afghanprincess69

[afghanprincess69]

soon 2025

FOuR supposedly good friends broke the camels back in the last week Tali - you been gone. bye samira - who only treats me as a token brown friend. first you ignored my birthday. then you flaked on the ticket for the show. then you invited me to a lebanese fundraiser, i could not make it, so i invited you to an overdue dinner to which you 'seen.' bye bye claudia - ... i'm not gonna chase after you girl. answer the question - when are you free next? dimitri - for 3 years you said i could do tattoos at your party. nothing. do i have respect for a 60 year old dj who can't stop cheating? no then to offer me bar, but rescind because you wanna kiss hollie and derek's ass. go fuck yourself. seriously. i can't wait till i'm in the boredom of vancouver. these 3 clout ass idiots in particular can kiss me ass. dimitri is cut. samira is sadly cut. claudia could still make it.

but yesterday was such high highs - laughing w max/ sarah staff party dinner drinks/ party hop to cozy laughs w nerds no sleep mother is well i'm trying to lift higher than the grave tonight but still i roll

[afghanprincess69]

idk why i dreamt so so many dreams - montreal when it was cool- ashlin and sabine in a dirt pit while construction boys staked their claim on some land next to them and began digging a trench or whatever. sabine was really nice while ashlin was bland as usual, but I couldsee how that blandess was appealing at that time there was a vampire hotel/ building?? all us vampires destroyed the other group of people? there was one girl in particular who I at first didnt like so much, idk we had challenges to do, but then I liked her in the end. when she got nervous her blood would form sigils on her face, and she got embarrassed. I had sex with tobin!!? of course it was good. was it steph in the supermarket? I was in the supermarket stealing things I needed for a pizza, I moonwalked to the corner where someone was selling way too expensive peppersoni even though I explained it was for under served children. when I asked for her name she got visibly scared and just gave me the cheese. was it belinda and steph who made a strange watermelon cake, that had to be turned into a gothic cake after shaking it a bunch, and pouring glitter on top? - then we walked outside where we met marilyn manson and the three of us together looked amazing - amazing outfits then there was a huge ferry, we were looking at the rooms in the bottom compartments, being a bit nosy at the open doors. finally my friend jumped into one, and the bedding wasn't the cleanest. there were beads on top of the comforter. lot a lot of strange dreams

[afghanprincess69]

dreams of our company/ group of friends putting together a big boat witha big paper sailat the top and just going...i am at the very back and I end up doing tattoos... i saw a baby goat/ cow / veal counter and they were giving the baby cow blackberry juice to help it have a god life... the sea was so beutiful and full of mystery.. my new friend chris was so intelligent at school, but was trying to be a part of this ultra masculine sports team too. i told him, i'm not saying youre not athletic, but why not play to your stengths? youre a sensitive young man.

[afghanprincess69]

cat

what does a cat see, now that we have new windows, clear as air but for a thin friction - occulted portal. so cat has isolated. ponders the frost, squirrel fat, wind settling down as picking up what's visible, clarity begets the next dreaming nap on track to the moon's trace of the tea leaves deepening dimensions. as elongating icicles with sequential breath for feline witness

[afghanprincess69]

casting outwards indefinitely there my spigot leaks, fermented fire felicity lackadaisical amnesty notes of blindness in the brickened realm is this what a city is, to shuffle another coffee cup, the boot has wore at my sustenance pile, sticky paw at the sustenance pile but for the marvelous amnesty in your smile, laugh showing up there. flux of dialogue we are in dear dialogue, riot but the sun rises low here, the moon far further in the firmanent competition never mattered to me the trees, ocean breath is where i too breathe better ---- dry heat revolving, even the moon's silver splinters here my throat bent to quicken in this undying realm i seek amnesty in some oceanic air i can deign to my little designs with an echoing potence, ---- all night i thrashed, starfished then something would knock me unconcsous for a couple of hours awake at dawn, i moved to the couch the difference in a quality of dream back to bed again, further dream dream i awoke with much more clarity than I expected beauty kissed my harrowed cheeks for the day the physics of my thashing sustained me, and yet the day passes all too quickly whatever clock of my tense body ---- which clock does my tense body keep on the subcutaneous level my shattering psyche rotates as if lacking friction and slippery as lunatic splinters, the breath chokes for some odd three hours before i gasp above again, sense-making does not make any sense again at five or ages past. ----- Death the clock of her heart beat with notoriety, she was a seven o clock drifter, with efficiency there would be twelve atriums made to suffer for the poison blood pumping listlessly

[afghanprincess69]

declan

so you're quitting music because a) no one views your music video b) no one streams your songs -> so if people did like it, you would do it. meaning you only do it for people. -> you do not do it for yourself if your focus with music is only to please people then yes, you should quit. --> why do you do drag? --> who are your favorite drag queens and what are you doing to emulate them? -> youre always as a highly sexualized woman, not really of anyone else --> are you jealous of the privileges highly feminine women have? --> what are you doing for feminism in portraying women the way you do? --> are only highly sexualized women worth saving? --> you get what you give. you never look at my stories, and you said you didn't, so that when you do it's special. this is very petty behavior. it's basically saying you don't care about my day to day life. stories are an easy way to get a glimpse into someone's life, and you're saying you don't care about mine and many others -->yet you blast your own media and want all eyes on you. there's a strange resentment there when you don't get the attention. what i saw at the cabin was a very different type of declan. you basically turned into a mean gay. you were freaking out because you had 250 in your bank account while your friend drove you home from your own family cabin in the woods. wealth is not just reduced to the money in the bank. portraying yourself as a victim when you're immeasurably wealthy is entitled. and you know it, because at the end of the day, you're able to go to your parents house for dinner, a glass of wine, and laugh.

[afghanprincess69]

intro - my backround peturbations - tattooing peturbations - hypomania peturbations - ego death peturbations- dreams - karma peturbations -

[afghanprincess69]

nov 14

periphery here this television show, its meant for others all the all the others yet here i am, happening to watch it. that's the feeling i had been missing for so long. that's the truth of the matter. that's where i'm comfortable. in the periphery. on the outside looking in, into all this. i had been seeking this comfort for so long. when i become the star it's strange. it's of some function of where my soul is on the karmic map. to be the star, fully encapsulated in egoic stratum. i could be rolling there merrily, with the others, but no, i'm deeper down, looking up. yet it's i they're digging for. i enjoy what they've made, but i do not become it. i peep pleasantly.

[afghanprincess69]

oct 19

experience at declans cabin winona - every chat with her ends up being about some trauma or percieved slight. either that or mindless titilation. i found it tedious, just as i find a lot of identity politics tedious - don't take pictures of me on shrooms because one time girls made me feel like i was a monkey - previous experiences of sex being bad - ate something bad blah blah. TEDIOUS 3 days

[afghanprincess69]

van

HUY i'm moving back to vancouver!! i'm lucky to call both mtl and van my home, each city having what the other lacks,, but my heart is with the ocean and the mountains. the forest and the coast. i like being bored in the rain and making art. mtl is too fun. i graduated from concordia this year finally, because i have my eye set on a masters program. pip pip see u soon (mtl is really a brooklyn-euro ass city and ima be back...hosers)

[afghanprincess69]

particularly when looking at the legal sector where contracts and words are manipulated in order to make binding decrees. The rule of law, standardized by precedents, is a system quite the opposite of poetry, but is venerated as the backbone of mainstream culture, holding society togetherparticularly when looking at the legal sector where contracts and words are manipulated in order to make binding decrees. The rule of law, standardized by precedents, is a system quite the opposite of poetry, but is venerated as the backbone of mainstream culture, holding society together

[afghanprincess69]

Maryam Noorzai is a self-taught multidisciplinary painter, tattooist and poet of Afghani descent from Vancouver, British Columbia. She declined to go to art school, for fear it would tamper the purity of her expression. Maryam found vocation in tattooing, as a way of sublimating her painting practice, to help clients share their stories through her art. Her distinctive style is in the realm of dark gestural psychedelia. Maryam incorporates Jungian theories of symbolic archetypes in the collective unconscious throughout her work, and lists him as one of her biggest influences. Her work is meant to bring symbolic archetypes, primarily seen in dreams and fairy tales, to the fore by way of tattooing or painting, using intuitive methods of internal screening, the Jungian method of ‘active imagination’ She pioneered a "kaleidoscopic" style of rendering the body, which is meant to evoke time slowed down to where past details can be magnified and scrutinized closely, as in a dream state. Nature is able to go through a myriad of states and evoke a multiplicity of emotions in humans as inhabitants. Whether it’s the wonder of leaves red decay in autumn, or the fear left in a cougar track. However, the bare eye rarely witnesses these transitions. Instead, we react to what has transpired. I find an object in nature to be the site of a host of memories, which is recorded in the piece itself. Similar to tracks left by a deer, that which has passed through it, leaving its print that haunts the ground. Through my explorations, wanderings and meditations on the island terrain, I will bare witness to these “hauntings” to create a body of paintings in dialogue with the ghosts that have passed through, hidden in the scores of nature. I will incorporate organic stains, patterns and textures in order for my experience of these hauntings to be revealed on canvas, to be fused with acrylic paints, charcoal, pastel, pencil and pen. I also plan to create small concrete poems of what I experience on Salt Spring Island, adhered to the wall as part of the body of work, to provide another sensual arena for the onlooker to be immersed in my individuated experience of this island, perhaps as part of the paintings themselves. I may employ different words of past cultures that have had history on Salt Spring, Indigenous, Japanese & English alike. Furthermore, if I can manage my time, I would like to create a three-dimensional object, a kind of effigy out of wood that would be slightly burned as a performance piece during the night of the open studio. I wouldn’t want the effigy burned whole, but I would continue striking fire to it with a flint and stone (or another natural survivalist method of fire) in order to evoke scent and smoke. The smoke of the effigy is the literal ghost of what was there, the substance having been transmuted. During this open studio, I invite guests from the island to come and witness the sensory experience of this, coupled with the rest of my body of paintings and poems, inviting conversation and contemplation alike.

[afghanprincess69]

the poem on the tip of my tongue got absobed by the nonsence of the internet it was that I always keep my eyes steady forward walking up and down commercial drive all the time north or south, above and below there is a membrane between forward and from where the words, doubts, populate that is nonsence i just want i- locked to my furthest sight

[afghanprincess69]

its strange then, being tethered to that other place. i've put it down, but as soon as i remember any mundane task, it does pull mein for another 20 minutes. 20 minutes of my life gone. i attempt to gather myself here, for the present place. the simulacra feels more real now,somehow. the hits of friendship, closely matched t the pulse of my heart, the synapses in my brain firing. i look outward, baffled at how slow the clock seems to tick.digging in, i look closely into the chilli i'm cooking on the stove, set up to cool for a moment, i regard it closely and marvel at the pace it takes organizing itself into constituents, oil, flavour, water, lard. there is a simulacra too, one more worthy of my time, certainly my stomach. the phone holds that endless buzz enraptured. it holds mania, but the body is where home is. this pace, this space. this tenderness and the grace it gives us to go on.

[afghanprincess69]

sep 20 2025

i am tasting the ground again in your absence there is nothing to buffer me from the bottom. the moon shines hot i am cold complacent in gossamer dress, threadbare skin thinnest around the heart so i feel it rally against gravity, but dont worry crease not my peculiar digits crease not lilt to the heavens crease not the tendril spoke to the bark shes similar in nature to polaris and all we have above is nights incandescent stirring keeping me below

[afghanprincess69]

the second moon thoros started to rise on the planet nimrun, swollen in her cornflower blue breach over the horizon. the day had been a

[afghanprincess69]

the summer day had been long and languorous, but as the moon rose and settled it to the dust, and persons consumed various vivifying drink and fodder- the party was in full swing now, as the alley had been emptied of ticket holders, no one turned away for lack of funds. up the stairs, the air thickened with humidity as dance floor swelled to a sticky miasma of shuffling and swaying bodies in various states of abbreviated motions, all in variegated states of harmony with the beat. and what a beat it was- at once booming and melodic, as much as the dj was enjoying herself- so the crowd responded in time with the tempo, boom / boom / boom. --- the summer day had been long and languorous, but has the moon rose and settled the dust, so too came the clouds gathering low over the bay, stretched out as far as the eye could see, at first merely beige and overcast. But the third day saw more deeper, darker clouds roiling in to join the others, and as the cold winds blew down from the north, what came forth was a jarring end to the summer and what felt like a very precocious beginning to autumn. The rains pelted down, all encompassing and steady as second nature to the temperate rainforest, and the beach ------ it had been oddly good weather, hot and languorous, but as the sun rose this morning it illumined not the vivifying blue of a clear day, but the dull slate of clouds rolling in, caught against the mountains, gathered low and dark. Under this shadow woke the city of Vancouver this morning, there which civilians took upon their own worn mantles of raincoats and morose expressions again. down hammered the rain, pelting every inch of sidewalk with it's relentless drive, and yet for those homeless, this sodden state of things did little to hinder the day's business, for the gray mantle above provided warmth enough to continue prolonging the high. there in sidewalk puddles lay exposed limbs where festering loathesomeness resides in deep scabs that refuse to heal, too penetrated with damp. Next to him, a hunched over spine nods off from an excess of poppy injection, dripping next to a makeshift tent bent low with water gathering in pools on the edges, the tree above providing scant in the way of real cover. and down the thoroughfare, still the rain hammers down while four jerking and gesticulating limbs express a wretched dance, in stark deference to where a center of gravity is usually held, the body rent over in multiples of the palpatations therein. the rain as a shield now, as a lubricant to those wretched and pained expressions, where the hapless civilian making his way to work, settles deeper in his stony expression, if not under a protective umbrella, then to simply accept the tears of the sky carving hapless cracks in his face- pointedly ignoring this hellish scene with eyes looking ever farther away into a space less sordid. This protective mantle the natural coddled state of the sky in the