28 December 2018, 10:28 pm; I opened up this entry to write out loud my ideas for my patreon reward tiers. Writing shit down, making lists and stuff, they help to order my brain. They remind me of shit. Once I’ve gotten all my words out of my brain and lay them infront of me, I can see it all at once and then I can use my super neurotic obsessive compulsive categorisation and compartmentalisation tendencies to just… WHOOP! gather and group and delineate logical network systems. I dunno, I don’t “lead groups” I just make them. That’s the first step. I mean I can lead them, I guess, but it fucks with my head because I hadn’t finished “grouping them” and separating and defining each thing… I hit mental wall after mental wall (not wards though) because I am a freewheeling freely spinning ball of chaos… That’s because of specific choices and intentions I did this year which I won’t be repeating here…
I guess that’s what I wanted to say. Oh wait… SONG! TO SET THE SCENE! Because that’s my thing, right? LOL
Coal Chamber – Shock the Monkey (lyrics)
10:38 pm; I am a fucking mental crazy bitch. Many people seem to think I am a wise woman of the world and they speak of my sheer lucidity and clarity. I produce and create these crystalline words on a screen that allow them (you) to construct their (your) consciousness and psyche machinations in very clear and thoughtful ways.
Huzzah! But isn’t that a fucking cracker of a corker? I write stuff and it means different things to different people. In context, out of context, it doesn’t matter. They are my words and they are imbued with my power and intention. Once it is reproduced (put into action in any way you have interpreted), it takes on your power and intention, not completely my own. A mutant or monster in form. I only read forces, so they are all beautiful and tributes of love as far as I see it. But most people are moved more by the aesthete, which is fine, but it fucking sucks when the beautiful appearances harbour ill will and venomous intentions. An acerbic bitterness, a caustic burn… and pain and hurt like that… everyone wants to spread it because treating others like shit is the way for us to not feel so shit about ourselves.
UGH FUCK AYE, BARBIE GET ON POINTE! NO MORE TIPTOES THROUGH TULIPS, BITCH.
I guess I want to say that a huge reason my push for Patreon is that I still want to talk to people, and I still want to do… whatever the hell this is that I do. But I must put up legit firewalls. I must barricade myself behind walls of fire to protect myself and my family. This digital domain where once I played and roamed after the death of my father has changed a shit ton.
Downloading my self and my uploading my memories with that same openness and innocence of my naïve spirit has gotten me burned. I am a phoenix, I can totes handle the flames of fire as that is my bread and butter. But what was done.. my punishment… was the most heinous of all for it was my husband who ended up fucking getting crucified in retribution. That’s not fucking fair at all. SO I PLACE A FUCKING CURSE ON THE RESPONSIBLE PARTY. I HEREBY USE MY WILL, MY POWER OF WORDS, TO WEAVE A CURSE UPON ANY AND ALL RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT WAS DONE.
I’m a wordsmyth. A wyrd witch bitch. I weave webs of wonder and awe and they become universal worlds that exist in the hearts and minds of men, women… humans. Whatever. There are no hand mudras, no hex bags, no golems of clay, and certainly no magical ritual workings with whatever the fuck it is with which I work.
So if you feel any guilt or remorse, then that’s all on you. If you don’t feel at all connected to whatever I have said, then good for you. This message isn’t for you. Honestly, maybe, who the hell knows, maybe the person responsible was just a vagrant rogue and they are on their own merry way, no idea about anything I have said just now, here today.
11:04 pm; I keep saying the time because I want to make it clear that I STILL HAVEN’T REACHED THE POINT I WANTED TO MAKE. OMFG I AM THE WORST. lol
I set out intending to write about my patreon reward tiers and ended up weaving a whimsical world of woe, because war is what fucking just… fuels me. I live and breathe passion. SO….. I will edit this post, change the heading and… actually… I just scrolled up and turns out, I didn’t title this blog post at all very specifically. I said “crying tiers monkey magic” and hah, yeah. Still legit, still stands.
I guess I knew what I was doing and intended to do even if I didn’t know it at the time. Because I wrote exactly what I meant to write, with the truth of my soul lighting the way.
I have to make sure my next blog post is very intentional… IT WILL BE ABOUT WHAT TO EXPECT FROM MY PATREON THINGY. Because… firewalls and stuff. LOL. Just… trying to cement that image and intention and idea in my brain and heart. So I don’t get all distracted and shit when my eyes wander, ears prick up and heart the musical horns and drums announcing the tides of battle.
11:13pm; tags tagged. Magic publish button, I press you! lol
Categories: The Real Deal