27 Brighton, UK
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My self-summary


EDIT - I was very angry when I wrote this. It will remain unedited as a testament to my mania.

I'm just a crackwhore. A shallow, fickle, worthless product of the blank generation and I'm loving every goddamn second of it. Id like to meet an intellectual bimbo in ruby red ruby shoes, to keep me from loneliness in my drug bubble.

I am the centre of the fucking universe.

"A foolish woman is noisy; She is wanton and knows no shame: the smooth tongue of the Adventuress will snare you. A Harlot may be hired for a loaf of bread, She stalks a man`s very life and when you enter her doorway remember her house is on the way to death and her guests are in the depths of hell" (Proverbs 9:13)

Is that a boy or a girl?
Is it a faggot?
It's a dyke!
No, it's a hippy.
A Communist.
Perhaps it's a drag queen.
Or a whack drag queen.
Probably a speed freak.
Or a pot head.
Or a muffin queen.
Look at her—it's just a whore.
Or maybe a gold digger.
She's a hustler.
Yeah, or some sort of intellectual.
She's probably a rimmer.
Humph—maybe a speed freak.
Or a chicken queen.
Or a shrimp freak.
It could be a narc.
Yeah, or maybe a beatnik.
Or a junkie.
Yes, or an acid head.
Or a spade?
Or just a gigolo.
Or just a flower child.
Yeah...shit kicker.
Or a red.
Yeah, or a glamour girl.
Yeah—maybe just some polack.
Or a war monger.
Yeah, or an S&M queen.
Oh, it's just a teenager.
Yeah, maybe it's one of those Hells Angels.
You think it's a baby butch?
It could be a fag hag.
Or maybe it's a B-girl.
Yeah, or a closet queen.
A hair hopper.
Yeah, maybe a movie star.
Well, she's a drop out of some sort.
Yeah, what is that word? A...a...dingleberry.
Or a draft dodger.
Yeah, or maybe just a runaway.
Or some sort of, you know, peacenik.
Yeah, or a hooker.
Or she's one of those yippies.
Mmm, maybe it's one of those jet setters.
Well, I'll bet it's just a whore.
Yeah, or maybe a dinge queen.
Yeah, a size queen.
And a hustler.
Oh, she makes me sick.

I am dazed, beautiful, and bruised
What I’m doing with my life
Trying to be less wretched. Starting a psuedo-Davidian cult probably based around flamingos that will hurtle towards apocalyptian mass suicide. Attempting to accumulte a massive amount of dollar. Getting that glimmery look. Occasionally allowing people to penetrate me. Stopping stalking. Making rumours.

I am a muse, model, screamer, artist and occasional actress.
I’m really good at
Hating you.
The first things people usually notice about me
The cloud of smoke and look of intense disapproval.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
Naked Lunch, The Menu, Fat and Furious, Suicide in the Entertainment Industry, The Erotic Minorities, Jackie Collins, Edward Lear, Dostoevsky, Lewis Carroll, Shakey, Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Sexton, Plath, Byron, Genet, Tennyson, Keats, Virginia Woolf, Palahniuk, JT Leroy, Burgess, Kerouac, Poppy Z Brite, Orton, Coward, Wilde, Brecht, Dahl, Anger, Kafka, Pinter, "Mein Kampf", Lolita, Marquis de Sade, Poe, Rushdie, Crowley, Huxley, Will Self, Carrie Fisher.

Waters, Lynch, Gilliam, Warhol & Morrissey, Tarantino, Greenaway, Cox, Meyer, Troma, Fellini, Bergman, Polanski, Bunuel & Dali, Kubrick, Castle, Peckinpah, Preminger, Broomfield, Rafelson, Cassavetes, Van Sant, Demille, Almodovar, Burton, Fuller, Hitchcock, Fassbinder, Anger, Gondry, Altman, Bertolucci, Fincher, HGL, Allen, Cronenberg, Leigh, Romero, Corman, Dante, Bartel, Wes Anderson.

Alternative female rock, riot grrrl, rock and roll, grunge, 70s glam, 80s trash, New Wave/No-Wave, art rock, punk, indie, 90s alt, vintage, classical, gloom rock, Blues, redneck, doo wop, mashed potato, jitterbug, Rockabilly, legendary women (marianne & courtney & patti).
The six things I could never do without
1. Cigarettes.
2. Jack Daniels.
3. Confessional poetry.
4. An air of superiority.
5. Bleach and red lipstick.
6. A slight curl of the upper lip.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Beauty and decadence. LA. Riot grrls or pretty boys. Glitter sores. 'We Care', excess to the max, 0-800s. Anus waxing. 30s-icons. Kids with cigarettes. 50s closets. Film Noir. Industrial taping. Beautiful freaks. Junkie kisses. Razorblades. Roman candles and hot wax. Carving, cutting. Losers, retards, freaks. Rosalind Russell. Stacking it. XfagXcoreX. Riots. Punks. Heroin(e). Ethereal sex. Pottymouths. My boudoir. Detroit. Cadillacs. Dollies. Skin flowers. Flesh wounds. My disordered weight. Drugs. Vegas. Rock and ruin. Lazy ways. Vaseline. The butterfly collection. My silent undoing. Freakshows. Magic. All-American Suburbia. Wholesale meats. Electroluxury. Cock.

"I wonder why the schools don't teach anything useful these days, like how to fall from grace, and slide with elegance from a pedestal I never asked to be put on in the first place," - Marianne Faithfull.
On a typical Friday night I am
Unconscious or possessed.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
I have done EVERYTHING. At least twice. For further details send your questions on a postcard.
You should message me if
You are vastly bored or if you are willing to spew your depths in social situations. For nights of whiskey-soaked cackling and poetic demystifiction.