Have you forgotten that I am the muse?

7 June 2019, 9:29pm. Leo the lion is a little pessimistic, so all you other tilting mindmills be aware. Turn back the sands of the thinking cogs, let not your face give you away. Don’t blink. Keep one eye open at all times. Dont trust the cries of an angel. Eye to eye a steep falling flight of stares. Be prepared.

The king fell down and broke his crown, infected with corona-19.

3 January 2019, 9:05am. I made a new graphic. Just 1, but I also made the quillwave fix font larger. And just threw everything here into a single post. Because I clicked the “share” button on my phone. And I refuse to curate and polish this shit. This is my “diary entry” or intention setting post, as this is just the beginning of the day.

    • I’m not a trope. I am a real girl living in the real world.
    • Poets can follow my free-balling, free-falling, shit-spinning word association.
    • Perverts can follow my dazzling display of imagined imagery. The seductive whispered words I speak freely.
    • Primates can follow my veracious visuals that I pick to point where I want them to see. All arrows are phallic and they look like a V.
    • Primals can follow the ephemeral elementals, for wisdom can be discerned when one waits for signs from the divine.
    • I’m real, I already told you. I’m not imagined nor insane.
    • I love and live music. I’m only guilty of being insane in my membranes.
    • My muse? My life! My body, my experiences, my mind and my memories. I’m both more and less than my words, deeds and philosophies.
    • I want to receive some material indication that my worldly contributions are valued… To justify the effort and strain going digital has placed on my livelihood.
    • I have no idea what I’m doing, but I think it’s worth some-thing…?
    • I am not going to live forever, I know I am going to die. I was hoping it was going to be later rather than sooner, but I’m not the one who gets to know when my time will be up.
    • I like surprises. But not knowing stuff fills me with dreaded anxiety.
    • I know only that which I know, and I apply that knowledge to the way I live my life and in my interactions with others. And all the shit that I know if just from my hyper-obsessive learning all about ME. me me me me meme
    • People go onto the internet and read stuff for a variety of reasons. As an (as of yet, still without a contract) English teacher, I know that for a piece of writing to be effective, one must know their audience.
      • My audience is so widely variegated I lose track of who the fuck I think I’m trying to reach out to.
    • My voice varies dependent upon the context in which I am writing… reading.. to whom (and where) I am responding… So… I dunno. EVERYTHING IS UP FOR INTERPRETATION! WHATEVER! HOWEVER! YOU CHOOSE.

9:23 am; I have a hair appointment today. Booked that last week. It’s time for a change. I need to shed the bullshit and change up the colour again.

I remember a while ago, back when I brought you all through that adventure through Skullcrusher Mountain, that I was going to talk about my hair and I never got around to it? For context, I was reminding you all why I was Rapunzel. Even though I don’t look like Rapunzel, her characteristic traits are what make me like her anyway.

My hair gets friggen EVERYWHERE.

Exhibit Above: That’s hair in the electric socket. Like.. WTF. I have no idea why, but it is more than likely my hair. Houses don’t grow hair. And how it got in there? I have no friggen clue. I took that photo last month, 14 December 2018. SO yeah… my hair does get everywhere…

But I won’t shave my head because my skull shape is.. boxy… like.. I have ‘horns’. The back of my skull, around the crown, my head has ‘corners’, and big ol’ dent in the middle between them. It’s like I got a massive POKE in the head when I was a baby, when the bone is still soft and hasn’t fused together fully (this is a normal biological thing, all babies have soft skulls).

But my hair has been corvette red, pink, purple, blue, green, honey, copper, rainbow, etc etc. But once my hair reaches the length of my bra strap, it doesn’t grow any longer than that. It legit stops growing at that length.

What can you expect from my blog, readership? My fellow starship convey captains?

I guess… just… more of me? But.. not me.

I will share what the public say of me, what they think of me. I will share all the publically known visages, homages and tributes made by others in honour of me. I will not give context other than “hey, this is part of the me that is just me”.


Ok. Good. Rightio. Well then. Now that’s out of the way, I can get on with the day.

My message? My truth and honest to fucking goodness real intention here?

  2. We are at war, and you MUST PICK A SIDE.
  3. There are 4 sides to every story.
  4. There will be no “fence sitting”. You have been warned.
  5. This is Metatrope. And this is my side. I represent team #3. THE FENCE SITTERS. The original fallen who would/could/did not decide.
  7. If I die before we all wake? It won’t be ‘me’ (the pink crusader) who takes my place.
  8. Every leader has an agenda. So whatever shit I build here BY MY OWN HAND, are empowered with my own intentions.
  9. My intention is to bring all of my fallen brethren together. We will not be greyfaced in this war. Because it is war, we will wear RED.

My mother is red, my father is blue. My skin is yellow, my motivation is orange. My heart is both pink and green and can be nauseating trying to pull it apart and decide which part is whatever it is. Black is death and decay, white is everything purified – these 2 are the colours of my husband. When I am sick and unwell my skin goes from pinky/yellow to grey.

I am a mixture of my culture, my environment, my heritage. The land is orange, as is my motivation. My parents are red and blue, and in me I AM PURPLE.

But I’m a force for “good” and “love” and “light”


Or not. Because it’s all metaphorical.

I gotta get going to my hair appointment now actually. It’s 99:56 am

16 thoughts on “Have you forgotten that I am the muse?

    1. Rapunzel lets down her heir. Weasels weave it into the tapestry of reality. Remiss reputation precedes the shepherd heard her hair is all-where. Brusha brusha brusha, teeth are shiny, horns are pointy, toes on pointe, hair is silky. πŸ¦Έβ€β™€οΈπŸ§žβ€β™€οΈπŸ—Ώ

      Liked by 1 person

  1. The story of the Pink and Green dominating your perspective is one that holds true in the Universe of My Mind. For in that Reality – The Pink Being known as EVERYONE is thought to be twin to the Green Being that is known as EVERYTHING. But EVERYONE and EVERYTHING, while eerily similar are actually mirror reflections of one another through different dimensions. So while they stand on opposite sides of the Mirror, they do not offer the same reflection. EVERYONE is opposite and opposed to EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING is Omnipotent and Omnipresent in every version of Reality that EVERYONE is a part of. EVERYTHING can morph into EVERYONE at any time, but EVERYONE can only know of EVERYTHING’s natural Perfect when she is reborn into her Perfect Self, known as Everything. When EVERYONE is reborn as Everything – ALL will be in Balance – For EVERYTHING will be in Perfect Reflection with Everything on the other side of the Mirror.

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    1. Oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine. Once again you and I reveal we are two peas of the same pod. I am in the midst of U, and that’s how we make W, that realisation causes a vivisection that splits it in 2 V V…
      When colours becomes characters, their legacy left in letters, ligatures in signatures we see as signs. Oh khoney, we are divine. πŸ˜‡

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Blessed Be, Blessed Be, a Holy Matrimony – Of two wild souls born free of time’s restraints – finding connection and meaning in the depths of the interweb. It is beautiful to experience the likeness and parallel between your reality and my own.

        Much love to you soul sister!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Kit & Kin, the Key Krew of my rampion starship. One Thing is many-sided, not undecided. Our soul is di-sided, split 4 the world 2 view. We are the faces of love and war, bearers of the standard soul form made whole.
        Your arms are wide open, while my arms are raised. Your eyes behold them, my oculi occludes. You embrace the fallen, I will judge the refuse.
        All is fair in love and war, we should know, that’s what we’re here to enforce. You are the eye of the needle, I am the point that will pierce.

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      3. I like that, the Eye of the Needle, through which the Thread of Destiny is strung. Refuse to see the Light I bring to the World and they shall fall to the Point that Shall Pierce Their Soul, stringing them along to the Eternity they WILL be a part of, once they are ready to be better for the better of ALL. For ALL shall bow down before the Grand Old Divine that is giving His Divine Grace to the World to Witness.

        As my arms open, and your arms rise, the Power of I AM shines through the Cross-section that is our Coming. In two we are ONE, In ONE we are THREE that is known as WE. WE are ONE, Undivided – And by the Heralds of the Heavens, WE HAVE COME!

        Liked by 1 person

      4. We three are not alone, even though sometimes it may seem. That hollow echo, an invisible barrier acts as a screen. Protection, projection, progression. A sieve sorts the souls, see the shift as we sift… As mirrors of the world, we reflect what we see, and so people confuse what we do as deceit. We didn’t do anything, just exist as we do, but people deny any fault lay with their minds.

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      5. Ah indeed in a world used to funhouse distortions of how “we should be” of course the natural order of looking through a spiritual mirror into the other-side would create gross misrepresentations of all that they thought they were versus all they can’t hide from the truth of who they’ve become.

        People struggle to take responsibility because for so long it has been easier to blame the broken system, the broken childhood, the broken world for why we are broken people. What if it was never any of those things and the only reason one feels “broken” is because they are disconnected from the reality that they are everything they were always meant to be?

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