ink baby
Monstress,
I revere your palate for words,
Each a piece of germ between your tooth.
November 19, 2022
Monstress,
I revere your palate for words,
Each a piece of germ between your tooth.
The time to be a child is now,
To twirl around the ribboned pole
And forgive the gods for the loss of love …
I tell myself this so I can keep my life
I have to rejoice as often as possible
To keep my life.
INK BABY
dream nymph
“You must suffer me to go my own dark way.”
recipe: toad’s feet, black eggs, freshly tanned leather, brick dust
ACE: when the Unknown of Unknowns chose to be revealed, it came as one point of light.
/
Saylem’s 3rd birthday
Happy 3rd birthday, Saylem!
November 05, 2022
Happy 3rd birthday, Saylem! I’m seeing Saylem tomorrow, and I’m going to bake her a yellow cake with orange icing.
a poet’s dream
We scream-sang to Bjork, Kate Bush, and Sinead O’Connor. And we were drumming her drumsticks and overall having a wild and wonderful time.
October 24, 2022
My birthday was magical. I spent the day time hours with Nana. She gifted me her mother’s and my great grandmother Ruby Fae’s rabbit fur coat and champagne gold satin nightdress. She told me her mother was poor but owned nice things. Nana and I went to a bookstore called Literati, and I bought “The Power of Myth” by Joseph Campbell.
Then I went to Emma’s bar, Red Rooster, and drank a Genopy Spritz. Afterward I walked around the Catholic cemetery and listened to music while waiting for Emma to close. Then returned to RR and drank “A Poet’s Dream” while the staff did their closing duties. Emma gave me LOTS of nice libations. I talked with her staff. Then we went back to her house and danced in the living room. It was so much fun. I was naked.
We scream-sang to Bjork, Kate Bush, and Sinead O’Connor. And we were drumming her drumsticks and overall having a wild and wonderful time. We saw a rabbit in the yard. Then we went to bed, and she gave me a back massage. The next day we went to the mall together and Trader Joe’s, then came back and watched Beetlejuice and watched music videos.
It was one of the best nights I’ve had all year.
I’m feeling so much less depressed now that I’m close to family and friends. I can’t wait to move back to Oklahoma permanently.
Emma and I talked about going to Finland together.
/
P.S. I bought a black velvet bow, and I’m going to wear it every day like I do my amber amulet.
/
oui, c’est magique
I wanted to speak to them but the only phrase I could think of in French waws “Oh, oui c’est magique:” Oh, yes it’s magick.
September 24, 2022
My dreams last night were tres magnifique et exuberant!
For one, they were lucid, and at one point I said to myself that I was not dreaming but experiencing an alternate reality, because the visual aspect of the dream was so clear. When I became aware of my own consciousness, I started running around to intake more visual data before waking up. I also took out my phone in the dream and took photos, in case I actually had entered another timeline and would be able to find them on my phone after waking back in my normal reality.
In the first part of the dream I was in a large building with beautiful architectural details—crown molding, mahogany wood everywhere, dark academia meets patriotism? It was like I was in an old president’s house that had since been converted into a museum. The architecture seemed to be from the era that preceded hallways; the rooms led into each other and were spacious. As I passed through the master bedroom, I noticed two men in regency wear speaking threats to each other, but in a dramaturgical style that made me think I was observing a theatrical production. I also thought this because, even though the men didn’t outright acknowledge me, I could sense that they were aware of my presence yet still needed to complete their dialogue.
One of the men joined me on the bed and gave me a potion or salve of some sort and ~ this part is fuzzy ~ indicated that I was going to either die or become paralyzed. I determined that leaving the room would in effect take me out of that reality, so I exited.
Suddenly I found myself in a new realm where everyone spoke French and was wearing Victorian clothing. When I walked in, I was wearing a long-sleeve, white Victorian nightgown. I noticed a woman gesture toward another woman, then to me, to indicate that I needed to be clothes in some sort of underthing. I can’t recall the name she used for it, but it was pastel pink and green—everything was pastel pink and green—and its function was to provide a layer over my nightgown, to convert the ensemble into something functional but a bit more formal for moving about the garden and common areas of the villa. I wanted to speak to them but the only phrase I could think of in French waws “Oh, oui c’est magique:” Oh, yes it’s magick.
/
moon vine
how pink and vulnerable beneath the mid-day sky …
August 19, 2022
I’m having a sad, rainy, dream-ish day. Walked from home to the coffee shop and bought a large green tea, and now I’m taking the train Northbound to Ogden for a change of scenery.
I’m working on a playlist for Manon’s mom, Gina. It’s called “spooky weirdo genius art pop coven.”
Come On Let’s Go by Broadcast
Utopia by Goldfrapp
One Day by Bjork
The Barrel by Aldous Harding
Beef Jerky by Cibo Matto
Path to Love by Tamaryn
Strict Machine by Goldfrapp
Human Behavior by Bjork
Le Disko by Shiny Toy Guns
Operate by Peaches
Yes, I’m A Witch by Yoko Ono
Sphinx by La Femme
Leopard’s Tongue by Karen O
Lovely Head by Goldfrapp
The Book Lover’s by Broadcast
Cloudbusting by Kate Bush
Zoo Eyes by Aldous Harding
Spells by Jenny Hval
“We’re cloudbusting, daddy.”
Alice in Wonderland themed songs:
Black Cat by Broadcast
White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane
The entire album “A Game For All Who Know: The H&F Recordings Box”
Alice by Lady Gaga
“moon vine”
how pink and vulnerable beneath the mid-day sky
I hide my cheeks, avert my eyes,
keep my frame tight and await the night.
when I, pale as an egg, await the moon,
the black bog floor her petals bloom.
a little help from my friends
Confidence is throwing your heart through a brick wall.
August 18, 2022. 2:52AM
Right now is an extremely rough time for me.
I have no close intimate contacts; my car died; the Cemetery’s sexton fired me because “my ambitions exceed[ed] the needs of the position,” and I quit my bartending job, so I have no income. My self-esteem is extremely low as a result.
I feel myself at times giving away my power in the name of social acceptance, but the whole intent behind my loneliness is to extract the poison from my life. The major poisons I’ve had in the past—toxic friends and partners, brainwashing paradigms—are gone, but the impact is still bleeding inside of me. What I need most right now is to be able to trust my own mind to love and celebrate myself, so that when I’m not receiving that from others, I know it feels wrong rather than normal.
I deserve love and acceptance even when I’m not strong and happy. I’m still the core of who I am even when I have no money and am broken and dark-minded. I have to believe that there are other women out there who have a darkness around them that they constantly battle, who are sometimes kept alive and growing only because of their friends’ love.
Anyway, I got three job interviews today. A guy at the laundromat gave me $20 just for looking after his clothes for 10 minutes. I took Momo on a walk, changed my sheets, watched the Beatles movie “Get Back.” I also got most of my photos from Stacie today, and they’re awesome. They triggered some of my insecurities about my face and skin texture, but they are still beautiful and artistic.
Confidence is throwing your heart through a brick wall.
I’ve also been watching videos of pop divas, and it encourages me to see that such undeniable figures of talent, intelligence, beauty, and charisma are also commonly dealing with deep darkness and still fight for others with so much kindness.
My new mantra: I choose to love and accept myself as I am today and right now. I choose to believe in my potential and that joy is ahead of me. My journey unfolds beautifully and I am grateful to be alive. I am a vulnerable, wise, kind, leader and artist. I heal myself and the world with my love.
/
“I get by with a little help from my friends.”
magical mare, bloody bad boy
There are curses in this poem for my darling
bloody bad boy.
March 24, 2022
I’ve completely over Constable and Femme.
The memories I have of the way they treated me are embarrassingly inconsiderate and selfish. This breakup, despite the torment of it, is a relief. I’m glad to be living alone, free of Constable’s possessiveness and emotional unavailability, of seeking to be claimed by him and feeling rejected and locked out constantly.
I’m relieved to be free of Femme’s inability to empathize and to finally no longer be treated by my partner as, above anything else, a threat to her relationship with someone she loves and respects more than me.
I do miss the children, but now I have more privacy and more energy for joy and dreaming.
The grief Magician left in the wake of our divorce has finally lifted, and I’m ready to pass from the dark night of the soul into the light of rejoicing.
/
There are curses in this poem for my darling
bloody bad boy.
This evening spent in the honey of my amorous body
requires no company.
Company devolves into mediocre sex, the death of my old diadem.
My head is in the clouds where my steed makes its rounds
and rainbow light shines benevolently upon us.
Atop my magical mare, I peer into the violent whorl.
Our minds are ripe, peeled, unquartered, un-austere, un-Protestant,
and we watch over our stately secrets, trotting about, tending to the wildness,
whispering to the shadow imps and psychonauts.
/
snailhood
My eyes are perched just above the water, searching for a playmate.
February 13, 2022
I want the chance to write until my fingers bleed. Life is weird.
I’m always struck by the weight of adoration I have to give to something mysterious and soft. There are thousands of rabbits hopping freely from their boroughs and warrens
and I’m looking for the runt: the shy, tentative one whose senses need time to ingest the scene.
My eyes are perched just above the water, searching for a playmate.
I don’t know if it’s possible for me to act normally amongst the rest of my kind.
Bits of rat poison.
I wish the canopy had bats.
I have hardly been cradled before I know I am ready for a new body.
I am a tender blob of snailhood leaking out of its shell.
When the sun hits just right …
My mouth is a wishing well … I don’t think I ever will die.
I am the cloaked silhouette in the lush,
the one I feared when entering the wood tonight.
I am not afraid, so the hounds do not raise their hackles,
instead cross their paws and nuzzle into the crooks of the lush ferns spilling
All my gentle, sexy woodland friends know
I haven’t come to drink blood or perform sacrifice
Only to soak beneath the moon and touch myself,
and give the earth bits of my ecstatic body.
Blood has been dripping from me since yesterday,
and I take it in my hands and give it to the forest green.
Angel dog writhes beside me, performing her own worship of the dirt;
We both howl as though we were feral, crickets chirping like a pleased crowd.
I am a tender little snail blobby, leaking from its shell.
Reading poems makes me cry, and I wish to be also the lullaby for an ache.
/
evil and out for blood
I want to be evil, but I don’t know where to allocate my evil feelings.
February 06, 2022
A lifetime or two has passed.
I’m feeling a deeper sense of not giving a fuck about Constable and Femme. They are peasants.
Patrick basically kicked me out of the studio. He acted like a toxic male, and it was gross. Tried to tell me I couldn’t bring men there. I’m relieved in hindsight because he was giving anger-retentive-moody-wannabe-bad-boy vibes.
Poet and I are no longer friends. I told him I wouldn’t be friends with him if he continued to nurture romantic feelings about me, and he said he wasn’t interested unless he could “be amongst the loved.”
I am feeling full of power and evil and loneliness. I want to be evil, but I don’t know where to allocate my evil feelings. I could translate them all into seduction, but there are no people I’m attracted to. And no one who matches my chaos. Even Constable was too weak to become evil together, although he did have the proclivities, which is more than most.
Most boys in Salt Lake City are beanie-wearing hipster bros with pretend artistic sensitivities and no palpable or embodied femme energy. Disappointing.
I have a small crush on my barback. He and I drove around the Avenues this evening, walked around Miller Park Wildlife Reserve in the snow, and then he told me some spooky stories while we walked around Memory Grove. I went home afterward and ended up writing for over an hour and listening to opera. I am wearing his aquamarine earring that he lent me. The sign of Taurus.
Right now I want to make $$$, get past financial and emotional survival into a consistent thrive, have great sex and grow as a creative and writer. I feel a strong “fuck people” vibe right now. I trigger strong negative reactions from people often enough to make me feel isolated and in danger.
I just feel an itch in me. I am out for blood, and there is a danger to my spirit if I go into the extreme. Although … unknowns always feel like danger. Maybe I should start viewing the unknown as safer than what is sure.
That feels true.
But what do I do with all my love and magick? Where do I put it? How do I satisfy and elate myself with it? I want to feel like I am part of something revolutionary. During the most isolated times in American history and in a place where the prevailing counterculture defines itself in violent, jaded separateness from the rest of the world.
/
notes on Jung
Life is pageantry.
January 20, 2022
“Initiatory events are those that mark a person’s life forever, that pull them more deeply into the waters of life than they would normally choose to go.
What initiates us also strips us down to the inner essentials and releases qualities and powers that were hidden within. ”
Eating the poison apple is trickster energy.
I am violent in the service of my own thriving.
Serve the dark goddess.
Will demands change.
Sentimentality is a poor cousin to an actual depth of feeling, or a “mutual non-aggression pact.”4
Life is pageantry.
“There is no illness that is not at the same time an unsuccessful attempt at a cure.”
/
magick and mysticism
Your voice expresses nothing; your gaze evokes nothing. Human love is the greatest disappointment.
January 15, 2022
Thank you for your cruelty.
It has been my levity in all of this.
Had you given gentleness, reverence, kept your promises with the integrity of a hero,
You would echo in my emptiness much more loudly,
louder than the raindrops on the pond.
Everything within me is dripping obscurely.
How you must ache.
To know I am evil and walk.
Your girl changes to be whatever you want and hates me because the one thing she cannot be is free.
Confuses love with order and hates her own magnetism to chaos.
I don’t know if it is cruel of me to ask for love.
You have humiliated me, like the rest of them.
The loss of you hurts. I am better without you but for now my loneliness wears your shape.
If you are not interdimensional, supernatural, psychic,
if the entities inside you do not possess and thrash my soft body
until I am sated,
drifting …
Your voice expresses nothing; your gaze evokes nothing. Human love is the greatest disappointment.
If you did this* I would not wilt
I would have kept you
Your mouth closer
Your genitals wetter
The sound of fog in the thrush
I don’t want to find out the giants are my size.
The sound
the sound, the sound
I must become what I am hunting.
If I could thrash and tear
at my biggest capacity
and exhaust my violence …
If I could gape before you,
hairy, spotted, feral
/
chaos magick
Hatred is itself a prayer, and a prayer is energetic input in the Universe.
January 08, 2022
To what extent am I blinded by someone’s shine? How blinded are they by mine? A mere man once fooled me into thinking he was a wizard.
Tonight has a bizarre energy, and I’m partly waiting for something deadly to happen to me.
Many strange things happened to me tonight at work. Today was strange in general. I woke up in the afternoon, walked Momo, fed my plants, watered Sibyl, and when I arrived at work I had the strange feeling that it was only 10am, even though it was 3pm.
The other strange occurrences:
A cocktail exploded on me inside the shaker.
My coworker accidentally knocked a beer in my right eye, and it was so painful I cried.
I pricked my left finger.
I went outside to smoke weed, and my landlord sent me a video that referenced the fact that Sleeping Beauty sealed her death with the prick of her left (index) finger.
I pinched my left palm in the dishwasher.
My barback kept saying he felt like something strange was going to happen to me, like there was a concentration of chaos magick around me. He asked me if there was anyone out in the world who would want harm to befall me …
I immediately thought of La Femme and said, “Yes! But I don’t think she is powerful enough to enact a hex upon me,”
and Pedro said, “Yes, she can. Hatred is itself a prayer, and a prayer is energetic input in the Universe.”
He suggested I do a counter-spell or a protective spell.
I need to uncover more of what my feelings are towards La Femme. At this point I have a much deeper tether to her than to the Constable, because my hatred of her is more intense than my love for Constable.
Tonight I remembered a dream I had in early September: I was walking alone at the bottom of the ocean. I came across a trench and had the desire to take my clothes off and go inside of it. Then, and I can’t recall in which order these events happened, a parrot descended, landed on my hand, and bit my hand in the shape of a constellation which I understood to be Cassiopoeia. I put my hand on a man’s head, and he kneeled before me. I could feel in our exchange of energy that I was healing him.
/
I have felt melancholy and hurt over the past few days in my new home, but I mostly don’t care, in the sense that the pain is so significantly weaker now that I’m severed from Laurel Manor and its inhabitants. I don’t think I’ll ever care to know the Constable again. He is clearly at his core a 50s male in a 50s-style heterosexual marriage and not the iconoclast he claims to be.
In other news, I went on a date last night. I drank an Aviation cocktail, bourbon in a rosemary-smoked glass with Chartreuse and lemon, and absinthe poured over a sugar cube into warm water. We drove out to Saratoga Springs, and the air was heavy with fog.
I want to go back as often as possible. My skin is soft from the sulfur.
Poetry has been pouring from me lately, which excites me.
I will value solitude over connections that limit my best outcome.
/
u made mommy mad
Oh Constable, you are bewitched!
January 06, 2022
“I’m a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.”
u made mommy mad
You look to me to find the eyes of a beast flickering strangely at you—an expression somewhere between mania and bliss and unadulterated consciousness.
My eyes are a beast
And reflect a delighted awareness of your few and terrible secrets.
Oh Constable, you are bewitched!
And yet I am alone, truly alone, in the hypnotic nauseating expanse,
and you are alone while nestled in the fingers of your wife.
This has been a disappointing affair;
I am disappointed in you.
Stand before me and I will tell you in your stature what you fear …
Speak to me
and I will hear what you are not saying.
/