Just your average blog post.

My day was sort of crap. I refuse to bore myself by rehashing the details; suffice it to say that I am sick of the metro, banks, phones both mobile and immobile, and getting lost. I am now headachy and somewhat enervated. However, I am energized and sustained by my Hate of You, a warm little light in the darkness within.

I am also cross with my entities who are Not Helping at the moment. They've put some long-term stuff in motion, but I want stuff to happen NOW, dammit! I've been playing with the idea of doing a really big, impressive ritual working to get myself a job, but that's never gone well in the past. I always end up doing something which fills all the specifications of the spell and yet is utterly foul and not what I meant at all. I mean, how am I supposed to take over the world when I'm picking up littler in Hyde Park?

Stupid magick.

I meant it about becoming a hardcore skeptic, you know.

"...sometimes something gets into your head and you just gotta break some rules, shake it up, and see that the damn thing gets out there into everybody else's heads and kicks their heads right in the nuts."

Indeed it does, Mister X, indeed it does.
I want Spiderman to come to my party now. I keep thinking of past parties that would have been vastly improved by a strange man in primary colours who liked to stand on fire hydrants. Oh, and who 'loves "playing with the kids" (young & old!)'.

I want short, disturbing Spiderman! NOW!

Next day...

Thanks for nothing. Stupid entities.

I think I may give this up. I mean, I've got an excellent stall now, loads of different stuff, and still no-one's buying. Feel like I gave it a fair shot. I'm going to start flypitching down on the beach (on a smaller scale, so I can cut and run if the police turn up). Also going to try selling stuff to shops. Still want to do the eBay thing, but that might take a while to set up. If anyone has any experience of doing that kind of thing, drop me a line.

Time to start putting cards up, advertising for things like cleaning work and English conversation. Or childminding-- rich parents here always want English-speaking childminders. I've also been letting my hair grow back; I hate it, but it seems I need to be more acceptable to Them if I'm going to get a job.

I'll prolly still go to the park on Sundays, I'll just stop expecting to sell anything. There's loads of reasons to go there anyway. It's a nice atmosphere, you meet interesting people, there's lots to see, there's drums and sundry assorted noise. And there's the dogs-- I really like the dogs that the traders bring to the park. They're so lively and so full of personality. There's the occasional incident, but generally they're hardly any trouble, most of them having been trained from puppyhood to not run across people's stalls and stuff. They'll scamper all over the place, and never put so much as a toe on the groundsheets.

Then some bloody tourist'll come by, let their stupid mutt off the lead, and stand there like lemons while it trashes everything in sight.

In which the diarist yet again invokes a Higher Power.

Dear spooky invisible voyueristic pervert angelghostalienmonsterrightbrainhigherselfwhatevers,

Tomorrow is market day. Make me sell things pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeease? I want some money to happen. And make it be a nice day, not too hot but without loads of wind or rain.

Or I'll go evil. Really evil. With all tentacles and stuff.

Thankyou.

Business as usual.

Went job-hunting again yesterday. No dice. Got kind of fed up, as you do. Met Lurid Archive in town later, and had a chat with him about changing my approach. We went to see Pirates of the Carribean, which put me in a much better temper. It's a really cute little film, lots of over-the-top fighting, great SFX, and Johnny Depp in lots of eyeshadow strolling around, idly stealing most of the scenes. Is is me, or do Dismal films suck less these days?

Anyway, change of approach. This whole pounding the streets looking for want-ads and signing up with temp-agencies plan of attack would have been a surefire winner back home, but here it's just not working. All that happens is that I get utterly cheesed off with everything. The time would be much better spent improving my Spanish and trying to find inroads into other kinds of employment.

I need to network more (yeah, cringe, but needs must ect chiz chiz), and to use my alternative skills. (Which reminds me, I have to get on the phone to someone from the Barcelona healer's network. They emailed me ages ago and I never got back to them.) I also need to find a magick shop-- I need a public tarot deck if I'm going to do readings for money. Don't want to use my own personal deck; I've had it since I was 12 and over the years it's developed a rather quirky personality. Great when reading for myself or for close friends, not so good for strangers. Plus I might end up reading for some skanky-auraed creepazoid and getting all invisible yuck on it. I hate that. You just keep getting the same damn cards time after time, no matter who you read for, until you sort the deck out. Bad enough when it's your public tarot but when it's your own personal deck, it's really very icky.

Or palms. I can do palms. I'm not great at them, but I'm okay.

On the handicraft front: I finally got around to painting the pebble pendants I made. They look well smart, if I so say so myself as shouldn't. I'm going to make a few more today; the epoxy putty should be nice and hard tomorrow morning and I can paint them them. A quick coat of acrylic varnish, et voila.

I also got this excellent dress yesterday. Pink fluffy bridesmade's frock, full-length, with artificial feather trim, just begging for some MC-style vandalism. Not quite sure what I'm going to do to it yet. I've got a few ideas, the most obvious of which involve pearls and safetypins. We shall see...

Me am bizzaro Julie Andrews.

Can't remember where I found this, but it was so cute I had to make up a little song about it...

Girls in black PRO-keds and effin strap dresses,
Three-row spiked wristbands and ball-chain necklaces,
Industrial leg-cincher skirts and D-rings,
These are a few of my favourite things...

You=

Mr. Pooter pretending to be Tyler Durden
Roderick Spode pretending to be Tyler Durden
Mary Whitehouse pretending to be Tyler Durden
A forgotten member of Take That pretending to be Tyler Durden
Some cheese pretending to be Tyler Durden
A small terrier cross pretending to be Tyler Durden
David Brent pretending to be Tyler Durden
Jack Hargreaves pretending to be Tyler Durden
Noel Edmonds pretending to be Tyler Durden

Pick a role model from something that isn't out on video for five nintey-nine at the petrol station.
Live in it instead of pinching a few of its accessories.

Then kill it. KILLITKILLITKILLIT.

(Evolve or die.)

Additional.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about this other thing. Which was remiss of me, because it's one of the coolest bits of news I've had in ages: A couple of guys in Australia are soliciting submissions for their upcoming anthology, the working title of which is Daikaiju! Yes, it's an anthology of stories about GIANT MONSTERS! You know, like King Kong and Godzilla and those guys. Here's what they say:

We're not talking mere dinosaurs or eagle-sized mosquitoes here; these monsters must be unreasonably huge -- larger than the laws of physics can comfortable accommodate.

Nothing in my slush-pile really fits the bill but the deadline's not till November of next year, so I should be able to whip up something tasty. Anyway, the simple fact that there's going to be a book of stories about giant monsters makes me really, really happy.

Bugs.

I'm still trying to get a handle on the insect situation round here. Its all very well during the day, when you're gazing raptly at a swallowtail butterfly sailing lazily past on huge creamy wings, or tiny dust-coloured crickets that reveal a flash of blue wing as they fly off. When the sun goes down, though, it's a different story. I first moved here in April and the main problem was mosquitoes; chewing bits of me I'd rather not have chewed, bringing me up in massive lumps, trumpeting in my ear all night so I got shag-all sleep, and generally putting a dent in my mood. Lashings of insect repellant and one of those plug-in gadgets seem to have resolved that problem, but as soon as the mosquitos were taken care of all these other beasties came crawling, flying, and buzzing into my gaff. If you're not careful about pulling the blinds down when you turn on the lights at dusk, it takes about five minutes before the place looks like a set from Indiana Jones. Moths, cicadas, more moths, giant gnats, even more moths-- are moths supposed to squeak? Because I was trying to flick one out the window with the mop once and it kept squeaking at me. Really loud. It was weird. And I had a mantis in here the other night, just a little one, about two inches long. I was torn between two distinct and powerful emotions: Wonder ("Hey, look! A leeetle tiny mantis! Wow, never seen one in the wild before!) and Arrrrgh ("Arrrrgh! Bug! Bug! Weird leggy bug in flat! Arrrgh arrrgh arrrgh!")

But that's nothing to what my arch nemesis has to put up with. Bwhahahahaaaa.

In other news: Started wrting a promising rant today about transhumanism as it relates to why I hate everyone, but then I decided to go shopping and by the time I got home I'd gone off the boil a bit. I'm determined to finish it though.

Blaaahh.

I'm all blah today. Painting? Blah. Writing? Blah. Jobhunting? Blah. Stayed at home and worked on my Castillian, then played a little Baldur's Gate II. Killed goblins. Blah.

I was going to write about something, but I've forgotten what.

Blah.

Entities.

You do know that when I talk about entities that might be angels or aliens or spirits or just some guys that may or may not exist but nevertheless I direct weblog posts towards, you do know I mean entities that might be angels or aliens or spirits or just some guys that may or may not exist but nevertheless I direct weblog posts towards, and not actual people people, right?

Not everything is about you.

In other entirely nonworksafe but if you didn't already know that before you came here you deserve to get fired and never find another job again ever news: The Ministry for Depressingly Stupid Referrals has seen fit to drop this into my reluctant lap. The answer, my curious chum, is No they don't. Not as a rule. You could get the individual in question all addicted to some expensive drug, and then maybe they'd do what you're suggesting if you gave them a lot of the drug or lots of money to buy the drug. Or if you held someone they cared about to ransom and the ransom was doing that thing you just asked about, then yeah, maybe they'd do that thing you just asked about. Or if they were in some desert place and going to starve to death and the only person with food wanted them to do that thing you just asked about, then again, yeah, maybe.

The point I'm trying to make here is that the answer to your question is NO. Under normal, everyday sort of circumstances, a normal, everyday sort fo woman will not do that thing you asked about. Most women would be all "EWWWWWWWW!" The fact that you asked about it suggests that you're all messed up about women in some serious way, and that you should get help. Or just stop eating paint. Either way, learn to use a search engine so that you don't bother me with this kind of faith-in-human-nature-wrecking thing in future. I want to go on deluding myself that not everybody is messed up in the head, and you're making it really difficult.

I'm gonna start making my search referrals public, I think. Then people who know how to play with the internet properly can find out where you live and make all your shoes melt from h4xx0r powers.

Took the stupid quiz again.


paranoid


Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla


That's better.

"Hitler sexier than a space ninja"-- you people

I am disturbed, but somehow unsurprised. I knew your heads were full of that yecchy stuff at the bottom of the soapdish, but now I have PROOF. You all fancy Hitler and I DISTAIN you.

borderline

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

WHAT? How dare they! BPD? I'm a paranoiac, people! A paranoiac with a tiny side order of schizotypal! Eveyone knows I'm a paranoiac! People who've only known me for a couple of minutes know I'm a paranoiac! I'm good at paranoia. How dare this stupid quiz suggest otherwise?

I bet the person who designed the quiz hates me and wanted to make me all grumpy.*



*SEE?

"Take that, rat munchkin."

Spooky.

Really, I have got to get out of the habit of getting all excited every time my magick works. The Powers the Be have just delivered, big time, and my adrenal glands are being all weird about it. They're bouncing up and down like a couple of puppies.

Y'know the other day, when I mentioned to the Entities that I was thinking of selling my evil dollies on line, and that it would be nice to have a way of taking pix of them? Well, guess who's getting a digital camera in a few weeks' time. Turns out that my Mum has a spare one going begging, which will be mine when next I see her.

Which brings me to my next bit of news: I will soon be back in the UK for a spell. There's this wedding in Ireland, and a birthday in London, and some other stuff. I'll be around from early- to mid-September; details of pub crawls and sundry debauchery will be announced through the usual channels as and when I can be bothered.

It's been a funny weekend. There was this huge storm on Sunday morning, which kept popping back for curtain calls all day long. I gave the park a miss. Feel a bit guilty, but I don't imagine that very many people would have turned out anyway. Still looking for safe places to fly-pitch during the rest of the week. Somewhere the police wink at such mildly illegal behaviour; somewhere untrammelled by licened traders who are likely to cut up rough if they observe a distinctly unlicenced MC setting up shop; somewhere inhabited by other fly-pitchers of a gentle and non-territorial bent. Somewhere with lots of rich beadwork fetishists. I haven't found it yet, but I will search on, bold, resolute and unfaltering, until the Eldorado of flypitchers appears before my weary gaze. Or until I get all hot and fed up and decide to go and sit in the internet cafe for a bit.

Anyway, I'm off to Google for pictures of harpies and stuff.

(PS: Thankyou for the help, spooky invisible people. Much appreciated.)

"...this rich, stupid, superficial, selfish woman, who sneered at Jews and blacks in an upper-class accent, was fawned on by the establishment right up to her death. ". (Excellently vituperitve article on the recently dead Lady Mosely).

Jeeze, how stupid are these Grauniadistas anyway? Don't they know that it's just not cool to bash fascism anymore? All the really hip kids are into it these days, y'know.



*Incidently, have you noticed how certain phrases have the power to lift your spirits, whatever your mood? "Wow! It's a lovely day-- Let's go to the beach!", "Great to see you! Now, what'll you have to drink", and "the late Lady Mosely". I'm just going to sit around saying that to myself for awhile. "The llllate Lady Mosely." Mmmmm.

Idi Amin dies.

According to the article, President Yoweri Museveni's spokesman called Amin's death "good." Nuh-uh. Not good. Good would be if it had happened a bit sooner, like before he murdered about 500,000 people and totalled Uganda's economy. Dying in bed aged 80 after you've perpetrated the crimes that Amin perpetrated isn't "good".

Here we go again...

From my site tracker it looks like people have suddenly started emailing my blog's URL to each other. Why? What've I done this time? Go away, you freaks.

If your're reading this because a friend sent you here, stop speaking to that person immediately except to prank-call them in the middle of the night. Every night. For at least the next year or two.

Apart from the prank calls (which should be vulgar and distressing), you must never, ever, ever have any contact with them again.

Is your pathetic mutant brain full of flaccid nerves?