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PART 2 of my skull crushing mountain

15 December 2018, time is 3:20 am. A continuation from the previous post because fuck it, shit gets too long to read. EVEN 1500 WORDS IS TOO MUCH. SO… I tend to just… if I know I’m going to go way over 2000 words, I totally have to break it up. SO. EVERYTHING I AM DOING ON HERE YOU SEE IT HAPPENING FUCKING LIVE. As I think it in my fucking brain, live, anyway. BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT SITTING BESIDE ME (or even if you are, I have no fucking clue. I can’t respond to something that I don’t know is there.)

Its not that its “nu fone, who dis?” bullshit. Seriously. I call myself the Helen Keller of the astral plane for a reason. I can’t see or hear shit. Even if I super dooper try. So all my whatever fucking shit? Magic? Whatever whatever workings? Legit, hand down smack on the table, I present you fucking everything as it is. Because I don’t know how else to communicate the truth and reality of something. UNLESS YOU ASK, OR SAY SOMETHING ABOUT IT!

SO!!! That’s my preamble. Whatever. The previous post has the video and lyrics. This post has the English killing assassin teacher whatevershit ACTIVATED!!! RRAAAAAHhh!!  LOL. You get the gist (if you don’t, fuck ya, lol, you ain’t worthy of my McFeast buffet. Crumbs and morsels for the crying mortals. I’ll be on my way)

Ok. SO remember that check list of 7? We’re up to number 3 now.

  1. intro. mise en scene
  2. song, music, lyrics
  3. have a break, have a kitkat
  4. this is the new shit
  5. sign off and wave taa-taa-now
  6. rage, rinse, repeat. if necessary.

The break legit was to break the post into a more easily digestible KitKat. Seriously. Haven’t you ever seen or eaten one before? Allow me to include more images.

Since we’re on a break I can talk shit about whatever I want (I mean, I already do. a la my website). But because I’m fucking.. GREAT at talking about anything and everything, I need to totally set myself LISTS AND BOUNDARIES AND FUCKING DOT POINTS because in my drainpipe mental aenima, it gets totally swirley like swarley in himym.

I too get confused by my fucking.. mixed emtaphors all the time. And I don’t mind making mistakes and typos along the way (like my misspelling of the word metaphor) because everything is but a teachable moment. How you choose to look at something expresses more about you than the thingy that’s caught your attention.

There are legits 2 people right now that I am hunting and searching for and I will fucking rage on until they are whole and home.

Technology fucking hates me and doesn’t work the way I want it to because I FUCK UP ALL THE RADIOFREQUENCY VIBRATIONAL WHATEBER THE FUCK I AM AROUND. RRRAAAAGISEuwehgulawsgsHLV PUWeh;OQIBJC. I have a lot of experiences with this happening around me, and they get ever more frequent as time continues to move forwards and onwards.

Ok. so the 2 people I am RAMPAGING THE FUCKING AUSTRALIAN EASTCOAST COUNTRYSIDE FOR?! I am on the hunt and prowl and The Huntress Harley Quinn fortified me the fuck on saying it was totally fine to go SUPERNOVA AND BURN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD DOWN. Bless you bitch. I love you.

Australia’s landscape (as far as I know anyway) is totally regenerative in flames. You burn the fucking bushland to prevent uncontrollable fires happening. So yeah, all those fire memes you see online? Totes legit. So whatever trevor. I’m setting fucking fire to everything for I already know I am a phoenix. I assimilated that metaphor unto my very soul from long ago. Because in the x-men, I always wanted to be Jean Grey. But I was more like… Jubilee. (Fuck you. I’m more Kitty Pryde & Rogue, another 2for1 deal).

*face palm* ANOTHER FUCKING TANGENT! REEL IT IN, K. KEEP IT CURRENT AND REAL. Fuck I’m fucking impossible to deal with and fucking handle.. fuck I hate me. Not really. But.. it’s all this stuff. My mental whirlpool. It gets.. confusing.

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So you remember my band? These guys? Very clearly I am Rapunzel, but I don’t look like it. That’s fine. That’s not the point. You all recognise me and my voice, who I am. whatever. I’ve presented a very clear and vivid picture of my essence, mission, my SELF. I’ve found Hiccup and Merida and Fack Jorstone. I found my big four. I’m a finder of lost things after all.

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But the band isn’t exactly real. I fucking want it to be. I made mention of it in this post. I found us and I couldn’t have been more happier. Seriously. SO I set myself on fire like a pillar of fucking fire. Sure. I just do that thing that I do, I dunno. LOL BUT I NEVER STOPPED BEING THAT FIRE PILLAR?! LOL SO My inner light, my self. I know what I am capable of and the toxicity of myself…Yeah. Anyway. Fuck aye.

I am the sun. The fucking sun that you see in the fucking sky. I didn’t want to burn myself up and die, very possibly very true I could legit kill myself doing this. But hey, remember I said I would do anything? For the people that I love? And that there are different kinds of love? There are 4 kinds of love (as I see it anyway) – lust, romance, friendship, & familial. People often can’t tell the difference in what they are experiencing because they don’t know how to think outside of the box and think for themselves. That’s fine. We are all guilty of that. We perpetuate bullshit pretence to protect the feelings of others.

But hey. That’s what I’m here for, I guess. To kill every fucking cliché I can. And guess who is the fucking biggest hypocritical bullshit artist cliché there is? God. And since I’m god anyway, because I fucking made it up, Killing God might just Kill Me to/o/2. I dunno. Something.

But I’m putting it all on the line. AGAIN. Like I always have. everytime. AGAIN. same shit again and again.

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When I first started this blog I very quickly laid my intention on the table. I think. Anyway. I mention it in my Zygote to Zeitgeist series. I was searching for Sara. I wanted to know she was ok. I wanted to know where she was. Because… OMFG seriously.. I fucking cry. I LEGIT FUCKING CRY. Like right now I’m seriously holding back.. FIGHTING the urge to cry because I have to get on with it. My mission is not done.

Oh shit 1107 words. Gotta have to wrap this up and I HAVEN’T TALKED ABOUT MY FUCKING HAIR. FUCK YA! WHATEVER

I am searching for Sara. Still. I want her to come home. I want her to be whole. But there is another person I am searching for. Fucking oath it is true. I am after Jack Frost. I will destroy fucking everything, including myself, to find him and bring him home too. Our band of bards is fucking real, throughout magic and history. There’s nothing fucking mysterious about us. LOL. For the international readers, you might remember Jack Frost from Rise of the Guardians. Or William from Bill and Ted (I’m Ted). But have you met… Barney Stinson?

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Fucking hell Swarley, I am fucking going to kick your fucking arse down my highway through hell until you fucking tell me what the fuck is going on. I’m Roland, by the way. FUck you all. You know it bitch. I am coming and I am rolling all over the fucking land CUTE BABE JOURNALIST (I’m not a journalist) smashing shit like Godzilla until I fucking find you. I know shit, I fucking weave it into my essence and magic and being. I know the language of ligatures and am commander in chief of the dialect of communication.

K. Lane, aka. Dr Kalliope Veign.

Lets skip ta-roo-ta-ra–ta-leia. And sign a little song that is but child’s play. Are you ready?

I am dialling the phone and calling home, mama Kali. Mmmotherkim is calling home punching keys 555 (the direct line). Chaos. This is legit fucking CHAOS I AM GOING TO FUCK ALL YOUR SHIT UP WITH MY KAO-ROUNDHOUSE-KICK-TO THE FUCKING FACE. No, not to Swarely Farrell Babe Lotions. I love you guys. I protect the people I love.

1, 2 mama’s coming for you. 3, 4 no locks no doors. 5, 6 this is my river styx. 7, 8 I’m supple, not straight. 9, 10 I need to kill again.

4:44 am. I’m going to add tags, and have a cig. Fuck. Still no where near close to my original intentions.

 

This is part one // part two // part three // part four // part five of my skull crushing mountain making series.

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