I know you do. Darkness is to space what silence is to sound, i.e., the interval. The only possible ethic is to do what one wants to do. “I myself am an absolute abyss.”, Artaud says.
Another gem Ales dug up and sent over.
The French woman wants me to cut my hair. She wants it like hers, short, a bob with bangs. She thinks I eat too much and would rather me drink coffee and smoke cigarettes all day.
I sometimes think she’s Maudie, my great great grandmother who left her family to pursue being a socialite in Hollywood with her husband who was in films. But she’s not Maudie, the French woman is from Paris. She is fond of long black dresses but prefers white silk ones. She thinks I should brush my hair more and live in a luxury apartment with a terrace.
No one knows her name. She has a pointier nose than I do and smaller lips. She says she writes poetry and is an actress. We’ll see, sometimes spirits lie.
She likes my entries about Burroughs and so I scan them in. She feels like a cross between Anais Nin and Kiki Montparnasse.
In certain cultures they frown upon getting their pictures takes, saying it captures the spirit. I channel through photography so maybe their capturing other spirits. As far as I know I still have my own.
Melissa and I spiritually cleaned the house last night. All the signs were there that it would be a bad idea to start the experiment in a spiritually filthy environment. From the light bulb that flickered like that of a horror movie, to the cat acting out, to all the drains clogging at once, it was all there. We brought out the salt, rattles and bells, herbal floor wash of my own concoction, the waters, frankincense and myrrh, sage, and a little rum spitting in the corners. Thank you to Eleggua for letting me borrow it. I took these photos when the house was clean and lifted. Right here, right here I was ghosting.
I showed Melissa this house while walking home from Astoria Park. I call it the Burton-Gorey house. It’s for sale. If any super high powered rich spirit wants to give me access to their estate accounts so I can buy it let me know. I’m open.
I slept 5 hours.
Walked to Astoria Park and Spiritually cleaned the house. Cinnamon Dolce nonfat latte.
Started writing the blog entry that started all this. Wrote a story, channeled the French woman, took photographs, wrote a letter.
Mood: In tune, loved
Oracle: An email from Mani: Ok whatever ya did last night “worked” I woke up to someone stroking my left arm i saw her she giggled and then slammed my bed door when she flew out
Oddities: Woke up in my outfit from the night before complete with flowers in the hair and makeup on. I have no recollection of falling asleep or turning off or on my alarm as it was set for 8 and I slept until 9:30.