everyone else will do the same. That is why I aspire to at some point be a templar, because once your karma/the script of your life is fucked, there’s no going back – unless everyone that abused you apologises for doing it.

There’s this epic Lord Byron quote that can be applied to anyone that has been victimised or mistreated, I reblogged it on tumblr – it is the only Byron I’ve ever read. I appreciate a beautiful guy with a beautiful name. Something like – to punish or to forgive – both are inevitable – but which comes first?

I have a song for how I feel about this nonsense - 
uploaded by @BlameSociety.

This song by Chad Vader is great. Chad Vader is a reference to what
became of Anakin. He fell into a burning pit of fire, was given a 
new body and became a dark lord sith. I mean he wasn't THE darkest
of the dark lord siths but you'd have to understand how the Illuminati
works to be able to even vaguely comprehend the nature of a very
intricate narrative like that - you'd have to understand the nature
of our existence. And it is difficult to do so if you're uneducated.

Your struggles for power through monopoly (the acquisition
of imagined power through fame, selling commodities and/or natural
resourches that the people (confused for 'the consumers') have
been taught that they really need to survive, and hoarding wealth -
rather than using it to stimulate an economy of hard working civilians
who need you to spend your money in order to fucking LIVE -

The 'universal' you that get your Illuminati tattoos and throw the 
word around in association with earthly tragedies - you're not wrong
but you're also not right, at all - and people who believe themselves
to be in power are:
deeply 
deeply
deeply

amusing to people who truly, truly understand the
Illuminati. You cannot progress to any kind of power until you have
learned how to love. And how to love begins with loving yourself.
That begins with having decent parents who have learned to love
themselves - and that is a struggle - when you are bombarded with
media that sells you things to make you feel prettier, to make you
feel like you fit in with everyone else. When you follow a standard
that makes you believe you are 'professional' - also a visual
standard that has been sold to you for the benefit of a very select
economy that no one in the Illuminati cares for, outside of ensuring
that people are not being sold harmful products.

The original Chocolate rain song is by @Tay Zonday. Tay has a strong
and decent voice but treated himself as somewhat of a novelty, rather
than realising how much potential he had - he could've actually
trained to sing opera and earned much more than his YouTube videos
ever could've paid him. He could've done a service to the Black
Panthers by being one of the best black opera singers (do you
personally know of any by the way?) that has ever lived.
He chose YouTube fame.

I may well be the only person to have ever told him that he was 
capable of something like being an opera singer, the only person who
had developed enough maturity to see beyond what was funny about this
deeply, deeply autistically produced video that even Kanye West saw.





This is a song by Rihanna that Kanye made-good. It's called
"Shine Bright Like a Diamond". 

Diamonds mean a lot to me - first of all because of the blood diamond
trade. These still exist - diamonds that cost miners their lives.
Diamonds which are sometimes kept by jewellers, to control the diamond
market, but which are sold to fund acts of terrorism in countries 
which have huge news that never gets publicised. I mean when I was
visiting a genocide memorial in Rwanda, during a particular week of
reverence and memorial - an 'anniversary' of sorts - moments after I
left, a grenade was lobbed over the wall. There was a newspaper beside
me on a bus once, that said toddlers had been crucified because they
practiced black magic. 

Diamonds mean a lot to me because one time I was pregnant, awaiting an
abortion and I went on a drive with a 'friend' and his family - and my
eyesight is so poor I saw the road glisten and made a journal entry
with Indian ink that read 'Diamond Roads'.

Here is that journal entry. I was nineteen at the time.

diamondroads.jpg

Diamonds mean a lot to me because a psychic called Shannon that I
met in a psychic shop in Farnham - once said, to me, that
the Pyramids around the World are believed to be triangles but infact
the architecture is mirrored under ground. So they are pyramids that
point up, but also pyramids that go into the ground. 

Diamonds mean a lot to me because I learned from a Dan Brown novel,
the protagonist - a symbology professor - discussed that the use of
an upwards triangle represents that which is masculine. So - the
idea of masculinity is represented through science and knowledge - and
balanced by the upside down triangle which represents that which is
feminine. Femininity being represented by wisdom.
The star of David is these two triangles combined - that is - the 
concept of truth must align with both aspects of the inner self. We
must be both of those pyramids to be a balanced individual, and that
much is true I think of anything. And it is a truth that is made
present in many individuals - an excessively effeminate man who
performs "campness" because that is how he feels to physically use
his body and who possesses a nasty side that is very logical and
very cruel and who might be very scientifically gifted or minded.

In me - I identify as a male who was sort of trapped in a female body
and doesn't have much issue with it because he probably would've had
a sex change anyway. Genuinely.

I first came across the Rihanna song in a psychiatric ward. 
I am not a Rihanna fan, but I can appreciate when anyone makes a song
that is good. 

I got put in there because I smoked a legal
high - I couldn't find a drug dealer to give me weed to kill the 
constant pain I was in. I spent my birthday and Christmas in a
psychiatric ward. My Grandfather died, I didn't even get given a
cigarette break. The people working in psychiatric wards are some of
the most fucked up, shitty people you can imagine. They dispense
medication their patients don't need because they're told to do it.

This version is WAY better. Uploaded by GoodLyricsHD



I'd brought along some poorly made Mary-Jane
shoes and I bought the song on iTunes, I heard the words Mary Jane
just as I slipped mine on. I almost cried. 

Screen Shot 2019-01-08 at 04.16.05.png
[a still taken from a lyric video uploaded by GoodLyricsHD]

I walked to a park and I listened to this song on repeat -
sat by a bench - I had a fifteen minute break from a drug induced
sleep in my room. I took iPhone photos of a heron. I'd never even
seen a heron before. I walked back to my room and the Mary Janes had 
given me bleeding blisters on the ankles of my feet and I didn't
even feel the pain because the song made me that happy.

Has a song ever made you feel that much? Has anything? That is
power to me - to experience pain and then moments later - to 
experience true happiness from enjoying Art.

I don't hear voices, I only hear a permanent ringing in my ear, from
tinnitus. 

I want Chad Vader to teach me how to be funny, in character. But
I have noticed, that people either don't find my jokes funny - don't
share my sense of humour - or otherwise don't enjoy validating women
by laughing at their jokes. Are prepared to expend great energy into
repressing a well deserved laugh. 

I've learned that people don't realise when I'm trying to be funny
and that my jokes require a lengthy explanation and disclaimer.



This is a video of a Bill Hicks speech, a really important one.
Apparently it was uploaded by Bill Hicks.

'It is just a ride' is a metaphor for life.

An old blog entry

REPLACE NAMES

Fairy boy was a guy I knew and fancied in primary school. If you knew his name you’d laugh.

[private post]00000093

Karina says: (23:22:07)
I sent a message
Karina says: (23:22:10)
to fairy boy earlier

Karina says: (23:22:11)
and hes not replied

Karina says: (23:22:14)
dickhead

Karina says: (23:22:20)
I spent so long

Karina says: (23:22:24)
trying to make it seem casual

Karina says: (23:22:39)
this is the story of my life

erd says: (23:23:05)
huh

erd says: (23:23:09)
what did you send

Karina says: (23:23:12)
hahahaha….

Karina says: (23:23:28)
‘hey there, are you still up for hot chocolate next week? How does friday evening sound?’

Karina says: (23:23:51)
i spent about an hour writing that.

erd says: (23:24:03)
why?

erd says: (23:24:08)
it’s not bad either

Karina says: (23:24:10)
um

Karina says: (23:24:14)
i know right?!!?

Karina says: (23:24:18)
because i want to go out

Karina says: (23:24:21)
for hot chocolate

Karina says: (23:24:22)
… with fairy boy

erd says: (23:26:54)
you’re so weird sometimes

 

I feel like this was an important conversation to filter into the mass consciousness for so, so many reasons and maybe it’ll make even more sense in years to come. I really appreciate that Kanye mentioned the stigma attached to mental health – and perhaps that’s because I was called crazy a lot – but it was only through experiencing my own mental breakdown/through that I realised (and actually managed to prove in pretty terrifying ways – remember, a psychiatrist documented me saying “someone is about to die” and moments later a person had strangled herself – and that was really the most basic of things that were observed about me in that environment) that my experience of reality involves a connection far beyond the one that any kind of attachment to the laws of any given physical reality can even begin to make sense of.

I feel like Kanye has perhaps managed to heal in a way that it isn’t my personal purpose to and I admire that.

I’ve spent my life letting things go and rising above – never actually confronting what was done to me. Never demanding the apology I deserved.

The best and worst thing was that the people that called me names and bitched about me throughout my life, know that I have all of the abilities that I ever claimed (and more) and they haven’t even had the courage to say “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you” or “I’m sorry for the part I had to play in making your life so hard – thanks for making mine so fucking magical”

Or y’know, a simple “sorry for fucking your boyfriend &/or stealing from you &/or telling lies about you &/or telling your deepest personal secrets”
“thanks for making school/college/university so exciting”

In 2030 I imagine some kind of University reunion where someone might garner the guts to say “so what’s it like being a vampire?” (and I’d say “Iunno we’ll talk about it in your next life”) to ask me how I am I’ll whip out whatever technology is around at the time and play them this

Here’s Kanye’s energy and light work coming through (an hour or so into this interview) and a thought journey with Lisa. I get thoughts of the people I’ve known (people who, friends or not I’d have stuck up for if they were being bullied – even if they were talking about me behind my back) and family I’ve known, the people who gassed/drugged and raped me and she gently pushes them all to the side of my mind and says “that was a past life”


But before I accept walking into my “next life” – a step up on the food chain. (Funny, I remember this line from a film, I think – you’re either a predator or prey.) I want to create a kind of timeline for you.

A LONG time ago – in my very early teens and before I actually ever understood the concept of energy (so, think along the lines of – some other me occupying my body to tell this story) I was walking with an ex, a female version of me in a boys body. We were walking from his house to the train station and I was telling him a story.
I said that there was a group of girls who hired a girl to help them save various men in their lives that were being used as energy sources. In this story, I said that this girl’s motive for helping was that her brother was on death row – and in this story-universe, the equivalent of death row was people being used as sources of energy.
Her incentive was that she wanted to save her brother.
Whenever I listened to music I’d close my eyes and I’d picture this same kind of story in all sorts of pretty cinematic equivalents. Any character I identified as myself was always the one that was left behind, the only one who could really defend herself anyway. Some ridiculous self sacrifice. Often, it was just an exchange of a scroll.


In my first year of university I had said to my friends “I’m going to be a drug dealer next year.” They all told me not to do it, told me that I couldn’t do it etc. The general shit little boys say to little girls before they steal their idea. ALL these boyfriends ended up doing what I wanted to do. I didn’t do it. If I’d of just done it, I’d be in a very very different place right now. I’d probably be extremely wealthy actually, and I wouldn’t of had to of come back home. Jay Z’s script.

It’s funny, one time I was in a drug dealer’s room. He was a lot younger than me, having joined the uni a year after me. I vaguely recall a chat we had where I told him the letters in his name almost exactly matched mine.
The thing about versions of me is that we identify with the wrong people, we use our capacity to empathise in some form with the wrong people. We can be victims of manipulation, often confusing poorly intended performances for genuine vulnerability. In an attempt to understand our pasts, we project our personal story onto the wrong people. Pay attention to the wrong details.

I looked around his room and I saw a mess – and I thought-heard my Lisa say that mess was indicative of depression. Unless you’ve spent years of your life completely fucking stoned, you won’t know how big a deal it is to remember much of anything.

Lisa once had girly time with me in her bedroom. She told me about her Twin-flame – his alterego-name as a musician was Johnny. She told me that this was their song.

His real name was Steve. I had a lecturer called Steve at Uni – I’ve said before. A guy I had tremendous respect for, that respect was confused for some kind of weird flirtation. He once gave us a Herman Hesse poem to analyse for a writing class, and he asked if I’d bothered reading it. I told him I had and that I concluded that the protagonist in the poem was looking for his mother.

There’s a bit in the video where Cyndi shows her boyf her shaven head and he’s not into it. My first real boyfriend and I watched this Resident Evil together and we were both obsessed with this scene – I asked him to shave my head that day. Fun.

(When I hear this scream it reminds me of waking up after a surgery when I had my tonsils removed – I woke up, the first thing I did was pick up a drink on my bedside table. It was orange juice. It was so, so painful – as you can imagine drinking something acidic might be immediately after being cut open. I drank the juice and then I screamed and it sounded just like this.)

Lisa met that boyfriend – Kitty – he had the same tattoos that Constantine had on his forearms. >> Image Credit <<

Constantine is a character in a comic called Hellblazer, which was his favourite comic at the time. The sound track was performed by A Perfect Circle – a side project of the singer of Tool – his favourite band at the time. Don’t you love the coincidences?

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Lisa told me that “Constantine” (and Avatar) were both real stories. She said he balanced my energy. It’s strange how in my memories of him as a teenager, he looks so similar to Ekko – the character in League of Legends.

At the end of this video, the cop says “I’ve always known that I could see, I’ve always known that I could see”. I could see when I was little, not now. But Lisa said to me “Learn to pretend not to see.”  – a message for my older brother. Omi.

I told Lisa, when I saw her recently – that I thought Kitty might be a fragment of ‘Ekko’ – and if not, someone who could channel him. Upon hearing Lisa was “psychic” – Kitty said “CAN WE PLAY ROCK PAPER SCISSORS?” … Later she had us watch Avatar together on her bed, beside a huge tetrahedron ‘machine’ she had cast out of metal, that you sit inside to meditate. I reminded her of that – and she said “HE’S NAUGHTY!!!”)

Twinflames are your highest point of personal growth. Thats it.
And that was a past life. When I see her in my minds eye, I see her standing with her partner – an incredible man I met years ago when I was living with her in Hackney. I hardly got to know him but I recall the things she would say about him, that he might’ve observed about me for example – and I appreciated it.

For me, and what I now know, the kind of people you attract into your life are a testament of your current state of vibration. When I lived with Lisa – I moved in completely broken but I left functioning on a high vibration – and for the most part I went on to have the best year of my life. As things got worse and worse for me at uni, I attracted worse and worse experiences – people that matched my emotional landscape. People I should never have met.

The last time I saw Lisa, I told her about this card – and said that if she and I were twins we’d be Ka and Li. The Pleiadian being on the card looks like her, and Beyonce. I think.

Isn’t it strange, how the card kind of repeats the sentiment “that was a past life”?

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(One time Lisa walked into my bedroom and tidied and cleaned it for me. Have you ever noticed how the energy of a room completely changes when it’s clean and tidy? It just “feels” different. Try to understand – Lisa is a mature woman and her time and energy is very, very valuable to her. People say “oh, psychics are the kind of people who take advantage of vulnerable people – who steal their money” etc. Lisa never received any money from me. To anyone else she’d have just been a woman I was sharing a house with – although she cooked for me (when I would’ve otherwise starved) and gave me cigarettes when I ran out (I was chain smoking) and taught me things no one ever had (That filtered so far and deep that people haven’t even realised how normal it is now, to talk about spirituality or energy. These were NOT things people said on the internet ten years ago! That was her – I swear on my life – that was all her.) Also – she once gave me a pair of French pants, which is way – way more significant than you’d think.
Without Lisa, I’d have never of been receptive to Abraham Hicks and Esther Hicks (Turns out they’re acquainted) – which I think is the next phase of my journey.

Back to this drug dealer – the one whose name was an anagram of my own. All of his stuff was scattered on the floor and being in there felt icky, energetically. I tidied up his room for him, just like Lisa had done for me. I remember it as being on the same day, but perhaps it wasn’t – we had a conversation and I said “If you were a time traveller and you bumped into people you had known in a past life – what would you tell them?”  Hilariously enough he said something along the lines of it being unimportant, because it wouldn’t be the same. I think I said “ok.” (During my mental breakdown – I told him that “his mother was tidying his room”. At one point he visited me in a psychiatric ward and watched a psychiatrist telling me how ill I was – for saying things she didn’t want to hear. And then I said to her that I knew she had been sexually molested – she asked how I knew that. She eventually threatened me with an injection for simply saying things she didn’t want to hear, and he defended her. Not understanding that he was defending a threat of rape. Forced penetration of ANY kind is rape. But most importantly not connecting that her threat to me was her doing to me, what must have been done to her.)

Lisa would’ve said “child, you have a lot to learn”. When I saw Lisa I showed her a picture of this character and said “I feel like he’s your son, and his name in this game is “ekko”. She nodded and said “Echoes of TIME.” Let me stress this – she is not the kind of woman who plays video games. She meditates, works, spends time with her family, reads a lot, cooks and watches movies. She glanced at this image of this character for a brief moment and said something about energy. (If you play or have ever played league – it’s a “hex tech energy” weapon he carries on his shoulder.)

This is the place I was renting when I lived in Farnham. 7A West Street. Can you see that underpass? The entrance to my flat was through there. Doesn’t it look like Ekko sitting in front of a scroll covering the wall? I guess you’d have to visit to see it.

Some not-friends once tagged “GOOD MORNING” on the wall opposite my door cos I never said good morning to the girl I lived with and she told a lot of half-truths about me, a lot of manipulative lies. Made all the guyfriends she stole from me think she was a victim. None of them really had any idea of her true nature, or mine, in their defence. (She was the very wealthy, easy-fuck kind, nothing wrong with that at all – but sometimes girls like that have jealousy issues and I had a lot of things she couldn’t have paid for with cash. Like a personality. Which she did try to steal.)
The truth is… that when you grow up in a house with no one speaking to you much, with a mother who was ill and slept all the time, you don’t really “learn” to say good morning.

Do you see that arched window at the top? That was my bedroom.

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When I lived in Homerton, Hackney – I meditated once with a lit candle. I remember that the flame was flickering pretty wildly and I saw what I thought was the back of a man walking away and through a flame, wearing a black hood. (It’s only recently that I realised that “man” – “male energy” was me.)

Before I moved out of that home in Homerton almost ten years ago, Lisa and her friend gave me a CD called “EK ONG KAR”

Kind of like this

In a meditation I did years before meeting her I saw myself wearing a black hood and meeting a woman carrying a baby with a third eye, in a strange town. She gave me the baby (her baby) and told me to do the only thing I was good at doing – which was running.  I best visualised this meditation to this song. I saw myself running into a green domed vortex that was linked to my etheric signature. There were armed guards killing people with special abilities who were trying to protect me (because I was protecting this baby.) – they couldn’t access the vortex which gave me time to navigate through the buildings. I have no sense of direction in any life – that’s the beauty of dyspraxia. Have you ever seen The Book of Eli? He doesn’t walk with a direction in mind, the route is internal.

One of these guards got through the vortex, I assume because they shared an etheric signature with me – and I don’t know what happened next, but that is the nature of past lives.

When I went funny – my dog ran out onto the road to chase after a fox and I fell onto my knee trying to chase him. If I told you it was like someone had pushed me, you probably wouldn’t believe me.

There’s a League of Legends video of Ekko – he hurts his arm. When I think of Ekko I get an ache in my arm. I’ve never told anyone about that.

When I was with Lisa she got an ache in her knee and her arm. I didn’t say it to Lisa – but some deep place in me thought “Imagine Ekko really hurting the one person that his mother trusted to protect him.”

I like to think my job is done – because I’ve led him through whatever dimensional travel he needed to experience using me as an anchor, in order to find her.

It upsets me that there are parents on this Planet that are raising children that have abilities that they grow up never dialoguing about because it’s not “normal”. Jaden Smith talking about his eight year old self being a “vampire” in an interview is more real to me than my mother’s house.
Kanye talking about living a life very much in the “future”, or a little boy in a cafeteria telling me that when he stares at his hand long enough, it becomes invisible – or a little boy astral projecting and finding his own Planet, and inhabiting it with creatures… and not discussing plants… is actually more real and more serious to me than the half of a burnt cheese burger & chips I ate for dinner, sitting in a takeaway foil on a plate on the carpet beside my bed.

The fact that that ex of mine, a psychiatric nurse, was handed an essay on metaphysics that was authored by one of his patients – by his co-staff – for him to try and analyse for signs of mental illness upsets me too.
This tells me that freedom of speech and freedom of thought are just nice thoughts. That give or take a few minor details, we are constantly reliving the past. That ex of mine had one ethical duty to that patient and that was not to play pass the parcel with that essay – to say “that patient trusted you with that so keep it to yourself, okay?”

Every science fiction movie teaches people that it’s the government that keep things ‘hush hush’ and it’s actually not – keeping people quiet or invisible begins at home, begins with ridicule from childhood friends and ripples through every kind of engagement or social interaction. If you’re not kept silent, you’re ridiculed.

The idea that there had to be a novel like Twilight, to gauge how people would respond to creatures sitting above them on the food chain, who are almost physiologically impossible to kill… (Like – you might accidentally die trying)
That in order for them not to be depicted as all that threatening, they had a “good vampire” versus “bad vampire” motif. The BAD vampires eat PEOPLE. So does that mean that bad people eat animals? What is the difference? The good vampires spend their infinite time and physical strength having sex that poses great risks to interiors, playing piano and being really really ridiculously good looking.

The Twilight novels are good for one thing –  the knowledge that there is a space in the human understanding that people must be forced to observe how they treat individuals and creatures who are more vulnerable than they are. Whether it’s the insane, children, the disabled, creatures or people who can’t speak.

Y’know, a kind of mirror – sort of depicting how humans have treated livestock… rather than a weird sexual fantasy.

Lisa says that at any given time we are four archetypes. So – we have a light side and a dark side that are visible and a light side and a dark side that are ‘invisible’. (She keeps things simple with me)

My favourite is Jane ❤

I’ve written about this before – there was no toothy bite into my throat, no release of poison that would either kill me or turn me. A non-physical sexual experience with my Pleiadian guides that led to a foetus being painlessly removed from my body using crystals, with the umbilical cord in perfect condition (faux friends got to look at it close up, nurses got to look at it – no one cared all that much that they were looking at a THREE DAY OLD foetus that was, by all scientific accounts – huge for its age.) and I gently placed that foetus on a little rock in my room, watched it turn from pink to brown and somewhere inbetween all that during a moment of weird adrenaline a hand reached into my heart and stopped it beating.

After that I was compelled to message my cousin (I was at this point, what anyone would consider crazy, unless they grew up in a culture that understood shamanism) who I NEVER speak to – to say that his wife would be having a “Cleopatra baby” or something. No one had told me, but it turns out his wife was already pregnant with twins. Cleopatra had twins called Alexander Helios and Kleopatra Selene. (I learned this WAY later.)
(I think he called one of the kids Nile – which is nice – the idea that Queen Kleopatra VII uses your cousin to channel a message over via social media and you can’t even be bothered to give them their actual names)

After that I channelled my father’s mother – a woman I had never, ever had a conversation with because bless her, she didn’t speak a word of english. Basically disowned her entire family from across the grave.

(My whole family – well, not family anymore, that was a past life – have pretty much worked out that I’m clairvoyant (like, proof beyond proof) but failed to apologise for the stuff they had to say about me.)

After that I channelled a person (Lady Diana) who had been murdered (by the British Queen btw), who explained through me what had happened – then I put my hand through fire – with dumb and dumber witnesses present – and didn’t feel a thing. Not one of the little hairs on my hand were singed either.

My teacher explained that the painless and bloodless miscarriage was necessary because people have to learn that abortion is traumatic, and causes women to suffer needlessly – and that the foetuses removed from women are bodies – which are often used for scientific experiments, including being kept “alive” in stasis? rather than respected as human-dead. Women in the UK are so preoccupied with fast resolution, (understandable), that when they get pregnant and choose not to have the infant that they don’t seem to realise that there is a reason that the real reason they are made to wait for the foetus to develop, really – the reason women in the UK have a choice to abort is because the NHS and all of the family planning clinics make a FORTUNE from selling stem cells.
It is possible for people to lose children they never knew that they had – humans don’t know how to perform painless miscarriages like the one I had. Miscarriages are often confused for painful periods. I’ve tried telling a girl I know what happened when she thought she was pregnant, and then got her period – even her partner has tried to “tell” her – but she never listens. People who don’t listen to the things I say are a waste of my time. Once i’ve done what’s right by my own conscience I leave it to their ability to recollect.

I had one of those strange, painful miscarriages not too long after hearing a foetus say “I’m a little sun drop”. So if you want to know whether a foetus has sentience or a consciousness before being born, yes, they do.

I will say this though – whether through physical or non physical, conception takes three. At least. That’s why Adam, Lilith and Eve were created. It’s the strange recipe for an in-love vibration. Have you ever noticed how great your relationship is when your boyfriend/girlfriend spends nearly as much time talking to you as they do talking to some friend, although iunno – that relationship in their life makes you feel jealous? And then most commonly you separate your partner and that friend, and your boyfriend/girlfriend stops treating you as nicely? Have you ever connected that slight change? Your boyfriend/girlfriend is someone else when they share energy with that person.

The hand through my heart was me learning that I’m an eternal being.

The hand through the fire was that … well, the Universe has my back and wants me to speak not just my- but the truth.

Oh, uh… If it makes you more comfortable, me saying “this is for my graphic novel” then lets go with that… but it’s all completely true.