الجمعة، 31 أغسطس 2012


Staying in Hashem is full of tears, literally, image-allerelly, I could not cope with the weeping. I had to make a face of him, so the face is like a martian, kinda whiter with no hair on his head, like the little brahim whose feet were washed by Krishna,

And so I leave Hashem well alone.

I'm not as bad. Just; not as clever.

I struggle to memorise simple arabic verbs.

I got it down! After being in and out, for a week. I've got a new head, it can go out walking and remember what it's read. Naktub, Yaktubuunna, Taktubuuunna Present tense plural, Yaktubna, Taktubna.

I repented the day after Eid Muburak, someone was having a party across the road, playing loud Indian music, and then repeating some European pop-hit with heathen words, obviously.;; obviously stupid heathen words.

I didn't come back to my own knowledge.

I just relaxed.

I didn't want to be seen praying, so when I prostrated in the dark I hummed, and crawled around looking for a pen on the floor.

I sat on stairs outside in the sun, and screwed up Fatihah and Ikhlas.

So I went and washed and got the Koran down from the top of the wardrobe, where it mixes with my notes and the other Korans.

I sat in front of laptop with book on knees. I stuck up an old list on the wall with a flyer of a camel going across the desert, covering a decade - old pencil drawing of a girl in a cloak, hair flying in wind, Exodus scribbled across.

I sat with the Koran on my knees, and spoke to Hashem.

In minutes, well, seconds are minutes to me. I asked for forgiveness. I didn't expect anything.

I swore when I got an answer.
The book became covered in a starry SILVER LIGHT. SO MANY WORDS.

I could see so many words in the parts of the little glitter stars. And without.

Any Black Magic, or Evocations,

From Myself.

I saw;

Two very, very, thin silver arms, with silver hands, grasp the book, opposite me, holding onto the book that I held.

"I don't want to hear you..."

"I can't hear you..."

What I thought was Koran was Death. I didn't understand the words. I didn't like myself. I was dead.

So, I made an effort to hear something;

I heard;


I went outside to smoke. Trying to make something tell me all the words, but refusing to listen.

الأحد، 19 أغسطس 2012


A hot day....

My "Hal-din, din..." was of over a month of writing a novel, it actually was my "bed in"...and i supplied/applied my mind, with Fyodor Dosteovskys PDF's, strawberry laces, Feminist Manifestos, (see Scum;/ Politics of Housework), gobstoppers, videos of the wrestler Black Jack Mulligan, extra v.cheap fruit and nut big bars, how to write by Hemingway, vitamins, a computer dictionary/thesaurus; autodidact/epistle/negro/olive-skinned/blue jays, multipack of crisps, cups of tea every half hour, Hippy Slang, an Electronic Cigarette, gave up; breakfast/lunch/dinner/ for fruit gums, pastilles, Foxes suckable sweets when I couldn't find anything cheaper, as the nearest shop has a new couple, that conned me FIVE!!! times for money, charged a mentally ill girl twice for one pack of cookies, the man and his crackling wood carrying wife, cashew nuts, roasted peanuts, kraut-rock, thinking the Beatniks this time, were just bad men and queers. Then I found a second hand video shop, and bought films, took films home. Watched at least two a day, bought more films.

Lotttttts of sugar. It was to crank me up for a week of writing. I was actually doing something fun and productive. I started to lie about how I was spending days, when I was doing more than I actually said I was doing. I trawled through this blog.

I started hiding my pills, by making tea, complete with heavy teabag to use 3 times, putting pill in mouth and spitting/dribbling into the tea, thus hiding the pills, and pretending to swallow. That was just mean't to be every now and again.

It's been over a month.

I started going sugar-shit-crazy. Weakness, and sweating (glow), body-shaking psychotic wailing.

I bought 3 strawberry lace packets, and 10 gobstoppers, yesterday. Daytime. I watched Only fools and horses for two hours.
A free banana, or an orange to stop the headaches, to keep healthy.

The room is messier than ever. There are squashed bananas somewhere under the old clothes I will throw out.

Wrote a Romantic Sci-fi Psychological Novella. I left it for a week when I found a new lover. All true Green.

I played the Violin in lover. I play violin like I forget how to hold it, but I only played one hour and another hour since I bought it. I rushed staccato. I learned how to tune, little round bubbles on the bridge, I discovered form the dummies book, Damn good cos I broke the G-string, and then in restringing feared it would snap again and dummies showed fine tuning, I played into it, and the sound was nice and rich, sometimes I'd slip or dis-concentrate and scratch across the strings, I gave up trying to play the first track, Dvorak, and got Irish, found out where the notes where, and played fast and tried some finger patterns, it's fun and I should

Love Fun.

Then there were the Wars.

The sugar amount, and the lack of medication gave me restless nights. I kept calling Jesus


But damn I've been great colours, purple, gold, and silver, and white pyjamas, and trying


for the first time.

Gold Chinese Dragons. Swords that burn red with flames, when they go through


Evil, Evil, Evil.

I tried to attack jesus.

I was at the end. he said:

"Peace be with Thee..."

I sat on the star is smoking, and he prayed, his eyes blinked

and were;


Slow/////Worried, don't know witch is witch.

I learnt how to make Magic, Paintings mostly made in Magic, but I needed real
And I got a lemon house. And I saw a boy fly out the water he was swimming in (because he was starting to struggle under the water, as I was making the water rise quickly, so I threw him out, and watched him land in white dust, and when he looked up, he

A huge closed white door, and on each side, men or armoured men, in gold armour, with spikes or spears or swords stuck in the ground.

And God was behind the door. Nad I

And called FightHate/Woe/Death all around. and;

went Evil.

I went to sit down on a chair in the dark, and kill, because I had to drop the

Men that Came Back. into Hell.

I had to try to win with Jesus or not with Jesus.

A man turned into a rat in his sleep, he went into Hell, he had a horrible dick that kept jumping on people,/ Demons.

Fire, and

Eye for Eye.

My eyes shone two red and black, pentagram five point stars in my eyes. I was in my paints, and see-ing that Light can make Black Magic. I was in scruffy ol' paints, and then;

A long Purple Hat, a priest hat appeared on my head.

Don't Listen.

What it meant was that; (and i quote) QUOTING is;

Asking God, in a  most heathen manner to tell me, repeat what was said as at the time I can't see, most of the time I don't listen, So;

Try a little;

"You have Soul. Arise King Cohen, and Burn Hell...." and?and?and???

The Purple Hat sang and;


"Loveeeeee Lord Jessssusss, Love My Kinnnnnng...."

Singing / song;




"Why didn't they die, why don't you help, why do you think I am bad. WHy couldn't I make better than this....why can't I write a cool little story about


and why I can't I sell rush rush rush....

Light. ?

Black Magic Hell-Making is

in Heaven?????????????

Lets go into this.