On the warpath

Gosh, all this occult warfare is giving me a headache.

I am reading books like crazy. When I'm not reading, I write. When I have nothing to say, I edit. When I can't edit, I watch TV series. When I am sick of TV series, I go to the rooftop. When I can't do that, I go back to reading.

I sometimes call people, or send them messages. They reply, or don't reply. I shrug and go back to my reading/ writing/ editing/ watching/ stargazing routine. I hurry through the daily chores to go back to what's important. Important is not what society considers important. It's my flavour of it.

I know what it means not to be able to sleep at night or not have a normal life. It's okay. I get tired, but truth is, I wouldn't have exchanged this life for any convenient, perfectly arranged existence. It contains small slivers of pure delight, delight of such magnitude that I laugh and the firmament trembles.

Know this. The complete nobody, the deluded little idiot that no-one thought much of, amused you for a given amount of time. Now she is back on the warpath. Hell hath no fury like I do presently. I know who you are. You think you are so smart, so good at what you do. So bloody important. Watch then. Your arrogance has granted you seats at the front row for what is to follow. Watch as the quiet tall woman with the crazy look in her eyes will tear your extravagant coven apart with nothing more than a thesaurus, tea lights and an army of dead cats. Watch this reality become folded and rearranged under my fingers. I've done it before, I'll do it again. I have had no teachers and no training, no attunements, signed contracts or spirit allies. I command no demons save for my own, and that look in my eyes is not patience. It's despair with a generous pinch of madness.

Why won't you mind your fucking business? Why won't you all mind your fucking business for a change? Why won't you let the rest of us live, and enjoy whatever portion of happiness our personality has allotted us? No, you have to go and ruin everything, you have to stick your nose where it doesn't belong for the sheer joy of manipulation. You want to play god. You have to go and re-arrange and nip budding chances and toy with human lives the same way children toy with their dolls. The dolls don't have much to say on the matter, but this doll here, oh this doll you've been amusing yourself with has so many means and ways that you will only know how wrong you were when you find it tearing at your jugular. Last summer I was on the warpath again, because some people thought they were the dog's bollocks and kept screwing with my life. The same old song; arrogance married to pride. This winter will be your undoing, and come spring, you'll find me peeing on your graves.

This is my dowry, the inheritance, that which needs to be concluded and has been tormenting me for months. Okie dokie. Now watch those fireworks erupt. Pretty, aren't they? None would have thought it could go so wrong, so quickly, but life's nothing without the unexpected. 

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Tired but alive and kicking

This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It might not be your cup of tea, but oh well. Each to their own. I'd say it puts things into perspective.

Truth is, we're really insignificant. And that's why it's all important. Since what we are and what we do on a cosmic scale amounts to shit, we might as well make a difference in the lives of people around us by not being self-absorbed little shits. I mean, why the hell not.

If the only way we can transcend time and space is love, and perhaps art, we should transcend our mortality with whatever means we got, right? If every one of us is as old as the oldest stars, because we are made of star matter, and matter is never created or destroyed, then maybe we can act like it? Maybe we can put our tiny, whiny egos aside for a bit, and behave like grown ups?

I know you're waiting for me on the other side. The people I've loved, my dead cats, they come to me in dreams, in the one place death holds no sway. I wake up with tears in my eyes and the knowledge they aren't here with me, but they are somewhere. Maybe looking after me, maybe waiting for me.

Till we meet again. 

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Old diaries

Diaries I've used from 2001 to this date. Pictures taken from two different angles to help you understand the size of my (mental) problem. :)

And yes, in those folders under the diaries there is more of my writing. You had to ask, didn't you? :)