onto our plans and carefully designed routes with true ferociousness.
We fear change
and anything that threatens to throw us off course. At least off the course we
had thought as ideal. We’re so silly and scared. I am so silly and scared.
Going with the flow is supposedly the easiest thing to do, yet how unwilling I
am to just do that. How scared I am of any kind of commitment on any level and
for any reason.
in one of her letters to me wrote, “I always had an escape route handy in case
something went wrong.” I know exactly what she means, and this is how I plan my
life usually. Making sure I need to rely on no-one except myself, and if
relying on someone cannot be avoided, I certainly don't choose to rely on someone
I am evolved with in an erotic manner. Depending on my lover is my
greatest nightmare. I want to be free. I want no power games or
need involved. I want to be myself, and approach someone because I feel the
need for companionship. Not their help. Feeling helpless drives me nuts, being
in need for something only another person can provide makes me beside myself
with distaste and annoyance. It’s actually better than what it was; in the past I got
sick with self-loathing whenever I even thought about such a possibility. I
probably am the most deluded fool of all, wanting to exist alone in a perfect
void, where desire and need cannot take root. This cannot happen, such a state
of being cannot be achieved. Not while I am still human. Perhaps at some other
point. Oh no, you will not capture me again, I say to desire, I will never
again be your prisoner, as if desire is the executor, or the bad guy. And this
coming from a person who’s nothing but desire in its purest form. I have the
ability to bridge and understand and download and merge and shape, using desire
as my guide, and the one thing I do understand to a frightening degree is
desire. Yet I struggle against it tooth and claw. At least the erotic type of
it, because I splurge in all other types. They’re safe. They cannot make me
depend, or humiliate me. I have avoided drugs and alcohol and any single option
of desire that can make me lose control. The rest, yeah right, bring it on. I’ll
dive head into it. Music, any kind of art, food, pets, even friends have been
safe choices. Never sex or love. They are the dangerous choices. And even with
friends, I make sure to choose the ones I can guide and help to my advantage and
therefore control most of the time. Sad freaks, those choosing not to play the
game. Sad addicts, those choosing to play it. And I pretend to be standing in
the middle ground. Yeah, right. Jesusing my way on the angry sea. You go, girl.
there was a way to re-acquaint myself with erotic desire in a safe way, with no
strings attached and no stupid power games. With respect, responsibility and an
open mind. Then again, if pigs could fly… (I would make swarms of them circle the houses
of those I hate, and shit on them non-stop. Ha ha!) Yet, strangely, my best
friend has managed the balance. Maybe I can do it too.
the cure to a very unusual problem is an equally unusual solution.
solution in my case, strangely enough, involves death in an indirect manner.
death, and not through my hands. I did my part seven years ago. It nearly killed
me, yet I did my part. I tagged you and I wait.
Let me hear
good news from that front. Please.
In the mean
time, I’m ovulating. Pretty boys, cover your rear. The butt chasing menace is
out there, salivating and making gurgling noises. Need I tell you how dangerous
she is for the sanctity of your butt?
Combining talent, humor and sensational movement. Him being French is just an extra bonus for me, since I love the damn chauvinists. Anyone who doesn't like belly dancing, or deviations of the norm (like male belly dancers) can go watch something else.
seeing many interesting dreams last night. Most have to do with
therapies. Hence the amount I’ve paid in direct deposits whenever I visited the
One of my
friends and I were discussing about magick, magic, making things to sell on the
internet, and then another friend came and the ascended masters, painful memories
of past lives as a killer and the disbanded (?) black brotherhood entered the
equation. The conversations of the past days have become a roller coaster of
numerology, the wondrous, dead bad guys, contemporary writers, pendulums,
orgonites, people (?) with three chakras, the Golden Dawn, (not the fascists),
angels, (self- righteous dicks), demons (ruthless bastards), souls, poisoned
pets, advertisements, the long-dead series Carnivale, the astronomical sums
actors are paid, marriages, christenings, and all the jazz surrounding the
funny with all those things as part of it.
cats, good music and a pen name. And to wash my hair before it jumps off my
skull and starts running on its own. What are we doing here? What the hell are we doing here? Please remind me. What do we even bother? We have forgotten so much. I have forgotten so much. Yesterday I could hear a kitten meowing somewhere. Probably the owner had abandoned it. Their cat gave birth and after a few days they got rid of the kittens. I did not do something. I was putting the clothes on the line and listening to the desperate cries and did nothing about it. I didn't even know where it was. I just knew it was scared and desperate; I know what scared and desperate sounds like. I already feed about thirty cats and have six in my flat. I can't take more. There was a phase
in my life that I took home every single kitten I found abandoned and it
wasn't working either. I couldn't live in that house. Yet yesterday I felt bad for doing nothing about it. What could have been an evening at the rooftop enjoying the last evening light and the sounds and smells, was turned into a guilt trip thanks to someone else's irresponsibility. Why the hell do I bother? Why the hell do I try? Who cares about ascended masters and solar consciousness when most people spend their lives with their heads up their ass? Gods damn. As a rule, I don't like modern Greek music. I love that song. Here are the lyrics roughly translated in English.
JohnCharoulissings for the series "The Island" thewonderful song"BlackButterfly." Song: HelenFotaki MusicMinosMatsas
whitewaters won’twash you clean this time Your angel is looking for youcarrying acandle show yourself, blackbutterfly, so that he
The knives are asleep at the mountains andthe blackbutterflyawakens them. Deathgives his kiss elsewhere andthe blackbutterflysummons him.
No desire ever remained hidden and youflytooclose to the light. Incense is burned andthe heavens weep and the coming of night won’t find
whitewaters won’t wash you clean this time Your angellightsthreefires get
out, blackbutterfly, show yourself.