29Brighton, United Kingdom
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My self-summary


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.
What I’m doing with my life
I am a muse, model, screamer, artist and occasional actress.
I’m really good at
Making the boys cry.
The first things people usually notice about me
The cloud of smoke.
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).
Six things I could never do without
1. Cigarettes.
2. Jack Daniels.
3. Confessional poetry.
4. Guitars.
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
For details send your questions on a postcard.
You should message me if
For nights of whiskey-soaked cackling, spewing your depths in social situations and poetic demystifiction.
The two of us