I have decided to create a post as a pillar in space and time. This one. I hope I can nail in enough posts to mark my fence space/time line divide. Sigh, sullen sad stares into the distance. The stars are playing with my brainwaves again.
I am going to be sharing some old blog posts, but I’ll only take you as far back as the morning of 28 April 2018. I have to make clear distinctions like that otherwise I often find myself caught in a static loop. DAMN IT K, JUST BEGIN.
You may be wondering why the sudden yelling. I have been trying to write this damned thing for about 3 hours so far. And I’ve got 200 words and 3 pictures. BECAUSE I’M MIRRORING MYSELF, and you know when you put two mirrors in front of each other?
Follow me down the rabbit hole
- I am god, or one of them anyway. I guess it depends on which pantheon you prefer. 2 June 2019. Compilation of my pinings to return to the Godhood I remember and forget… memories posted exactly one month ago.
- Sper-my Words. 30 May 2019. The idea of whatever I said has been
planetplanted. Subliminal power of words imbued as poetry.
- Same damn names. 27 January 2019. But with different faces. Remove the mask, reveal who you are. So many common names, but unique names aren’t any better.
- No body cares, everyone lies. 9 October 2018. That’s the lie that I live by. It’s gotten me this far and never lets me down.
- Naked and screaming. Freya is here. 4 October 2018. The frequency of 2019 had been set to “f”. So prepare for a whole fucking litany of FRIGGEN FIGHTING AND FISTING WITH PHONEMIC FISH IN YOUR FACE!
Or make a shortcut through some glass.
Wonderland. I live upon it’s ruins and remains. It’s memory buried under industrial common ground. It’s magic remains in the quarry by my house.
Wash yourself with a rag + his stick
Period. Full stop. Choke the throttle if you’re going too fast. I’m the artist-scientist trefoil archetype. Follow me, look, listen, accede to heed the words I sing and the deeds I have done.
I am a foolhardy mystic, a performance artist. My life is a charade, my records are kimade. The glass is a one-way ticket box-office view. When you look up to the sky and draw down the moon, for the slightest moment I think you remember me.
All I can see are distorted versions of me, and you wonder why I seem sad if I am not actively trying to smile. You think this is what I think when I see you.
28 April 2018 – I have really let myself go & down.
The world was changing. It is now changing. 4 months prior to the berth of this blog. I’m sorry this isn’t any clearer. But I’m totally over trying to sort it all out.
ma8ew b dung ikor c 4z1styn3
28/4/18 @ 7:42am. The oracle card is the witch at the end of the world. The 3 tarot cards are the world, the emperor and the lovers. All reversed.
Pretty much the last time I had friends. I just went… or they went… whatever way… I’m no longer a member of the goddess squad. Part of me feels like it’s really for the best, I don’t need anyone else. But another part of me just… wants to cry again. I have no friends, I cannot maintain friendships for some reason.
What happened? Placating the facade
I used to be a goddess. But I am being lulled back to slowne. Driftwood lullabies, hydropowered water wheels. Sinking my treasure I thought people might treasure. Make sure to forget your dreams when you fall asleep, it’s the only place you can be free.