Showing posts with label Let's play a game called "where does this tree trunk go". Show all posts
Showing posts with label Let's play a game called "where does this tree trunk go". Show all posts

Saturday, August 05, 2017

Fragments from an old letter to a friend

Picture source: http://miss-mosh.deviantart.com/gallery/

Been re-reading old letters I wrote. Nice to see not much has changed. Irreverent, angry, anally obsessed and funny.

"Yesterday I had some large beans cooked with tomato in the oven for supper plus five eggs for dinner. The result is that today my ass levitates at some centimeters distance over the chair due to continuous and continual gas production. I look like a levitating Indian fakir. It’s ominous. I have farting spells that last for several seconds and change tone, tune and temperature at my nether region. Their result is usually clinging around the proximity of my ass as a cloud of fluff and instant death. I am forced to change my surroundings every time I am struck by this nasty muse’s endearments. In fact every time I release one of those I start running and never look back, propelled by the gas as much as by my legs. Seriously, if we ever find ourselves in the same house I’ll let you know in such a case, so that you don’t switch on the lights. If you do, they’ll find both our corpses next day in the ruins, blackened and burned beyond recognition. :P The joys of single life, farting as much as you please." 

"I want to go to heavens and butt-rape every single meddling deity that was ever born in the collective unconscious with gigantic, whale-size dildos with spikes, then take a shit and smear it on their faces. I want to organise a party with the heads of those deities stuck on poles greeting my guests, blue tongues lolling and eyeballs dangling. I want to commit acts of violence on their hides that no intelligent race across all galaxies has ever conceived. And I’ll be laughing constantly while reminding them every bad thing that has happened to me and the ones I care about.

There are days, or rather, moments in a day I am content. Not happy, but content. I can even glimpse a shred of meaning in breathing in and out. But most days are disheartening and infuriating and exhausting. Still, I refuse to give up. I’ll stay till the last credits to see what this fucking idiocy of a movie called my life was about. But whoever is responsible should beware, because I am getting my spiked whale dildos lubed up and ready even as we speak. I’ll kick their asses so hard they’ll spend the rest or eternity exchanging postcards with their missing behinds which will have landed in the farthest end of the other side of the bloody universe. I mean it and probably can do it." 

Ah, the arrogance of some deities... ;) And some butts.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

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. 

Friday, October 10, 2014

Well into the a.m.



 (The pictures have an educating purpose. Do not disregard them. It's Khan from Star Trek- Into Darkness  dressed as a French maid in the first, and about to have sex with someone in the second. Read the text below for more information. Source: http://kimeido.tumblr.com/post/91128959618 and http://kimeido.tumblr.com/post/99052818858 )

Naturally, the best time to visit my blog is well into the a.m., while my mother is asleep and the house is absolutely quiet. One of my cats is sleeping in a basket close to me, I have music on, and two candles are burning on an altar across me.

It's funny. I started spellweaving again after ten or more years. I have an altar again. I haven't had one since I came home from U.K., and now I have an altar in my room and I do spellwork, demanding nightly spellwork I never thought I'd have the patience or the guts to do again. Go figure.

Desperate situations call for desperate measures, thought there is nothing that resembles desperation in my current state of mind. Desperation isn’t only a bad advisor, but also not an inappropriate reason to do spellwork. You're most likely going to fuck up spectacularly. No, in my case, it is ‘lex talionis’, lawful retaliation. To put it simply, I am sick and tired of being every idiot’s asswipe for 36 years now. They want to screw me over using magick, fine, free will and all that. How about they get all that ‘nice’ energy handed back to them on a silver platter, by a universal force/ porn star wearing a leather French maid costume and brandishing a huge erection? No? Why not? I mean, you had no qualms about sending this energy to me in the first place. It’s not like your conscience bothered you so much you couldn’t sleep at night. But if you don’t like the discovery that the one you have been throwing knives at can actually catch them in mid air, and oh shit, she’s throwing them right back at you, well tough shit, sweetcakes. Oh, it hurts? Oh, you didn’t expect it? Oh, it sucks having shit energy shoveled in your life? You poor, poor thing, maybe you should think twice about shoveling it in mine in the first place. Dang and fudge and ginger-pie, someone I loved had to die. 

Most of the time I am perfectly happy because I have cats, a steady supply of correspondence, a roof over my head, good music, good health, food to eat and people I call friends. I don’t go out of my way to hurt others, I steal no-one’s money or boyfriend, and I keep my mouth shut when I don’t know who I am dealing with. I treat so fucking lightly I doubt there is a single person who knows I who I am except for my circle of close friends, which is the staggering amount of five people. And I treat lightly because I hate being disturbed. In the same manner, I don’t want to disturb.

You’ll be surprised to discover how many people see that not only as a weakness, but also as a reason to attack you. Why? Because you and they are so fundamentally different that a person with your mentality rubs them the wrong way. They see your lack of involvement and think you consider yourself too good to bother with them. They see you being humble, because you fucking know how easy it is to die and also because you take nothing for granted, and they perceive it as haughtiness and arrogance. They will project their sick inner landscape on you and then proceed to eliminate the threat by attacking you.

There are two ways to deal with these people. Disengage and go away, or kick the living daylights out of them. So far disengaging has not been working, so we’ll go for the killing them dead option. Not literally. Metaphorically. Let’s not forget that magick is the art of changing consciousness at will, so metaphor, symbolism and all that noisy and colourful lot are your tools and most trusted servants. Kind of the most evasive, obscure and drag-queen elements of human sciences being your homeboys. Great fun.

If you ask me, I’d choose the universal porn star with the leather French maid costume and the brandishing erection any time as my preferred pastime , but if needs must, they will all eat my dust. 
:D XD :P