Discordianism as a pastime

I am not sure where I am and why. Let'’s try this in Julius Caesar style, talking third person about myself:

"She was not certain about anything anymore. It all seemed futile. Some said that it was lack of free time in combination with pressure and stress that brought the change about. Others insinuated that she had always been a bit unhinged and in disagreement with this reality and bumping her head on various surfaces which she mistook for the door opening next to them did not help any. In any case, several screws were dislocated, some wires and cables disconnected while on sleepy morning rows and struggles with the neck of her blouse and the rest of her clothes and the happy avatar of Beligadesh (the Tummy Goddess) was no longer. The psycho troll with the round tummy and the unshaven (for a whole geological period) legs took control of Elizabeth's body. The change was violent and profound and scared everybody that knew her. First of all, before the change she used to snap at idiots. After the change, nobody approaching to earshot was safe from her verbal darts of abuse. Among other things, one could hear her curse and mutter about world economy, her mother and father, the bum of every God and Goddess that had ever been part of the collective consciousness, what exactly she intended to shove up the aforesaid orifice (a stick of dynamite for each, no cheating now, owww, you greedy thing, you) and several other obscenities. The only thing that probably saved her own ass was the fact that most of the gods were ROTFLTAO (rolling on the floor laughing their asses off) so she could not attempt the intended sacrilege with their asses dislocated from their original position. The rest of them were seriously considering improving their aim by using a few comets and a very particular planet as a target, but those latter were reminded of the paperwork this would demand in case of a success and said fuck it, let's go for a few pints and let her rant and rave and blow off some steam. Besides, she is only the avatar of an insignificant little deity. But the avatar had plans and walls have ears (and windows) and eyes have eyebrows, in her case left unplucked till they grew into gigantic fluffy caterpillars. And so she decided to mow her fanny in order to relocate it. After an epic battle with a pair of scissors that made the floor of her room look like a hedgehog with hair loss had tickled itself to death there, she found her fanny again. And there was much rejoice."

I still have not found a boyfriend or girlfriend (as if I'm looking!) and the mere thought of a person minding my business instead of his/hers fills me with cannibalistic glee and a very toothy grin. I am very excited for the chaos magick decision; it was based on rune and tarot readings that urged me on. I think it will help me understand myself better.

I haven't been out (not even to the movies!) since December that I went to the Torture Garden party in a club downtown. Originally from London, the Torture Garden artists vary and make tours around the globe. Essentially fetish/extreme artists, we had all kinds of niceties on stage: from a fashion show with fetish/vinyl clothes and bums and titties out for all to see, to a beautiful woman piercing her eyelids and lips onstage or another taking blood from her arm and drinking it after placing it in a chalice with water. It was funny, cause male members of the audience were quite freaked out! Generally it was rather enjoyable and very unusual for Greek standards. Pity there were no male members in the team with minimum clothing and maximum attitude. The original TG in London is much more extreme from what a friend (who has seen it) told me. I was busy chitchatting with three gay boys and it was a pity I did not take their phone number to hang out with them. One of them, a skinny thing with a skirt was using my boa to rub his cheeks and showed me his bra. Grrrr... Homework with whips and ropes. Shut up Elizabeth. Nobody wants to know.

It is obvious that things are well under way. I have no idea where they are headed to and neither care. I am merely making an observation of no consequence. I'm starting to develop a knack for this, observing the irrelevant. Plus my attempt to write what would be a rather demented and morbid SHORT story gave birth to yet another blah de bleurghh humongous and weird thingie. I am a puzzled bunny. Suppose I have to re-write it. I'm starting to feel like Cavafis: too old and too preoccupied with social rules to celebrate my madness by indulging into the pleasures of young flesh, so instead of doing things I write about them.

All hail to the goddess Eris. The change is almost complete. If you can't dazzle them with dexterity baffle them with bullshit, and all that.