Preface: I know I said I’d learn the names of all the colours, but fuck that, I’ll like, name them myself. ~~~
Thursday 3rd November
Today, when I woke up I found an invitation on the >> House of Hackney << Instagram asking people to attend a spiritually motivated talk on The Alchemy of Space. I’m quite interested to attend “Alchemical Snake Charming” on 16th November. If you are genuinely interested in interior design, alchemy or charming snakes.. you should come along!
The background of this invitation is from their new Serpentis line, which I think I shall be using to line the inside of my open wardrobe with. Some fantastic, figurative Ragnar-Lothbroke-esque pit of snakes to guard my garments and shoes.
We’re having work done to the house… Teenage me is delighted to know that she’s finally getting her dream bedroom. If you’re curious as to the vibe I’m looking to manifest for mine and my little dog friend’s bedroom, it’s on Pinterest.
(Here’s an anecdote I find amusing: When I was a lot younger and I had my first chance to decorate a bedroom, I went with my mother and sister to purchase wallpaper. I wanted a navy blue damask. I was ten? And um. My sister and my mother didn’t like my choice, so they picked a blue snakeprint wallpaper with a border of pink rabbits. Then my mother got me dinosaur doorknobs for my wardrobe. And blue and white plaid lampshades. Like, I felt really petty recently and brought this up to both of them. hahahas,dfdfg. They both insist kids are supposed to have kid-bedrooms but what if your kid is a really, really, really old soul that takes themselves extremely seriously!?!!?!!)
Friday 3rd November
There’s also an event about the Art of Manifesting using symbolic objects – that sounds fun! Right up my street. I learned a few years ago to recognise the energies in my life by noticing the recurring symbols and colours that people I meet adopt. I mean.. When you experience enough life, you stop engaging with people as individuals and instead realise the energy they are.. but you need physical information in order to do that. The sound of the vibration in a syllable or two of their name, a colour combination, some detail in their clothing… whatever minutiae speaks to you.
>>Here’s a song.<< Maybe it’ll speak to someone that understands what I’m saying. Maybe not. I am Mclovin’.
I find that with most exercises in creating, you have to gather the basic data/tools and exist intimately with them – not necessarily engage – but keep them around. Kind of like an artist that scatters pieces of inspiration about their studio. For example… have you ever bought a book that you intended to read, and eventually you created an entire pile of unread-but-loved-all-the-same books that created a narrative of their own simply by sitting atop one another?
Once I sat with a girl, a glass blower… who moved into a flat I rented with a boyfriend in Surrey… I later realised her to be a manifestation of some younger energy of my own mother – a woman who adores glass (a form of sand, which I spent six years of my life surrounded by when I lived in Dubai – I’m from the desert, baby!) … who lost her greatest love, a little dog called Jojo when we left Dubai to move to London.
With that housemate’s permission, I looked through old, kinda boring drawings in one of her work sketchbooks. Drawings that might not have seemed to carry any kind of deeper meaning. She had, I think, drawn some orange coral? possibly I’m mistaken, and the steeple of the beautifully structured local church. I pointed out to her that if she were to look outside her bedroom window, the church was right there in the angle she had sketched it from. And then I pointed out that her orange drawing was exactly like her little keyring. I don’t speak much, I mostly avoid it, but I observe everything. Even if I pretend not to.
When you study film you learn that there is no such thing as an insignificant detail: everything captured in the frame carries significance. I only really ever cared about the meanings of colours, and of the few lectures I attended in the years I spent at uni, my most memorable was one in which a lecturer I regarded as a surrogate parent (An admission I made to him, that was wildly taken out of context at the time… to people who sadly live such a base existence that they associate and demean such relationships by associating them with sex. I am personally repulsed by girls calling men/boys they’re sexually attracted to “Daddy” – but thats not related.) – one time he showed us a cowboy film, and he compared each shot to a Renaissance painting. I got to ask “What is the significance of red and blue?” I think he told me that those were very valuable colours used in paintings (religious iconography I think?) in the past, that were funded by the church. I considered him a spiritual teacher more than anything and I never had the chance to communicate that to him. I’m sure he worked it out. I still remember him asking me if I had ever heard of the Queen of Heaven, which I associate now with divine feminine energy. He was a total angry-feminist and he often encouraged me to live my dream of shooting feminist-erotica. I don’t think he realised how long it took for people to actually understand the things he was trying to say. One time I sat with him and he was completely exasperated, because he couldn’t understand what teaching methods to adopt for my generation. I pointed out to him that the people he had accepted onto his course were all really damaged in some way or another and that it was possible he was teaching them something more than the Art of Film. I had a soulmate in my class, one of the hardest working students on the course, and whenever he presented work our lecturers gave him the harshest critique – I told him I suspected it was because when you identify potential in somebody, you feel a strange liberty/are compelled to put more pressure on them to create something better. That said – I don’t think people realise that kids at University are actually still kids. I think adulthood starts at 35, for healthy people. Later, for fuck ups.
Another significant lecture I recall, that also carries relevance: is that on one occasion we had a class on creating/writing characters. This was with another lecturer.
Oh wow, my memory is fuzzy.
Give me a moment to recollect. OK – basically our lecturer brought up the film Taxi Driver – and as coincidence would have it I had watched it pretty recently with my then ex-boyfriend… who might’ve projected himself onto Travis. Probably because he was the male protagonist of the story, and men in my life have a habit of thinking they’re some kind of universal epicentre. I know, because I have the same habit. It’s a healthy habit. It may well be his only healthy habit… Also I think at the time I was amused because although he didn’t have any resemblance to Travis characteristically or otherwise… He had a gorgeous friend who did.
Anyway. So. This day, I had the flu – but I still went to class. Pretty unusual. I’ve never been the sort to need much of a reason not to go to school. But this day I went in.
Our lecturer asked us – Why did Betsy lose interest in Travis? And… I raise my hand with utmost confidence. He invites me to answer. I say “Because she was just like everyone else” – those were Travis’ words. The lecturer says “No. Because he took her to an adult movie on their first date.”
Dude, we were both right. But I looked pretty stupid that day to a bunch of people – lecturer included. That probably made me not want to go to class anymore for awhile. But what is interesting upon reflection of that experience was the differences in the details we were inclined to notice. My lecturer argued Travis did something wrong by inviting her to an adult movie. Would it not have been disingenuous for him to have done anything else?
I don’t think you can do anything wrong by being yourself. You need to live your truth to grow.
I’d love to watch an adult film at a cinema on a first date.
In the small details of the things you accumulate: books, decorative objects, clothing, technology etc, you will find that you are manifesting a much deeper narrative that presents itself in your life. The tiny, seemingly insignificant details; such as the characteristics you observe – and when you observe something, you anthropomorphise it – in inanimate objects: have the potential to present themselves in your personal narrative. Your subconscious pays attention to everything. I actually kind of wince thinking about how many telephones I’ve had stolen. Telephones, friends, lovers, etc. This month I’ve been carrying out an exercise in fresh manifestation. New objects of significance. Nabakov articulated it much better than I ever could. Here is a page from >>a journal<< I’m pretty proud of, that I made for a presentation module I did during my degree.
Segue of sorts: I had such bad period cramps on the day I presented this project, that I was lying on the floor in agony clutching my belly – a rumour circulated that I had come into class fucked on ketamine. I’d love to read a book the people I went to University had written about me, about all their assumptions, all the lies they heard from jealous girls etc… In fact, low and behold I manifested an opportunity to act out a bunch of rumours about me.
This is a face I make when I am slightly irritated and/or, mostly: flirting.
I used to get upset about this photo >>>>
But here are the facts: it was taken inside of the ensuite bathroom in a hotel room belonging to a gorgeous Al Saud princess/The hottest woman I’ve ever seen (She was also a psychology masters student/fashion designer… I used to have her on Instagram before I deleted it. I think she remains my biggest account-deleting-regret) … I was in love with her! Like, actually in love. I am super straight but she was sexuality-questioning-magnetism. That is her Chanel lipstick. That powder on her countertop was crushed from her paracetamol.
I think people confuse classiness for wealth. (I’m being ironic but also not. Could you pull this stupidity off? If so – write me – lets be friends) (Ps I credit Rowan Atkinson circa the Elizabethan episodes of Blackadder, for teaching me this smile. Fuck you! Love you.)
I think people also think that having good taste means you’re rich. Well I definitely have good taste. Kanye West says the greatest luxury is time. I have plenty of that – so I guess I’m rich AF. I only got over how bad that photo is pretty recently. I rang up the Vice Headquarters and asked them to take it down once. They offered to reshoot the photos. Why bother. Why not just write another epic article that discreetly makes light of the war on drugs? Some part of me wonders how many people developed addictions after seeing this ridiculous photograph.
Anyway. Onto the Art of Manifestation. I spent my monthly income on objects intended to attract experiences in my life. I can’t wait to see what comes out of it all! (Psst.. if all you’re seeing is an ordinary object, you’re not seeing right)
(There are more! but I was in a rush to get this blog posted… And I wanted to make pretty animations of everything… so you’ll have to keep refreshing to see the rest of last months haul, I’m afraid)
Lucite heels so cheap and so0o0o astonishingly poorly crafted that I’ve got to paint them to justify the whole.. funding slave labour.. thing. I’ve made a habit of seeing beauty in imperfection… and anyway, perfection triggers my OCD. Don’t need that.
The significance in this little pin featuring a glass of wine, is that, well. Recently I had a chat with a witch/Goddess in an OTO meet up. We had in common a strange childhood experience. I told her that after this experience, I remembered ascending a staircase in my family home, onto a roof top – in Dubai – where a family of cats (that we later brought in) were hiding from the sun in the shadow of a vent or something. But the first thing I noticed was a dead kitten lying in the sun, the blood from it’s nose congealing. I was fascinated by this kitten. I crouched and stared at it. Then I remember seeing myself staring at the kitten from a third person perspective. I jokingly suggested that some part of me thinks I traded spirits with the kitten. We finished our cigarettes and ascended a staircase together and she said “come on, Dead girl, come back upstairs!” That made me think of one of my favourite >> Lil Kim songs <<. I don’t much care for wine, but she poured me two glasses.. and I found it quite symbolic.
Death chic is my aesthetic. This Idubbbz-red-faux-fur compliments that vibe imo. I also bought this fucking adorable succulent. Back when I was living with aforementioned ex I had this glorious indoor-garden that I was deeply, deeply emotionally attached to. I got hospitalised for a period and came back and all my plants were dead. I cried more about the loss of my plants than I did about my break up. Actually, I did not cry about my break up. But amongst the many laws of manifestation is this: the things you lose come back to you or get replaced with something better suited to you.
Years ago I bought a hoodie that read ‘Deus Ex Machina’ & at the time I thought it the best manifest-tool I’d ever purchased. It’s been upgraded by a SHEEP hoodie designed by some epic-asshole-idiot-YouTuber called IDubbbz, who recently proved himself to be an accidental??? women’s rights champion by mansplaining Rape Culture to a dude whose dad clearly couldn’t be bothered to.
This is a 100% real photo of me painted by Botticelli, wearing a hoodie designed by >> Idubbbz <<, inspired by >> Dita <<, >> Lil Kim’s entrance in Christina Aguilera’s Can’t Hold us Down video << (the bit where she throws her cape off fyi, SO INSPIRING + I LOVE David Lachapelle), tentacle hentai (because I also love tentacle hentai) & real life
Design clothes >> @IDubbbz << cos you’re really talented.